Looky, looky, got some of next chapter typed! It could stand alone as a
chapter, I think, if a rather short one, so I feel confident about posting
it...THEN LEAVING YOU HANGING!! MUA-HA-HA-HA-HA!
Erm...*cough*...excuse me. I just have this to say... if you're one of
those pple who scrolls down a bit past what you're reading to glance ahead
(I do this rather too often), DON'T DO IT NOW!! I mean, you can, but it
will develop so much better if you don't see the last bit coming *cackle*
*sings* Joanne needs a beta, Joanne needs a beta! Oh! And if anyone here
goes to the University of Missouri-Columbia E-MAIL ME!!! Please?
All right, I'll stop...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eleventy-two! Minus the two.
"All right, it's been two hours and then some, and my very attractive yet oh-so-tardy husband is nowhere to be found. Now, I don't know if Nietzschean women do this sort of thing, but I sure as hell don't plan to sit around and twiddle my thumbs while half of the Dheran syndicate is searching for the Maru and its renowned captain." She regretted those last words as soon as they left her mouth-all that time without a slip and now that. Oh well. Shaidyna wasn't likely to tattle on them, and come to think of it, there was no one she could tattle to who didn't already know her and Tyr's identities. Something about the irony that those trying to kill them (or so she assumed) knew more about her than the woman attempting to help them struck her just then, but Shaidyna spoke before she could ponder this revelation.
"The Maru? You mean this?" Beka could almost see the wheels turning furiously behind dark eyes. "Which makes you Rebecca {{A/N-checked the spelling at the official site, also thinks doesn't make sense with her nick}} Valentine, and the rumors of a Nietzschean from a dead Pride joining the lunatic trying to restore the Commonwealth true."
"And me First Officer to that lunatic. Not that I'd disagree on every occasion."
Shaidyna glanced at the worked gold band on Beka's arm, glinting under the ship's harsh light. "And that?"
Beka hesitated. "And this is a very pretty bracelet. Nothing more."
She wasn't sure what she expected, but laughter was not in it. "I knew that something didn't jell right about the two of you. I've seen married couples ready to kill each other, married couples on their honeymoons, and married couples who haven't.been together in waaay too long, but I'd never seen a married couple like you two." Beka supposed she she could understand that, seeing as how they really weren't one. She wondered whether anyone else had come to same conclusion and voiced this aloud.
"I doubt it. You were mostly around Nietzscheans, from what I understand, and even those who truly can accept human/Nietzschean unions aren't precisely sure what to expect of them."
Beka muttered, "They're not the only ones. Anyway, now that I've unburdened my soul of its dark secrets, I'm going to go back out there, knock on the Corleone's front door, and ask if they've seen a tall, dark, and generally frightening Nietzschean male about yea high." She gestured somewhere nearing a foot above her head.
As she left the cramped Command area, Shaidyna called out, "You don't seem like the type to go haring off madly, trying to restore extinct civilizations."
Beka paused mid-step. "I'm not." A soft smile passed over her lips. "The Commonwealth isn't dead." And let Shaidyna make of that what she would. The Commonwealth did have its fifty worlds, after all.
So they didn't act like a married couple, didn't they? Well, that was certainly for a lack of effort on her part. Tyr could have at least pretended that the notion of entering into a relationship with a lowly kludge didn't nauseate him. What an ass. She wagered she could find some way that this was entirely his fault. He could have at least.well.could have.here Beka faltered. She didn't know what married Nietzschean men did, and if he had tried acting like a human husband. she shook her head. He should have done something.
Keeping eyes and ears open, Beka considered her next step. How did she plan on finding Tyr, anyway? He couldn't exactly blend into a crowd, but she suspected that he could keep a very low profile when he wanted to.
Without warning, one hand closed on her helix and another clapped over her mouth. Beka twisted her head and bit down hard on the palm muffling her shouts as she jabbed her free elbow into her potential kidnapper (or worse) and kicked hard backward and up. "Tell me, Captain Valentine," a low voice said at her ear, "do you daily practice sinking your teeth into the flesh of your enemies?"
Beka relaxed her assault. "You know, Tyr, you really should look into a career as a holodrama starlet; you really do have a flair for the dramatic." She only wished her heart would slow down and that he didn't smell so damn good. At least she could blame her heart rate on being taken by surprise. After all, he could very well have been a Dheran crime boss with a very large gun at his side and Beka's picture in his wallet.
He shook his hand, and the blonde pilot thought she saw a few drops of blood near his thumb. She couldn't help feeling a surge of pride. "I won't waste time asking how you planned to find me, though I would be very interested in learning how you thought to discern my location in the planet's largest city with the galaxy's most feared criminal force searching for yours." Releasing her, he gave her a look that told her he knew very well that she'd had no idea beyond the flip of a coin for right or left.
As they walked, both with hands hovering inches from weapons, Tyr filled her in on the details of his last couple of hours and his plan for getting off this planet. She knew there was a reason she'd always despised the things. "I made a visit to a place frequented by some former colleagues of mine." Mercenaries, then. Beka prayed to the Divine that his plan didn't include those former colleagues of his, but frankly, she'd settle with a Chichin/Nightsider/Magog hybrid right now. What a horrid thought. "No one I had ever known was there save the bartender, but those I did find were more than willing to talk for one of their own, especially when that one bought a round or five."
"Wait, wait, how did they know you used to be one of 'em? Is there some secret mercenary handshake or something?"
"They know." Big help was Tyr Anasazi. "A very high-ranking Dheran hired an entire team, such as it is, to find you, Beka." He regarded her again, somehow contriving to look simultaneously in five directions at the same time.
"Ah-ah, look for us, sugarlips." Something suspiciously close to a grin twitched his lips at the endearment. "My question is how did they not recognize you? I mean, they have to know what we look like in order to dispose of us."
"The team was hired to for you. The Dherans aren't so foolish as to waste time and resources trying to find me." Nietzscheans and their egos. The worst part was that in this case, he was probably right. "I've worked for and against them before; they know what I can do." Very likely the creepiest thing about all this was the utter lack of boasting in his voice. "They're not letting any ship leave the planet without a full, deck-by-deck scan and a search by a dozen former smugglers, all Dheran. And it seems they have a special interest in you, though I'm not sure why."
"Maybe," Beka suggested, "they just like blondes better."
Her attempt to lighten the mood failed. Miserably. "Or they believe a human woman quicker to break under interrogation." Well, or that. "After the eighth round, the team left, although how they propose to find anyone when they can barely find their own feet was unclear." His voice was thick with contempt for anyone so sloppy. "I.confided to the bartender that I know of your location and that I had a design of my own to earn a few thousand crowns, a third of which would be his if he aided me."
Beka's eyebrows tried to climb her forehead. "And I assume you weren't under the influence of those eight rounds?" {{A/N-anyone ever hear the country song "Ten Round of Jose Cuervo? Cos that's all I'm hearing in my head right now.}}
"I was not," he stated simply. "In order for this to succeed, Beka, you're going to have to trust me implicitly, which I know you may find difficult." Eyes looking straight into hers did not mock. He knew the universe as well as she and how trust could kill as surely as any poison and twice as fast. {{A/N-now a song from the Wheel of Time, Trust is the Color of Death.}}
"I could count the number of people I trust one my hand, Tyr." She shrugged. "And somehow, you're one of them. Do you really want your plan to depend on a person who so obviously lacks even the smallest shred of her sanity?"
He laughed, then, a startlingly warm sound from such an imposing figure. His gaze never left hers as he set a hand on her slender neck and traced her jaw with a thumb. She opened her mouth to ask him what he was about, with all this talk of "trusting implicitly" and now this touchy-feely business, though neither bothered her, not really. He did things like the touching at the oddest of times, and she definitely wouldn't trust him if he did start acting all husband-y. All thought fled, however, as he tilted his head to the side, leaned inward.and kissed her. And, as everything Tyr did, this was no mundane, chaste kiss. She could smell his leather, some aftershave-type scent, and very faint, clean perspiration as the short hairs of his short goatee brushed her face. The last notion that drifted across her very perplexed and by now very content brain was that his was quite enough to convince anyone watching.that it was nearly enough to convince her.and then something sharp pricked her arm.
He was still kissing Beka when darkness rolled over her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eleventy-two! Minus the two.
"All right, it's been two hours and then some, and my very attractive yet oh-so-tardy husband is nowhere to be found. Now, I don't know if Nietzschean women do this sort of thing, but I sure as hell don't plan to sit around and twiddle my thumbs while half of the Dheran syndicate is searching for the Maru and its renowned captain." She regretted those last words as soon as they left her mouth-all that time without a slip and now that. Oh well. Shaidyna wasn't likely to tattle on them, and come to think of it, there was no one she could tattle to who didn't already know her and Tyr's identities. Something about the irony that those trying to kill them (or so she assumed) knew more about her than the woman attempting to help them struck her just then, but Shaidyna spoke before she could ponder this revelation.
"The Maru? You mean this?" Beka could almost see the wheels turning furiously behind dark eyes. "Which makes you Rebecca {{A/N-checked the spelling at the official site, also thinks doesn't make sense with her nick}} Valentine, and the rumors of a Nietzschean from a dead Pride joining the lunatic trying to restore the Commonwealth true."
"And me First Officer to that lunatic. Not that I'd disagree on every occasion."
Shaidyna glanced at the worked gold band on Beka's arm, glinting under the ship's harsh light. "And that?"
Beka hesitated. "And this is a very pretty bracelet. Nothing more."
She wasn't sure what she expected, but laughter was not in it. "I knew that something didn't jell right about the two of you. I've seen married couples ready to kill each other, married couples on their honeymoons, and married couples who haven't.been together in waaay too long, but I'd never seen a married couple like you two." Beka supposed she she could understand that, seeing as how they really weren't one. She wondered whether anyone else had come to same conclusion and voiced this aloud.
"I doubt it. You were mostly around Nietzscheans, from what I understand, and even those who truly can accept human/Nietzschean unions aren't precisely sure what to expect of them."
Beka muttered, "They're not the only ones. Anyway, now that I've unburdened my soul of its dark secrets, I'm going to go back out there, knock on the Corleone's front door, and ask if they've seen a tall, dark, and generally frightening Nietzschean male about yea high." She gestured somewhere nearing a foot above her head.
As she left the cramped Command area, Shaidyna called out, "You don't seem like the type to go haring off madly, trying to restore extinct civilizations."
Beka paused mid-step. "I'm not." A soft smile passed over her lips. "The Commonwealth isn't dead." And let Shaidyna make of that what she would. The Commonwealth did have its fifty worlds, after all.
So they didn't act like a married couple, didn't they? Well, that was certainly for a lack of effort on her part. Tyr could have at least pretended that the notion of entering into a relationship with a lowly kludge didn't nauseate him. What an ass. She wagered she could find some way that this was entirely his fault. He could have at least.well.could have.here Beka faltered. She didn't know what married Nietzschean men did, and if he had tried acting like a human husband. she shook her head. He should have done something.
Keeping eyes and ears open, Beka considered her next step. How did she plan on finding Tyr, anyway? He couldn't exactly blend into a crowd, but she suspected that he could keep a very low profile when he wanted to.
Without warning, one hand closed on her helix and another clapped over her mouth. Beka twisted her head and bit down hard on the palm muffling her shouts as she jabbed her free elbow into her potential kidnapper (or worse) and kicked hard backward and up. "Tell me, Captain Valentine," a low voice said at her ear, "do you daily practice sinking your teeth into the flesh of your enemies?"
Beka relaxed her assault. "You know, Tyr, you really should look into a career as a holodrama starlet; you really do have a flair for the dramatic." She only wished her heart would slow down and that he didn't smell so damn good. At least she could blame her heart rate on being taken by surprise. After all, he could very well have been a Dheran crime boss with a very large gun at his side and Beka's picture in his wallet.
He shook his hand, and the blonde pilot thought she saw a few drops of blood near his thumb. She couldn't help feeling a surge of pride. "I won't waste time asking how you planned to find me, though I would be very interested in learning how you thought to discern my location in the planet's largest city with the galaxy's most feared criminal force searching for yours." Releasing her, he gave her a look that told her he knew very well that she'd had no idea beyond the flip of a coin for right or left.
As they walked, both with hands hovering inches from weapons, Tyr filled her in on the details of his last couple of hours and his plan for getting off this planet. She knew there was a reason she'd always despised the things. "I made a visit to a place frequented by some former colleagues of mine." Mercenaries, then. Beka prayed to the Divine that his plan didn't include those former colleagues of his, but frankly, she'd settle with a Chichin/Nightsider/Magog hybrid right now. What a horrid thought. "No one I had ever known was there save the bartender, but those I did find were more than willing to talk for one of their own, especially when that one bought a round or five."
"Wait, wait, how did they know you used to be one of 'em? Is there some secret mercenary handshake or something?"
"They know." Big help was Tyr Anasazi. "A very high-ranking Dheran hired an entire team, such as it is, to find you, Beka." He regarded her again, somehow contriving to look simultaneously in five directions at the same time.
"Ah-ah, look for us, sugarlips." Something suspiciously close to a grin twitched his lips at the endearment. "My question is how did they not recognize you? I mean, they have to know what we look like in order to dispose of us."
"The team was hired to for you. The Dherans aren't so foolish as to waste time and resources trying to find me." Nietzscheans and their egos. The worst part was that in this case, he was probably right. "I've worked for and against them before; they know what I can do." Very likely the creepiest thing about all this was the utter lack of boasting in his voice. "They're not letting any ship leave the planet without a full, deck-by-deck scan and a search by a dozen former smugglers, all Dheran. And it seems they have a special interest in you, though I'm not sure why."
"Maybe," Beka suggested, "they just like blondes better."
Her attempt to lighten the mood failed. Miserably. "Or they believe a human woman quicker to break under interrogation." Well, or that. "After the eighth round, the team left, although how they propose to find anyone when they can barely find their own feet was unclear." His voice was thick with contempt for anyone so sloppy. "I.confided to the bartender that I know of your location and that I had a design of my own to earn a few thousand crowns, a third of which would be his if he aided me."
Beka's eyebrows tried to climb her forehead. "And I assume you weren't under the influence of those eight rounds?" {{A/N-anyone ever hear the country song "Ten Round of Jose Cuervo? Cos that's all I'm hearing in my head right now.}}
"I was not," he stated simply. "In order for this to succeed, Beka, you're going to have to trust me implicitly, which I know you may find difficult." Eyes looking straight into hers did not mock. He knew the universe as well as she and how trust could kill as surely as any poison and twice as fast. {{A/N-now a song from the Wheel of Time, Trust is the Color of Death.}}
"I could count the number of people I trust one my hand, Tyr." She shrugged. "And somehow, you're one of them. Do you really want your plan to depend on a person who so obviously lacks even the smallest shred of her sanity?"
He laughed, then, a startlingly warm sound from such an imposing figure. His gaze never left hers as he set a hand on her slender neck and traced her jaw with a thumb. She opened her mouth to ask him what he was about, with all this talk of "trusting implicitly" and now this touchy-feely business, though neither bothered her, not really. He did things like the touching at the oddest of times, and she definitely wouldn't trust him if he did start acting all husband-y. All thought fled, however, as he tilted his head to the side, leaned inward.and kissed her. And, as everything Tyr did, this was no mundane, chaste kiss. She could smell his leather, some aftershave-type scent, and very faint, clean perspiration as the short hairs of his short goatee brushed her face. The last notion that drifted across her very perplexed and by now very content brain was that his was quite enough to convince anyone watching.that it was nearly enough to convince her.and then something sharp pricked her arm.
He was still kissing Beka when darkness rolled over her.