Author's Note: Nothing really new. Again, thank you for the reviews and your patience.

Calling Rafe

Chapter Four: Conversations and Dialogues

By B.L.A. the Mouse

Rafe had been staying with them for three days now. He had spent all his time trying to prove that they weren't married, and visibly winced whenever he walked in on a scene that so much as hinted at any form of intimacy. Beka was exasperated, Tyr was annoyed, and Rafe hadn't even started on the Nietzschean angle.

That afternoon Beka walked onto the Maru after a shift on Command Deck. Leaning against that railing, barely even glancing up from the box he held, Rafe asked, "So where's the Nietzschean?"

"Tyr has a double shift today, and I have a few hours before I go back on duty. What's in the box?" She crossed her arms, pinning Tyr's vest over her stomach. She'd taken to wearing it almost continuously whenever her brother was around, as it was more comfortable and concealed better than her own.

He grinned. "I don't know. It's yours." He lofted it in a perfect arc and dropped it into her waiting hands. "So what is in it? And where'd you get it? Looks expensive."

Bekas smile mirrored his. "It was Trance's present on my last birthday, so I have no idea where it's from or how much it cost. It's pretty, though, isn't it?"

"What's in it?"

"My helix. Give me a minute: this thing has a puzzle lock. Bit of an irony there." She manipulated the bits of wood into place and cracked open the lid, aware that Rafe was watching every movement. The gold helix gleamed in the dim light, the engraved grooves and Kodiak pride markings harboring spots of shadow. She held it up for him to see. "I've had it for a year and a half, since we were married, but I don't wear it so I keep it in here."

"Why don't you wear it?"

"I guess because rings are smaller, easier to wear, and much, much more obvious to human men trying to pick me up." Beka put the helix back in the box and clicked it shut. "What were you doing in our cabin, anyway?"

"What makes you think I was in your cabin?" Rafe's grin now resembled that of the Cheshire cat.

"The fact that I keep this on my dresser and it hasn't been out of the cabin since I got it."

Rafe blanched. "Oops."

"There are other places to roam than the Maru, you know." Beka watched her brother carefully; he probably had ticked off a few crewmembers and decided that they were less likely to lynch him on her ship.

"Yeah, but only one that I'm allowed in. Once you've been to Obs. Deck, there isn't really much for a return visit."

Her smile softened. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Youre not going to get all emotional again, are you?" Rafe groaned, seeing the change of expression.

Beka jerked out of it. "Who says I can't? You still haven't told me what you were doing in our cabin."

"I'm trying to prove that the entire thing is a hoax. You should know; I've been doing it for days."

Setting the box down on a nearby console, Beka brushed past him to the pilot's chair and fiddled with some exposed wires. "Look, I've told you. You've seen us together. Hell, we even have video logs of the wedding, if you don't believe us! What more do we have to do to convince you?" She fit the casing back over the wires.

"Shared savings account?"

"Got it."

"Joint ownership of the Maru?"

"No way. This is my baby," Beka declared, then remembered the person currently inhabiting her uterus. Well, one of them, anyway, she amended mentally.

Rafe saw her face. "Oh, for..." he muttered, and stalked off to his cabin.

She watched him go. When she was quite satisfied that he was out of earshot, she slid a hand under the vest and murmured, "Kid, you are going to have one hell of a family."

Beka was in the middle of a shouting match with Rafe when Tyr arrived back. She noticed the airlock door opening, but didn't really register in her anger.

"Don't do it again!" she yelled.

"Then what am I supposed to do on this relic? Sit around and count pipes?" he bellowed back.

"This relic is your home, bastard!"

"No, it's your home! Your's and that..." he struggled for a word, but couldn't come up with anything, "that Nietzschean's! This stopped being my home when Dad died and you took over!"

"If it's that important to you, then why'd you leave and never come back?" she flung at him.

Tyr cleared his throat and waited.

Beka looked in the direction of the sound and finally registered him, standing by the airlock. "Finally! I've got Command duty. It's your turn to baby-sit him." She injected the last word with venom, even as she pointed over at her brother, and stalked out.

Five feet from the airlock, she realized that she had forgotten the lousy flexi she had been reading over, before she had discovered the missing thrones. Dylan had wanted that report by this shift, and shed finished it last night and left it in her room. Doubling back, she glanced through the glass panes of the airlock and noticed her husband staring at Rafe, who was refusing to meet his eyes.

Intrigued, Beka stayed outside and opened the commlink, receiving end only. Utter silence came over for a moment, but then:

"Mind telling me what that was about?" Tyr was being his usual quietly threatening self.

"Why don't you ask Beka?" Rafe knew his game. That statement had always worked on Dad, even though they'd learned it from him. Trick the questioner, make him think that the innocent could tell you more, was the cause of it all. She could only hope that Tyr didn't fall for it.

"Because," and she saw him begin to back Rafe up to the catwalk railing, "Beka just walked out of here very annoyed, and you are the cause of it." He had him pressed up against it now. "And may I remind you that, as a rule, Nietzscheans tend to become very aggressive when their families are threatened or upset in any way." He paused to let that sink in, then continued. "With that in mind your explaining that discussion just now may keep the worst tendencies at bay. For the moment, anyway."

He was rattled. Tried to hide it, but didn't succeed. "I was in your quarters and Beka found out."

"And? Beka doesn't get that upset over nothing."

"I may have taken a few guilders. I'm a little broke." Good old Rafe. Downplay the offense in hopes of easier consequences. An oldie but a goodie.

Tyr took it rather well. "Give them back to Beka and be grateful I didn't catch you." Leaving the consequences of that to the imagination, he towered for a few more seconds before walking off to the small kitchenette, Rafe following close behind. Beka had to switch the commlink to the next room to hear them, but she couldn't see.

"I was wondering. Nietzschean males have multiple wives, correct?"

"Most do, yes."

"I know my sister. Beka would object."

"She did." She could almost hear the smile in his voice. That been a major triumph, from his point of view especially, when they'd found that old Kodiak law. It had been getting to be a problem until then, as he wanted them to mate and she hadn't liked the idea of sharing with someone else. "We found a loophole."

"Which is?"

"If I decide to mate with another woman, she has full veto power."

"So she decides who you marry?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that against a law or tradition or something?"

"Not if youre Kodiak. As my First, it's perfectly within her rights. Most prides don't actually install that little loophole. Now," definitely rummaging through a cupboard, "are you through with the interrogation?"

"Why'd you marry her? She has no money, little property, and she's not Nietzschean."

"She's also tough, strong, intelligent, beautiful, and devious or straightforward, depending on which suits her purpose." Whoa. He was laying it on thick. "Besides, emotional attachments can be very persuasive."

"Wait. You're in love with my sister? Rebecca Valentine? The one who's notorious for thieving, smuggling, and unsuccessful relationships?"

"Now she's known for being First Officer of the High Guard Andromeda Ascendant and married to a Nietzschean."

Her legs were starting to cramp and it was decidedly time to intervene. She hit the buttons to roll open the airlock door. "Hey. I forgot that flexi for Dylan. Did you see where I left it, Tyr?"

He was startled. "I think you left it on the dresser."

"Thank you."

Silence reigned for the seconds it took to get the flexi and exit again. As she left, she reached over to turn off the commlink, only to hear the voices resume again.

"I want him off the ship," Tyr demanded.

"Tyr..." Beka sighed, watching him. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed in their cabin watching him pace. Every few laps he'd stop and swing at the punching bag in the corner.

"Dylan wants him off the ship. Harper wants him off the ship. Even the ship wants him off the ship! You're the only one who insists that we let him stay, and you're in the most danger from his actions."

"Tyr, I'm not in any danger. It's Rafe, for God's sake! He won't hurt his sister!" She hoped she was right about that, at least.

The statement had not appeased him. "Hes tried to kill you once before. How can you know that he won't again?"

"This time he didn't show up as a Wayist."

"It makes no difference!" He concentrated his efforts on the punching bag. "Why do you think he showed up now, of all times?"

"We're between rounds with the Magog and the New Nietzschean Alliance?" She was trying to lighten the mood slightly, but the grim humor fell flat.

Tyr wasn't really listening. "I don't know what he's up to. That's what worries me." He paused. "He was asking me questions this afternoon, about the difference between traditional Nietzschean practices and us. Multiple wives, genealogy, even if I've ever hit you." He left the punching bag and sat down next to her, staring aimlessly into space.

"Which you haven't."

"And I won't. Ever." He looked up, straight into her eyes. "And if anything does, or hurts you in any way, I will personally track it down and exact payment, slowly and painfully. Even if it's your brother."

They sat like that for a moment. Quiet descended, broken only by the occasional creak of the decks. Finally, he reached up and gingerly traced the curve of her jaw. He still did that- treat her gently, act like she was made of china. When they'd first been together, hed been delicate with her, almost scared to touch her. Now that gentleness surfaced in the quiet moments. Like this. Like now.

"That protection," he whispered, brushing a thumb over her lips, "covers you," his gaze fell to the curves of her stomach, sharply evident against the stretched fabric of her tank top, "this baby," his eyes returned to hers, "and any others we may have."

Her lips curled upward slightly. "Let's just see how we go with this one before we start planning for more, shall we?"

"I think we can hold off that long," Tyr conceded. He grinned and tilted his forehead against hers. Beka grinned back.