Chapter ten: Tyr's Recreation Room

Okay, let's try this again: do you or do you not want me to post a story that takes place AFTER the secrets series?? And by that theme, I mean if you guys know anything about Andromeda, should what he built come back later in the story? And while I'm at it- Kyer Prince=LaCroix, they were played by the same actor. Prince came from Lexx, so who sired LaCroix?

Dylan Hunt was a little smaller the Tyr Anasazi, with lighter brown hair and wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth. A metal staff, barely two feet long, hung from his belt, called a forcelance. Just to show his position, or maybe to intimidate the young guests, he wore a red gold- trimmed High Guard uniform shirt with matching gold-tan pants. He jogged laps around the deck of the Andromeda, working off extra steam and frustration. He didn't seem to care about changing his clothes.

Sure, Rommie said the children were truthful and harmless, but the description of the beast they were chasing! Sure, the kid's accounts had been vague, even lax, but doubtless the children were not trained to be so observant and they might be traumatized! Dylan did have to give credit to the kids; they were strong, emotional and physical. The girl alone looked like she had spent some time in a hostile environment without knowing where her next meal came from, but that seemed to be a long time ago.

The three creatures the children brought on board were clearly a headache waiting to happen. How many had they brought on board out of diplomacy or kindness that had tried to kill them and/or run away with the Andromeda to use her to take over the universe?

"My sentiments exactly," deeper, somehow colder voice whispered, accompanied by the sounds of heavy feet thudding against hard metal flooring.

Tyr Anasazi was a much bigger man with dark dreadlocks spilling down his back. He was a Neitzchean from the "extinct" Kodiak pride, who bred themselves for physical perfection (I prefer Harper myself-Elendil) and it showed. He was a walking slab of muscle and bone wrapped in dark skin and given brown eyes. His arms once had bonespurs, a Neitzchean trademark, which grew from within the bone, but after a freak accident involving inter- dimensional predators, they were no more.

"What do you mean, Tyr?" Dylan asked in false innocence.

Tyr shrugged as he jogged, "How can you tell that these children are telling the truth? Okay, so the ship says they are, but it also says that the two animals and the young one disrupt her sensors."

"Is there something else that bothers you?"

"I don't like the idea of having a mind-reader on board."

The captain laughed, "He says he can't read them anymore."

The Kodiak snorted, "Yeah, and how often does Trance tell you the *part*, let alone *all*, of the story?"

Dylan ducked his head and thought for a minute, "I think they're harmless."

"Yeah, you thought the lunatics were just asphyxiated, remember that?" How could anyone forget a herd of schizophrenics running around loose on the Andromeda chanting, "We want Harper! We want Harper!"?

:30~

Tyr flexed his steroid-laden arms upward, carrying with them a huge weight. He strained and grunted against the pressure, but continued to work out strenuously. Everyone had their own daily routine: Dylan jogged, Harper tinkered, Trance grew things, and Beka did regular maintenance on her ship. Tyr worked to strengthen his body so he could impress a Neitzchean female and get her pregnant to spread his genes and therefore achieve immortality.

It's a Neitzchean thing, cluges* wouldn't understand.

The Kodiak and keeper of the bones of Drago Mousevenni was lost in thought. As a Neitzchean and the weapons expert, it was his job to be paranoid and did anyone else hear guns going off in the near future?

All of a sudden, Tyr was aware of two bright green eyes staring at him. The little scarecrow sat on a Bowflex-like machine and watched with immense curiosity. A wire ran from his ear to under his collar. Tyr scoffed and ignored him to resume his weightlifting. The soul of the Nietzchean is this: we are arrogant, we are selfish, we are manipulative, and we love our children; we just don't love anyone else's. A tiny grunt grabbed his attention again and the "child" had a minute weight and was trying his hardest to copy Tyr, though his efforts were futile. He strained heavily on the weight and was barely able to lift bone- shaped object without dislocating his shoulder. He fell over, collapsed in a fit of painful gasps, and rubbed his tiny shoulder.

In spite of himself, the Nietzchean laughed. He approached the timid child and said, "No, no. You're going to hurt yourself, try this."

It was then that Tyr remembered a small, round, brown, smiling face of a child that he wouldn't see until years in the future when his son united the Neitzchean prides.

The face of Telemachus Anasazi of Orca Pride, out of Freya of Orca Pride by Tyr Anasazi of Kodiak Pride, the genetic reincarnation of Drago Mousevenni.

*Cluge (n) - Impolite term for anything not genetically perfect, essentially anything non-Neitzchean.

Kinda sweet, huh? Tear does have a heart! ^_^