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Interlude:

He wasn't going back. Pitch couldn't make him. No way, those days were over. He would do what it took to make sure he wasn't pushed back into the hands of EterniVision. Pitch might say they were gone, but that could be another trick. He had also said that Melissa would pull them out the next day. But two days had passed and no rift had opened in the veil. Dylan was certainly getting edgy at this stage. And Tyr and Pitch got along about as well as a cat and a dog in a bag full of nails. It might have been quite funny if he hadn't been able to feel the tension building every time they were in the same room. Like some kind of chemical reaction building up to one big explosion. It was going to happen, and soon.

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Chapter Fourteen: The worst is worth waiting for

The atmosphere on the ship was tense. It was like the close, heavy feeling on a hot day waiting for a thunderstorm to break out. The Vertex had not made a move. There was no sign of any 'crossing over' of any kind. Several times, Tyr had suggested that they shoot the enemy ship down and be done with it, but Dylan and Rommie refused to see sense. They spent most of their days in command, staring at the little dot, wondering what they were planning. Insanity.

Tyr had not seen much of Milon since Pitch showed up. He was out of medical, that much was sure. Tyr had also tried to convince the captain that letting Pitch roam around the ship at his leisure was a very bad idea, but again, he had not been listened to. All these factors were starting to eat away at his patience. This could not go on much longer.

Eventually Tyr found Milon standing by the window on the observations deck. Alone. Not that he had really been looking for him. Not actively at least. Moving quietly, more out of old habit this time than trying to sneak up on the boy, Tyr approached the lone figure. He expected Milon to say something or at least acknowledge his presence, but Milon did not move, and so Tyr had to speak first.

"Admiring the view?" he said.

Milon jumped a little and spun around, apparently Tyr had taken him by surprise. Maybe because he had not been trying. Maybe because Milon had been deep in thought.

"Hi. You sneaking up on me again?"

"No."

Tyr was uncomfortably aware of the fact that Milon would be able to sense his feelings now, as he was back to full health. Still, Tyr refused to let such things influence him.

"How come you are still here," Tyr asked, "I thought you were supposed to be brought back to your own dimension?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I don't know why the port hasn't opened. Maybe they've got problems. Maybe they can't get a fix on the co-ordinates when we're up in space."
"Does your friend have some kind of transmitter?"

"Yeah, I guess. Normally, it was always the cameras. Kept track of us, sent the co-ordinates back. But now... yeah, I guess he must have some kind of tracking device. You think I should get it? Destroy it?"

Milon's eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam. He did not really mean it. Tyr knew he would not sabotage his friend's chances of getting back home. It was just not his style.

"That would mean that Pitch would be stuck here. I have to say I am against the idea."
Milon laughed.

"You two really hate each other, don't ya? You're just too alike."
Tyr shook his head. He did not appreciate being compared to their black-eyed guest. Which reminded him:

"Milon, I need to ask you a few questions about your... friend."

Milon got a slightly uncomfortable look on his face, but nodded as if to say that he understood why Tyr thought he needed to know.

"He is a Genie, like you, yes?"

"Yeah, he's a Genie. Not like me. He's darkness."

"And what... abilities does that bring?"

Milon smiled again, a little nervous smile.

"He won't like me telling you this... One darkness Gelf, that's what Genies' powers are called, is 'solid darkness'. I know it sounds silly, I mean how can darkness be solid, it's just the absence of light, right? But I guess it's some kind of magic force. He can sort of conjure it out of nothing and it disappears into nothing. But when it's there, it's like this really strong substance... strong like a rope is strong. Bendy. You'd have to see it, I guess."

Tyr was fairly certain he did not want to see it.

"Anything else?"

Milon looked out the window again. Tyr waited patiently. He had learned that it usually was worthwhile being patient with Milon. Trying to push him would just result in defiance. Tyr could relate to that.

"Well..." Milon said eventually, "he can charm people."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Tyr could not think of anybody off the top of his head that would appear any less charming than Pitch.

"It means... he can persuade you. Make you feel... co-operative. Or intimidate you."

Ah. That explained things. Why Tyr had felt that nagging, annoying, feeling of anxiety when he had spoken to Pitch by the airlock that time. Tyr had thought it very strange, he was usually not afraid of anything. But he had, nonetheless, felt something. And now he knew why.

"I see."

"Don't tell him I told you. He doesn't like people knowing about him."

"Why would he come all this way to get you?"

"I dunno. I guess he just wants me to come back. He always came to get me. Always."

Tyr recalled the conversation between Pitch and Milon on the medical deck earlier. How Milon had acted around him, almost submissively, begging Pitch to let him stay. It had bothered Tyr then, and it still bothered him now. Their whole relationship bothered him. He knew it was none of his business, but still he asked:

"Are you two... involved?"

Milon looked at him for a second, like he did not understand what Tyr meant. Then he laughed out loud.

"What? Oh my god, no! You thought... no, no, no! He's my big brother."

"You said you had no family."

"Obviously not biologically! I guess at some point we just... kinda adopted each other. I mean he always looked out for me. In his own way."

"Hmm."

Tyr stared out at the stars, still with that nagging feeling of discontent. Maybe it was just all this waiting around. The uncertainty and the frustration of not getting to do battle with their enemy. He suddenly became aware that Milon was looking at him with an amused look on his face.

"What?" Tyr asked.

"Nothing. Are you bored? You wanna do some training or something?"

"Are you sure you are fully recovered?"

Milon gave him that total smile again.

"Trying to get out of it? C'mon, I'm sure you've got some tricks you can teach me..."

Tyr felt a very reluctant smile struggle to break free on his lips. It was true though, the only other person on board who could even begin to give Tyr a run for his money was Dylan, and he was so busy staring out at the motionless dot that was the Vertex that he had no time for training.

"Okay," Tyr said, which was not a phrase he was known to use often, "We will see what you need to learn. But if you use your light power, I walk."

"Alright. I'll play fair if you will."

After days of impatient sitting around, Tyr welcomed the friendly sparring. Milon really was incredibly agile, he avoided most of Tyr's attacks, and the ones he could not dodge, he blocked, miraculously enough without cutting himself on Tyr's bone blades. Tyr could go all out, not having to hold back, and that felt good. They were very evenly matched, Tyr found. Milon did not get many hits through on him, and the few he did receive were not hard enough to really cause much pain. All in all, it was an enjoyable game more than anything else.

Eventually though, Milon got careless and cut it a bit too close. Tyr managed to get a grip on his arm, and he was not letting go. Holding on tight, Tyr put his forearm across Milon's throat and forced him backwards. He might be risking another blinding flare of light, but somehow the expression on Milon's face told him that he was not intimidated this time, but recognised it as pure training. So Tyr decided to take his chances in taking the fight from the unarmed stage. Milon was bending backwards, almost like he was trying to duck under Tyr's arm, but Tyr followed his movement forwards, keeping the sharp bones against the vulnerable skin under Milon's chin. Milon dropped to his knees, but he still looked far from defeated. Tyr followed again, putting one knee on the ground and leaning forward, forcing the young man to lean back. He would have to give in now! Tyr still had an iron grip around his left arm and the bone blades were almost drawing blood. Why was he not surrendering? Why did he not call the fight off? Then, suddenly it became apparent to Tyr why Milon had been so willing to kneel for him. A glimmer of triumph appeared in the boy's green eyes, and Tyr saw a flash of steel in the hand which had been empty a second ago. Milon made a arc-like movement behind Tyr's back. A chill shot down Tyr's spine. He had time to expect the burning of a knife's tip being buried in his neck, and then he found out what Milon's real plan had been as his vision was suddenly obscured when his own braids came falling down into his face. Milon had simply cut the few strands of hair that was holding together the rest of them. Blinded again, Tyr could not see to avoid the manoeuvre as something, most likely Milon's knee, hit him under the chin. His teeth slammed together and his head was thrown backwards, his body following the movement enough for Milon to be able to put his foot squarely against Tyr's chest and kick. Tyr was pushed backwards and landed on his back. The whole thing had taken less than two seconds. Milon was on top of him before he had a chance to roll out of the way.

"Thought you had me there? You're too full of yourself."

He was teasing, but Tyr agreed; he would have to stop underestimating this... man. Milon was smiling at him, of course, but the tip of his knife still rested in the hollow under Tyr's chin. When Tyr remained quiet, Milon said:

"So, what're you waiting for?"

"What do you mean?"

"Say it! Say you give up, that I beat you, the fight is over. You know, until you do, I can't let you go or you'll try and get back at me. You'd say something like 'never assume that the fight is over until your opponent is dead' or something equally lecturing, but it's really just an excuse to cheat, isn't it? I know your type, you're sneaky."

"And you are very clever," Tyr admitted.

"Ah yeah, flattery will get you everywhere. But you're trying to wriggle out of it. You know what I wanna hear."

"The fight is over."

"And?"

Oh, this boy liked to push his luck. Tyr's skin was virtually crawling with reluctancy to give him what he wanted. Admit defeat to someone so young, so much smaller, so... playful. He was not even taking this seriously, combat seemed like a game to him. To Tyr it was a vital part of surviving. He had not trained all his life only to be taken down for some human's amusement.

"Get off me, boy."

"What was it you said to me in that warehouse? 'Do you really think you're in a position to negotiate?' Much less be giving me any orders..."

He was still just playing, there was no hardness in his voice and his green eyes were sparkling with good humour. Still, there was nothing Tyr wanted more right now than to put him in his place. He did not claim to know Milon completely yet, but he was almost certain that the boy had no wishes to hurt him for real. And those lightning fast reflexes might serve in his favour, ensuring that he was not seriously hurt. He decided to risk it. Putting his neck on the line, literally, as it were.

Moving fast, but not as fast as he possibly could, he wanted Milon to have time to react, he grabbed the wrist of the hand that was holding the knife and wrenched it away from him. Just as he had thought, Milon made no attempt at cutting him. He actually pulled the knife away from Tyr's throat slightly as Tyr closed his fist around his arm. Oh yes, Tyr had made a completely accurate assessment of his character. And he had him now.

Using a little more strength than necessary, Tyr threw Milon off and swapped places with him, slamming the boy's hand against the floor, sending the knife sliding across the room. He had him completely pinned down and he did not even have to use much force. But Milon was just looking calmly at him.

"Cheating! You said the fight was over."

"I lied," Tyr said with a smile.

"Oh my god, that's such a cheap trick!" Milon laughed, "You don't really expect that to count, do you? You're freaking out 'cause I took you! Admit it! You're a sore loser!"

He was bubbling with laughter, like they were children playing or something. The worst thing was that it was contagious. Tyr could feel his smile widening, even though he was trying to fight it.

"I am not a sore loser! In fact, I am not a loser at all."

"Well, it's not hard to win if you cheat!"

Milon was not struggling to get free. He just lay there, laughing. This was the strangest training Tyr had ever experienced.

"So I presume you are giving up?" Tyr said.

"Well, I can say I do and then get you in the back... oh, say tomorrow. Seeing as those are the rules now all of a sudden!"

Well, this was going nowhere. Tyr could sit here for the rest of the day and not talk Milon into surrendering. So that left only two options. Either he could simply let him go and call it even, or he could employ more forceful methods of persuasion. But he could not really bring himself to hurt the boy, and he did not feel quite ready to stoop to the same childish level as Milon and tickle him until he gave up, and that left him quite lost for forceful methods of persuasion. He was just about to get up when he heard a voice behind him:

"What the hell are you doing?"

He turned his head and saw Pitch staring back at him with his 'creepy black eyes' like Harper had put it. But Harper had also said that he 'seemed to be a pretty cool guy actually', and that Tyr did not agree with. Tyr wondered briefly which of them he was speaking to, but then Milon said:

"We were training. He was cheating."

Tyr shook his head and stood up. Milon got to his feet too, and retrieved his knife from the floor. Tyr folded his arms across his chest and said:

"I did not cheat. And you need to improve your strength, I could hardly feel those punches."

"Maybe I was holding back?"

"I doubt it."

Pitch was apparently getting tired of being ignored, because he took a couple of steps into the room, looking at Tyr like he was evaluating him.

"You really have to cheat to beat Miles? He's half your size!" Pitch said amusedly.

Tyr only gave him a contemptuous look. Milon faked an insulted expression and said:

"Hey! Size isn't everything! Besides, I'm not 'half his size'. And I can still take you!"

Pitch just smiled at him, like he was proud of him or something, and said:

"I know you can, Snowflake."

Then the hardness returned to his face as he looked at Tyr once again.

"So, guess your captain don't think I'm a 'security hazard' after all. Must be tough to realise no-one's listening to you."

"You tell me. Milon does not seem too keen to accompany you back home..."

Pitch's eyes sparkled with anger. Tyr knew that he must have a similar expression on his own face. They stared eachother out for a while, the silence heavy in the room. Tyr wanted nothing more than punch the other man in the face, but he forced himself to keep calm. Then Pitch said:

"So, fancy your chances against someone your own size then? I could go for a bit of alien ass-kicking right about now."

"You are challenging me?"

"Hey! Not as dumb as you look, are ya?"

Well, it seemed like Tyr was going to get his wish after all. He shook his head slowly, teeth clenched, then moved as fast as he could, launching his fist in a punch to Pitch's chin. It connected with a satisfying thud, and Pitch's head snapped back. Tyr could see blood on his mouth and it made him feel so much better. Then a fist came flying at his own face, too fast for him to avoid. His face went numb; his head rang with the impact. Maybe it was those cybernetic implants, but one thing was sure, that man packed some punch. Tyr would have to concentrate a bit more on his defence.

It was not far off a real fight between real enemies. They were clearly both aiming for some serious pain. To Tyr's disappointment, Pitch seemed quite able to hold his own. His style was completely different from Milon's acrobatics; this was more straightforward hand-to-hand. Which was fine. But he was not as fast as Milon either, and Tyr soon managed to get behind him and put his arm around his throat, cutting off his air supply. Tyr threw a quick glance at Milon, who was standing against the wall, watching them with an expression of worry. But which of them was he worrying about? Tyr half expected him to say something, but before he had a chance, Tyr heard the sickening crunch of breaking bone, and a sharp pain shot up the arm he had around Pitch's throat. He roared and was forced to let go. The bastard had broken one of his bone blades! A circle of blood on his arm was the only sign of where it had been. Yes, it would grow back, but that was not the point!

"Hey, not a bad trophy, eh?" Pitch said with a self-satisfied smile.

Tyr could feel a red mist, for the lack of a better cliché, descend over his mind. This was supposed to be training. Pitch had just turned it into life and death. He threw himself at Pitch, the two remaining bone blades on his arm aimed straight for his throat. Suddenly, something black shot out of Pitch's hand and enveloped Tyr's arm like a sheet of thick rubber. More of the black stuff shot out to wrap itself around his neck, tightening until he could not breathe. He tore uselessly at it, but it was as strong as steel cables, there was no way he could break it.

"Stop it!"

Milon was suddenly between them, making a downward slashing motion with one glowing white hand. The light cut through the sticky black stuff easily, and Tyr could breath again as the choking substance disappeared.

"What the hell are you trying to do, kill each other?" Milon shouted.

He was pushed aside, Tyr did not know which of them did it. All he knew was the rage inside him. They flew at each other's throats again, but just as they were about to make contact, everything went white. Blinded, all Tyr could do was stand still.

"What is wrong with you two? What's the fucking story? You're supposed to be on the same side!"

Milon sounded really upset. Tyr was slowly starting to make out something besides the huge spots. He could see Pitch trying to clear his vision, and Milon standing in between them, holding them apart. He looked so small compared to the two of them. Tyr noticed that he was still emitting a faint glow, like a low wattage lightbulb.

"No more fighting! If you try anything else I swear I'll blind the both of you for good! You hear me?"

Before anybody had time to speak, the door opened and Beka came in. She looked at the three angry faces for a second and then she said:

"What happened to your arm?"

Tyr just growled. The blood was dripping steadily from the spot where his missing bone blade had been. He was going to kill Pitch, just wait. Beka must have seen the way he was looking at Pitch too, because she turned her head in Pitch's direction and said in an upset voice:

"You promised! You told me you wouldn't get into a fight with Tyr! Did you listen to anything I said?"

Pitch just shrugged his shoulders and smiled at her.

"Relax darling, it was just a bit of training! He was the one who wanted to lose the gloves, honest!"

Darling? Why wasn't she slapping him in the face? Why was she smiling, even if it was reluctantly? Tyr could hear Milon muttering something that sounded just like 'oh, great'. Then Milon grabbed a hold of Tyr's bleeding arm. Tyr's first reaction was to pull free, he was wounded, maybe not seriously, but he had never liked anybody else touching his injuries. Milon's touch was gentle though, and the stinging, annoying pain eased under his hands. When he removed them after about a minute, Tyr's wound had healed into a pale scar. For a second Tyr actually forgot about Pitch and Beka and the strangely disturbing way they looked at each other.

"You did not have to do that, my nanobots would have taken care of it," he said, but then added, "Although I am impressed... thank you."

"C'mon, let's go..." Pitch said to Beka, and to Tyr's surprise she just smiled and nodded and left with him.

"Do they know each other?" Tyr asked, feeling rather stupid and hating every minute of it.

"I'd say they do now..." Milon just answered evasively.

Then his empathy must have picked up on just how much hatred Tyr was feeling for Pitch because he looked up at Tyr with a worried, almost pleading look on his face.

"Tyr... please just ignore him. I know asking the two of you to get along is too much, but can you please just... not do anything rash? Like getting him killed?"

Tyr frowned. He was not used to letting anybody come between him and people he wanted to kill. But it seemed strangely hard to say no to Milon.

"I can't make any promises..." he muttered.

"But I want you to. Promise. Promise you won't do any...."

He was suddenly interrupted by Rommie's voice over the speakers.

"All personnel report to the bridge. We are under attack."

And then the alarm went off.

"Here we go again," Milon said, and then they were off running. Again.

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