8. Reflections and Consequences

Tyr Anasazi, still gingerly probing at his lip that had been split by Dylan's backhand, was quickly approaching the quarters of Andromeda's engineer in a slightly urgent seeming manner. Distracted, he omitted to respond to any crew-members, who were deferentially greeting him along the way, but that didn't matter: no-one was likely to complain to him about it later, a fact owed less to his position as Andromeda's third-in-command as to the circumstance that – a few newly appointed Nietzschean lancers from Terrazed set aside – he could easily dismember everyone else onboard with his bare hands.

The imposing Kodiak was deep in thought. The development in the Valentine-matter was... interesting, to say the very least. And Dylan Hunt's behaviour not helpful at all.

When Seamus Harper had approached the Nietzschean at first, Tyr had dismissed the issue as yet another one of the boy's regularly occurring – and somewhat artificially exaggerated – states of excitement. For some reason or other the Terran seemed to live in some sort of constant internal alert-mode, that needed permanent feeding with more or less plausible reasons in order to be maintained. Why it had to be maintained in the first place escaped Tyr Anasazi. To his mind such an upholding of a maximised level of agitation was nothing if not exhausting. The boy though seemed to thrive on it like an adrenaline-junkie, which probably came pretty close to the truth, as Tyr suspected.

It was thus only natural that the Kodiak had originally disposed of Harper's worries as of one more example of the typical wool-gathering usually coming from the engineer. The more so as – among the many things in the universe Harper deemed worthy of worrying about – fidgeting about the other crew-members' love-life in general and Beka Valentine's in particular seemed to be a front runner on his list.

But once alerted to it, Tyr Anasazi began to observe more closely the relationship developing between Andromeda's first officer and Marshall Ka-Lupe. And what he saw didn't please him.

He had for nearly three years now been living, fighting, sharing all sorts of dangers and blessings with Rebekkah Valentine, and Hunt was right: he had more than once ardently wished for her to be Nietzschean, for him to not have been committed to his Kodiak duties. And even though Tyr knew such wishes to be futile, this knowledge had not prevented him from occasionally allowing himself to... well, dream a little. Not that he believed that any of this dreaming would ever have a chance of becoming reality. But if it wasn't to happen: that was not Beka's, but his call alone to make. That was, of course, not in keeping with Nietzschean tradition, however Tyr was honest enough with himself to admit that a great many of the things he had done, thought and felt over the past years had not exactly been in keeping with the Nietzschean ways either. One more attitude disregarding them didn't really matter, especially not one involving what he believed to be his prerogative of claiming Captain Valentine's attention for himself.

As things went onboard the Andromeda Ascendant, even without someone coming from outside and meddling with it, this priority of his was a shaky, uncertain business and difficult enough to maintain anyway: all his care for keeping Beka in top shape, all his quiet support of many of her moods and whims didn't seem enough to gain him a status similar to the unconditional camaraderie that existed between the Maru's captain and Seamus Zelasny Harper. As to the symbiotic relationship the two commanding officers of the Andromeda seemed to share with each other... Tyr had long ago given up on even attempting to understand that or to find an explanation as to why they didn't put it to a better use, Nietzschean style, of course.

There were times though when both Harper and Dylan seemed to alienate their extraordinary friend. It happened far more often than the times when she was cross with Tyr – and the Kodiak resigned himself to then just count his blessings and enjoy it while it lasted. She was dashing, fiery, extremely entertaining and – if not taken seriously – the best flirt he could think of. Not that Nietzscheans knew much about flirting. But living close to Captain Rebekkah Valentine one got to learn many skills. Some of which Tyr Anasazi had begun to grow fond of. Oh yes, she was as close to a Nietzschean as a kludge could ever hope to get. And yes, he had been often wishing that...

Anyway, Nietzschean or not Nietzschean, Beka was a strong, independent presence – and she belonged to them. If someone was to sweep her off her feet, that one was him. Or Dylan. Or even Harper. But not some Commonwealth hot-shot who – on top of everything else – had merely months ago needed them and Beka to protect his sorry excuse of a kludge-life! Yes, he could recall telling Harper that Man Ka-Lupe was one of the most eligible bachelors in the Known Worlds. Yet Tyr was not impressed. Intrigued, a bit puzzled,... slightly pissed off maybe. But certainly not impressed.

Besides: Tyr Anasazi had plans, many plans. Some of them involving his Andromeda crew-mates, some excluding them. Which path was best to walk down, which course was most appropriate to see his dreams come true, the Kodiak didn't know yet. Either way, each one of his fellow officers – kludges, machines or purple/golden whatevers – was in his or her own right a remarkable individual with awesome, breath-taking skills. And it was far, far better to have them all in one place, instead of scattered all over the galaxies. Weary of each other, at times on the edge, not always and maybe not even completely trustful, but all in one place, where he could always see them.

/

"Mr Harper!"

"Tyr, what happened to your face?" the engineer asked, hardly able to suppress a grin. There were many advantages of living on a warship and – as her engineer – being her best friend. Especially when one forgot to engage privacy mode and said war-ship had a female personality and liked gossiping.

"I... ran into a door," Andromeda's weapons' officer replied curtly.

"Into a door named Dylan?" Harper couldn't resist. Upon hearing a low growl from the huge man at his entrance, the Terran hastily retreated into the messy vastness of machine shop 5.

"So," he obligingly hurried forward, "what can I do for you?"

"It actually is more a matter of 'what can I do for you?'," the Nietzschean replied.

Harper turned around, facing him with surprise.

"How so?" he wanted to know.

"Do you still plan on...putting certain concerned limits to Captain Valentine's newest... emotional endeavours, or has she meanwhile managed to convinced you to leave well enough alone?"

"Tyr..." Harper said with a slight reproach. "You should know me better. Not that she hasn't tried. Or wasn't convincing..."

"But?" the Kodiak asked with mild interest.

"But we're talking Beka and a gorgeous guy here. And gorgeous guys and Beka... they don't go well together."

"Maybe this time..." Anasazi carefully laid out the bait. Harper eyed him thoughtfully, keeping silent for a moment.

"No," he then stated firmly, shaking his head. "No way. Just look at her with you. Or Dylan. I mean..."

"Well then, Mr Harper..."

"Why are you asking?"

"I was about to explain when you interrupted," the Nietzschean admonished him.

"Oh, sorry. Okay, spit it out, Tyr," Harper prompted him, hopping up onto a long metal table. "Do you have a plan?"

"I believe so."

"A good one?"

"Pretty good, I think."

"You sure?"

"Dead sure, Mr Harper, absolutely dead sure."

There was something about Tyr Anasazi's way to pronounce words involving death that always struck Harper as utterly convincing.