Perhaps an hour later Tyr was no closer to achieving his objective. In fact, he and Amanda were at an old fashioned Texas Standoff. If you can call it that.
Khan had made doubly sure to school Tyr in Promethean mating rituals. When Tyr heard that it was customary for the female to challenge the male, he understood and agreed with that point. Additionally when he heard that he had to also fight Amanda, and best her, he understood that too. However, Tyr thought said fight was going to be purely ceremonial in nature, and five minutes later they'd be in each others arms. Apparently Tyr had seriously misunderstood his Katay brother.
She'd asked him to repair the lights which they kept low. After doing so Tyr confirmed that the woman did not possess a stick of furniture except the hammock and two low dressers. He had heard Prometheans were minimalists. . . . . . .
"Yet another area to research. . . . ." Tyr thought.
In the free space on the deck between the dressers and hammock was the marital challenge rug. A large beige colored rug with African/American Indian type designs and a large stylized circle inter-woven on it.
Tyr immediately recognized that particular pattern, and a warning klaxon went off in his mind. Obviously, this was going to be a lot more serious than a patty cake slap fight. Amanda striped down to her black Starfleet issue civvies, crouched in a defensive posture and beckoned Tyr with her right hand, ala Bruce Lee Style.
“According to Promethean law, if you don't subdue her, she has the right to divorce you on the spot, because you are not worthy of her affections.” Khan said.
“How very Nietzschean.” Tyr recalled thinking to himself at the time. So he eagerly dived in. Only what he thought would be a quick take down, was turning out to be a tournament! They both employed Grecian-Roman weaseling techniques, taking care to stay within the circle.
Suddenly, they both disengaged to take a break and sat back. Amanda rose, went to the kitchen and brought mugs of Promethean Spice Water for both of them.
“Awwww! And you brought dinner too.” she said and smiled. Tyr looked pitiful.
“Poor thing. You won't have to do this every time, just on our honeymoon,” she said.
“You call this a honeymoon?” Tyr asked. He was very familiar with the human custom of newly-wedded couples going away to spend intimate time together. Nietzscheans had no such custom. It was pretty much catch as catch can. When the fire was lit, one took advantage and used the oven.
“Come on, Tyr. Let's get this over with.” she said as she set her empty mug aside. Tyr did the same and they went back at it. Like Tyr she was an expert fighter, slipping out of holds, and grapples as if she was slippery as an eel. Only after 10 minutes into the “match” Tyr noticed something and pressed his advantage. He was rewarded with peals of laughter.
His Promethean bride lay helpless in his arms as she laughed herself silly. Upon realizing she was ticklish Tyr laughed too.
“That was not fair, Tyr.” Amanda giggled.
“What was not fair?” Tyr asked, as he enclosed his third wife in his arms, and began to tenderly kiss her face.
“Tickling me. I'm going to find out where you are ticklish and tickle you.” she threatened.
“Amanda, I had no wish to fight you all night like the patriarch in the Human Bible,” Tyr replied. “Plus, I am not ticklish.” he continued.
“His name was Jacob. Some say he fought an angel. Still others say he fought God Himself. After that fight he was renamed Israel, meaning the father of many nations.” Amanda replied. If there was anything she was an expert at, it was her religious studies.
“Tyr, how can you say you're not ticklish? Everybody is ticklish!.” Amanda continued. Seriously wondering who in their right mind would dare attempt to tickle the huge, fierce looking Nietzschean. The mere fact that she was nearly as big as he, qualified her to do so.
“I may have been ticklish when I was a child, but not now.” Tyr replied.
“Oh really. Where?” suddenly interested, she pressed.
“I will not say.” Tyr deadpanned. Struggling to slam closed the Pandora's Box before something got out.
“You shouldn't have said that.” Amanda warned. Too late!
“Amanda, do not. . . . .” he warned as he tried to fend off questing hands.
“Somebody stop me!” Amanda relied as they tussled again. This time playfully until her stomach growled.
“Oops! It's nose bag time.” she said.
“Nose bag?” Tyr asked.
“Old Earth term meaning it's time to eat.” she replied. Tyr went to the kitchen and returned with the pot and set it down before Amanda who was sitting cross legged on the rug.
The Nelly Pot was an all inclusive contraption which had nested camp-like plates and utensils attached to the bottom of it. While Tyr detached the plates and utensils, she went to the kitchen and returned with more water, napkins. and bread.
For perhaps an hour they both ate. Amanda questioned Tyr extensively about the ingredients and techniques for cooking his “stew”. It was hearty enough to eat with a spoon, but Amanda tore off pieces of the wrap-like, pumpernickel-colored bread and used it to dip, scoop and eat her portion.
“We call it Traveler's or Survival Stew, and it traditionally prepared when we are out camping, traveling or hunting in the wilderness. It can prepared totally vegan or with what ever we happened to trap. I used chicken.” Tyr said. Of course all of the ingredients were organic and there was just a hint of spice.
“Excellent!” Amanda proclaimed. Both ate until they had finished the entire pot. Tyr was ravenous and so was she. Pot and utensils cleaned and put away, they fell upon on another.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Amanda.” Tyr whispered in the darkness.
“Yes, Bo.” she replied, sleepily and stretched.
“Why do I hear two heartbeats?” Tyr asked. He'd picked up the barely discernible sound whenever he was around her, but never thought to specifically equate it “with her”.
“Prometheans have two hearts and four lungs, Tyr. Living in a heavy gravity environment puts a tremendous strain on the so-called normal Human body. So, Prometheans not only developed stronger bones and greater muscle mass. but needed either a larger heart and bigger lungs to handle the additional weight and pressure. Each successive generation after The Pioneers landed, developed two hearts and four lungs.” she replied.
“Have you had any problem adjusting to the lower gravity?” Tyr asked.
“None. As long as I do my High Grav exercises and I live in High G. My quarters are usually High G but I had the computer turn it off because I am moving.” she replied.
“It's a good thing I did.” she thought.
“High Grav Exercises means you need a special environment in which to do them.” Tyr stated.
“Yes, I either use the Holosuites or I use a piece of equipment called an Enviro Dome. It's a High G ball that you climb into, sit and strap yourself in like you're in the pilot's seat of a ship. Once it's closed and set, it really puts you through the paces.” Amanda replied. “And don't look at me like that, Tyr. Even though you are Nietzschean, built to take a lickin', and strong as hell, you would not survive it.” she warned. She'd seen Tyr's eyes light up like a child's at Christmas. It seemed he was always finding ways to put his strength to the test.
Amanda reminded herself to change the access codes on the thing. Apparently the rumors of Nietzscheans being on par with Vulcans were true. So far Tyr proved he was incredibly canny when it came to electronics. She didn't want to chance finding a dead consort as a result of that canniness.
“If I don't tell him where it is, and don't tell him the code, he will literally prowl every centimeter of this station until he finds it and break in. If I do, perhaps he'll lose interest and leave the damned thing alone for a few weeks.” she thought, as she yawned and looked at the chrono. It said 0300hrs.
“We'd better get some sleep cuz we both have a really long day today!” she said. First there was a big morning meeting in the auditorium, then another private meeting with HaxHis. About five or six free hours until the promotion/decommission ceremonies, The Reception Ball, and the after parties. . . . . . .
Amanda got up and headed towards the hammock. Tyr eyed it with a jaundiced eye. He was perfectly happy to sleep right where he was. Laying on the rug.
“Come on, Bo. It's comfortable.” Amanda encouraged. Reluctantly he got up and climbed in with her. They both fit together like two peas in a pod. And to Tyr's surprise, it was indeed very comfortable. And no, they did not go to sleep. . . . . .
* * * * * * * * * * *
Tyr snorted and they both woke with a start.
“We're late!” Amanda shouted as she popped out of the hammock and dashed for the fresher. Tyr, who had no clue how to get out of a hammock, fell flat on his face on the rug covered deck, with a splat. However, he recovered quickly and dashed into the fresher too.
Ten minutes later, after sharing the sonic shower, both were dressed in freshly replicated uniforms. They checked each other over and both dashed out of the door and down the corridor to the nearest lift.
At the appropriate deck, they dashed off the lift and pounded up the corridor to the auditorium where the meeting was being held. Quite a few crew members and civilians stopped and stared at the running couple. At the door they both stopped, straightened their clothing, calmed themselves, then headed in.
Of course, HaxHis who was a stickler for timeliness had started the meeting at 0800 hours on the dot. Admiral Hemingway and Captain Anasazi showed up at 0825! They both crept into the darkened room ( as HaxHis was showing yet another presentation ) and sat in the back, planning to hide in the shadows until the meeting was over.
“Good Morning, Admiral Hemingway and Captain Anasazi. Your presence is required at the table. Kindly come forward and take your seats, please.” HaxHis suddenly called, as hundreds of heads ( and pairs of eyes ) swiveled to look back at the hiding couple.
“OMG! How, embarrassing!” Amanda whispered as they both rose, slunk down the steps, and stole to their glaringly empty seats. As soon as he sat, Tyr stole a glance at Khan. The Katay had his whiskers pulled back with mirth.
“As I was saying. . . . . . .” HaxHis began. No one saw that she also had her whiskers pulled back.
NOTE TO READERS: The term “nosebag” or "feedbag" harkens back to New York City handsome cab drivers ( when cabs were carriages pulled by horses ). When it was time for the horses to eat, the drivers would fill a specially designed bag with feed and slip it over the horses' nose so it could eat. Thus the slang term: “It's nosebag or feedbag time.” meaning “It's time to eat.”
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