Part XI: Surviving The Game

"I'm thinking that I am saving your life, sir." Tyr explains.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Tyr gives Dylan the most piercing glare that later melts into his usual scathing smirk. "Capt. Hunt, I don't think you understand what was about to transpire before I stepped in to help out. I know that you want to help but you're getting overzealous and stepping on more than a few toes, might I add."

"So, you're saying I should have lied about our encounter with Cuchulain?"

"Yes, if you had any good sense." he advised. "First of all, the people you are quote/unquote "helping", are the remnants of a defeated pride. A pride that was crushed by the same people that plans to completely obliterate them now. For years, we have wandered the galaxies looking for homes and places in other prides only to be looked down by them as 'inferior'. In one week's time, these people will go into battle again, fighting for their right to survive and all of a sudden right out of the blue, an insignificant human comes along and claims that he managed to do in a matter of days what we couldn't do in a span of 20 years. Is it all becoming clearer now, sir?"

Dylan realized that he just dodged a bullet. Tyr had brought to his attention the true purpose of what he needed to do. These people aren't helpless and the last thing they needed it to be thought as such. Yes, they want to live, but what would be the point of life if they are still looked upon as inferior? As much as he find this idea ridiculous, he remembers that it's not so ridiculous to a Nietzschean. If he is going to be allowed to help, it would have to be on their terms. Nietzscheans are people of action, not words, which means he would have to show them what he is capable of doing. Dylan turns to Tyr and nods in agreement with the challenge, although rather reluctantly.

After what seems like an eternity of waiting, the hour had finally arrived. All four men leave their quarters and head for the middle of the village compound. News of the battle had spread like wildfire. Everyone was in attendance to see two of their own battle the outsiders. Tyr and Dylan slowly walked to the makeshift arena. The reception toward them was so loud and riotous, it was like the two men were walking to the gallows. Braima and Cairbre were already there waiting for them. They had been strutting around and gloating about their victory, inciting the crowd to the point of thirsting for blood. Dylan was beginning to wonder if agreeing to this was a good idea, but it was too late to back out now. He instead focused his energy on trying to survive as just as Tyr is.

Trance and Lysandra were both standing together on the sidelines in support of Dylan and Tyr. Trance, still not wanting this battle to take place, turns to Lysandra and says, "Please, you're the matriarch and everyone respects you. Isn't there a way for you to stop this?"

"Little one, I don't think you realize what was happening in my quarters. You and your Capt. Hunt made a very startling revelation, a revelation that questions our Nietzschean superiority and that's usually punishable by death. Apparently, if my brother is willing to fight beside the human, he must hold him in very high regard. Either that or he has something up his sleeve."

The fight began without so much as a preamble. Dylan is not given the chance to mentally prepare himself before Braima's clasped hands came crashing down across his shoulder blades, bringing him to his knees. He continued his assault by smashing his fists into his face and ribs. In immense pain, Dylan manages to garner enough strength to roll on his back, twist his legs around, and kick Braima square in the jaw with both feet sending the Nietzschean flying backwards. The retaliation gives him a chance to get to his feet and think of his next move. Braima assesses the damage of the kick to his face, rises to his feet and when he's sure his jaw is not broken, he charges at full force. Just when he was about to feel the full impact of Braima's frontal assault, at the last possible second, Dylan delivers a roundhouse kick to his mid-section, finishing with a boot to the face causing the Kodiak to double over in pain.

At the same time on the other side of the "arena", Tyr and Cairbre are fighting one another with the unspeakable savageness of two rabid hell hounds. There is much more at stake between them than just mere leadership positions and it's this knowledge that is fueling their fury.

A knife gripped in one hand, Cairbre motions the outsider to come forth and accept his untimely demise, but he is quick to realize that this will not be a simple kill. Tyr, also with a blade in his possession, maneuvers himself several times out of the path of Cairbre's weapon as it slices through the air, barely missing him.

Remaining focused and feeling his opponent's frustration and weariness after a few more unsuccessful swipes, he sees his opening. With expert precision, he slashes Cairbre through his right cheek and instantly, the Alpha feels the edge of Tyr's blade protruding through his gums and some of his jawbone. The pain and the severity of the affliction are unimaginable. He grabs his mouth and with the blood ejecting through his fingers, all he could think about is if Tyr had cut his jaw off because he really couldn't feel it any longer.

Seeing the Kodiak blinded by overwhelming pain and shock, Tyr consciously deduces that there was no possible way that Cairbre could go on fighting in this state, but his Nietzschean instincts aren't about to let him turn his back on him and rightfully so. From out of nowhere, this blinding rage comes over Tyr's bloodied opponent and he runs at him, screeching like a banshee determine to make him pay for slashing his face. Before he could properly react, Cairbre is all over him, supplying every and all types of kicks and blows. Tyr manages to block a good number of them but the others are delivered with painful accuracy.

The men's clawing, ripping, scratching, biting, hissing and growling at one another is inhuman and vicious but the outsiders are holding their own. There was now 1 minute and 41 seconds left on the agreed upon time and everything was on the line. Dylan, now wrestling with fatigue and the pain of a bruised, possibly broken rib, a cut above his left eye, a bloodied lip, a couple of broken molars and bruised knuckles, is still fairing better than Braima, who's injuries are startlingly much worse. Secretly, he's wishing that he didn't make the 30 minute stipulation and at the same time, Dylan is wishing he hadn't agreed to it. On the other side, Tyr, sporting a vast array of injuries, none of them really life-threatening, is warring with his own exhaustion while Cairbre is trying his best not to bleed to death. These are very difficult tasks for both men.

There is very little keeping any of the males standing. The jubilation that was going on in the early stages of the brawl was now replaced with an eerie kind of quiet. It was the kind of quiet that comes from eager anticipation fused with blunt astonishment. All are surprised that the kludge and the inferior uber that works for him has made it this far with any real serious injury. It's now come down to the last few seconds and both battles have been close.

Neither Dylan nor Tyr want 'close', they want a clear-cut victory. The two began eyeing each other across the arena, drawing strength from one another and just as the few seconds on the clock were ticking away and signaling each other, they both delivered two powerfully devastating blows to Cairbre and Braima, flooring both Kodiak alpha males. The sound of fists shattering bone and smashing raw, exposed flesh echoes throughout the compound and then, all of a sudden, time was up. The surrounding crowd was completely dumbfounded, but Trance and Lysandra couldn't be happier. The two rush out from the sidelines and allow the hurt men to put their arms around the women's shoulders and lean on them for support, Lysandra anchoring her brother and Trance anchoring her captain. Before they are lead out of the arena, in referee style, Lysandra grabs both men's wrists and raises their arms above her head and officially recognizes them as the winners by announcing to the crowd the previously agreed upon stipulations.

"The battle is now over! My brother, Tyr Anasazi, out of Victoria by Barbarossa and his companion, Capt. Hunt are the undisputed victors! As agreed, they are permitted to freely offer their services to us as we go into battle with Cuchulain and the rest of the Drago-Kazov!"

The pride couldn't believe this. Before they could utter a single disparaging remark to their matriarch's announcement, to make sure that her orders are to be strictly followed, she adds this as an additional incentive...

"For the duration of their time here, they are not to be harmed and anyone who does so, will answer to me! This new rule will be personally enforced by Jabari!"

All of a sudden, the crowd starts acting more agreeably. Dylan and Tyr just stands there, puzzled, not knowing who or what a Jabari is and why he or it was able to cause this kind of reaction. The wondering doesn't last very long because it is swiftly replaced by reminders of pain and weariness. Both men allow themselves to be lead out of the arena and into their newly designated quarters where Trance nursed their wounds with some towels, hot water, a few medical essentials she had with her... gauze, bandages, a small case of 8 syringes filled with nanobots, and a pocket laser for surgery. With Lysandra in the room also, Dylan sees this as his chance to have a straight talk with the Kodiak matriarch."So, Lysandra, do you still believe chivalry is dead?"

Lysandra remembers when she originally laughed at his invitation to help and now after seeing his dedication first hand, feels that it was a premature assumption on her part. "You've certainly convinced me of your abilities. You don't fight or think like a human."

"Yea, I've been complimented on that before." winces Dylan as Trance is treating one of his gaping wounds, but still tries to keep the conversation lighthearted. "It never ceases to amaze most of the Nietzscheans I've encountered."

"Well, you've managed to garner my undivided attention, Capt. Hunt. I will be very interested in what your plans are as how to handle the Dragons."

"Please, call me Dylan."

"Then, Dylan it is." She then looks up at Tyr sitting on the bed opposite from Dylan's, taking his shirt off. He's only half listening to her and Dylan's conversation, assessing the severity of his own injuries and waiting to be treated. She picks up one of Trance's clean towels, sloshes it around in the hot water, wrings it out and slowly approaches him with it. Sitting down beside him, she gently begins patting the blood and sweat off of his forehead, neck and shoulders. He lets out a low groan as the hot water seeps into the exposed gashes. Her face is beaming as she looks into his eyes. "And you, I can even begin to tell you how proud of you Father would be right now. I am also."

Tyr just closed his eyes and let Lysandra's words intoxicate him. He could almost hear his own mother speaking to him through her. All his years of searching, isolation, loneliness and pain were starting to show in his body language. He was visibly tired... tired in his mind and heart as well as in his bruised and bloodied body. He wanted nothing more than to just collapse in her arms and free every emotions he has held on to for so long, but he was not about to have the bearing of his soul being witnessed by Dylan and Trance. He ends up settling for a caress on her cheek as his way of showing how much her words mean to him.

When Trance finishes giving treatment to both men, it instantly dawns on them that it is getting very late and they have yet to reestablish radio contact with the Andromeda.

"Tyr, we have to get back to the Maru! exclaimed Dylan as he rose to his feet. "We've gone a number of hours without letting them know if we survived. God knows what could be going through their minds right now."

"The Maru is still on the beach and several kilometers away. You two can't possibly make that trip in your conditions." remarked Trance.

"You don't have to walk back to the Maru to contact your ship, Dylan." Lysandra intervened. "You can use the transmitter in my quarters. It's has the same connection that the large computer screen in the main room of the village has, but it's more private."

"Thank you very much for your hospitality." says Dylan, following her to her quarters.

After being thoroughly chewed out by Beka and lectured half to death by Rommie for worrying them sick by not sending word sooner, a very flustered Dylan returned to the room where Tyr and Trance are waiting for him. Lysandra is by his side with a devilish smirk on her face, trying to keep from laughing out loud at him. "My... your First Officer has a rather colorful vocabulary." she snickers.

"Yes, she's practically bilingual." he smiled, still trying to shake off Beka's disparaging comments. Trance couldn't help but giggle to herself at the thought of their exchange. As the discussion of Beka's expressive nature succumbs, the subject of the sleeping arrangements is brought to the table.

"Since it is a long trek back to your ship, this will be your room for the duration of your stay. I will arrange for an extra cot for the little one." Lysandra suggests.

"The extra cot won't be needed because I'm pretty sure that at least one of us will have to be awake as a guard just in case any of Braima's or Caibre's family members decide to exact their revenge on myself and Tyr."

"Oh no, that won't be necessary. I've already explained that Jabari will be guarding your door." Remembering the reaction that was given by the crowd previously, Dylan finally asked, "If you don't mine me asking, who is Jabari?"

"You'll see," She cryptically answers and after giving Tyr a last sisterly glance, abruptly exits the room. A little taken aback by her answer, Tyr turns to the other two and asks, "What is that suppose to mean?" Dylan just shrugs and answers, "I guess that means, 'we'll see'."