Free Enterprise - Day One Part 2 - #124

Breakfast was a complete travesty. Fatou put on her best disapproving face and scowled at Tyr. The Nietzschean was usually a hearty eater, but he picked and minced through his food like a spoiled toddler. Smelling and tasting this or that, grimacing, and spitting things out. Finally, Fatou lost it.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Fatou demanded, in an authoritative voice.

“Probably the very same tone she uses on her kits.” Tyr thought and sighed.

“Forgive me, Fatou, but everything tastes strange. I cannot properly describe it.” Tyr replied and frowned.

“Whether it tastes strange or not, you must keep up your strength and energy level. You will just have to ignore your taste buds for the sake of nourishment.” Fatou said. Tyr reluctantly agreed and forced himself to consume the rest of his meal.

Exasperated, Fatou rolled her eyes and silently prayed to the Divine for strength.

“It is indeed true, men never truly grow up. . . .” she sighed to her self.

“Perhaps you should stop by Sickbay and let Doctor Kori have a look at you.” Fatou suggested, and waited for the blow back. Tyr merely gazed at her as if she'd asked him to submit his own neck to the guillotine.

“After all, Doctor Kori. did say even if you had minor issues, you should stop and see her. Just to be safe.” Fatou continued. All she received in return was a grunt.

“Whiskers and fur! Is he always this stubborn?” Fatou wondered.

“Now, this I really like.” Tyr said, after he'd taken a healthy gulp of Raktigino from his favorite mug, and held it up in a mock toast. Indeed, it was the only food item that didn't taste strange or nasty.

“At least he is smiling. Now, what did Khan tell me about that. . . . .” Fatou wondered to herself.

“Since you are feeling better, do you have anything special slated for this morning?” she asked.

“I wish to review the troops.” Tyr said, as he stood. As if clairvoyant, Gynn slipped in, collected the dishes and silverware, then hurried out.

“Oh no! The dreaded Scare The Hell Out Of The Crew Tour!” Fatou thought. Khan HAD warned her about those. . . . .

“The strength of the wolf is the pack, and the strength of the pack is the wolf.” Tyr quoted in response to Fatou's questing gaze.

“Rudyard Kippling, Tyr?” Fatou asked. She had recognized it from one of the authors books.

“Now which publication was that in?” she wondered silently and frowned. For she'd also heard that same phrase uttered in connection with another race in the past.

“You do realize that quote speaks of interdependence. The wolf needs the pack as much as the pack needs to wolf. In other words, no man is an island.” Fatou said.

“The Bible, Fatou?” Tyr asked. Gazing at the female Katay Tigeress with both eyebrows raised.

“My people are a spiritual race who believe in the same Creator.” Fatou replied.

“Whether the word came from a child's rhyme or not, I've found them to be the most appropriate for this place and time.” Tyr started. “I've been dealt an egregious blow but my crew needs to both see and know for themselves that I am still capable of functioning as their Commanding Officer.” Tyr continued with a determined gleam in his eyes.

“Your secret will be safe with me, Tyr. Yes, this will be an excellent way to put an end to all rumors.” Fatou said.

“Exactly.” Tyr replied as he headed towards the door. “And the sooner, the better.” he continued.

“Oh and bye the way, The Dolgarians also use the same motto, after all, they call their family units packs, like their brothers the wolves. . . .” Fatou added as she formed up behind Tyr and followed him out of the Lions Den.

“It appears that I am in good company . . . “ Tyr thought as entered the lift.

* * * * * * * *

The very first stop on Tyr's tour was. . . . .

“. . . . . .Engineering. Now, how did I know he was going to stop here? Perhaps it has something to do with his little brother being down here?” Fatou thought, as she followed The Rear Admiral into main Engineering module.

Upon seeing him, crew members scattered like mice who'd just seen a cat, leaving only five people visible. Harper and four of his subordinates were struggling with a large piece of equipment. Apparently they were trying to put it back where it came from after they had repaired it. But, it wouldn't fit.

“Let's take a fifteen minute breather, everyone.” Harper called out.

As a team they gently set the cumbersome piece of equipment down on the deck and all stepped away. Harper looked up and smiled at Tyr. Tyr in turn noted Harper had a smudge of grease on his nose.

“Where in the universe did you find grease in such a pristine environment?” Fatou asked. Clearly she was not used to Seamus Harper, the part time grease monkey.

“Oh that's from one of my side projects.” Harper replied as he swiped at it with his sleeve. He always wore coveralls when he worked, so he wouldn't mess up his uniform.

“Are you still restoring that 1970 Camero engine?” Tyr asked.

“Yep! I'm almost finished too.” Harper replied as his eyes and face lit up.

“Like a child's face at Yuletide.” Fatou thought as she pulled her whiskers back with mirth.

“Perhaps you should turn that around.” Tyr said, as he pointed to the equipment lying on the deck.

“Wha. . . .?” Harper asked, and frowned.

“Your technicians turned it upside down to fix it, forgot it was upside down and . . . . .” Tyr started.

“. . . . . . . and tried to put it back the wrong way. Ohhhhhh, that's why it didn't fit.” Fatou thought.

“Zounds! You wouldn't believe we've been at this since yesterday and all morning. . . . .” Harper replied as he gave himself a head pop.

That noted he called his people back. Tyr and Fatou watched as they worked together to upend the devise, then slipped it back into place. The formally deadened panel immediately lit up and hummed to life.

“And we have lift off!” Harper proclaimed, as they briefly celebrated with hi-fives.

“You look good, Sir.” Harper said as he smiled up at Tyr. Aside from Tyr's lack of bonelades, he didn't see a thing wrong with his Big Brother.

“Thank you.” Tyr replied.

“No. Thank you. If it wasn't for you figuring this thing out, we would've still been banging our heads against the bulkheads.” Harper said.

“Wasn't it you who told me that I must learn to take a break from things more often?” Tyr asked.

“Yeah. Guilty as charged.” Harper replied.

“How is Monique?”

“She's as happy as can be. I'm surprised she's not floating around here somewhere.” Harper replied as he smiled. She'd told him she was expecting last night.

“Possibly another reason why he couldn't concentrate properly on work. . . . “ Fatou thought, and pulled her whiskers back.

“Don't forget to tell her, I am having a pot luck dinner at our quad tonight, and at the usual time.” Tyr said, as he stepped away.

“Goody. I know just what to bring.” Harper replied, to Tyr's and Fatou's backs.

“It better not have engine grease in it. . . . .” Tyr groused.

“Don't worry, I'll get Monique to cook it.” Seamus shouted before the doors closed.

“I see you've decided to take my suggestion and invite Ms Culpepper to dinner.” Fatou said as they got on the lift.

“I have not given her the invitation yet. Plus, I haven't made any pies.” Tyr replied.

“Pies. . . . . why would you. . . . . other than dessert. . . .” Fatou started, as she suddenly remembered something from an Old Earth slap-stick comedy named “The Three Stooges.”

“Stop Lift!” she ordered, and the lift halted. “Tyr don't you dare throw pies at Ms Culppeper! Are you out of your mind?” she asked.

“I wasn't exactly going to throw them at her.” Tyr replied innocently.

“Well how were you going to make your assault? Levitation?” Fatou asked.

“I was considering a catapult.” Tyr replied as he shrugged his shoulders, while looking oh so innocent.

“A catapult!” Fatou exclaimed.

“A slingshot would be too small. I would have to use tarts and I will need too many of them to be affective. . . .” Tyr continued. It was at that point Fatou realized she'd been had.

Both made doubly sure they were finished laughing before the lift resumed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tyr's next stop was Hydroponics, and even though this was a surprise visit, Lieutenant JG Jessica Torres looked like she had been waiting for him to make his appearance.

Fatou had never been to this area of the ship and was free to wander from Tyrs side as they discussed StarFleet Business. The shear amount of fresh flowers, fruits and vegetables growing in the space was amazing.

She'd heard that ships which had Nietzscheans as the majority of the crew had one of these habitats. Why? Because they refused to eat replicated food. Of course they would do it in case of a dire emergency, but to live on it during a course of a three to twelve month mission? No way!

One of Jessica's subordinates, an Ensign Jerome Chang proudly showed Fatou around, while Tyr and Jessica talked. By the time she returned, Tyr and Jessica had sealed the deal.

“I have decided that Ms. Colpepper and her colleges will be assigned to Hydroponics for the duration of their stay. It was either here or the galley and I think Gynn would've slaughtered her after the first hour. . . . . .” Tyr stated.

“Very true, with Gynn being an Andorian, that would certainly be the case.” Fatou thought.

It stood to reason as both the Galley and Hydroponics were the two least secure spaces on the Insurrection. Sickbay was another to a certain extent. However, The Dragoness Kori, was not going to allow anyone body to step up into her lair. Yes, the INN correspondent was safer a lot in Hydroponics.

“After all, how many secure Starfleet secrets would Ms. Culpepper learn from misting roses and tying up tomato plants?” Fatou thought.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Tyr's next stop was Cartography. Immediately upon seeing them, Dr. Svetlana Sorrenson disengaged herself from her intense and strident conversation with Kesha and seven other members of her staff.

“It's good to see you up and around, Admiral.” Svetlana said in her Russian accented Standard.

“Thank you, Doctor. It is good to be up and around.” Tyr replied. Fatou knew he was referring to the fact that he was no longer confined to Sickbay. . . . .

“Come, Sir. We have things to show you.” Svetlana said and beckoned.

“Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like what I'm going to see? My goose is really cooked if she offers me a Raktigino . . . . . .” Tyr thought.

“Sir, would you like a cup of Raktigino before we start?” Svetlana asked. Tyr turned and gazed at Fatou, who pulled her whiskers back with mirth.

“I guess this is going to be a long morning.” Tyr replied.

“It's going to get even longer once he hears what she has to tell him.” Fatou thought, as they all sat behind a large meeting table, and an Ensign dimmed the lights. The presentation screen lit up, and the meeting began.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Fatou fears were correct. By the time the meeting finished a bout an hour and a half later Tyr was in a foul torpor. Fatou detected that everyone was terrified that he would blow his stack, except for Svetlana, Kesha and her, of course.

Tyr politely excused himself and left the Dr. Sorrenson and her staff to argue over what quadrant they were in at present. He frankly didn't give a damn because they were not in his home sector, and because of Q, they were unable to return anytime soon.

Tyr abruptly canceled the rest of his tour, and headed straight for the gym. He needed to blow off some steam or he would destroy something.

* * * * * * * * *

Tyr had just finished his first “modified” workout with Gilgamesh. It was exactly as Kori had warned, he was forced to half the amount of weight he was used to lifting and he was closely monitored by his cousin.

Gilgamesh made sure Tyr wore a weight belt when he did his, squats, dead lifts and cleans. He also made sure Tyr wore gloves on his hands to prevent cuts and abrasions. But when he finally finished his first Human workout, it wasn't his hands that worried him, it was Tyr's entire body. He was sore from head to foot.

“Go sit in the whirlpool for a few minutes.” Gilgamesh suggested. For all of the countless times Tyr worked out, he never had to use the whirlpool, but he took advantage of it now.

”Now I know how the lobster feels while he boiling in the pot.” Tyr thought glumly as he waited out the prescribed fifteen minutes.

A half an hour later, he was back in his quarters, stretched out on his sofa and drifting off to sleep when the Ping Sisters showed up. They were toting his sleepy sons and were about to put them down for their naps. They immediately added dad to the mix.

“You okay?” Hoy Li asked, as she watched Tyr ease himself off the sofa and walk stiffly towards his bedroom.

“I'm just peachy keen.” Tyr replied. He'd never been so sore in his life. “Latic acid builds up in the muscles which in turn causes pain.” he thought to himself.

“Where hurt?” Hoy Li asked, in her Chinese Accented Standard. 

That was another glaring difference between the twins. Hoy spoke with pronounced accent ( Tyr swore she did this on purpose . . . . ) while Li spoke in perfect textbook Vulcan-like Standard.

“Everywhere. I think my toenails and hair follicles are screaming too.” Tyr groused as he gingerly sat on his bed.

“Silly man. What you not do? You warm up?” She asked.

“Yes.” Tyr replied, remembering the cardio paces Gilgamesh put him through, while Fatou ran flat out on all fours on a specially designed treadmill.

“Not too much weight?” She asked.

“No. Not too much.”

“Too many reps?”

“We kept it light.”

“You cool down?

“Yes.”

“You stretch?”

“Yes. I even soaked in that stupid whirlpool.” Tyr replied.

“Then what missing? Ah! Massage! You need massage! I get! ” she said, as she got up and scampered away.

She was back with a tiny jar, untwisting the cap as she sat. For the next fifteen minutes she rubbed Tyr down. The Nietzschean wrinkled his nose at the smell. The stuff smelled like horse lineament

“Sorry about smell. I use scentless kind next time.” Hoy promised.

The stuff may have smelled bad, but his sore body and muscles couldn't care less. He submitted to Hoy Li's ministrations and drifted off to sleep.

Free Enterprise - Day Number One - #123

After being released from “Kori's Dungeon” aka Sickbay, Tyr headed for the nearest lift and up to the bridge. There he entered The Lion's Den ( his Ready Room ) trailed by Tamara, Fatou, and Xena. He sat behind his desk and listened while Tamara stood at parade rest and gave him the daily rundown.

“. . . . . everything is on hold pending a report from Lt. Commander Kesha.” Tamara stated.

“Wonderful. Just what I've always wanted, to be a specimen in a cage for Q to gawk at.” Tyr replied.


"How appropo." "  Fatou thought.

“Sir, if I may, we still need to deal with the problem of our stowaways. Normally, I would not have mentioned them, but they are kicking up a fuss.” Xena said.

“Oh really? It is I who should be making a fuss, not they. . .” Tyr started. “ . . . . . . amazing, they stow away on MY ship, yet THEY are complaining. What ever for?” Tyr asked, tiredly.

“Being confined to quarters for one thing. . . . . .” Xena started.

“I can remedy the situation by flushing them out of the photon torpedo tubes. Then they will be free to move about as much as they please.” Tyr cut in.   "They would be dead, but they would be free." he thought.

“Sir, you can not do that. . . . .” Fatou started.

“That was only said in jest, Councilor. I am well aware of Starfleet regulations against “spacing stowaways and unwelcomed guests”. Tyr replied.

Between Solon and his rag-tag Nietzsche-phobic group and stowaway INN news correspondents, Tyr was seriously thinking of penning his own amendment to those particular Starfleet orders.

“I strongly suggest you not make that statement to them whether in jest or otherwise.” Fatou said, as she closely watched Tyr's reaction. He'd heard her, but chose to ignore what she'd said.

"Thick-skulled Nietzschean  . . . ."  she thought.

“What are your orders regarding them, Sir?” Xena asked.

“Inform Ms. Culpepper, and only Ms. Culpepper, that I wish to speak to her, and escort her up here, ASAP.” Tyr said.

“Aye, Sir.” Xena replied. She beat a hasty retreat while Tamara excused herself to attend to her bridge duties. Only Tyr and Fatou remained. Tyr stood, walked over to his favorite spot and stared out of the clear steel portal at the unfamiliar stars.

“Excuse me, Tyr, but you should not have this meeting with Ms. Culpepper.” Fatou said.

“Why ever not?” Tyr asked, as he turned his gaze from the stars to the Katay Tigress who was standing a few feet away from him.

She was of smaller stature, and her odd coloring identified her as an Albino Tiger.  However, she resembled Khan in so many ways. One of them was her manner of speaking the truth. The other, she wasn't afraid to get up in his face if she had to.

“I don't wish to speak ill into being but, this meeting will not go well. She will make you will look like a fool in the end.” Fatou predicted.

“And I will look equally foolish for canceling the meeting at this juncture. I'm just curious, when do you suggest have it?” Tyr asked, testily.

“This evening after the both of you have rested and eaten. I've noticed over the course of my career that some Humans tend to become very testy when hungry or tired. And you, Sir, have not breakfasted yet. . . . . .” Fatou stated. Tyr was about to reply when the Ready Room's buzzer sounded.

“Too late!” Tyr whispered. Fatou found her seat, which incidentally the very same chair Khan would sit in when he was on board. Tyr remained standing.

“Enter.” he said.

In stepped Ms. Culpepper, flanked by Xena and two of her subordinates.

Melissa Culpepper, was an African American woman of average height and weight. She was dressed in what is considered an “on camera uniform of the day”. A blue business pants suit, white blouse, with tasteful, matching shoes.

She was a handsome woman with very dark skin coloring, and beautiful, brown sloe-shaped eyes. She usually wore colorful head wraps which helped to highlight her exotic looks. However, today she wore an expensive looking shawl with which she covered her shoulders, and had drawn up over her head like a hood.

Upon entering the Lion's Den, she pushed the shawl back, and both Tyr and Fatou were shocked to see that she was as bald as a Delton.

“I have Alopecia Areata. A condition where Humans are either born completely hairless or lose some or all of their hair during their lifetimes. My eyebrows are tattoos, my eyelashes are implants. . . . . .  So I do know what it is like to live without something that everyone else has.” she explained.

"An excellent attempt to defuse The Admiral's anger, but it's not going to work."  Fatou thought, as pulled her whiskers back with mirth. She watched the two dynamic personalities check each other out like two wolves giving each other the sniff over.

“Good Morning, Ms. Culpepper. Forgive me for not formally introducing myself in the past. I am, Rear Admiral Tyr Anasazi of the USS Insurrection. This is my ships assistant Councilor Fatou.” he said graciously. Fatou graciously inclined her head and held her handpaws out, palms up, claws in.

“Good Morning, Admiral, Councilor. I'm Melissa Culpepper, Chief Correspondent for The Inter-Galactic News Network.” She replied in kind, as she sat in the chair next to Fatou.

“What we have to discuss, hopefully will not take long.” Tyr started, he remained standing with his powerful arms crossed.

"Ah, here we go with the manly position of dominance.  Not good because she is not impressed.  I'd better defuse this right now."  Fatou thought.

“Oh really? Whatever could that be, Admiral?” Ms Culpepper asked, innocently. Fatou sensed Tyr targeting his phasers for a direct hit, and interjected.. . .

“That is not your standard accent, is it? That's if you don't mind explaining. . . . . . .” Fatou asked.

“Oh no. I don't mind because many people have asked me the very same question in the past. Why do I speak with a New York City accent off camera and on camera I have a different accent? I was required to learn a certain accent because INN wanted me to sound more cultured during my broadcasts. So I studied recordings of Christiana Amanpour until I was able to get her accent down pat.” Melissa replied. Tyr cut his eyes at Fatou for taking them off subject, and she glared right back st him.

“Ms. Culpepper, how the #@$&%@&$@%#$@$#&%@ did you get onto my ship, while my Chief Councilor, four of my body guards, and Fatou's children were left behind?” Tyr demanded.

He was major ticked and decided to let fly. Fatou sat bolt upright in her seat. Her face impassive but her whiskers drooped meaning she was highly displeased. Were she close enough, she might have “cuffed” him as if he were one of her misbehaving kits.

Melissa was a different story, once she got over the shock of the initial outburst, she smiled, and started laughing. In fact, she laughed so hard that she nearly fell out of the chair. Tyr was stunned. Never in his life was he laughed at so.

“Oh my word! I've sworn at and called some horrible things during my career but I've NEVER heard that one! That is definitely one for the record books!” she said, after a fresh wave of laughter. She suddenly straightened up:

“Listen Mister. . . .” she started.

“Admiral.” Tyr insisted.

“Admiral, Shamd-miral. I am not in Starfleet, so I'm not one of your kiss your ring toadies! In my ten years as INN's Chief Correspondent, I've dealt with higher ranking and much worse despots and characters then you, and I've put them all in their place. Compared to most of them you are just a big pussy cat!” Melissa said. She clearly had her back up.

"Oh My Divine!  Did she actually say that?"  Fatou thought.

“No offense Fatou.” Melissa added, realizing that she was actually sitting next to a big, bipedal, feline. . . . . .

“None taken.” Fatou replied, as she absently waved a handpaw.

“Ms. Culpepper. Let me make something perfectly clear. You are currently on MY SHIP, therefore you will DO AS I SAY.” Tyr stated dangerously.

"Woooooooo!"  Fatou thought.

“And what if I don't. What ya gonna do ta me?” Melissa egged in her New York City accent.

"Ouch!"  Fatou thought.

“You and your team will be confined to the brig.” Tyr stated simply.

“You can't do that! That is a violation of our rights!” Melissa replied, hotly.

“Rights! What rights? You stowed away on MY SHIP and you ask for rights?    I'll give you rights! I have the right to sling your  . . . . . .  a. . . . . ah. . . .butts right out of the nearest photon torpedo tube!” Tyr countered, correcting himself in the nick of time before he swore again.

"Akkk!  I distinctly told him NOT to mention 'spacing'!"  Fatou thought, as she did a face palm.

“You can't do that, and you know it. There are Starfleet regulations against that! Just because I'm not a member of Starfleet, doesn't mean I haven't studied up on their regulations.” Melissa countered.

"It figures.  INN probably has a retired JAG or two on staff just for that purpose."  Tyr groused to himself.

“So, what's it gonna be, Big Guy?” Melissa asked.

"Big Guy???  There is only ONE person I allow to call me that, Seamus Harper!" Tyr thought as he gawped.   Fatou pulled her whiskers back and chuffed.

“You will remain confined to quarters.” Tyr replied, once he'd calmed a bit.  He really could not fault the woman because she knew nothing about his personal history.

“You can't do that to us either. It seems to me like you are talking in circles. You really don't know what to do with us do you, Big Boy?” Melissa mocked.

“Ms. Culpepper, the problem lies herein. You are on MY ship, therefore you must play MY game, by My rules. It is either being confined to quarters or take a magic carpet ride. Your choice.” Tyr replied coldly. Fatou coughed politely at the last statement as she didn't want to start chuffing again.

“Being confined to quarters for the next three months or so may be stretch though . . . . . . . Can we arrange something where we can perhaps work it off?” Melissa asked.

In response Tyr glowered at Fatou. Fatou in turn held up her handpaws in surrender. No, she was not the one who gave Ms. Culpepper that bit of news. The woman was a newshound after all. . . . . . .

“I will speak to my department heads and find out who can use an extra hand or two. Mind you, Ms. Culpepper, you and your team members will be under constant surveillance. One wrong move. . . . . .” Tyr threatened.

“Yada, yada, our butts will be confined to the brig. Yada, yada, yada. . . . . .” Melissa countered, cutting off Tyr's warning.

“You will hear from me sometime this evening. Good bye, Ms.Culpepper.” Tyr said, by way of dismissal.

“Thank you. Nice to meet you too, Admiral.” Melissa said,. “Oh, by the way, Perhaps you should adopt the parade rest stance so people won't see that you are missing your boneblades.” she continued, as she stood.

Ms Culpepper then pulled her shawl up over her head and headed for the door. As soon as the doors parted, Xena and her people were waiting to escort her back to her shared quarters.

It was quiet for a few minutes after she left. Tyr sat behind his desk, rocked back in his chair, and put his feet up on the desk.

“Fatou, what the hell was that?” he asked. He knew the Katay was was quietly standing off to his right and waiting her turn to speak.

“A number ot things. First, a stalemate. The two of of you made threatening noises but really got nowhere and accomplished nothing. In other words, you huffed and puffed like the Big Bad Wolf and threatened to blow her house down, and she just laughed. She knows you can't do a damned thing to her. Additionally you, were obviously overcompensating for the lack of your Nietzschean powers.” she said, as he stared at his bare forearms and allowed a pregnant silence to reign.

''. . . . . . .sadly, she did manage to run rings around and make a fool out of you, Tyr. Perhaps next time you will heed when I tell you not to do a thing.” Fatou continued, as Tyr frowned.

“For the next meeting, I strongly suggest that you invite her to an Anasazi family dinner.” she continued. “The main reason she stowed away was to learn more about the Nietzschean family unit, yours in particular. Perhaps if you are forthright with her, she won't have to sneak and skulk about so.” she continued. Tyr's response was a deep and dangerous growl.

“Oh my! Was that your stomach? I'll call Gynn and ask her to send up some breakfast.” Fatou said more to herself, as she pulled her whiskers back with mirth and reached for the communications tab. “Bye the way, how do you like your Rakitgino?” she added.

Free Enterprise - A Rude Awakening - #122

Free Enterprise - A Rude Awakening - #122


It was T-Minus ten minutes, and they were all gathered around Tyr's bed. Tamara, Xena, Desi, Hoy-Li, Li-Hoy, Fatou, Gilgamesh, Kori, Seamus and Monique. After much discussion and fretting they all decided to stand back and let the least threatening person be the first person for Tyr to see when he opened his eyes.

Since Tamara had a Vulcan marital link with Tyr, she was the first to sense his rise to consciousness. Hoy-Li and Li-Hoy confirmed it.

“Here he comes.” she warned in a whisper. Tyr's eyes fluttered open, and the first person he espied was none other than his “Little Brother, Seamus Harper.

“Hey, Big Guy. How ya feelin'?” Harper asked and smiled. Tyr blinked several times with momentary confusion, then smiled.

“The last thing I remember. . . . . . . I was on the bridge. . . Why am I here?” Tyr asked. He finally realized that he was in Sickbay, surrounded by loved ones, then frowned.

“How do you feel, Tyr?” Seamus persisted. Tyr seemed to do a quick survey of his being.

“I feel like. . . . . . . . offal. . . . . . . .” he replied, as he frowned again. He couldn't recall a single time where he'd felt so unwell. Nietzscheans as a rule, rarely became ill.
“Are you in pain, Sir” Kori piped up.

“Oh, is that what you call this? I feel strange. Like I'm not . . . . . . . quite myself . . . . . . . . .” Tyr replied, as he attempted to lever himself up and found he was being held down by the bed's auto restrainers. “. . . . . . why am I . . . . . . if this is a joke, I am not amused. . . .” he continued, dangerously.

”This is not going well. . . . ..” Fatou thought.

“What is the last thing you remember, Tyr?” Fatou piped up and asked.

“An intruder on the Bridge. . . . .” Tyr started.

“ . . . . . . . that intruder was none other than a renegade member of the Continuum named Q.” Tamara completed.

“Wasn't that the same creature who used to bedevil Captain Jean-Luc Picard and his crew?” Tyr asked.

”Creature? Bedevil?” Fatou wondered.

“One in same.” Tamara replied.

“I was under the impression that particular Q was placed on lock down by the Continuum. After all, his meddling introduced the Borg to our quadrant, and the rest was unfortunate doom for billions of beings in our quadrent. . . . . .” Tyr stated.

“Apparently, he broke out of jail and is on the loose again. Unfortunately for you Tyr, he has made a personal project out of us, the crew of the Instruction, and you.” Tamara replied. She went on to explain that how Kesha suspected the ship was caught was caught in a time dilation loop. Tyr got a sudden, horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“What has he done to me?” he demanded, cutting Tamara off. As if by judicial fiat, all eyes turned to Kori.

“He completely stripped you of your Nietzschean DNA.” Kori replied.

“HE DID WHAT!?” Tyr exclaimed in disbelief. He would been much more demonstrative had it not been for the restraints. He was expecting something bad, but not THIS bad!

“He totally stripped you of your Nietzschean DNA. For now you are just like your cousins, the Humans.” Kori repeated. She knew Tyr heard what she'd said. Often times when people received what they perceived as bad news, they needed to be told numerous times in order to get past the initial shock of hearing it in the first place.

Kori explained how long Q said this “so-called test” would last. She then went on to explain the inoculations he had been given.

“The real nitty-gritty will be the temporary lifestyle adjustments you must make.” Kori stated as she pressed the controls to release the bed's restraints. Tyr slowly sat up and hung his legs off the edge of the bed as he listened.

“The first thing is sleep. The average Nietzschean gets three to four hours of sleep per twenty four hour period. With Humans, they need at the very least seven hours to function optimally. You will have to plan your days around getting enough rest. With eating there will be another change. I know Nietzscheans are healthy eaters but Humans must watch their caloric intake, because the Human body is not as well equipped to metabolize foods like a Nietzschean's. You must be sure to restrict your fats, sugars and salts. . . .

. . . . . .Stick to a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables and drink plenty of water. Just in case I've put together a supplement package for you to take daily. As for exercising, you are really going to have to watch how you work out. Obviously you will not be able to lift the same amount of weight you used to as a Nietzschean. . . .”

Kori trailed off as she and everyone present watched as Tyr gazed at his naked forearms, sans boneblades. Tamara gazed at Xena, who gazed at Gilgamesh, then Fatou.

“Tyr, are you going to be okay?” Fatou asked.

“I am fine, Councilor Fatou.” Tyr replied.

“As I was saying, you are going to have to be very careful with your workouts. What ever poundage you used to lift, you will have to either half or quarter it. It would not do for you to severely injure yourself in the gym. In fact, Gilgamesh has volunteered to be your spotter/trainer for the duration until you get your powers back. No crazy feats of heroism for you for the next three months. You are no longer capable of consuming poisons. You can no longer hold your breath for fifteen minutes, you can't breathe toxic gases and if you get hit by phaser fire, it better be on stun.” Kori continued.

“Last but not least, be advised that now you are Human, you are susceptible to a variety of ailments. If you so much as cut your finger, sneeze, cough, have an upset stomach or stomach ache, headache, develop a rash, I don't care how minor, I want your butt down here. You here me?” Kori added as she locked gazes with Tyr.

“Yes, Mother.” Tyr replied so innocently that everyone laughed.

“Don't give me just cause to hunt you down, and enact my Medical Authority over you, Sir.” Kori threatened, as she crossed her arms across her chest and glared at Tyr. Of course, he glared right back.

“This is no time to play the Lone Ranger. We are all willing and able to help you but you have to let us, Tyr.” Fatou said, as she canted her head to the side and gazed at him.

“Alright. Would someone please get me a fresh uniform so I can get out of these silly Sickbay pajamas? I've got a ship to run, and refuse to do so looking like this.” Tyr stated. “That's if it's alright with you, Doctor Kori.” he added, politely.

“But of course. Limited duty for the first three days, and we will play it by ear thereafter.” Kori admonished. Tyr smiled his thanks, took the uniform and boots Tamara handed to him, and made a beeline to the nearest fresher.

Free Enterprise - A Measure Of A Man - Part 2 - #121

Free Enterprise - A Measure Of A Man – Part 2 - #122


The next few hours flew by. At Fatou's suggestion Tamara had two important meetings. One was with her Sister Wives, Gilgamesh, Harper and Monique. They all promised to be present with her to welcome Tyr back to consciousness and to help him as much as possible.

The next meeting was with all of The Insurrection's department heads where Tamara carefully explained Tyr's condition to them. Fatou further explained the importance of informing all of their staff, so that cohesiveness and respect for the Rear Admiral would remain the same.

With Nietzscheans, when males sensed weakness in each other, especially in a high-ranking male like Tyr, there was a chance he would be challenged. Since the Insurrection had a 35% ratio of male Nietzscheans as crew, the command staff needed to firmly nail the issue of loyalty to The Rear Admiral down, right now.

The meeting ended and the department heads filed out. Tamara looked up from her desk and found Kesha standing in front of it.

“Ma'am, may I have a word with you?” she asked.

“Yes, Kesha. What is it?” Tamara asked, as Fatou sat quietly and watched.

“Technically, at warp nine we should have reached Deep Space Ten already, but. . . . .” Kesha started.

“But, what?” Tamara prompted.

”I always hate when there is a but.” Fatou thought.

“We have not yet arrived. In fact, we are no closer to our destination than we were three hours ago.” Kesha replied.

”My, something tells me that we are not going to like hearing the rest of this.” Fatou thought.

“Why not?” Tamara asked.

“As near as I can determine, we seem to be caught up in some kind of time dilation loop which is not allowing us to return to the station.” Kesha replied. “I will need more time to further study the phenomena because the stars are not right.” she continued.

“The stars are not right?” Fatou asked, fascinated.

“Yes, I've flown thousands hours in the Klingon Imperial Navy and for Starfleet and I KNOW our stars. These are not the same stars. I would have to go down to cartography to compare star charts and verify this theory though.” Kesha stated. Tamara nodded because she understood that certain heavenly bodies were guideposts to certain worlds. The Milky Way Galaxy was to Earth, T'Kut and Eridani were to Vulcan, etc. As cutting edge as Starfleet was, they still depended upon the stars to steer by. . . . . .

“Thank you, Kesha. First, you are hereby temporarily relieved of your helm duties. Second, report to Cartography. Third, get back to me with the results, ASAP.” Tamara stated.

“Yes Ma'am.” Kesha replied, and executed a textbook right and left.

Tamara immediately called Gilgamesh and informed him of the changes. He in turn ordered Ensign Anita Coleman to spell Kesha at the helm.

“That bastard!” Tamara cursed, after she had finished. From what she already knew about Q, he was more than capable of doing what Kesha said.

“So, in addition to hamstringing Tyr, Q has placed us in a nice, little goldfish bowl.” Fatou stated. In response, Tamara grumbled something uncomplimentary in Vulcan, which in turn caused Fatou to turn her ears backwards.


* * * * * * * * * * * *


In the meantime Q sat in his special front row seat with a bowl of popcorn in his lap and a tall glass of ice tea on the table next to him.

When Tamara cursed him, Q howled with mirth. However, when Fatou glowered unerringly up at him from where she sat. Q saucily stuck his tongue out at her and continued to laugh.


* * * * * * * * * * *


“You can see him, can't you?” Tamara asked. She'd seen that look on Fatou's face before, and just now realized what it meant.

“No, I cannot see him, but I can sense his presence. He his definitely somewhere close. . . . .” Fatou started.

“. . . . . . and watching us like we are animals in the zoo. I'd love to get my hands on. . . . No, I'll let Tyr take care of him.” Tamara finished.


* * * * * * * * * *


“Oh! I just cringe with abject terror!” Q mimicked in a falsetto, then laughed himself silly.


* * * * * * * * * *


Meanwhile, in another part of the multi-verse The Continuum was having an emergency meeting.

“What do you mean you cannot find him?” the presiding female Q asked.

“We simply cannot find him.” a male Q replied.

“This is precisely why I ordered him to be watched. When he disappears like this, it often means trouble. There's no telling what damage he will cause.” the presiding Q said.

“We understand.” the male Q replied.

“I want you to redouble the search. Do not discount the fact that he may have created his own mini-universe in order to have free reign to wield his mischief.” She order.

“Yes, Q.” the male Q replied, as he and thirty-five other Q blinked out of her presence.

The female Q sighed, as she stood.

“I could use a nice, hot mug of Raktigino right now.” she said to herself. She smiled as a steaming mug of the liquid appeared in her hands. “Ah, and in my favorite mug too.” she added. The Starfleet issue, insulated mug, depicted the logo of the U.S.S. Voyager . . . . . . .




Note To Readers: Would anyone hazard to guess who the Lady Q is?