The Third Son - #133

Melissa and her team stood aside and watched as Dr. Kori  and Nurse Sutherland went into action.  Prepping  Desi for birth and seating her in the birthing chair.  She had arrived in the nick of time, a minute or so later and the babe would've been born either in the turbo lift or the corridor.


After a few minutes of frantic action a lusty cry rent the air.  


"It's a boy!"  Kori announced as she cleaned and scanned the newest addition to Pride Kodiak and the Anasazi Clan.  She gently wrapped him in a blue blanket and handed him to Tyr as Neitzschean tradition dictated.   Tyr smiled and cuddle the babe for a second, removed the blanket.  


"With the universe as my witness, I name this son to honor my father's dying request.  He shall be called Barbarossa II."  Tyr intoned, as he held the babe aloft.  


Unknown to him, in multi verse, The Janeway Q and her contingent watched with approval.  Janeway Q gazed across the multi verse and espied at a much younger and healthier Barbarossa.  He smiled at her and gave a silent "thumbs up".  


"Barbarossa approves."  she said to no one in particular.  


However, Fatou heard.  She wisely waited until Tyr had wrapped and returned Barbarossa II to Desi to nurse.  to tell Tyr while he still held the child, well, he may have dropped him. . . . .


Fatou drew Tyr aside.


"Your father approves."  she whispered to him.  Tyr gazed at Fatou in shock.  He'd had no idea that the Katay could communicate with the dead!  


"No, Tyr.  It's not what you think.  You forget, the Q are here looking for Q.  The Q can see into infinite realms.  The Q queen, if you want to call her that, can see Barbarossa and he approves.  She merely transmitted his message to me."  Fatou explained.


"Have you tried to communicate with this Q queen?"  Tyr asked.  He felt as if he had been struck upside the head by a brick, but bore up because he wanted more information.  Anything to help get his ship and crew out of this so called "bubble".  


No, I  . . . . . "  Was all Fatou was able to say.  There was a shout from outside in Sickbay's waiting room.  In came Harper assisting Monique, who was on the verge of dropping her load right there.  


Dr. Kori took one look at her and started prepping her right away.  


"My!  Is it always this busy down here?"  Melissa asked.  She and her team were certainly getting enough footage to send back, if and when they ever got back home.


"It's usually very quiet."  as female resembling Hallie Berry replied, as she assisted Xena and the newborn Barbarossa.


Melissa did a double take upon realizing the woman was an Emergency Medical Hologram.


"My name is Eve, by the way."  she said.


"And I am . .  . . ."  Melissa started.


"Melissa Kulpepper the famous UNN reporter."  Eve said and smiled. 


"Actually, formerly famous UNN reporter.  I now work for Anasazi Estate."  Melissa replied.  


"Welcome aboard."  Eve said and smiled.  Melissa knew right then that they were going to become good friends.

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?

Preperations - Chapter 13

NOTE TO READERS: What does T'Marr look like, You wonder. Well, T'Marr looks like “T'Pol” from "Enterprise" ( see photo ). Only she is taller ( approximately 5'11 ) and weighs more ( 185lbs ), she has red hair ( in the same short haircut ), and big green eyes, and she is in excellent shape. Sorry, but I like my heroines to be Lucy Lawless types. . . . . . . . Ho boy! I hope I didn't destroy someone's fantasy. . . . 

Free Enterprise  -  Preparations -  Chapter #13




For the next two days Tyr saw very little of T'Marr. It stood to reason because she was still on her “vacation”, plus she was preparing to receive her uncle and his team. When Tyr did see her, she seemed distant and aloof, which saddened him greatly.


“She's not doing that to you on purpose, Tyr.” Khan stated. The Insurrection's Captain sat morosely at his desk and stared at nothing in particular. He was in another of his “Black Funks”.


“She's preparing herself to meet her Uncle Solon and his Vulcan compatriots. You must remember, T'Marr was raised with Humans and though Vulcan, behaves like a Human. She has become comfortable enough around us to be her real self. Now, she has to pull the portcullis down, the drawbridge up, and man the murder holes.” Khan continued. The Nietzschean was sufficiently well versed in ancient Human warfare to understand the castle references.


“That means T'Marr is afraid she will not be accepted by her peers, so she must put up a front.” Tyr replied.


“Bingo!” Khan called. Of all the races in Starfleet, the Vulcans perplexed him the most.


It seemed that with their so-called purge of emotions, they unleashed a whole set of unforeseen problems. The worst being when the entire race split in two, over Surak's teachings. One half of Vulcan's society simply refused to have it shoved down their collective throats. So, those now known as the Romulans, left to seek out thier own planets and start their own civilization while the Vulcans stayed.


"The way I see it, the Vulcans were still chasing their own away. . . . . ." Khan thought, as T'Marr's face came to mind.


There was a storm brewing around her that was so vast that, for the first time in Khan's life, he could not articulate it. And even if he did manage to explain it to Tyr, the poor man would never comprehend it. This was clearly one of those times when the Revelational Guide advised Katay precogs to be quiet and watchful. A poke here, a nudge there, that was all that was needed during such times.


“It is a pity an entire race deemed it necessary to shield themselves so.” Tyr stated, bringing Khan out of his reverie. The Nieztschean rocked back in his chair and put his booted feet up on his desk.


“You do not know ancient Vulcan history, do you?” Khan asked.


“Khan, do I look like I have time to read all of that crap?” Tyr asked, as he gazed up at the Katay and frowned.


The sheer volume of stuff which screamed for the Captain's attention on a daily basis was nearly overwhelming. But, he'd organized the information in priority order, then had The Insurrection's computer READ IT TO HIM while he worked out in his private gym, or relaxing in his quarters, or in his Ready Room. Obviously reading or listening to Vulcan history would have to move up to the head of the line.


“Very well, I will give you a short tutorial. But, you will have to do some research and homework my friend. It's time you learned about T'Marr's Vulcan roots.” Khan admonished. He quickly launched into a short explanation of Vulcan history starting with The Tenents of Surak.




* * * * * * *




Meanwhile, T'Marr was having herself a good cry in the privacy of her own quarters. She hated distancing herself from the crew and Tyr, but she had to in order to prepare herself for Solon's visit. And that not only hurt, but sucked big time. . . . . . . .


Vulcan shielding was a lot like the reverse of peeling an onion, it went on in layers. Since she hadn't been using it to it's full capacity for a while, she needed some time to build it back up. T'Marr was not sure she would be able to restore it properly in time for Solon's visit. Knowing Solon, he would take one look at her and would know she was “not right”.


"So be it then." she thought.


T'Marr was tired of being a phony. She just wanted to be herself. She liked having emotions and being emotional . . . . within reason. But, it seemed that every Vulcan she met wanted to give her a total make over into a Super Vulcan. That was simply not going to ever happen. Not as long as she drew breath.


“Perhaps this is the perfect time for me to take a stand.” T'Marr thought fiercely, as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She gazed at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. One good look and anyone in their right mind would know she'd been boo-hooing, but, that was alright. She was among friends.


“The first thing I must do is to file an official petition for a name change. I want my Human name back.” she thought, as she went to the closet and picked through her selection of Vulcan robes. Unfortunately, Team Solon's presence meant more diplomatic dinners. Something Tyr detested to no end.


“Poor babe.” she thought as she held up a dark purple robe. She smiled and chuckled to herself for calling Tyr a babe. The Alpha Nietzschean stood 182.88 centimeters (6'4”) and weighed approximately 129.27 kilos (285 lbs) and that was NO BABE!


“No laughing allowed!” T'Marr admonished, as she slapped the back of her own right hand. It served to make things even funnier, and she laughed harder.


“Oh-oh! I foresee a BIG screw up and a BIG dust up!” she thought and sighed, once she had calmed down. Right there she decided it would be better to make enemies of the Vulcans, than to lose her friends on the Insurrection.

Kimshe? What Kimshee? - Chapter 12

Free Enterprise  -  Kimshee? What's Kimshee? 
-  Chapter #12






The Alpha Shift Bridge Crew looked up when Captain Tyr strode off the lift, and down to the last man, woman and being, and all exchanged “the look”. Oh-oh, Kimshee's about to his the fan!


Gilgamesh vacated the chair and sat at an auxiliary station, and melted into the background. All was quiet as Captain Anasazi spent the next three hours glowering at the main viewer, growling and snapping out rapid-fire orders.


Nietzscheans are capable of functioning on little to no sleep, depending on the circumstances. But, a Nietzschean suffering from lack of sleep was dangerous be around. So, the crew did well to step lightly around Tyr.


Only one being dared to place himself directly in the line of fire. Khan. Everyone heard when the lift doors opened and saw Khan step out and head for The Lion's Den. Tyr gave him five minutes, placed Gilgamesh in charge of the comm and followed Khan's lead. On the bridge everyone battened down the hatches.


Ever alert to Tyr's moods, Khan saw the storm clouds the moment he stepped onto the Bridge.


“The man had a wonderful dinner last night with T'Marr, what the heck could have possibly gone wrong?” Khan wondered.


“So, how was it?” Khan asked. He knew, but, the counselor in him HAD to ask. Tyr was standing in his favorite spot, at the viewport and staring morosely at the stars. It was cathartic for him. The Nietzschean shrugged his muscular shoulders, in response.


“That's all?” Khan asked, as he imitated his superior and friend's action. He sensed the mood shift and prepared for the onslaught. A normal red-blooded Human being would've run for the hills.


“What would you have me to say, Cat? Nietzscheans do not date! In case you have not noticed, Nietzscheans have strict ritualized means of choosing their mates, for the express purpose of keeping the species pure. Love has no place in that ritual. Call it a purely business transaction, what ever you like. It is our way! Period!” Tyr thundered at Khan, as his expression turned murderous.


“Tyr, you are so full of crap, your eyes are brown.” Khan challenged, as he dared pull his whiskers back in a smile. “You mean to tell me that after the Matriarch has selected her champion, there is no love felt between them?” he continued.


“There is the exchange of bloodline information, and blood tests. . . . . . No, there is not.” Tyr insisted, as he shrugged again. He was simply not in the mood to delve into a treaties on Nietzschean mating.


“You lie, Tyr. I hear that the husband must cater to his Matriarch if he . . .” Khan started.


“If you already know these things, why do you ask?” Tyr shot back, cutting Khan off.


“I'm just trying to get you to admit that under that persona of a supposedly perfect genetic specimen . . . . . .” Khan interjected.


“I am what?” Tyr shouted.


“Human! Despite Paul Museveni's lofty intentions, he used the Human genome as his foundation. That means you still possess the same Human desires for self worth, to love and be loved as your Homo Sapien cousins. Even though you deny it, you Tyr are just a Human!” Khan continued.


“And you are just a freakin' cat!” Tyr hissed, accusingly.


“Guilty as charged.” Khan replied, as he executed a sweeping bow.


Arguments, heated debates, fights, and civil wars had been started among the Katay, by that statement. Had Tyr not been such a close and dear friend, Khan would've ripped his face off for saying it.


“There, now do you feel better that you've said that?” Khan asked.


“No, I do not. Forgive me.” Tyr muttered, as he crossed his arms, faced the viewport and actually pouted. Khan briefly wondered what the Nietzschean would do if he could “see himself”. Right now, the fearsome Captain resembled a petulant child.


“You're forgiven.” Khan replied.


“Khan, what do I do about T'Marr?” Tyr asked, after a few minutes of companionable silence.


“What do you mean?” Khan asked. He was well aware of what Tyr was asking, but, again he had to ask.


“I am woefully inept in the . . . . . . Human . . . . . . concept of dating. . . .” Tyr began. He said the word “dating” as if it were both sour and very bitter, and scrunched up his face with distaste, to boot.


When Paul Museveni created the first Nietzscheans, he kept them isolated in a remote location, for fear he and his creations would be hunted down and destroyed. As a result, a super-species of Humans developed completely without knowledge of the rich cultures they had descended from.


Oh, Museveni made sure they were soundly indoctrinated in Darwinism, and Dawkinite genetic competitiveness, and the works of Nietzsche. They were discovered and befriended by the Katay. The two races formed a close and lasting alliance like the Ying and Yang which was instrumental in getting them both accepted into the Federation and Starfleet. Much like what the Vulcans did with Humans.


“You just befriend her, Tyr. Befriend her and she will learn to trust you and eventually love you.” Khan replied. “That means being pleasant for a change, Tyr. You can't go around ticked off at the universe all of the time. It's bad enough you terrify the crew. You don't want to scare off your lady love. . . .” Khan continued, but Tyr growled like a Doberman and cut him off.


“. . . . . That too has to stop.” Khan warned, as he wagged a finger at Tyr. The Nietzschean sighed, rolled his eyes and looked back at the stars.


“Bye the way, just in case, watch out for the Vulcan Nerve Pinch.” Khan warned as afterthought. Tyr turned to gaze at Khan with both eyebrows raised.


“The Vulcan Nerve Pinch?” he asked. This was the first time in Tyr's Starfleet career he'd ever had such close and extensive contact with a Vulcan. Therefore he was clueless about their most infamous defense mechanism.


“I do not know if it is as effective on Nietzscheans as it is on Humans, but. . . . .” Khan began, and went on to explain in detail how the Nerve Pinch was applied.




* * * * * * * * *




Ten minutes later, Tyr was leaving the Ready Room to return to the comm, with Khan right behind him. Suddenly Khan huffed. Attuned to his friend, Tyr stopped. The door opened and T'Marr was standing in the doorway, ready to press the buzzer.


“I need to speak to you in private about an urgent matter, Sir.” she stated simply, after getting over the initial fright of being right up in Tyr's grille. She honestly didn't know whether she was more frightened to death or turned on. She immediately slammed and dogged down her Vulcan mental shields.


“This must be serious, because she is in uniform.” Tyr thought. For she still had four days left on her “vacation”.


Tyr and Khan stepped back to allow her entrance into The Ready Room proper.


“Sir, in two days Solon will be arriving with a team of xeno-sociologists from The Vulcan Academy of Sciences. “ she announced.


“Why?” Tyr demanded.


“Solon claims that they wish to study Nietzscheans at work and living in a close environment with other races.” she replied. Tyr frowned because the Vulcans should've known by now that Nietzscheans were capable of "playing nice with others."


“There has to be hundreds of Starfleet vessels out there that have mixed crews. Why this ship in particular? ” Tyr demanded, once again.


“Solon is my Uncle, Sir. And he is using this as as excuse to check on me, Sir.” T'Marr replied, as she blushed a very light tint of green. Tyr noticed and filed that fact away for later.


“Let them come. We will be ready for them.” Tyr stated. Khan's ears pricked up. He'd heard of that same declaration made by numerous men and women of war, upon approach the of an enemy.


“Divine have mercy! We'd better lock down all of the weapons lockers!” Khan thought. If Tyr had his way, he would roam the Insurrection's corridors packing a Guass rifle, hunt, and pick them off one by one.


“Sir, I just want you to know that I tried to get them to cancel this fiasco, but they were already in route.” T'Marr apologized, before hastily taking her leave. Tyr immediately turned to Khan.


“I believe this will put our little experiment on hold.” Tyr sighed. After all, he couldn't very well “date” T'Marr while her uncle and his “people” were on board and watching them from all angles.


“No it doesn't. There is more than one way to skin a cat.” Khan declared, then immediately winced upon realizing his gaff. Tyr roared with mirth. Khan could not help but join in.




* * * * * *


Outside, the bridge crew sighed with relief.


"At least they're not tryin' to kill each other." whispered Ensign DeMato. Everyone shushed him, but agreed.

After Dinner - Chapter 11

AUTHOR'S NOTE: “Tamarra” is T'Marr's Human given or first name. She Vulcanized it while studying on Vulcan.




Free Enterprise  -  After Dinner - Chapter #11




It was five hours later and T'Marr was still awake and burning the midnight oil. She'd gotten undressed, gotten cleaned up, donned her sleepwear. Then she re-hung all of her scattered clothing and was now sitting at her desk in front of her computer console.


She had received a sub-space transmission from her Vulcan uncle Solan reminding her that an important family event was coming up soon. And of course her Vulcan side of the family were anxious for her to attend. Well, not anxious. . . . . . more like looking forward with great anticipation to her being in attendance.


It had been nearly seven years since she had last set foot upon the burning sands of Vulcan, and seen the “Vulcan side of her family”. Honestly, T'Marr was in no rush to return to Vulcan any time soon. Although Vulcan was her original planet of origin, there were too many bad memories associated with it. She sent off a polite but terse reply that she would not be attending, explaining that duty calleth and she could not get away.


T'Marr, then tucked her legs under her semi lotus style and prepared to do her own personal research by first reviewing the past night's events.


After getting off to a bumpy start, dinner with Captain Tyr had been very pleasant. Their conversation had revealed some of his likes and dislikes. One thing he disliked was her new hairstyle and told her so. He also hated the shade of lipstick she wore.


T'Marr smiled realizing that a Human female would've “went off” on him saying those things. As a matter of fact, she didn't like them either. But, the hairstyle was Lieutenant JG Della Sanchez's idea, who'd insisted it would make her more attractive.


“Hah! I looked like a plucked chicken!” T'Marr thought, and smiled. “And that lipstick probably made me look like a courtesan. Next time Tamarra, stick to what you know.”


It was funny how Tyr now knew practically everything about her, but she didn't know that much about him. T'Marr blamed that on being too distracted by the delicious food, and being awe struck by the handsome Nietzschean sitting in front of her. She was amazed she was able consume her meal without choking.


The man certainly knew his way around the kitchen! She was a tad disappointed that the lasagne didn't contain meat. But, he didn't know that she consumed meat.


It's true that all Vulcans were vegetarians and echewed eating meat. But, she'd been raised on Earth and had eaten poultry and fish. After all, her Human family lived on a ranch, and they raised their own crops and livestock.


T'Marr stopped eating meat when she went to Vulcan for her so-called “cultural studies”. But every once in a while, the cravings for grilled chicken breast or salmon would come back with a vengence.


“I'd better tell him soon. Before I have to resort to snatching things off his plate!” she thought, and smiled.


She then accessed The Insurrection's data banks for information on the Nietzschean race, and settled in for some very long and detailed reading.




* * * * * * *




Meanwhile in Tyr's quarters all was dark, still and quiet. No, he was not asleep. Tyr Anasazi out of Victory by Barbarossa of the Kodiak Pride, was sitting at his desk and “wool gathering”.


He had fully intended to make a personal log entry but, the only words he could think of were Khan's words: “Beautiful Vulcan Flower.” Over and over and over again. Despite the horrid hairdo and the loathsome lipstick, T'Marr WAS a “Beautiful Vulcan Flower.”


He glanced at the desk chrono which said 0315 hours and rolled his eyes. He doubted he would get much sleep, but, he sighed and went through the motions anyway.




* * * * * * * *


In Khan's quarters, he was just going to bed also.


“What is it, my husband?” Sabra asked. When her mate didn't sleep, she didn't either.


“It begins.” Khan said, simply.

Staking A Claim - Chapter 8

Again I have been remiss! I knew there was SOMETHING I was forgetting!




BONEBLADES: What are they? 


Boneblades are uniquely designed for Homo Sapiens Invitcus (The Nietzscheans) so that he or she are never unarmed. They consist of three boney protuberances which extend out from the radial bones of the forearms. When at rest they lie flat against the back of the owners forearms. As you can see from the photo above.


During conflict they extend out like a cats claws to rip, or tear. The men wear leather gauntlets on their forearms which help to protect the sensitive skin around each blade, Women, unless they are going into battle wear a feminine cuff type covering over theirs.


Boneblades are a once in a life time thing. Should a Neitzschean lose his/her boneblades in an accident or battle, they cannot be replaced. This may also be why some Nietzscheans have chosen to have their boneblades removed in order to appear more Human. . . .


Now that I've totally bored you with that . . . . On with the story!




* * * * * *


Free Enterprise  –  Staking A Claim - Chapter #8




That night Khan did not sleep well at all. His wife Fatou put their two kits to sleep and she stayed up for two hours with him. Finally she went to sleep, because Khan promised he would join her soon.


Funny thing, he knew he would not, and so did Sabra. They were both precognitive, ( with Khan being the stronger of the two ), and they both knew that there were times when The Gift “spoke” and it's content was disturbing. Sometimes too disturbing to tell those involved, and far too disturbing to sleep on.


Right now, one young man's face dominated Khan's thoughts. Nietzschean Captain Tyr Anasazi, out of Victory by Barbarossa. The tenth son whom Barbarossa had predicted would be “the center of the wheel”, didn't even own a pot to pee in, compared to his older brothers.


All of his brothers were well established, and owned ships, planets, an orbital platform and space station or two, wives and many children. Tyr was Tyr and was satisfied with what he had. A ship with stars to navigate by. So what it wasn't his own ship. . . . .


But, that was about to change. The problem was, how did one make such a prediction? When the Divine gave The Gift to the Katay, He also gave them the Revelational Guide. It was a Divine instruction manual on the responsibilities of being a "precog".


Unlike fortune tellers, The Gifted did not just tell a poor man “You're going to be rich.” According to the Revelational Guide, The Gifted was responsible to guide the poor man step by step until he reached his riches.


Like: “You have to go to this house at this address, and meet this man who's name is so and so. Ask for this woman, whose name is so and so, and she will give you the name and address of another location. Go to that location which happens to be a bank and speak to this man and he will give you the key to a safety deposit box. . . . . .” That's of course, if the hearer was willing to believe and do so.


Tyr's first step was connecting with T'Marr.


“Now if I can just get the stubborn Nietzschean to invite her to have dinner with him in the Captain's mess a couple of nights a week. . . . .” Khan thought. And he had to do it soon, because the other male Nietzschean members of the crew were casting their eyes in T'Marr's direction. . . . . .




* * * * * * * * * *


After two days of uninterrupted rest, T'Marr woke up early on the third morning and went to the gym. After her workout, she headed back to her quarters to get cleaned up and was preparing to do some serious reading when she noticed she had a message on her console.


When she opened the message The Captain's personal signature page came up.


“Oh what fresh hell is this?” she thought, as she opened the message. It was a text message which simply said:


“Please join me for dinner at 1900 hours tonight in the Captain's Mess.” T'Marr read with her heart in her throat.


“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! What am I going to wear?” she asked, as she ran to her closet and began snatching out clothing.




* * * * * * * * * *


“There! Now, I've sent it. Fat lot of good it will do if she doesn't come.” Tyr rumbled.


“Trust me, she'll be there.” Khan replied. The tiny hairs on Tyr's neck stood on end. He hated when that happened.


“Bye the way, what are we going to do with Ensign DeMato?” Khan asked as an aside. Tyr stood and went to his favorite spot to gaze out of the viewport at the stars.


“His request for transfer has been denied.” Tyr replied


“His request is legitimate.” Khan stated.


“I understand and sympathize. However, I've also taken the liberty of checking the replacement pools. There are currently no other Communications Officers equaling his caliber to replace him, so I am initiating Stop Loss. Unless I'm guaranteed a suitable replacement, Ensign DeMato stays.” Tyr intoned.


“My, that is most unfortunate. He is not going to want to hear that.” Khan replied.


“It is most unfortunate for the both of us. Our Human cousins stink when they are fearful, and Ensign DeMato is sacred to death of me.” Tyr said.


Khan was a living witness of what he was talking about. Nietzschean men seemed to strike fear in the hearts of most Human males. Especially the Alphas like Tyr.


Alphas were the bigger, stronger, meaner, and the more dominant members of the Nietzschean Prides. On their home worlds, they lived in the lap of luxury because they got all of the women and got to father as many children as they wanted. The cost was they had to fight for and win the woman's favor, fight for everything and to keep everything. "Only the strong survive!" was the number one Nietzschean motto.


Khan had been working with Tyr to get him to “tone it down” just a bit. So, by having Tyr modify his stance while around his male human crew members and officers was helping, somewhat.


“Remember what we discussed earlier?” Khan asked, pointing at Tyr's crossed arms with his boneblades which were half extended. The darned things reminded Khan of his own claws, which he had to consciously keep retracted.


The Ready Room's door chime rang, as Tyr dropped his arms behind his back in parade rest mode. Hiding the boneblades. Khan pulled his whiskers back in a smile.


“Enter.” Tyr said. And Ensign DeMato stepped into The Lion's Den.

A Doctor In The House - Chapter 4

NOTE: The correct way to pronounce "Tyr" is "TEAR", like the crying kind.  Please, don't feel bad, I said "TIRE: for years. . . . . LOL!




* * * * * * * *


Free Enterprise - A Doctor In The House - Chapter 4




Four hours later, a thoroughly refreshed Tyr Anasazi made an appearance in Sickbay. Dr. Kori looked up from examining Ensign Jessica Torres, at her Nietzschean Captain and frowned. The look in the man's eyes brooked no nonsense, so she called her assistant to take over, and motioned him into her inner sanctum.


Inside of her office, it seemed that every flat surface held some kind of plant. Dr. Kori was an avid Botanist and loved to be surrounded with “growing things”. Tyr scowled at her favorite, a Kensington-Smythe plant named Darwin.


“Darwin is asleep, so you don't have to worry about his input.” Kori said as she sat. Tyr continued to stand, and glower at the plant. The damned plant was a magpie and gossip when awake, and what he had to say was confidential. Taking a cue from her Captain, Kori shouted:


“Darwin!”


The plant shook itself awake and stared at both of them with googly eyes.


“Right inna middle of a good dream too . . .” he groused.


“Darwin. Be a darling and go down to Hydroponics for about an hour, okay?” Kori said.


“And, good morning to you too.” Darwin replied, in a snit. If he had a tongue he would've poked it out at Kori. He activated an anti-grav devise which was attached to his planter, and floated towards the door.


“Good Morning, Captain.” he said cheerfully as an afterthought. The doors whooshed shut behind him.


“Now, what do you want?” Kori demanded, as she frowned. This was typical Klingon protocol, be rude to everyone!


Nietzscheans as a whole were healthy as horses and had little need for doctors. Oh they had them, just in case of emergencies, that's why her assistant was a Nietzschean physician. Dr. Freya had become a doctor because she was fascinated with Human (Homo Sapien) diseases and injuries.


“Commander T'Marr. Is there anything I should know?” he asked.


“She is in perfect physical health. She has been psychologically cleared by Dr. Tovar of Vulcan and Dr N'Toll of Starfleet.” Kori replied.


“I noticed she had taken several medical leaves in the past, and I was curious as to their nature.” Tyr asked.


“Ah, those.” Kori replied, as she smiled to herself. “There are certain things that Vulcans must do approximately every seven years or so. Especially the unbonded ones.” she continued. Tyr frowned, because his Chief Medical Officer was confusing him even more.


“And what might that be?” he asked.


“Sorry Captain, but here is where I officially enact Patient/Doctor Confidentiality. If you want to know more, you will have to ask her yourself.  As it stands, I am not at liberty to say. Were it under other circumstances, I would have.” Kori said.


“Those circumstances would not happen to be a condition which may endanger my ship and crew, would they?” Tyr asked dangerously, anyone else would have run for the hills at that tone. Kori, Klingon to the bone, merely rolled her eyes and smiled.


“I repeat, I am not at liberty to say, Captain. Have a wonderful day.” She said, as she stood and headed for the door. The tone and action was very clear. He may be Captain of The Insurrection, but, he'd just been tossed out of Sickbay!  By a Klingon, no less. . . . . . .




* * * * * * * * *


Tyr arrived on the bridge and repaired to his Ready Room immediately. Khan was already there, setting up his breakfast. The Katay took one look at the storm clouds on The Captain's face, and pricked his ears and whiskers forward.


“You read T'Marr's service record I gather. . . . .” Khan started.


“It was so heavily redacted, I suspect the woman was or is a spy.” Tyr cut in. “As soon as she reports for duty, I wish to speak to her.” he continued, as he took up his fork and began to eat. Khan relayed, the orders and sat across from his captain.


“She is not going to tell you.” Khan said out of the blue. The small hairs stood on the back of Tyr's neck stood on end, as they often did when Khan made one of his predictions.


“I can order her to do so.” Tyr replied.


“Tyr, Tyr, Tyr. You truly don't understand women, do you? There are some things a woman would never tell a man, simply because a man would never understand. Just because you are the captain and order her to do so, she does not have to tell you anything. You cannot put someone on report for not divulging personal information, they deem private.” Khan replied.


“If it concerns the safety of my ship. . . . .” Tyr growled.


“However, I will tell you this. Her Vulcan parents were intelligence operatives for Section 31. They were on a husband and wife team assignment when they were assassinated.” Khan interrupted.


It was a good thing Tyr had thoroughly chewed and swallowed his scrambled eggs and toast. For, he would've choked.

Into The Fire - Chapter 2

                                                                     


                                                 CAPTAIN "TYR ANASAZI" 



NOTE TO READERS:   I forgot to give you a very short tutorial. The word "Nietzschean" is pronounced KNEE-CHEE-ANN. I will try to give a little more history each time I add a chapter.


N.A.C.




Into The Fire - Chapter 2




T'Marr entered The Ready Room and beheld two things at one time. The Nietzschean Captain was standing with his thumbs hooked into his belt, as he gazed pensively out of the clear steel Ready Room window at the stars.


He was dressed in a modified version of a Starfleet Captain's uniform. His jacket was a sleeveless v-neck model which made allowances for his bone blades, and heavily muscled chest and arms. His waist length dreadlocks were tied back with a leather thong. The rest of the uniform fit his body like a glove. Inwardly, T'Marr tried hard not to stare. The holographic photos she'd seen of the man had done him no justice whatsoever! He was drop dead handsome!


“OMG! OMG! OMG!” T'Marr's human half thought. She quickly squashed those thoughts to deal with the present in her usual logical manner.


She lifted an eyebrow at the other occupant in the room. A male Katay. The bipedal felinenoid was the same height as Captain Tyr, and resembled a white Bengal Tiger. It too wore a modified version of a Starfleet uniform. A vest and knee length cargo shorts. It stood about a foot behind Tyr and gazed at her with knowing blue eyes.


It was said that approximately 10 percent of the Katay were precognitive. Most people thought they were on par with prophets because they were 100 percent accurate. This one looked like he'd seen T'Marr coming three lifetimes ago. . . . . . .


“Commander T'Marr McPhearson reporting for duty, sir.” she said crisply as she stood at attention.


“At ease, Commander.” Captain Tyr said as he turned to face her and pinned her green eyes with his penetrating brown ones. T'Marr stood at ease, but, felt like she was going to melt.


“This is my yeoman.” Tyr continued. Speaking of his felinenoid shadow.


“I am Khan.” The Katay rumbled, inclined his head slightly, and held out his paws/hands with claws retracted to show he was friendly. T'Marr inclined her head in response. And thought.


“Yeah, he's a yeoman like I'm a ring tailed lemur!”


Half of the universe were terrified of the Katay, and the other half worshiped and revered them. The Nietzscheans had allied themselves with the Katay because they were ruthless warriors, excellent strategists, and shipwrights. in short, they were brothers, except for the fur. Of course, a little precognitive info every once in a while was a boon.


“You should find a seat before the others get here.” Tyr said. It seemed the second the words left the Captain's lips, in strode a Klingon female.


Judging by the sciences blue in her uniform and the white lab coat, T'Marr deducted this was the Insurrection's Chief Medical Officer. Practically on her heels the following officers entered. Chief of Sciences, Chief of Engineering, Chief of Security. T'Marr noted they were all female, and raised her eyebrows.




* * * * * *




Approximately 30 minutes later, when the meeting ended. T'Marr was a tad disappointed that she was being assigned the com right off the bat. After all, didn't Captain Anasazi know she'd just arrived and needed to unpack and get squared away? Were she Human, or in her “Human State Of Mind”, she would've “went off on the Captain”, but she did not. T'Marr simply strode out of the Ready Room with the rest of Insurrection's Command Crew and claimed the center seat.


Though she was nearly as tall as the Captain, T'Marr was nearly swallowed up by Tyr's Atilla The Hun style captain's chair. She made herself comfortable as the chair automatically adjusted itself to fit her body size and shape. A Katay invention no doubt.


“Looks like this is going to be long night.” T'Marr thought to herself as she was handed a PADD to read and sign.




* * * * *




Meanwhile back in Tyr's Ready Room . . . . . .


“So. What did you think of her, Captain Anasazi?” Khan rumbled.


“I am of no opinion, Khan.” Tyr sighed.


“Really. I find it hard to believe that Captain Tyr Anasazi, out of Victory by Barbarossa has no opinion.” Khan purred.


“Thirty minutes is not enough time to properly asses a person's character, Khan.” Tyr returned.


“Yet, on the battle field, it takes a mere split second to decide whether to kill or spare. . . . . . . .” Khan persisted.


“She is efficient, dedicated and honorable. She would make an excellent second in command.” Tyr replied, cutting the Katay off rudely. Khan's whiskers twitched back, a Katay equivalent of a smile.


“And what of Gilgamesh? He has been looking forward to being promoted. . . . . .” Khan started.


“Gilgamesh knew the consequences of serving aboard the Insurrection under my command!  One of them is the likelihood of being passed over for promotion.” Tyr stated, hotly.


Lt. Commander Gilgamesh was an Alpha male Nietzschean like Tyr and, from the moment he set foot on the Insurrection's deck, he'd challenged Tyr's authority, nipping his commnder's heels like a baby wolf cub.


Gilgamesh's hide had been saved by the fact that 1. He'd found and selected his "matriarch" from among Tyr's crew ( which kept him too occupied to continue his rebellious activities ). 2. He was also Tyr's favorite first cousin. Otherwise, he would have long been flushed out of the nearest airlock. Besides, Star Fleet frowned upon their captains “spacing” annoying officers and crew.


“Efficient, dedicated and honorable were not quite the words I was looking for.” Khan said, skillfully changing the subject of the conversation, as he was often wont to do.


Tyr turned his head and leveled a poisonous gaze at Khan. The very same expression which would've sent his subordinates scurrying for cover. But, Khan stood fast and stared right back.


“What pray tell would you have me say, Cat?” Tyr asked, using his personal nickname for the Katay. Tyr was the only person in the Gamma Quadrant allowed to call Khan that. Anyone else would've been killed where they stood . . . .


“Beautiful Vulcan flower.” Khan stated simply. Tyr's expression changed to a mega nova smile as he roared with mirth. However, his humor died down immediately when he noticed that his Katay friend & Yeoman was not chuffing along with him.


“Khan? What are you up to?” Tyr growled, dangerously.


The Nietzschean Captain was sick of people trying to “”hook him up”. Unfortunately, they did not understand the manner in which Nietzscheans selected their mates. Oh, he'd had a few dalliances, but the search for his matriarch continued. Like the Alpha wolf in a wolf pack, he'd have to put a serious hurting on a couple of tails first. Only then would the woman consider him worthy of mating with. Only the strong survived and THAT was the Nietzschean way. . . . . .


“Oh nothing, Captain. I just wanted to inform you that you ship has come in.” Khan replied. Tyr frowned, not quite understanding the idiom, but suddenly guessing the gist of it.


“Surely not. . . . . .” Tyr started.


“She also hates to be touched.” Khan continued.


“Vulcans are touch telepaths, and all touch telepaths loathe be touched. . . .” Tyr said.


“An incident occurred which caused touching to be even more loathsome to her. . . . . . . .” Khan started, then stopped.


Tyr was all ears now, but he knew the Katay was not going to give him any more information. It was just like the damned creature to tell him just enough info to whet his appetite, then leave him hanging.


This annoyed Tyr to no end. His father, Barbarossa had done the same thing to him when he was growing up. Barbarossa used this so-called method of instructing every one of his ten sons. And, he was especially hard on Tyr, who was the youngest, and supposed runt of the lot.


So, if Captain Anasazi wanted more information on Commander T'Marr McPhearson, he going to have to track it down on his own. He would also have to observe her the way the Earth Lion would watch the unsuspecting herd of gazelles from the African brush. And Tyr was an expert at observing . . . . . . .


He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn't realize he'd rose and left the Ready Room, until he was in the lift and heading down to Officer's Country. Back in the Ready Room, Khan simply pulled his whiskers back in a smile.

                                           KHAN