Welcome! - Chapter 35

Free Enterprise  -   Welcome! - Chapter 35


1835 hours found Tyr and Tam busy with last minute preparations. He was putting the finishing touches on dinner and Tam was policing their quarters, making sure everything was just right.

Then she was back harassing Tyr for a snack. He gave her a small bowl of baby carrots, snow peas, and a bowl of humus.

“That's what you get for not eating all day.” he fussed. What have I told you about that, Tam?” he asked.

“I'm sorry, Babe. It was just an incredibly hectic and busy day.” Tam replied.

“Tell that to your poor abused and neglected body. Do I have to supervise your meals now?” Tyr queried.

“Oh no! You'll have me eating roots, shoots and twigs!” Tamara declared.

“I will not. If you mean the total elimination of junk food from your diet. . . .” Tyr started. One of the first things he had done was to get rid of her “stash”.

“I don't eat much. Just a bag of potato chips once in a while.” Tamara cut in.

“Potato chips are poison. They contain nothing but salt and grease.” Tyr warned.

“Two important food groups. Salt and grease.” Tamara stated and smiled. Tyr shook his head and checked his pots.

“Bye the way, Babe, can you do me a huge favor?” Tamara asked. Tyr looked up at her from what he was doing with his intense gaze.

“Before you two mix it up with her, please let me know so I can close our link.” she said. Referring to the marital mental link they shared.

“Close our link?” Tyr asked and frowned. That didn't sound good.

“I'm not cutting the link. It'll be more like closing the door so that the two of you can have some privacy. If I don't, I will wind up being a mental voyeur.” she replied. “When it's over, you can come back and I will reopen it.” she continued.

“Then we will need some kind of code word or phrase.” Tyr said as he considered and tossed out about ten phrases right then.

“I've got one.” Tamara smiled and pipped up. “How about 'knock, knock'?” she asked. Tyr didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he simply did the face in the palm. Tamara sensed his distress through their link.

“What's the matter, Babe?” she asked innocently.

“Knock, knock?” Tyr asked incredulously.

“What's wrong with it? It is simple, concise, and to the point.” she replied and smiled. “Or would you prefer antidisestablishmentariansm?” she quipped.

“I . . .” Tyr, started. But the door buzzer sounded, signaling the arrival of their guest.

“Saved by the bell! Knock, knock it will be!” Tamara said triumphantly, as the door bell continued to buzz, stridently.

“Get the door, Babe. I'll finish up in the kitchen.” Tyr said.



* * * * * * * *



Tamara answered the door and none other than Lieutenant Commander Xena Anol stood there, dressed in her Nietzschean best. That meant brown leather boots, pants, vest and bejeweled gauntlets. Both women greeted each other with a hug, and Tamara led Xena to the living room where they seated themselves on the sofa.

It was going to be at least ten minutes before dinner was served so both ladies used the time to cluck away like hens, while sipping a drink Tamara had poured for herself and Xena.

Xena took the first sip and rolled it around in her mouth like a good wine before swallowing.

“I taste banana, coconut, and crushed ice of course.” Xena stated with the precision of a forensic expert as she held the glass eye level.

“You are correct. I call it a Banana Colada. A Virgin Banana Colada since it contains no alcohol.” Tamara replied. Along with junk food, the health conscious Nietzscheans also frowned upon consuming alcohol.

“My Dad was into juicing and taught me how to put together different fruit and vegetable combinations for certain conditions. For example, the Banana Colada is supposed to be an energy booster. There are others to calm and produce sleep, to help brain function, etcetera.” Tamara continued.

“I have heard Humans do that with teas.” Xena said.

“My Mom was the resident healer in our family. Anyone got sick, she had a “bush tea” to cure it! I don't like teas to this day, because most of them smell and taste bad! At least with juices, you can add fruits to sweeten your drink.” Tamara replied.

“With your knowledge, have you ever thought of opening your own business?” Xena asked after finishing off her drink.

“You mean teas and juices?” Tamara asked.

Xena looked back at her with an expression which said “Duh!”

“Perhaps after I retire from Starfleet.” Tamara replied.

“Do you know what Drago said about that in Ancestor's Breath?” Xena asked.

“No.” Tamara replied. She felt guilty that she had completed reading only the first third of Drago's treaties on Nietzschean life. Pon Farr had a way of upsetting one's applecart so.

“Live for the moment, for you may not see tomorrow.” Xena quoted.

“How? How . . . . . .?” Tamara asked.

“You are a very intelligent woman. You'll find a way. And if you need help, do not hesitate to ask.” Xena replied. Tamara smiled in return.

She was glad Xena was going to become a member of their family. In fact, she was just about to say so when Tyr called them into the dining room. Dinner was ready and being served.



NOTE TO READERS:

First: Lt. Cmdr Xena Anol ( Tyr's #2 Consort ) looks like Angelina Jolie. Just picture her wearing leather, chain mail, festooned with weapons and course we can't forget the BONEBLADES!

Second; The words “bush tea(s)” is a West Indian term for teas which grow wild on bushes, back home on the islands in many people's back or front yards. When someone gets sick, either the mother or grandmother will send someone to go out and “pick some leaves off yon bush”. Where they will proceed to boil it and make it into a tea for the sick person to drink as a cure.

Third: I hope I didn't spell “antidisestablishmentarianism” wrong, because Spell Check refused to deal with it. . . . . I wonder why?

Making Amends - Chapter 34

JUST FRIENDLY REMINDER: The events in this episode are NOT written according to Andromeda cannon! A First Wife has no say so in the matter of her consort taking additional wives or whom he decides to take. If she doesn't like who he has chosen, it's up to the First Wife to find some "creative way" to get rid of her. Boy! What a "soap opera" that would make!


Free Enterprise  -  Making Amends - Chapter 34



Captain Anasazi arrived a a very quiet Sickbay. He was informed that Kori was in her office, by Nurse Starks.

“Oh, this just gets better and better.” Tyr thought, sourly. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Darwin the chatterbox and VuVu the pickpocket. He buzzed for entrance anyway.

“Come.” Kori's voice said. Tyr stepped in. Kori had her head down studying something on her computer screen. She looked up to see who it was, and also because she smelled roses. She was surprised to see none other than Captain Tyr Anasazi standing in her office doorway with a large wrapped bouquet of what smelled like roses in his hand.

Time froze as they both stared at each other. The Nietzschean too proud to apologize, and the Klingon too proud to mention that she had been slighted.

“All is forgiven, Captain. Thank you.” she said, as she stood, walked around the side of the desk and stood in front of Tyr. She took the bouquet and Tyr watched as every rose turned a deep royal-bluish purple.

“How did you know that purple is my favorite color?” Kori asked.

“I did not.” Tyr replied.

“Then how?” Kori asked. Tyr related the short history Lt. Torres had given him only minutes earlier. “She believes it may be caused by a chemical reaction.” Tyr added.

“I will have to look that up.” Kori said, cradling the bouquet. “Now, get your butt out of here! I've got work to do!” she added and smiled. Tyr smiled, shook his head and left. Kori tossing him out of her office meant she was back to her old intractable self. And he was glad.


* * * * * * * * * *

“So how'd it go?” Tamara asked Tyr, later on that evening when they were together. Tyr related the events to her as she lay snuggled in his arms.

“Now we have a welcome dinner to plan.” Tamara said.

“What planning? You invite. I'll cook.” Tyr replied.

“Are you sure it won't be too much?” she asked.

“No, it will not.” Tyr assured.

“Then it's on for tomorrow night.” Tamara said. “It'll be here right?” she continued.

“Yes.” Tyr replied.

“Then I'd better tidy up a bit, make room for the new addition to the family, and find something nice to wear. . . .” Tamara started.

“Tam.” Tyr said. Interrupting her verbal list.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Be quiet and go to sleep. We both have a long day tomorrow.” he said.

“Okay.” Tamara replied and snuggled closer to Tyr. He eased the covers up over them. Within minutes, both were fast asleep.

Flowers For. . . . . . . - Chapter 33

Free Enterprise  -  Flowers For . . . . . - Chapter 33


“Good Morning, Captain!” Lieutenant JG Jessica Torres said as she beamed up at Tyr. She was cute, perky and bouncing off the bulkheads. Even though Tyr was a morning person, he found Lt JG Torres was a tad too bouncy.

“What brings you to our little neck of the woods, today?” she asked. Tyr made it a daily habit of stopping by to pick up fresh fruit and vegetables for his meals. Now that he had a consort. . . . . . . . .

No matter how many times he'd been there before, Tyr never ceased to be amazed by Hydroponics. It occupied half of Deck 9. Trees, plants, flowers, fruit bearers and vegetables encompassed not only the deck under his feet, but the bulkheads and the ceiling. So it was amazingly easy for one to lose one's horizontal orientation in there. Torres's subordinates standing on anti-grav platforms, were misting, spraying, watering, trimming and picking.

Tyr leaned down and whispered to Torres what he wanted.

“Come with me, Sir. I know exactly what you need.” she said. She led him down what seemed like a series of endless aisles. Tyr smelled them long before he saw them. Roses.

“Here on the Insurrection we have 23 different varieties of roses. Not only because they are pretty, but some races use them for food, steep their leaves for tea, and use them medicinally.” Lieutenant JG Torres said, as if she was giving Tyr the cook's tour.

“Here's what you want, Sir.” she continued as she stopped and stood in front of a particular rose bush.

Tyr marveled at the color of the flowers. They definitely resembled roses in every way except for the color. They were so translucent that they seemed completely colorless, yet saturated with colors.

“They are called the Altiarian Peace Rose. Traditionally they are given as a peace offering between warring Altiarian Tribes.” Jessica said. “The color of the flowers will change when you present them to the other party, to their favorite color.” she continued.

“Indeed? And how is that so?” Tyr asked.

“Starfleet botanists who have more degrees and higher pay grades than I, have been have been trying to figure that out for the past two years and haven't found an answer. Me? I think it's just a chemical reaction. But who am I?” Jessica replied, as she began to carefully snip away at individual flowers.

“Is this good, Sir? Or would you like a few more?” she asked.

“Two more should do it.” Tyr replied. He watched as Jessica added them to the bunch she already cut, then expertly wrap them.

“There you go, Sir.” she said as she handed the bouquet over to Tyr. “Watch out for the thorns.” she added.

“I will. And thank you Lieutenant.” Tyr said, as he took his leave.

“I will indeed watch out for the thorns.” he thought, as he smiled to himself.

Free Enterprise  -  Back To Work! - Chapter 32


Later on that night Captain Tyr received the following text message via computer from Lt. Commander Kori, the Insurrection's CMO:

“Captain Tyr Anasazi and Commander Tamara McPhearson medically cleared for duty as of Alpha Shift tomorrow.”


* * * * * * * * *


“Welcome back, Captain, Commander.” Lt. Commander Gilgamesh said as Tyr and Tamara stepped off the lift and on to the bridge.

“Thank you.” Tamara said with a slight smile. Tyr just nodded. Kori also present, scowled at the two of them.

** Tyr, behave. ** Tamara thought, seeing her consort frown as if he wanted to sneeze. She knew that meant he wanted to bust out laughing.

“I'll be in my Ready Room.” Tyr announced. He headed to the doors and disappeared inside. Tamara sat in the central seat and sighed.

Kori cast another look at her and left. Apparently she had put both Tyr and Tamara into the same dog house. They would just have to wait until she simmered down. If ever.


* * * * * * * * *


“Tyr, Tyr, Tyr. If you were 15 years old, I would understand such juvenile behavior. . . . . . But, you are how old?” Khan asked, by way of greeting his Captain. Of course, the entire ship had heard about the “incident” by now.

“Does it matter?” Tyr snapped back.

“She was well within her right as the Chief Medical Officer of this ship, to access your quarters.” Khan countered.

“As I was well within my rights to do what I did.” Tyr countered again.

“What if you were dying or dead? The sole purpose of her so-called intrusion was to determine your condition and render assistance, not to be nosy. I think you need to make amends.” Khan replied. In response, Tyr gave him a look that could strip the paint from the bulkheads.

“After all, she does wield the power to put your butt back together after you've broken it. Apparently, Nietzscheans still have not mastered the art of not busting themselves up.” Khan continued.

“I will consider it.” Tyr replied, ignoring the dig. He assumed his favorite position and stared out of the window at the stars.

“Well, think fast. We Katay have an old saying: Doctors not only know how to heal you, but know how to kill you too.” Khan said. “Kori won't be able to kill you like a normal Human being, but she would certainly cook up something that would lay you low for a couple of days. And it will be both undetectable and untraceable” Khan said.

Tyr turned and looked at Khan with such a horrified expression, the Katay nearly laughed at him. Instead, he merely pulled back his whiskers showing his mirth.

“And don't you believe that myth that Klingons don't get embarrassed for one minute. They may not be quite as fierce as us, but they are a force to be reckoned with once riled up.” Khan continued.

“What . . . . . ?” Tyr asked.

“Get her some flowers, apologize, and call it a day.” Khan said, in response to Tyr's unasked query.

“Wonderful!” Tyr thought to himself and sighed.

Concerns About Health - Chapter 31

NOTE TO READERS: The correct way to spell Tamara is with one "R", so if you see it with two, it was a "brain burp" . . . . . .


Free Enterprise - Concerns About Health - Chapter 31


POUND! POUND! POUND! It was the unmistakable sound of a fist pounding against The Captain's Quarters door. Followed by: Buzz, buzz, buzz! Buuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzz! Then more pounding.

Tyr groaned, opened and rolled his eyes.

“What does a body have to do in order to get some quality sleep around here?” he groused to himself as he glanced at Tam. Thankfully, she was was dead to the universe. Or so he thought.

“Who the hell is that?” she whispered, from within the folds of the covers he'd tucked around her. He was mindful that she was much more sensitive to cooler climes than he was.

“It's that crazy Kori.” Tyr grunted, as he sat up. “If I don't answer the door she will use her universal access code to gain entrance.” he continued.

“What? Why would. . . . . Kori. . . . . . ?” Tam asked as she sat up too.

“No, Tam. You go back to sleep. I will take care of this.” Tyr said, as he got to his feet. In response Tam flopped back on the bed, but did not go back to sleep.


* * * * * * *


When the doors to Captain Tyr's quarters opened, Dr. Kori had her right hand up, poised to pound on them again. Both Captain and CMO glowered at each other. Klingon Challenge against Nietzschean Stare Down. Tyr won.

Kori noted Tyr had hastily tossed on a pair of cut-off jeans, a T-shirt, and was barefoot. There was no sign of Tamarra. Kori looked over her shoulder and waved away the medics. They had two anti-grav gurneys, prepared just in case they had to haul away two sick people.

“You didn't call in.” Kori accused, as she “wanded” Tyr with her palm sized medical tricorder. Starting right in on her Captain without so much as a how do you do.

“I forgot.” Tyr sighed. Which was a likely story because Nietzscheans had excellent memories. If they forgot something, they had purposely chosen to “misremember” it.

“Captain, your blood glucose levels are down, essential fatty acids and nitrates . . . . Have you been eating properly? Have you been sleeping?” Kori asked, as she frowning. “You forget that under that tough Nietzschean hide of yours, you are still Human. And like the majority of us Humanoids, you've got to eat, sleep and take care of yourself. If you were abandoned on some Kreth forsaken planet and had to eek out an existence, I would excuse your condition. But not here where food is aplenty and opportunities to rest are nearly . . . . . .” she continued to scold.

“I've eaten and slept.” Tyr stated plainly, putting an end to Kori's diatribe. He also wished he had a nice old fashioned door he could slam in the Good Doctor's face to finalize the action. He was distracted by Tam as she silently padded out, dressed in a long, blue robe.

“Captain. Do not toy with me. The tricorder does not lie. I will check on you today at 1900 hours. If there is no improvement, I will confine your Nietzschean butt to Sickbay until your physical condition improves. The last thing this crew needs if for it's Captain to fall flat on his butt from exhaustion and starvation.” she warned. “Good day, Captain. Commander.” Kori said, as she inclined her head to both. She then turned on her heel and strode out of Tyr's quarters.

Tyr sagged against the bulkhead after the doors closed behind Kori. If only she'd known how close he was to passing out. . . . .

“Perhaps she did and wished to spare me the indignity. . . .” Tyr thought.

“Tyr! Are you okay?” Tam whispered.

“No, I am not.” he replied, as he used the last of his reserves to return to the bedroom. There he simply leaned over and crashed into the bed like a felled redwood.

“What the. . . . . . .?” Tam asked as she hurried after him. To no avail because her consort was dead to the universe.

For now, all she could do was maneuver Tyr's legs and feet so that they were in the bed and covered. Giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead, she crawled back into bed and was soon asleep too.


* * * * * *

About five hours later Tyr opened his eyes to Tamarra's green eyes peering down into his.

“Babe.” she said, smiled and kissed him on the nose.

“Babe.” he said and smiled in return.

“Hey, wait a minute! You can't call me Babe when I call you Babe.” she said.

“Why ever not?” he asked.

“Because you already call me Tam, and I don't like ubiquitous nicknames which have no character or meaning.” she replied.

“Babe is not a ubiquitous nickname. I happen to like Babe.” Tyr said.

“You are a trip, you know? Speaking of trip, did you know that we are about five days away from Deep Space Ten?” she asked, skillfully changing the subject. Tyr, let it go because he didn't want to “die on that hill.” Sometimes a man needed to let a women have the silly little things they fought for.

“I see someone has been out and about.” Tyr said He took the bowl of French Vanilla yogurt with crispy crunchies mixed in, and started eating.

“Yeah! I was starting to get cabin fever.” she replied. Even with the combined space of both of their quarters, Tamarra felt like she was enclosed in a giant box. A sure sign that her Pon Farr had started to abate was the fact that she wanted to be around people again.

“Do I now have to wait another seven years. . . . .?” Tyr asked as he sat up.

“No, you don't, silly! There are over 150 billion Vulcans dwelling on Vulcan, her sister worlds and other planets including Earth. How would they have gotten there if Vulcans only procreated every seven years?” Tamarra asked and chuckled.

“Now, what were you saying about Deep Space Ten?” Tyr asked, after they'd had a good laugh over that.

“Besides stopping there to re-supply, and do some shopping, there is an Admiral I want you to meet.” she said.

“Tamara. This had better not be one of those 'I'm-introducing-you-to-my Nietzschean-consort-because-you've-never-met-one-before-and -would-like-to-meeting.” Tyr warned. He detested those! It seemed that the Nietzscheans had become the pet race of the century. Everyone wanted to meet and greet them.

“Au contraire my dear Watson. I believe she might have an offer that you cannot refuse.” Tamarra replied.

"We shall see." Tyr replied, as he polished off his yogurt.


* * * * * * * * * *


At exactly 1900 hours Kori was back buzzing her Captain's Quarters door chime again. However, Tyr and Tamarra were not asleep, in fact, they were far from it.

“Tyr, we'd better answer that.” Tamarra whispered.

“No we are not.” Tyr replied in kind.

“What if she comes in here?” Tamarra asked, aghast.

“Let her come.” Tyr said simply.

“OMG!” Tamarra thought.

Seconds later, the doors opened and in strode Kori as if she owned the place. And seconds later she came tearing out and flew down the corridor to the nearest lift, leaving her med-techs behind.

Meanwhile, inside Tyr's quarters his laughter could clearly be heard.

“You are a bad Nietzschean! Very, very bad! You embarrassed the poor woman!” Tamarra said, as she whacked Tyr repeatedly with a pillow. He held up his left forearm to fend off the blows.

“How so?” he asked. “You forget, the poor woman you speak of is a Klingons and from what I've heard Klingons cannot be embarrassed. Plus, she is a doctor, and did not see anything that she has not already seen.” Tyr continued. Tamarra gave up the fight and tossed the pillow aside.

“Then we'd better stay clear of her for the next couple of days. And don't you dare laugh every time you see her.” Tamarra admonished.

“I cannot guarantee that, Tamara. However, she will never enter my quarters again without my express permission.” Tyr stated as he pulled her into an embrace.

“I certainly hope not.” Tamara said as she snuggled into her mate's arms.

Boneblades! - Chapter 30

Free Enterprise  -   Boneblades!  -   Chapter 30




Be it far from the Nietzschean Captain to admit that Kori's words were true, but he WAS feeling worn. Despite her warnings, he was working out, checking on the status of The Insurrection and Gilgamesh, and caring for his Matriarch. In other words, he was burning the candle at both ends and the middle.

They had both taken a sonic shower and were in bed. Tyr had just dozed off, when:

“Tyr.” Tamara singsonged softly. A human wouldn't have heard her, but super sensitive Nietzschean hearing did. Tyr opened his left eye first, then the right and peered at his consort, in the semi-darkness of his quarters.

She was sitting up on the left side of the bed, holding his left forearm in her lap and examining his leather gauntlet.

Tamara was not your typical run-of-the-mill Vulcan, but she was still as curious as a feline. Tyr knew one day she'd broach the subject of his boneblades, but wasn't sure when. Obviously it was now show time.

“Tyr, what ARE these?” she asked.

“They are gauntlets.”

“Why do you . . . . . . . all Nietzscheans wear them?” She asked.

“To protect the sensitive skin between each blade and support the radial and ulnar bones.” he replied. “In some instances, they are also a form of decoration and denote rank.” He continued.

Indeed Tyr owned a variety of gauntlets to chose from. No Nietzschean in their right mind would not have a proper selection, unless they were indigent . And even then they had at least one dress and one casual pair.

Tyr's were all black, except for the white pairs he had to wear with his Starfleet Class A's. They were all different and had unique designs, because like Human armorers, Nietzscheans had special people who hand crafted them. There was no such thing as one size fits all when it came to a Nietzscheans gauntlets.

“Must you wear them even when you sleep?” she asked shyly. Tyr smiled to himself because he knew Tamarra was not shy. It would've been impossible for her to be shy, and be a Starfleet Commander. This is only something she did when around him and he found it strangely endearing.

“No I do not, Tam. I merely neglected to remove them.” he replied, as he started removing the left gauntlet.

“No.” Tamarra said, putting out a hand to stop him. “If you show me how, I will take them off for you.” she continued. So, Tyr showed her. She unhooked them, and put them on the night table.

“Could you bring me that jar over there?” he asked as he sat up and rubbed his forearms. Tamarra brought him the large green jar of body butter and watched as he twisted off the cap.

“Here, let me do that.” she said, as she dipped her hand in, scooped out a bit of the butter, applied some on his bare left forearm and rubbed it in. Tyr flexed and fully extended his boneblades, the way an Earth Lion would flex and extend his claws. The Nietzschean looked even more dangerous, even though he possessed no external weaponry.

“Paul Musuevni genetically engineered Nietzscheans with these so that they are never weaponless. They are only to be used during mortal combat.” Tyr explained, as he returned the boneblades on his left arm to the resting position, flexed the ones on his right forearm, and Tam applied the body butter.

“May I?” Tamarra asked, with her hand poised to touch the boneblades.

“It is well that you ask. Nietzscheans do not allow anyone to touch their boneblades unless it is their consort or doctor.” Tyr said.

“Why?” Tamarra asked.

“They are sensitive.” Tyr replied.

“But they are bones. How can bones be sensitive?” Tamarra asked, puzzled.

“They are sensitive nonetheless.” Tyr replied. “Like Vulcans I have trained my mind to ignore the sensations. . . .” he continued, as he gently took Tam's hand and placed it across his right blades. Tam's immediate reaction was to pull back as if she'd received an electric shock. The sensation reverberated through their marital link like whiplash!

“Wow!” she exclaimed, as her bugged eyes stared back at him. Tyr gazed back at her with a mischievous smile on his face. Tam smiled in return, like a child who'd just discovered a new candy store.

“Are we going to sit here and stare at each other all night?” Tyr asked, playfully.

“Nope.” Tamarra replied.

Honeymoon? - Chapter 29

NOTES & DISCLAIMER: I know, here is where I bore you again.  . . . . .   This story ( including this episode ) was written as a "Flight Of Fancy" & "Tongue and Cheek" and NOT ACCORDING TO "ANDROMEDA" CANON! Forgive me for being rather strident. . . .

In reality, if a Nietzschean husband decides to take an additional wife or wives, the First Wife HAS NO SAY SO IN THE MATTER! So in this way, Tyr is sort of a kinder and gentler Nietzschean. But, this is not the standard Nietzschean norm. So, if the husband brings home a ditz, it's up to the wife or wives to get rid of her, which is a whole 'nother story. . . . . . . .

I hope all of this explaining, didn't spoil your appetite for the story . . . . . But, some things just had to be done. . . . .


 Free Enterprise  -   Honeymoon? - Chapter 29


The first thing Tyr did before entering his quarters was check the progress the Quartermaster was making in repairing Tamarra's quarters. Since her quarters were right next to his, upon Tyr's orders, it was being repaired with one customized addition: an inside access door between them.

According to Nietzschean tradition, his lady was supposed to have her own quarters/living space, and invite her consort into them. But, because Tamarra's quarters had been trashed, Tyr had to make allowances by inviting her into his.

Tyr entered his quarters through the newly minted door and immediately checked on Tamarra. He was worried that the noise had disturbed her, but saw she was still out cold. So, he tenderly kissed her on her forehead and carefully rearranged the covers around her, tucking them back from where they had fallen to the deck, then went to the kitchen.


* * * * * * * *


Tyr was in the middle of preparing the noon meal when Tamarra finally awoke. He knew she was awake when he got the mental impression, through their marital link, of a tiny white kitten opening it's eyes, yawning and stretching.

Tamarra ran to the fresher, got cleaned up, and got dressed in a pink oversized t-shirt and navy blue capri pants. She was drawn by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. She was famished!

Now, Tyr's kitchenette was little more than a broom closet, and with him in it, there was simply no room. But Tamarra squeezed herself in like a house cat, and to Tyr's mild annoyance, began poking through stuff, rifling the neatly arranged ingredients he had set up in small bowls to toss into the wok.

“Ooooh! Baby corn! I love baby corn!” she said, as she swiped some and stuffed them into her mouth. Tyr playfully fended off her other attempts to pillage more food, chasing her out by brandishing the wooden stirring paddle at her.

Tamarra fled but took the entire bowl of snow peas with her! Tyr merely chuckled and went back to cooking. She sat at the dining table and began to munch happily on her plunder.

About 5 minutes later, Tyr appeared with dishes, silverware and glasses and laid the place settings. He was back minutes later with the food: grilled chicken breasts, Mediterranean rice pilaf, and stir fried vegetables

“There are no snow peas in this dish because someone stole and ate all of them.” Tyr said in a mock stern voice as he arranged the dishes on the table.

“Sorry.” Tamarra said, looking as innocent as a two year old covered head to toe in mud.

“De nada. It's nothing.” Tyr replied, as he sat and took up his silverware and began to eat.

“Did you sleep well?” Tyr asked, after a few minutes of silence, which was only broken by the clicking of silverware against china.

“I think I did, but if I should suddenly pitch forward into my food. . . .” Tamarra started.

“I will make sure you are alright and put you back to bed.” Tyr replied. Noting his Lady had “inhaled” her food, and was now stealing food from his plate,. particularly the the strips of grilled chicken breast. He frowned as this was the first time he'd ever seen her consume meat.

“Whops! I forgot to tell you that I ate meat.” she said, as she noticed her consort's gaze. “I was raised eating it as a child. After all I lived on a ranch where we raised our own crops and livestock. One simply ate what was put before one. When I reached young adulthood, I renounced eating red meat. And when I went to Vulcan. . . . . .” she started.

“You stopped eating meat completely.” Tyr interrupted.

“Yeah. When in Rome, do as the Romans. But, I managed to sneak stuff though, much to the chagrin of the Masters. . . . .” she replied, as she popped the last of the chicken into her mouth.

“Tam, when was the last time you ate?” Tyr asked, using the pet name they had mutually agreed on.

“Our last dinner date, when you made me eat. . . .” she replied. Actually, he did not make her eat. She had eaten to prove that there was nothing wrong with her. Of course, her act did not fool Tyr one bit.

“Tam, that was nearly three weeks ago.” Tyr rumbled. Anyone who didn't know Tyr would've taken a couple of steps back at that tone. Tamarra smiled because she thought it was kind of sweet.

“Yeah. Pon Farr has a tendency to do that to us. We forget everything except. . . . Well, you know.” she replied.

“It was unwise for you to consume so much to break a fast. You should've eaten soup.” Tyr said.

“I wanted food that I can chew Tyr, not soup!” Tamarra replied in mock anger. “Besides, what are you, now? Kori's assistant?” she continued smiling.

“No, I'm merely concerned with the health and well being of my consort.” Tyr gently replied as he reached across the table and took her hand in his. She gripped his hand in return.

“Speaking of consort, I don't understand. Isn't your consort supposed to be fertile in order to bear your future generation?” she asked.

“Yes.” Tyr responded. He knew exactly where she was going with the question. In fact, he was secretly glad she had brought up the subject.

“Tyr, you know as a result of 'the incident' I was rendered incapable of having children. Why would you agree to become the consort of a barren woman?” she asked.

“I did it simply because I love you, Tamarra. I broke with quite a few Nietzschean cultural dictates and traditions. Number one is, Nietzscheans do not pair bond for love. Pair bonding is done on the basis of the Matriarch selecting who is the fittest to sire the next generation . . . . . . .” he started, and gently placed his finger across Tamarra's mouth to silence her flood of questions.

“Number two, male Nietzscheans do not initiate contact. For a Nietzschean male to actively pursue a woman is considered desperate and he is therefore considered unsuitable and undesirable as a mate. Our society is matriarchal and the women, as my Human cousins are fond of saying 'make all of the moves'. Since you are a neophyte in regards to our culture, I took certain liberties. I pray I was not offensive. If I was, I beg forgiveness. Number three," he added "Since I am a high ranking Alpha of the Kodiak Pride I am allowed to have multiple consorts.” he added.

“As far as I'm concerned you did nothing to warrant forgiveness. I honestly do not wish to share you with anyone. But, in light of our circumstances, logic over rules emotion. Even though I have issues with logic as a whole, it is useful at times.” she replied. After a very long silence.

“Tam, it is not the Nietzschean way for me to do this, but I will allow you the power to approve of anyone else I bring into our union.” Tyr stated gently.

“Approve? Like thumbs up or thumbs down?” Tamarra asked, thinking of the Roman arenas.

“Yes.” Tyr said.

"If I don't like her, she gets kicked to the curb?" Tamarra asked.

"Metaphorically speaking of course. Yes, Tam." Tyr said.

“Uh, you wouldn't happen to have a candidate in mind, would you?” she asked. Tyr didn't answer her, however she saw the woman's face in her mind through their marital link.

*** Huh? *** she thought back. She couldn't understand the connection they would have. “You need to start thinking like a Nietzschean, Tamarra.” she chided herself.

“She is also a natural hair care specialist. Since she's taken care of my hair for the past year and a half, she thinks she owns me.” Tyr explained.

He was quite capable of washing, trimming and twisting his own dreadlocks. But, often his multiple Captain's duties over rode his haircare needs. That's where the mystery woman came in.

"I can do it too. I had ten siblings and they all wore dreadlocks. So I became proficient in washing and twisting 'locks'." Tamarra piped up.

"I do not want you two fighting over me." Tyr said with a smile.

"Nah. We'll set up a schedule. I'll do it one time, she'll do it another." Tamarra replied. “By the way, how are we gonna do this?” she asked, warming to the subject at last.

“I suggest we have a nice welcoming dinner for her.” Tyr said.

“That sounds good to me. But it'll have to wait until 'this condition' of mine clears up.” Tamarra replied.

“Certainly.” Tyr replied. “How are you feeling by the way?” he asked, noticing her restlessness, among other things. Tamarra's answer was to get up and race to the bedroom. Tyr followed her.