A/N--ExIsle got this extra bit, so you should too. It's only fair! And you should read and review, and we'll all be glad!
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tyr exercised methodically, striving for his physical best but lost in thought. Charlemagne's quickly buried surprise at their arrival at Beacon Burning Bright had pleased him. This was a tiny thing, arriving at a restaurant the Archduke had not expected them to find… but it was an encouraging sign. The first, he admitted, since this business began over three weeks ago. A month would soon approach since that innocuous supply run, and Tyr had rarely felt as incompetent as he had lately. That he'd happened to know Beacon's address was little more than luck, a gift from his myriad past. /Not luck. Knowledge hard-earned and hard kept/. That knowledge and experience should help him now--earning a reputation as one of the deadliest mercenaries in the Known Worlds had nearly killed him at times. He had stolen Drago's remains from the Drago-Kazov homeworld!
He knew only now that he had underestimated Charlemagne, dangerously so, dismissed him as a decadent fop.
"I will not make that mistake again," he muttered. He heard footsteps echo through the corridor, then into the gym.
"Constant self-improvement. I admire that about you, Tyr." The captain. He and Tyr would eventually come to a head, and only one would leave that confrontation… but for now, that wrath simmered quietly beneath the surface. For now, they had a more important goal.
He ignored the compliment. Tyr hated acknowledging how similar he and Gaheris truly were. Two men who met on the wrong side of time, if he were to wax melodramatic about it. "Have you unearthed any new information on Beka and Harper?"
"Rev's Wayist brothers may have a lead for us, but that's not why I came here." He hesitated. Tyr lifted his weights patiently, waiting for him to continue. "You have considerably more experience with both cases such as these and the people involved. I want your opinion on our progress and the likely state of our crewmates."
Tyr had dwelled on this himself, and he didn't like what experience told him. "In my experience, the most progress is made immediately after the abduction. We have found the opposite, and what little progress we've made has been steady. I am fairly confident that we will discover the whereabouts of Beka and Harper on our own." He grunted softly as he lifted. "I am much less satisfied with what I believe of their condition. This depends much on Charlemagne, and we know him to be quite… changeful. I am especially concerned for Mr. Harper."
"He does possess that certain /je ne sais quoi/," Rhade said dryly. "But Charlemagne hasn't made any ransom demands. Do you believe he means to prolong this ordeal?"
Lift, hold, relax. Breathe. "I do. I think that he means for us to /discover/ his ransom demands as part of this little game of his. There are several stages along the way where we could falter--Beacon Burning Bright, for instance--and he expects that we will ultimately fail."
"I see."
Tyr looked up briefly. "You're not too proud to ask advice from a man you dislike. I admire that. "
"Thank you for your counsel," Rhade replied, somewhat stiffly. He opened his mouth, closed it, and left as silently as he'd come. A man of idle greetings and farewells, the captain was not.
Which worked out well, as Tyr wasn't overly fond of them either. Lift, hold, relax. Breathe. He hadn't voiced the full extent of his worry, probably because he didn't want to hear it spoken aloud. Their two crewmates were very likely a unique brand of Jaguar-inflicted agonies this moment. He hated to imagine the little professor in the hands of Nietzschean interrogators, but the boy had lived under them for long enough to know what to expect. He smiled a little, musing that Harper had invited some of that pain. Take what you want and pay for it, another fitting Earth platitude advised.
As for Beka… at the thought of her under torture, Tyr wanted to steal a slipfighter to the Jaguar homeworld and beat the life out of Charlemagne. Even his beloved Big Freakin' Guns wouldn't be sufficient for the task. He would kill the man for every blow she'd taken. Tyr realized he was holding a breath and let it out.
More and more since the disappearance of the two humans, Tyr had been pondering his odd situation aboard the Andromeda. A spiritual Magog, a purple elf who apparently possessed some form of ESP, a High Guard relic--simultaneously a man who had committed murder for the Nietzschean tactical uprising and then killed ten thousand of them at the Battle of Witchhead--, a mudfoot with a genius for machines, and a female pilot with the coordination and confidence to make a Nietzschean weep. Odder still was the fact that he considered the two humans friends, though he saw them in very different lights.
A strange and fragmented Pride was better than none at all, and this little family had made an incredible stir around the Known Worlds. Rev and Trance were respectively an elder and a healer, Harper the headstrong younger brother, Rhade the Alpha and Tyr's competition, and Beka the possible mate. In these practical terms, he had something of an interest in her, human though she was.
Tyr and Beka had always shared the camaraderie of two world-weary pirates amused by the children but couldn't say when he had began to notice the arch little smiles that followed her quips, the slight sway in her walk, and her crystal blue eyes beyond indifferent observation. These definitely weren't practical terms… and he knew that Rhade noticed them as well.
He also found that he missed her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tyr exercised methodically, striving for his physical best but lost in thought. Charlemagne's quickly buried surprise at their arrival at Beacon Burning Bright had pleased him. This was a tiny thing, arriving at a restaurant the Archduke had not expected them to find… but it was an encouraging sign. The first, he admitted, since this business began over three weeks ago. A month would soon approach since that innocuous supply run, and Tyr had rarely felt as incompetent as he had lately. That he'd happened to know Beacon's address was little more than luck, a gift from his myriad past. /Not luck. Knowledge hard-earned and hard kept/. That knowledge and experience should help him now--earning a reputation as one of the deadliest mercenaries in the Known Worlds had nearly killed him at times. He had stolen Drago's remains from the Drago-Kazov homeworld!
He knew only now that he had underestimated Charlemagne, dangerously so, dismissed him as a decadent fop.
"I will not make that mistake again," he muttered. He heard footsteps echo through the corridor, then into the gym.
"Constant self-improvement. I admire that about you, Tyr." The captain. He and Tyr would eventually come to a head, and only one would leave that confrontation… but for now, that wrath simmered quietly beneath the surface. For now, they had a more important goal.
He ignored the compliment. Tyr hated acknowledging how similar he and Gaheris truly were. Two men who met on the wrong side of time, if he were to wax melodramatic about it. "Have you unearthed any new information on Beka and Harper?"
"Rev's Wayist brothers may have a lead for us, but that's not why I came here." He hesitated. Tyr lifted his weights patiently, waiting for him to continue. "You have considerably more experience with both cases such as these and the people involved. I want your opinion on our progress and the likely state of our crewmates."
Tyr had dwelled on this himself, and he didn't like what experience told him. "In my experience, the most progress is made immediately after the abduction. We have found the opposite, and what little progress we've made has been steady. I am fairly confident that we will discover the whereabouts of Beka and Harper on our own." He grunted softly as he lifted. "I am much less satisfied with what I believe of their condition. This depends much on Charlemagne, and we know him to be quite… changeful. I am especially concerned for Mr. Harper."
"He does possess that certain /je ne sais quoi/," Rhade said dryly. "But Charlemagne hasn't made any ransom demands. Do you believe he means to prolong this ordeal?"
Lift, hold, relax. Breathe. "I do. I think that he means for us to /discover/ his ransom demands as part of this little game of his. There are several stages along the way where we could falter--Beacon Burning Bright, for instance--and he expects that we will ultimately fail."
"I see."
Tyr looked up briefly. "You're not too proud to ask advice from a man you dislike. I admire that. "
"Thank you for your counsel," Rhade replied, somewhat stiffly. He opened his mouth, closed it, and left as silently as he'd come. A man of idle greetings and farewells, the captain was not.
Which worked out well, as Tyr wasn't overly fond of them either. Lift, hold, relax. Breathe. He hadn't voiced the full extent of his worry, probably because he didn't want to hear it spoken aloud. Their two crewmates were very likely a unique brand of Jaguar-inflicted agonies this moment. He hated to imagine the little professor in the hands of Nietzschean interrogators, but the boy had lived under them for long enough to know what to expect. He smiled a little, musing that Harper had invited some of that pain. Take what you want and pay for it, another fitting Earth platitude advised.
As for Beka… at the thought of her under torture, Tyr wanted to steal a slipfighter to the Jaguar homeworld and beat the life out of Charlemagne. Even his beloved Big Freakin' Guns wouldn't be sufficient for the task. He would kill the man for every blow she'd taken. Tyr realized he was holding a breath and let it out.
More and more since the disappearance of the two humans, Tyr had been pondering his odd situation aboard the Andromeda. A spiritual Magog, a purple elf who apparently possessed some form of ESP, a High Guard relic--simultaneously a man who had committed murder for the Nietzschean tactical uprising and then killed ten thousand of them at the Battle of Witchhead--, a mudfoot with a genius for machines, and a female pilot with the coordination and confidence to make a Nietzschean weep. Odder still was the fact that he considered the two humans friends, though he saw them in very different lights.
A strange and fragmented Pride was better than none at all, and this little family had made an incredible stir around the Known Worlds. Rev and Trance were respectively an elder and a healer, Harper the headstrong younger brother, Rhade the Alpha and Tyr's competition, and Beka the possible mate. In these practical terms, he had something of an interest in her, human though she was.
Tyr and Beka had always shared the camaraderie of two world-weary pirates amused by the children but couldn't say when he had began to notice the arch little smiles that followed her quips, the slight sway in her walk, and her crystal blue eyes beyond indifferent observation. These definitely weren't practical terms… and he knew that Rhade noticed them as well.
He also found that he missed her.