Chrysalis, part 5
Tyr stalked along the corridor towards the VIP quarters, his face set like stone. He didn't like the people of New Salem, in fact, he didn't like anyone who called him an Uber, but this was different: in hurting Rommie they had distracted Dylan, and that impeded his survival. A little voice in the back of his head laughed, "Right, and that's the only reason you're anger at them right now?" He shook his head: ok, so he liked Rommie as a person, and as a shipmate, maybe even as a friend on some level, and he didn't like the idea that someone had hurt her: He'd been hanging around with the others way too long. He reached the Ambassadors room, and after straitening his uniform, pressed the buzzer.
It took a few minuets for Elizabeth to answer, but the door finally opened, and she looked up at the big Nietzschean. Her smiled turned to a scowl, "Yes?" Tyr managed to keep his rage under control, "There has been an assault on a member of the crew, and the only person unaccounted for at the time is a member of your staff." Elizabeth just looked at him, "Who was the victim?" Tyr's eyes narrowed, "Lieutenant Hunt: she was in her quarters when someone set off an EMP-grenade outside the door."
Elizabeth looked at him, "You can't possible believe that myself or any member of my staff had anything to do with such an act?" Tyr growled slightly, "Given your planets past treatment of the Lieutenant and this ship, I have no trouble believing that you could have ordered it. And if you think for one minuet that you status as an Ambassador will keep you safe, think again: Dylan's preoccupied with dealing with the aftermath of the attack, but as soon as that's done with, he's going to want some answers, and he'll get them, one way or another."
"You don't seriously think that the famous Captain Hunt would risk his carrier over an Android?" asked Elizabeth, her head tilted slightly to the side. Tyr fought the urge to snap her neck where she stood, "For an android, no, probably not. But for his wife, the mother of his child? In a heartbeat." He straightened his back, "I will want to talk to the man in question no later than this afternoon: if he fails to report to my office, I will send a security detail for him." He turned and strode off.
Dylan was sat on a bed in medical, keeping an eye on Rommie's still form, "So you say that the EMP emitter is Nietzschean in design? That makes no sense." Tyr nodded, "The only Pride that builds or uses EMP-grenades is Drago-Kazov." Dylan noticed his tactical officer almost spat the last two words, "But why would they help New Salem? And why would a people with a hatred of Nietzscheans trust them enough to accept that help?" Tyr looked at Dylan, "You: you've meddled in the affairs of the Drago's enough times that they have a price on your head the size of a Nightsider's ransom, and the good people of New Salem might be a little put-out with the trick we pulled on them last year."
Dylan nodded, "I know. Get me answers Tyr, and I don't care how you get them."
TBC
Tyr stalked along the corridor towards the VIP quarters, his face set like stone. He didn't like the people of New Salem, in fact, he didn't like anyone who called him an Uber, but this was different: in hurting Rommie they had distracted Dylan, and that impeded his survival. A little voice in the back of his head laughed, "Right, and that's the only reason you're anger at them right now?" He shook his head: ok, so he liked Rommie as a person, and as a shipmate, maybe even as a friend on some level, and he didn't like the idea that someone had hurt her: He'd been hanging around with the others way too long. He reached the Ambassadors room, and after straitening his uniform, pressed the buzzer.
It took a few minuets for Elizabeth to answer, but the door finally opened, and she looked up at the big Nietzschean. Her smiled turned to a scowl, "Yes?" Tyr managed to keep his rage under control, "There has been an assault on a member of the crew, and the only person unaccounted for at the time is a member of your staff." Elizabeth just looked at him, "Who was the victim?" Tyr's eyes narrowed, "Lieutenant Hunt: she was in her quarters when someone set off an EMP-grenade outside the door."
Elizabeth looked at him, "You can't possible believe that myself or any member of my staff had anything to do with such an act?" Tyr growled slightly, "Given your planets past treatment of the Lieutenant and this ship, I have no trouble believing that you could have ordered it. And if you think for one minuet that you status as an Ambassador will keep you safe, think again: Dylan's preoccupied with dealing with the aftermath of the attack, but as soon as that's done with, he's going to want some answers, and he'll get them, one way or another."
"You don't seriously think that the famous Captain Hunt would risk his carrier over an Android?" asked Elizabeth, her head tilted slightly to the side. Tyr fought the urge to snap her neck where she stood, "For an android, no, probably not. But for his wife, the mother of his child? In a heartbeat." He straightened his back, "I will want to talk to the man in question no later than this afternoon: if he fails to report to my office, I will send a security detail for him." He turned and strode off.
Dylan was sat on a bed in medical, keeping an eye on Rommie's still form, "So you say that the EMP emitter is Nietzschean in design? That makes no sense." Tyr nodded, "The only Pride that builds or uses EMP-grenades is Drago-Kazov." Dylan noticed his tactical officer almost spat the last two words, "But why would they help New Salem? And why would a people with a hatred of Nietzscheans trust them enough to accept that help?" Tyr looked at Dylan, "You: you've meddled in the affairs of the Drago's enough times that they have a price on your head the size of a Nightsider's ransom, and the good people of New Salem might be a little put-out with the trick we pulled on them last year."
Dylan nodded, "I know. Get me answers Tyr, and I don't care how you get them."
TBC