Andromeda is copyright of Tribune Entertainment. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.
Career Strategy
by
Nevermore
"Tyr, could I speak with you?" Dylan called out as the large Nietzschean walked toward his quarters.
"It's your ship," Tyr replied gruffly. "I would expect that am yours to command."
"I heard you got a message from one of the people of your pride," Dylan commented as he walked up to his crewman. "I guess that's good news, right?"
"And why is that?" Tyr asked evenly.
"It means you have at least one kinsman out there that you didn't know about yesterday," Dylan replied. "Isn't that a good thing?"
"Not necessarily," Tyr muttered. Without another word he turned to continue on his way. It had been a long day, and all Tyr wanted was to get some sleep.
"Is there something you're not telling me?" Dylan asked the retreating Nietzschean.
"My clansman wanted to hire me," Tyr responded wearily, turning to face Andromeda's captain. "Have you forgotten so soon that I was, until recently, a fairly reputable mercenary?"
"Of course not," Dylan answered. "So did you take the job?"
"No," Tyr replied, turning once more to walk away.
"Why not?" Dylan asked, again continuing the conversation after Tyr had tried to signal that he had said all that he wished to. Dylan never allowed anything to drop until he was finished; it was a habit that Tyr found incredibly annoying.
"If you must know," Tyr said without turning, "I got the impression he was asking for me only because he had heard that I am aboard the Andromeda. He wanted to hire a Commonwealth starship, not a Nietzschean mercenary."
"How much did he offer?" Dylan asked. Tyr immediately turned to face the captain, shocked that Dylan could even ask the question. When he saw Dylan's amused look, he realized the question had been posed more for entertainment value than as a serious consideration of the possibility.
"It's irrelevant," Tyr answered. "The job was entirely too dangerous," the Nietzschean lied. "I didn't feel it was worthwhile."
"Too dangerous?" Dylan asked. "Am I to take it that you didn't want to risk the members of this crew?"
"Take it however you want," Tyr muttered, once again turning to leave. This time he made certain he started walking away immediately, before Dylan had a chance to continue the conversation.
"Well, I know it's not because you were concerned for yourself," Dylan called out. Tyr refused to take the bait, and kept on walking. "It's not that you would have been afraid at all," the captain added.
"That's right," Tyr answered, quickening his pace and not looking back. The Nietzschean hoped that he would not run into any of the other crewmembers as he walked to his quarters, and his wish was granted. Only maintenance droids ever crossed his path, and he could deal with them easily enough. They had no interest in ever trying to speak with him.
The Nietzschean finally reached his quarters and walked in, scanning the room carefully, as was his habit, to make certain that there were no threats. The safety and security he had experienced on Andromeda had thus far done nothing to quell the paranoia of a Nietzschean whose pride had been all but wiped out. He felt alone in the universe, with no one to turn to if he ever needed assistance. Under the right circumstances, of course, he figured Dylan and the others might be willing to help him out, but they would never look out for him the way a Nietzschean pride would.
Tyr went over to a control pad and touched a few buttons briefly, entering the passcode for his personal logs. "Begin new entry," Tyr mumbled, immediately trying to set upon the words he would use to describe recent events.
"Today I received a message from Magnir, son of Paolus, of the Kodiak Pride," Tyr began. "He wanted to hire me to help him wipe out the small Ocelot Pride in the Epsilon Defani Nu asteroid field." He paused momentarily, thinking about what the words meant. The Ocelot Pride was young and inconsequential, but a victory over them by the Kodiak Pride would signal that Tyr's people were not quite dead after all. Magnir had gathered a dozen of the last survivors of his pride for the assault, and he had wanted Tyr badly. With Andromeda, they would be able to guarantee that no one of the Ocelot Pride would be able to escape to avenge the attack at a later date. It had been a simple, yet effective, plan, and the risk to Andromeda was minimal. Still, Tyr did not like the idea at all.
"The attack is ill-advised and ill-fated," he said finally, recording his thoughts for later review. "Announcing the revival of our pride is a foolish move. The Kodiak have many that would wish to guarantee our silence about crimes committed against us in the past. We have also made our share of new enemies as individual survivors have gone through the galaxies rubbing people the wrong way. The Ocelot Pride might be wiped out, but there will be others that will come for us. This attack will only provide our enemies with the opportunity to wipe out a large group of us, to complete the slaughter that was begun so long ago. I will not participate in such folly."
The Nietzschean sat down on the floor and began to stretch out, allowing his mind to continue going over the issues that had presented themselves that day. There's a prospect for gaining a wife, Magnir had told him. Over seventy percent of the Ocelot Pride was female, an essential ratio when one is trying to build a pride quickly. Magnir was certain that at least a few of the women would be captured. He had promised second choice to Tyr, only after Magnir himself first chose a mate. It was that promise alone that had caused Tyr even the small amount of hesitation he had at refusing the offer.
With the exception of an all-too-brief tryst, Tyr had been without any opportunity to mate for his entire life. He had always felt this was unfair. Tyr's genetic code was pure, and he was incredibly strong, even for a Nietzschean. Also, his training was on a par with the greatest warriors his people had ever produced, back at the time of the rebellion against the Commonwealth. He was intelligent and creative, both of which served him well in battle. By all rights, he knew he should have women lining up to mate with him. His pride had been lost, though, and as a result he was seen as the product of weak breeding. After all, so the reasoning went, if his pride had been stronger, it would not have been destroyed.
Tyr had spent years building up a reputation as a fearless and effective mercenary. He had even received discreet inquiries about his availability to mate, but none of the women that had inquired had been worthy. Tyr would not take the first woman to come along. He knew his worth, and would not sully his offspring by mating with an inferior woman. He had been holding out for someone worthwhile, and then Dylan had come along with his dreams of restoring the Commonwealth. It had seemed a fool's mission, but Tyr was starting to believe it could be done.
When Dylan had first written up his new Commonwealth treaty, Tyr had scoffed. He could not imagine anyone ever signing on with a government that had been dead for three hundred years and which was represented by only one starship. He had thought it far more likely that someone, most likely Nietzscheans, would find out about Andromeda and come looking for it. He had expected that the relic of the Commonwealth would either be captured or destroyed. Still, despite his expectations and against his better judgment, Tyr had agreed to stay on.
The reason had been simple – he felt he had gone as far as he could in building a reputation as a mercenary, at least until he received the opportunity to do something bigger. He had seen a position aboard the Andromeda as a career-maker, a high-profile job that would look great on a resume for future employers. With service aboard the Andromeda as a springboard, Tyr had planned to get elite, high paying mercenary opportunities. That would be more than enough to attract the mate he had desired.
Since being aboard the ship, though, Tyr had seen what he had initially thought was impossible – someone had signed the treaty. Then another government had committed to it, and another. The list was still small, but Dylan had already achieved more than Tyr had expected. Every planet that signed on gave Dylan more credibility, which in turn made it more likely that he would find more who were willing to join. Within only the past week, Tyr's career plans had changed. He no longer saw his position aboard the Andromeda as a means to an end. It was now an end unto itself. He was willing to finally roll the dice with Dylan. If the Commonwealth were restored by a handful of people, it would be an accomplishment of legendary proportions. He could not imagine that anyone could have even dreamt up such an unlikely scenario. Dylan's quest was a labor worthy of Hercules himself, but success would be an unmistakable sign of superiority. If the Commonwealth were restored, and Tyr survived the attempt, he would be guaranteed of building a harem of the finest Nietzschean women, all of whom would bear children that would be deserving of being his heir – the heirs of a new pride.
The opportunity to restore the Kodiak Pride had indeed been tempting, but Tyr had decided he could do better. His kin were being foolish, and he would not make their mistake. To do so would be a sign of inferior genes. He would risk his future on attaining a dream he still doubted was possible, and stay with Dylan. At least, that is, unless something better came along.
Fin