Hi, everybody! Sorry this chapter took so long. It's extra-long to make up for it. :) -Natasha

June 6, 2003

Harper had been in some pretty tight situations, and he wouldn't be worth a grain of salt if he didn't know how to get out of them. As soon as he flew backwards he drew his legs high up in the air, allowing his momentum to strike backwards at his opponent. He heard a satisfying grunt of surprise as the Neitzschean with silver hair flew backwards. Harper flung the leather cord from his neck and reached for his weapon, which wasn't there. Naturally he had to leave it in his bag with the zipper closed all the way. Harper then reached for his only weapon-the sand. He flung it into the Neitzchean's face. The Neitzschean snarled with anger and threw himself at Harper. Harper rolled to the left as the Neitzschean's elbow pounded against the sand, and again to the right as the Neitzschean lunged for him. Harper wrestled free and crawled towards his supply bag. The Neitzschean's hand shot out and grabbed his left foot. Harper twisted around, drew his leg back, and kicked the Neitzschean squarely in the nose. It broke under the strain of his boot. As the Netizschean tumbled away Harper reached his bag and unzipped it. Sparkies, sparkies, beer, beer-by that time the Neitzschean was back on his feet, and Harper angrily threw a can of beer at the Neitzschean. Either by miraculous strength or a by- product of poor manufacturing the can exploded in the Neitzschean's face, dousing him with human beer. The Neitzschean gagged, giving Harper enough time to draw his gun out of the bag. Instantly he wished he hadn't and threw the gun up in the air. "Ow, ow, hot, hot-" He blew on his hands frantically.
There was a suddenly rush of air, and about eight hundred pounds of muscle suddenly flew at Harper. They both collapsed down the hill. Fists pounded against Harper's shoulder and back.
Red hot rage filled Harper, as hot as the desert. His mind instantly went back to the Neitzschean occupation, the slavers, the death camps. It was these memories which had made Harper freeze on the rooftop before. Harper elbowed the Neitzscehan as hard in the face as humanly possible. The Neitzschean rolled off him. Harper flew at him with his fists pounding. He broke the Neitzshcean's nose and mashed up his face in two punches. The Neitzschean bared his teeth at him defiantly. Harper raised his fist again-
A hand suddenly yanked Harper backwards by the shirt and tossed him casually backwards. Harper hit the ground and looked up to see Tyr tapping the Neitzschean lightly on the back of his head. The Neitzschean collapsed to the ground.
Harper was starting to wish even more that his weapon would work. "Tyr, I was handling it!" Harper snapped.
Tyr looked up. "Yes. And then we wouldn't have had a prisoner," he said dully.
Harper blinked. It was the closest thing to praise Tyr had ever said to him. But before pride even touched his heart it evaporated as Harper remembered what happened. He stood and turned, his blue eyes to the city. His hands were in his pockets. "You wanna take a shot at me?"
"No," Tyr replied. "Anyone can freeze in a situation. I except little else from a-"
(Kludge)
Tyr started, surprised by how the word came to him so easily. "Human," he finished.
For some reason that made Harper chuckle. "Yeah. We're quite the dependable species, Tyr," he stared out at the desert for a long time. "We're not Neitzscheans."
Intuition told Tyr something. "Something is bothering you. And it's not just your toy."
"It's not any of your business," Harper said.
Tyr waited, knowing that Harper would tell him anyway.
And indeed, Harper sighed. "I've been here before," he said.
Tyr's eyebrow rose sharply.
"Not here here," Harper amended. "But this place. You know, the desert."
"I wasn't aware there were any where you lived," Tyr remarked.
"There aren't," Harper said. "But I traveled a lot. You know, not on a spaceship, but on this neat hunking shuttle. Me, Brendon, Douglas and Tonja would go out to this desert every summer, find a place where there was a sandstorm, and kick a ball around."
"Why would you go to such a place to do such a thing?" Tyr asked, wondering if he really wanted to know.
Harper said nothing for a moment. "Only place where there weren't Neitzscheans," he replied simply. He stared out at the endless desert. Harper said nothing for a moment. "Tyr, have you ever done anything, or said anything that you wish you hadn't done, and no matter how much you want to go back in time to change it you can't and you have to live with that decision for the rest of your life?"
A pause.
"No," Tyr said.
Harper sighed, a deep and horrible sound. "Forget it," he said. He stood and brushed sand off his jeans. "I should have known better then try to explain it to you."
Tyr held his hand out, stopping him from leaving. "I am not a psychiatrist," he said calmly. "I'm not the archangel of the Divine with the answers to all of life's problems. But what I am, is a survivor, and here is some advice from one who has survived above millions of corpses- letting the past run your life means no life."
Harper glared at him. "Yeah," he said. "Easy for a guy to say who wasn't there, I suppose." He brushed angrily past Tyr. He turned back. "Though I am glad you weren't there, Tyr. Because I guess that means you would try to kill me, right? I mean, that is what you do, isn't it?" He turned back and walked down the hill, his boots leaving vanishing footprints in the sand.
Tyr watched him go. "You're right," he said softly.
A pause. Harper turned around but said nothing.
"I would have killed you," Tyr said.
Another pause.
"Gee. Thanks, Tyr, that really makes me feel better," Harper said.
"I'm not finished," Tyr said.
Something in his voice commanded Harper to bite off an angry retort and listen.
"I would have slaughtered you without a second thought. I would have shot you in the front if you had tried to fight me, and shot you in the back if you had tried to run away. If your mother were in front of you I would have shot her to get to you. And if I had known of your annoying nature beforehand I would have enjoyed killing you immensely-"
If there was one thing Tyr understood about Harper, it was his volatile nature. One quick spark was all it took to start a fire. And lo and behold, Harper immediately rushed at him and tackled him to the sand
It was the only good hit the child was going to get. They both tumbled down a hill, coughing and sputtering sand. Harper tried to land a punch at Tyr's face. Tyr caught his fist, and flipped him over his shoulders. Before Harper could blink Tyr threw himself on top of the young engineer, his elbow raised. It connected with Harper's lungs. Harper doubled over, trying to breathe, as Tyr grabbed the knife from his boot and held it under Harper's throat.
"I can't help my nature," Tyr continued easily. He cast a murderous glance at the city. "But apparently someone out there is disputing that. They say that my pride was..collaborating with lower life-forms. My pride!"
Beneath him Harper watched with growing astonishment. He had never seen Tyr so angry before in his life. Discretely his hand searched the sand for his gun.
"And even if you understand nothing about my people, little man, understand this-there is no greater injury then to insult one's pride. Even if one person stuck a knife into my heart and twisted it wouldn't have hurt half as much!" he roared. He resumed his normal tone of voice. "So you can appreciate the fact that I intend to go after this man, this Neitzschean who is worse then even a Kludge and rip his head from his shoulders. And since my only asset in this task is you, I can't afford you making my plans already difficult then they already are. Therefore you will put these problems behind you or I will make sure that you will have more to worry about then some incident in your history!" He took the Knife off Harper's throat and stood.
Harper glared at him from the ground. "It's not that simple," he said.
"Then make it simple," Tyr ordered.
Harper thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I can't," he said. "This is something that nobody knows, not even Beka. I have to tell someone. I need to."
For a moment both of them looked desperately at the empty desert. Only wind answered back.
"Perhaps...you can tell this Drago-Kazov we captured?" Tyr suggested.

"Tyr, it has to be someone I know, or it doesn't mean squat," Harper said. "Even if I don't particularly like that person right now."
Another long pause.
"Very well," Tyr said finally, and sat down. He stuck his knife in the sand. "But please be brief, little man. My patience wears thin."
Harper said nothing for a moment, then began his tale. TBC.