Make Me A Match - Chapter #84

Free Enterprise  -  Make Me A Match - Chapter #84


Tyr had originally intended this visit to relax a bit. Even Nietzscheans needed time off to recharge. So, Khan reminded him constantly.

“You make may be super human, but you are still Human.” Khan would often say.

“I'll rest when I'm dead.” Tyr remembered replying the last time his Katay brother made that statement.

“Humph! The dead don't need to rest. They are dead.” Khan replied. “Death is the cessation of life, so if life has ceased, why rest?” he continued. Tyr didn't bother answering that question because it would've definitely sparked a round of the Katay debating game of Chinga, and he was not in the mood.

So after Barbarossa's walk, Kori met them back at the house with a hover chair. Tyr couldn't tell whom or what his father was more fascinated with. The chair or the woman who brought it.

“I may have the wrong impression but, were my father a few years younger and not so infirmed he would have made a try for Kori.” Tyr thought, as he watched his father converse with The Insurrections Chief Medical Officer.

Being a Nietzschean male was all about preparing oneself for battle and catching the ladies eyes. Some species of birds displayed plumage, danced, or sang to attract mates. Even more species of carnivores hunted and brought the kill home to present to their potential mates. Still other Human cultures brought a bride price to pay the potential mates father, for the loss of his daughter.

With the Nietzschean male, it was all about him. How he looked. That's why they were obesessive when it came to working out, and proper diet. Next came the proper clothing. Chain mail? Leather? Bandolier across one's chest? it? Gauss guns or knives at ones side?

A typical Nietzschean male looked good in anything he chose to wear. Everything from the “works” topped off by Drago's cape, to jeans and a t-shirt. But Nietzschean women were not just attracted by the handsome face and the muscles. If he did not display a certain intelligence level and have a winning personality, he was swiftly kicked to the curb, no matter how good he looked.

So, those who were a tad lacking, learned to use wisdom, wit and a dash of charm.

“He may get rejected, but at least she would certainly remember him.” Tyr thought, as he watched his father charm Kori. She lapped it up like a puppy would from his hand. “The old man still has it. . . . .” Tyr thought, and inwardly cringed that he was thinking this about his dying father.

It was Kori who eventually talked Barbarossa into getting into the chair. It wasn't sweet talk that she used, either. It was more along the lines of, “If you don't get your hide into this chair, I'll. . . . . .” Barbarossa immediately complied.

Once he was properly seated, Kori showed him the controls. There upon another problem immediately arose. Barbarossa instantly got the hang of the chair's control and without warning. . . . . Well, sort of. . . . . . Tyr suspected he would. . . . . . . sped off, leaving them all in the dust!

“Did he just shout, wheeeeeee?” Tyr thought to himself as Kori fled the scene.

“What the. . . . .?” Victoria exclaimed as she ran up with Xena, Tamara and Amanda in tow. “Tyr! What have you done?” she demanded as she gazed up into her youngest son's eyes. Tyr looked around for Kori, but she was long gone. Proving she might have been complicit in the whole matter.

“I. . . . . I . . . . .” Tyr stumbled. “I did not. . . . “

“We must locate him before he kills himself! You know your father always had a silly streak! I know you meant to help him out with the hover chair, but he's probably trying to out race an air car right now.” Victoria said.

She reached into her pocket, withdrew a pocket sized communications devise and alerted Captain Backus of the Ceremonial Guard. He and his men would hunt down their charge and bring him back safely. That was if he hadn't already left the compound. Or broken his Nietzschean neck.

“I suppose I shouldn't be so hard on him.” Victoria relented. “He has a right to enjoy what ever time the Divine has appointed for him. If it means being a little silly, so be it.” she continued.

“Mother? Where are the rest of father's wives?” Tyr asked. He'd been there three days and had only seen Victoria and Desdemona, the youngest wife, whom Barbarossa had pair bonded with 5 months ago.

“Barbarossa gave them gifts and dismissed them all. Only Desdemona refuses to leave.” Victoria replied and sighed.

Without a doubt, one of the greatest Nietzschean questions was “What happened to all of the wives when their consort died?” First and foremost, a Nietzscheans purpose for existing is to breed and raise even more Nietzscheans. So although they had grown attached and mourned their loss, the obligation to go forth and propagate was stronger than grief.

If the women were still of childbearing age, they would seek out new consorts and start a new family. But, occasionally, a strong bond would form between The Matriarch and one of her sister wives, and she would agree to stay on as her Lady In Waiting. Desdemona had clearly chosen that.

Tyr frowned because his mother was looking at him funny. He didn't like the looks of that expression. . . . . . . .

“Red Alert! One minute to auto destruct!” Tyr thought. Tamara caught the thought and hint and hustled Amanda and Xena away.

“Tyr, why don't YOU take her?” Victoria said.

“Me?” Tyr asked innocently, as he wondered how HIS name got mixed up in this conversation.

“Mind you I don't make it a habit to listen to gossip, but people are talking. . . . .” Victoria started.

“Like I give a flying tick what they say.” Tyr replied. Remembering at the last second to curb his language. Victoria was not adverse to clocking him for having a foul mouth.

“Tyr, you must remember, you are one of Barbarossa's sons thus you have a certain reputation to uphold. . . . .” Victoria started. Tyr pretended to be distracted by a family of noisy parakeets living in the tree next to them. He used that as a handy excuse to roll his expressive, brown, eyes.

“ . . . . . .Don't you roll your eyes at me, Tyr!” Victoria continued.

Tyr immediately gave his mother his full attention.

“All I am saying is you are strong, healthy, and in the prime of life, and I don't see why you do not have more wives and more children.” Victoria said.

“Mother. In case you have not noticed, I am a Starfleet officer and Starfleet doesn't exactly have accommodations for large Nietzschean clans on it's ships the way Nietzschean ships do.” Tyr said carefully.

“You'll think of something, Tyr.” Victoria replied. “Use The Prime Directive if you have to.” she continued.

Tyr raised both eyebrows in a Spock-like manner. His mother had indeed studied the subject thoroughly. A Neitzschean clan was considered a sovereignty and thus Starfleet would have to accommodate, not restrict them or interfere with it's development. To restrict them would interfere with the development of the clan, which was part of the greater Nietzschean society. That would be especially ugly if they tired restricting one of the Arch Duke's Sons.

“So it's done. Desdemona will leave with you when you return to Deep Space Ten.” Victoria said. Tyr was stunned.

“What!?” he asked incredulously.

“You heard me. Desdemona is going with you. It would be a pure waste for her to stay here with me, when with you she will have a chance to bear you many strong sons and daughters.” Victoria said.

“But. . . . . . But. . . . . . . . Suppose she cannot stand the sight of me?” Tyr asked, incredulously. There was always a chance she might not like him. If she did not, that would put the kibosh on Victoria's plan.

“Nonsense! The woman was in love with you from the second you first stepped into the compound. So you will have no problems there.” Victoria said. Completely smashing Tyr's hope.

“Oh, here comes Barbarossa!” she said, as she espied a group of Ceremonial Guard approach with her wayward consort still seated in his hover chair. Victoria left Tyr standing there in a stupor, as she went to meet the group.

“What in Hades just happened?” Tyr asked himself as Khan walked up. Tyr noted the Katay was humming to himself.

“What are you humming?” Tyr asked,annoyed and ticked that his friend should chose this time to hum of all things.

“Oh, you don't want to know.” Khan replied innocently, as he pulled his whiskers back.

“Oh, Oh! What conspiracy is this?” Tyr wondered.

“Oh yes, I do.” Tyr replied.

“No you don't.” Khan insisted.

“Yes I do.” Tyr said.

“No, you really don't.” Khan warned.

“Khan! Out with it!” Tyr shouted.

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Find me a find, catch me a catch. . . . . . .” Khan started singing. Then ran for his life, as Tyr chased him around the compound.




NOTE TO READERS The delightful little song Khan was singing was “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” sung by Zero Mostel in “Fiddler on the Roof”. That was really back in the day! But, I loved that play!

NOTE #2 Since Tyr's mother, Victoria is the ruling Matriarch of both the Kodiak Pride, and the Anasazi clan, she is well within her rights to play matchmaker. Please refer to the Andromeda episode “Double Helix”.

NOTE #3 “The Big Nietzschean Question” is solely my invention. We DO NOT know ( and will never know since the show ended ) what happens to wives when the male/consort dies. The theory I deduced came from studying Ancestor's Breath. It is solely my theory and is NOT Andromeda Canon. I hope it made sense.

NOTE #4 Who does Victoria Anazasi look like? Like Nichelle Nicholes does now with her beautiful gray hair, which she calls "Her Crown". :+}!