Part IX: Dire Straits
"Your sister?!" questioned Dylan, wanting to make sure he heard correctly, but his words fell on deaf ears. Tyr and Lysandra are too entranced by one another to hear him. Their intense gazes seem almost to the point of trying to commit the other's face to memory. Each thought that they were the last of the children their father sired, especially after witnessing so many of their siblings' deaths in the clan war... memories that have haunted them most of their lives. Tyr begins to affectionately touch her about the face just as she did him. It's as if he wants proof that she isn't just a figment of his imagination. Once he is satisfied that she truly is who she says she is, out of the blue, he takes her in his massive arms and gives her a brotherly embrace that lifts her off the ground. She, in turn, throws her arms around his neck, returning the loving gesture. Trance smiles as she's watching Lysandra's feet dangle.
Without question, Dylan and Trance are floored by the startling turn of events. They, along with the rest of the crew, are only use to seeing Tyr as this emotionally distant, mercenary killer with no family, no pride and no home. Now, all of a sudden, he's hugging his long-lost sister? Just when Dylan thought he was close to having him all figured out, he's now being shown a whole other side to his personality. Tyr Anasazi... wearing his heart on his sleeve. The concept was strange and surreal as it was beautiful and touching.
After being lowered back to the ground, Lysandra turns her attention to the tall, human male and small, purple female with the tail. "Tyr, who is this you have brought with you?"
"My name is Capt. Dylan Hunt of the Starship Andromeda. This is my ship's Environmental Systems Officer, Trance Gemini." Trance gives a sheepish little wave.
"So, you were the one trying to set up contact with us?"
"Yes."
"And the disembodied voices weren't enough of a warning not to come down here?"
"I was under the impression that someone was in some kind of trouble. I just wanted to see if I can help in any way."
Trance adds, "We all do."
Lysandra starts to laugh out loud. Dylan and Trance are confused and slightly insulted by her reaction. She regains her composure and explains.
"My God... and they say chivalry is dead! The voices and our mysterious planets are usually are best scare tactic."
"Come again?" asked Tyr, just as confused as the other two.
Just as she was about to answer, all of a sudden, a Nietzschean male enters her quarters. Out of breath, he is frantically requesting an audience with her.
"Lysandra, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have received a hail."
"Can't you see that I'm in the middle of something important...!"
"But, it's from him."
Her eyes widen in disbelief and clutching her fists, a deep sigh passes her lips. Judging by her reaction, this isn't very good news. Afterwards, she regains enough of her composure to answer him. "Tell him... I'll be right there." The man obeys and exits the room. Then, Lysandra proceeds to turn over the table that sits in the center of her room in an unexpected, violent rage. The others are, of course, surprised by this sudden outburst.
"God dammit!! Why now?!"
"What in the hell was that about?!" asked a concerned Tyr. Lysandra just walks about mumbling to herself, looking angry and worried. He grabs her and looks into her eyes to get her attention. "Lysandra, tell me what's happened?!"
"Tyr, it does my heart good to realize that my father's lineage will not die when I do, as I've always thought it would. But, my dear brother, you've chosen the worst possible time to stage a family reunion." With that, she turns and leaves the room to answer the hail. With their curiosities not satisfied by her cryptic answers, they follow her out of the room to see what was going on. They get as far as the outside of the door when she motions them to stay put.
All of the commotion and comradery that was going on when they first entered the compound was now replaced with deafening silence. Tyr, Dylan and Trance watch her from the doorway of her quarters waiting for whatever is suppose to happen. The Kodiaks were also waiting for Lysandra to emerge. She walks slowly through the crowd to the large 20 X 20 foot computer screen suspended from the ceiling, centered in the middle of the village square. She folds her arms and takes a deep, cleansing breath trying to prepare for this "talk".
"Bring him onscreen!" she commanded. Suddenly, an image appears on the huge screen. Tyr and the other two gasped. They couldn't believe who they were seeing.
"Well, if it isn't you again. What can we do for you this time... Cuchulain." Lysandra demands. Realizing that their eyes weren't deceiving them, they takes a few steps backwards, retreating into the darkness of the doorway, but managing to stay within hearing range.
"Oh Lysandra, I know that in your old age, you've probably are a little forgetful, but I'm sure you're not that forgetful. You know damned well why I'm calling you." states Cuchulain, with the sarcasm just dripping from his tongue. He knows exactly how to press her buttons.
"Why don't you just refresh my memory? I mean, you know how these little 'talks' of ours just seem to run together." She knows how to press his buttons too.
He snickers to himself. "Very well, Lysandra. Do you know that so called 'lead' you gave us?"
"Why, yes I do."
"I've always thought you Kodiaks were people of honor. Well, old woman, it turns out that your lead led us on a wild goose chase."
"Oh, I'm just so sorry to hear that, Cuchulain." she says, very sarcastically
The scathing smirk on his face begins to fade and his glare turns icy. "Not as sorry as you're going to be, old woman. Your stunt may have bought you some time, but it also dug your graves." The smile begins to leave her face as well. She is worried, but manages to stays steady and focused.
"Up to this point, I believe I've been very lenient with you. All I do is send out the mobile prison units, capture your pride members, subject them to our special brand of 'interrogation' and if they don't have any useful information for me, I let them go. Plain and simple. But, Lysandra, you seem to possess this utter audacity of throwing my generosity back in my face!"
She grits her teeth and shows him the fire in her eyes. There are no words to describe the depths of loathing she feels for this man. "Forgive me, but is this the part where I'm suppose to thank you and the rest of the Drago Kazov pride members? Thank you Dragon bastards for what exactly? Betraying us?! Hunting us down like dogs?! Making us practically extinct?!"
"No!" he interrupts, very forcefully. "You've made yourselves practically extinct by holding on to something that has never belonged to you! Something that will never belonged to you!!"
The thunderous tone in his voice startles her, but she'd die first before she'll ever let on. While listening in the shadows, Tyr has an unadulterated, murderous rage building up inside of him. He begins to have fantasies of going to the Dragons' homeworld, armed to the teeth with about a dozen Nova bombs and destroying them one and for all. If successful, there will be no more wars with the Drago Kazov and perhaps then, his pride can finally live in peace. All of a sudden, the planning of his future endeavors is interrupted by another heated exchange between the Kodiak matriarch and the Drago Kazov Fleet Marshall.
"You know, Cuchulain... I find it very amusing that you address me as "old woman", especially when it seem that you are the one with the hearing problems. I am going to stress this one last time. We.. do... not... have it!! We have never gotten it back!! Am I making myself quite clear now?!"
At first, he stands there just staring at her, stone-faced and eerily quiet. Then, without warning, he bursts into hearty laughter. Lysandra does not find this the least bit comical.
"You know what, Lysandra? Call me crazy, but... I believe you. Yes, I really do believe every word you're saying to me." Lysandra stands silently, not trusting a word he's saying and rightfully so. Just before it seems he's read to cut transmittion and possible forever, he has something else to add.
"Before we let bygones be bygones, as a sign of my good faith, I'm going to give you a little going away gift. Now, I know how much you hate these conferences of ours, so do you know what I am going to do for you? Just to make sure that you are really telling me the truth, I'm going to personally fly down to your homeworld to find what I'm look for, then I will proceed in killing you and the rest of your pride and basically turning your village into the 7th circle of Hell." In an instant, the overwhelming silence in the village turns into a roar of overlapping gasps and mumbling. Dylan, Tyr, and Trance are in shock. Lysandra's eyes close in disbelief, but still she remains firm and quiet. Her eyes reopen just as Cuchulain is finishing his ultimatum.
"This is your final warning, old woman. You have just one week left. Hand over the body of Drago Museveni!!"
