BIRTHRIGHT 2 – THE GATHERING

by Soledad

Author's note:

For disclaimer, rating, warnings, etc., see the Prologue.

We know nothing about the Centauris A colony, aside from the canon fact that it was a Nietzschean world. All the background facts were made up by me. I gave them considerable defensive (and attack) forces, based on the canon information that a) they were able to endure in the neighbourhood of the Magog-infested Dyhedra System, ad b) that the children from GS92916 chose them as one of their primary targets.

Ship classifications are based on the data as seen on the All Systems University website. Tyr's supposed descent from the Progenitor is simple conjecture.


CHAPTER 12 – LION'S DEN

For most Nietzscheans, Centauris A was nothing but a footnote on the galactic map. A small colony world, slightly astride from the main slipstream routes, and in dangerous proximity of the Dyhedra System, up till a few months ago a major Magog stronghold. No one knew how the Sabra endured on this perilous place, but no one really cared, either. If anyone wasted a thought at them at all, which happened rarely enough, he shrugged and simply accepted that, somehow, they obviously did. The means of survival were not particularly interesting.

Tyr had shared the indifference of the majority of his people, until now. When he'd warned the colony from the planned attack of the young kludges on the High Guard Station 92916, it had been just a half-hearted attempt to make allies among the smaller branches and to build his path slowly forward, aiming for the really big alliances. Meeting Deborah face to face, and then re-watching Ezekial El-Hakim's message many times, in order to learn to read this future ally's mannerism and body language, made him re-evaluate his previous opinions of this particular branch. Maybe there was more to the Sabra on Centauris A than anyone would believe.

He'd not counted on the hard proof that he came to face in high orbit above Centauris A, though.

"Is that really what I think it is?" he asked Shakuni, whom he had asked to come with him as his witness. The former assassin called up the data from the Maru's computer for confirmation."

"According to database, it is," he said. "A genuine High Guard heavy patrol craft, complete with its squadron of eight light patrol crafts – or a couple of very good replicas. Actually, I rather believe that they are replicas. They read as too new for being original items. But nice work nevertheless. Combined, they've got about a hundred combatants, ten ELS tubes, some two dozen defensive kinetic kill missiles and the AP gun turret of the HPC. More than enough to keep the colony safe on a regular day."

"Even if the ships are replicas, they had to get the plan from somewhere," Tyr said. "But who'd have detailed High Guard technical manuals nowadays?"

"My guess would be the High Guard station your Captain Hunt recently 'liberated'," Shakuni replied. I'm sure the Sabra have raided that place for generations. They might either have taken the data or captured the ships themselves, took them apart, studied them, and then built new ones."

"That would be a tremendous advantage for them," Tyr said jealously, seeing the perspective. There had been a reason why he'd wanted to get his hands on the Andromeda in the first place.

Shakuni nodded. "For them… and for their allies. El-Hakim could bring you a great deal closer to your ultimate goal, my lord."

"What do you know of him… personally?" Tyr asked sidestepping the thinly veiled question about his ultimate goal easily.

"Not much," Shakuni shrugged. "He's a surprisingly private person for a First Alpha of his status. He's got sixteen wives and twenty-seven children. His grown sons, the ones one can meet off-planet, are all Alphas – a very good bloodline. He's been doing the same thing you attempt, my lord: seeking alliances with small Prides or cadet branches, creating a network of allies against the Jaguars and the Drago-Kazov. Seven of his daughters have been married off to such allies as First and Second Wives, so far."

"Considering that you don't know much about him, this was a great deal of information," Tyr grinned. Shakuni grinned back.

"I worked with his First Daughter, Abigail, once. She's a highly skilled assassin, even as Sabran lady-killers go. Oh," he added, glancing at the comm system, "it seems that our hosts want to talk."

He transferred the call to Tyr's unit. On the small screen, the dark, handsome face of a young Alpha appeared. He had a striking remembrance to his sire.

"This is David El-Hakim, out of Delilah by Ezekial, commander of the planetary defences of Centauris A, to unidentified vessel," he said. "State your intentions."

The crisp military tone surprised Tyr a little, but he was careful not to show it.

"This is Tyr Anasazi, aboard the Eureka Maru," he replied. "I'm expected by Pride Alpha Ezekial El-Hakim."

The young Alpha checked something on his screen, then he nodded.

"Confirmed. Welcome to Centauris A. You're free to land at Makkabi Spaceport. We'll transfer landing coordinates to your board computer. Patrol command out."

Barely had the landing coordinates been transferred – which only took six seconds – David El-Hakim broke the connection. Tyr shook his head in mild exasperation.

"I should have brought Dylan with me. He's always complaining about too little military discipline aboard the Andromeda."

"They used to share borders with the Magog," Shakuni reminded him. "That must have required constant battle readiness… a strike force that now, since the kludge children have taken care of the Magog, can be used for other purposes."

"Depends on the strike force," Tyr murmured, but his mind was already occupied with the analysis of the various possibilities.


After the frozen tundra that had been Haukin Vora, Centauris A was quite a shock for Tyr: a hot and arid world of the size of Mars Solis, orbiting an orange dwarf star, with higher than standard surface gravity and very little surface water. A virtual desert, peppered with large oases, built over underground water reserves. Those reserves fed surface geysers, heated by geothermal energy, which was the very basis of the colony's economy. A clear and abundant source of wealth.

As a rule, Nietzscheans preferred planets with a harsh environment, where only their genetically enhanced race could survive. The for most people hostile conditions were their first line of defence.

This particular colony, however, had even more powerful weapons to its disposal, part of which Tyr had already seen in orbit. Where the Völsung survivors had a small compound where they could live, this Sabra branch had a loose network of oase cities, all independent, yet all living under the rule of their Pride Alpha. The seat of said Alpha, in a city named Makkabi in the equatorial area, was a literal fortress, cut in the very stone of a bare rock, surrounded by high walls and the most advanced surveillance and defence systems known to date. Nietzscheans were paranoid by nature, and the Pride Alpha and his family required more protection than what mere stone could offer.

At Makkabi Spaceport, Tyr and Shakuni were welcomed by another son of the powerful head of the El-Hakim family: Nathaniel, a handsome young Alpha with a deceivingly harmless appearance. He led them through an underground tunnel directly to the fortress of his father,

Like in every Nietzschean house that served as the home of an entire clan, here, too the atrium was where all social events took place. This atrium, however, had nothing common with the Spartan simplicity of the Völsung compound. The thick walls of living rock kept out the heat of the outside world and were covered with hand-made carpets of bright colours, the low, comfortable armchair cushioned with soft leather.

Ezekial El-Hakim sat in the circle of his four ranking wives: Judith, Delilah, Dinah and Semiramis. A colourful crowd of their children and grandchildren filled the various corners of the atrium. The Pride Alpha was a large man, with heavy muscles, big bones, a broad face and small, piercing amber eyes. He reminded Tyr of a greying lion, watching his prey. The Kodiak eyed him warily, sensing the power that he radiated so strongly that it engulfed him like an almost visible aura. Tyr began to understand the wisdom and necessity of accepting El-Hakim's demands. This Pride Alpha could have been as dangerous an enemy as he could be useful as an ally.

The Sabra wore casual clothes, matching the hot climate of their homeworld: richly embroidered, sleeveless vests and comfortably baggy pants of some loosely-woven fabric that was light enough to let even the slightest breeze through and didn't hinder their movements. This clothing, combined with their gilded bracers, gave their appearance an exotic touch, even in Nietzschean standards. They offered a formidable sight, and Tyr was grateful that his ancestors had chosen to breed for physical perfection – he had no need to feel inferior.

Ezekial El-Hakim rose when Tyr reached the middle of the atrium, which was a rare sign of respect shown a still prideless Alpha. It showed that the Sabran leader wanted this planned alliance really badly – whatever his reasons for doing so might have been.

"Greetings, Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria by Barbarossa," he said in a deep, grumbling voice that sounded a hell of a lot more impressive in the echoing rock chamber than it had through the comm system. "May I present my daughter, Mikaelan?"

The wording was that of the formal introduction of a marriage-ready female to her future husband. Apparently, the ruling family of Centauris A had already considered this marriage a done deal – after the ever-necessary genetic tests, of course. Following tradition, Tyr bowed his head formally and gave the required answer.

"I'm honoured, lady mine. I offer you my arm, whenever you might be in need for help or protection."

Mikaelan was as tall as her sister, Deborah: a raven-haired, olive-skinned, almond-eyed dark beauty, with the lean body of an athlete – or a born warrior. She wore her hair in multiple braids, knotted together on the top of her head, the same sleeveless shirt as the male members of her family, with a short skirt made of black leather straps and light sandals that were fastened with leather thongs wrapped around her calves, up to the knees. There was a predatory grace in the way she moved, and Tyr asked himself whether she, too, was a trained assassin. Many Sabran females were, especially those of respected bloodlines, as blood feuds were quite common in Sabra Pride.

"I accept," she said simply, after giving Tyr a good, hard look. Not that there would have been any doubt to begin with, of course. This was a political alliance between her father and her future husband; she was a mere pawn in it. But she apparently found Tyr a good choice.

"Does the First Matriarch of our Pride agree?" El-Hakim asked formally a venerable-looking elderly woman who, as Tyr would learn later, was the mother of his second wife, Semiramis.

"I need to see the test results yet," the matron replied, "but if they are satisfactory, then I am in favour of this bond."

"Has the First Wife given her spoken agreement?" El-Hakim asked, this time directly from Tyr.

Tyr handed him a flexi with Freya's recorded message of formal agreement. "She has. And my other wives, Derdriu and Finnabair of Völsung Pride, agreed to accept Third and Fourth status."

"Do we have a witness of this agreement?" the Matriarch inquired.

Shakuni stepped forth. "I, Shakuni Mohasai out of Draupadí by Lakshmana, vouch for it," he said. "I am certain that First Daughter Abigail El-Hakim would assure you of my truthfulness."

"I do," a woman of roughly Tyr's age and with a striking resemblance to both Deborah and Mikaelan said.

El-Hakim and his Matriarch, Agrippina, exchanged appreciative looks.

"I see that you have managed to build your own alliances already," the Pride Alpha said. "We are aware of the fact that you accepted the Rite of Protection from Orca Pride. That is good. We shall speak about further bonds when your wedding has taken place."

"We must act quickly, then," Tyr answered. "My time here is limited, as I don't want Captain Hunt to know about all my moves."

"That's a wise decision," El-Hakim agreed. "The Andromeda Ascendant might be a stabilizing factor between the front lines right now, but I do not trust her captain. You must not raise his suspicions."

"We can have the wedding right after the tests," the Matriarch suggested. "All is ready."

"Good. That leaves us the second half of the night to discuss the finer points of our alliance," El-Hakim said, "assuming Shakuni here is willing to fly that rustbin of yours back to Haukin Vora."

The former assassin grinned. "Of course."


Tyr had no objections against this plan; time being the major issue here. He could sleep on their way back, indeed. So the genetic tests were performed with the usual Nietzschean efficiency shown in such cases. Mikaelan's genes proved truly excellent; Tyr could count himself fortunate to gain a wife of such high genetic value, not to mention the rising of his social status a marriage with her would mean. As the last of Kodiak Pride, it was his duty to spread his genes as widely as possible, to combine his DNS with that of the most worthy partners. He would have to take more than his current four wives (two of which he still had to officially marry yet) if he wanted to rebuild his Pride.

Bonding with the Völsung women was, strictly seen, a throwback. Both Derdriu and Finnabair were the daughters of Betas – had they not been blood, he'd never have mated with them. He could count with reasonable certainty on his own superior genes resulting in children who would be Alpha material. But he couldn't be sure, not without doubt. He had to do this, as the Pride needed strong Betas as much as it needed Alphas – but even more did he need wives of really good genetic heritage, so that he had a strong foundation for truly superior children.

Resting of the bed of his Second Wife, now officially wedded and having spent hours of most pleasurable efforts to get her with child, Tyr contemplated the unexpected turn of his life to the better. Just a few months ago he had been a mercenary; alone, childless, with no place to call his home in the three galaxies, save his small rent apartment on Haukin Tau Drift. He'd had no allies, no friends, except a shady kludge merchant… he had no real hope.

But now… now he had taken two wives already, would marry two more in a day or so, had fathered five children (even though they were still unborn), had created three alliances, the latest one more powerful than he would have ever hoped for. Soon, he'd have two Omegas swearing lifelong fealty to him, and a ship of his own. Soon, he'd be able to start working on the master plan of his existence.

He was Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria and Barbarossa, the last survivor of an extinct Pride that had once held a unique position in Nietzschean society. One day, he'd re-claim the birthright of his Pride. And the woman in his arm, with the new life stirring in her body, was an important factor for that birthright to become his once again.

More important, in fact, than Tyr, basking in the afterglow of his fourth wedding night in seven days, could have even begun to imagine.


After les than three hours of sleep, he was summoned to El-Hakim's private council chamber. It was time for the negotiations to begin, and they had to hurry up. Only four of the Pride Alpha's children had been invited to this meeting, one of them a female of deadly elegance. Tyr needed a moment to recognize her as Abigail, as she – like her brothers present – wore a semi-militaristic uniform now.

"Allow me to do the introductions," El-Hakim said without preamble, gesturing towards the man on his right. "My son Jonathan, the admiral of our fleet and captain of the Wrath of Heaven, our only deep stand-off attack ship. I'm sure you remember my First Daughter, Abigail – she's our chief assassin and also captain of the Hand of Victory, one of our long-range surveillance ships. The other such ship, the Judgement's Fall, is commanded by my son Nathaniel, our spymaster, whom you've already met. And finally my son Joshua, our chief tactician and field marshal. He's also the captain of our drop ship carrier, the Sickle of Retribution".

To say that Tyr was stunned would have been an understatement.

"Just how many High Guard ships do you have?" he asked, after having exchanged the traditional warrior's greeting with the younger Alphas – including the female assassin.

"That about sums it up," El-Hakim replied with a shrug. "The only other really big ship we have is a group defence frigate, the Heart of the Night, under the command of my son David. He's the one responsible for planetary defences and commands the two squadrons of LPCs as well."

Tyr made quick calculations in his head. "That would still mean more than a thousand combatants aboard those ships alone, not to mention the troops a drop ship carrier would transport. That is, if you man your ships according to High Guard standards."

"We do," El-Hakim said simply. "We might be just a cadet branch, with a mere two hundred thousand people on this whole planet, but our military, as you'll see, is highly efficient. Although I must admit that none of our ships are the genuine High Guard article."

"What do you mean?" Tyr asked with a frown.

El-Hakim leaned forward in his seat, speaking quietly but with an urgency in his voice that was quite surprising.

"My father, Leonidas, was the one who finally managed to take the building plans from that abandoned High Guard station. Of course, we used to have a few captured vessels when this colony was founded, more than two hundred years ago, but they were battered derelicts. But we knew we had to get our hands on this technology. We lived fence-to-fence with one of the major Magog systems. Granted, the kludge kids have just solved this problem for us permanently, but we still don't know where the Magog came from. And as long as we can't shatter their home planet to pieces, with all the other planets under their rule, we have to remain vigilant."

"So you've raided the station repeatedly, until you got all the information you needed?" Tyr raised an appreciative eyebrow. "Impressive. I saw the bone blades those young kludges have collected during the last three centuries. You must have lost many good warriors."

"We have," El-Hakim admitted, "two of my own sons among them. But it had to be done. The Commonwealth once made the grave mistake to negotiate a 'peace treaty' with the Magog," he snorted. "How can you agree to a 'peace treaty' with someone who considers you dinner? Small wonder the Commonwealth collapsed like a card house."

"With the considerable help of our people," Tyr said grimly.

"The Sabra fought in the Battle of Witchhead with all their might," El-Hakim said. "Had Jaguar Pride not abandoned us, we might not have lost half of our ships. Those treacherous cowards!"

"And yet I heard that you're not part of the Sabra-Jaguar blood feud," Tyr said. El-Hakim shook his head.

"Blood feuds are good for vengeance but not always good for survival," he said. "One needs to know when to stop. Tamerlane Mossadim seems to have lost his perspective. He's obsessed with erasing Jaguar Pride from the galactic map. He'll fail."

"You really think so?" Tyr asked in surprise. "He's said to be a good strategist. And he has a large fleet."

"True. But Charlemagne Bolivar, decadent and treacherous fool as he might be, is brilliant. And the Jaguar fleet is bigger than Tamerlane's. Besides, our true enemy is the Magog. We should join forces and try to find their homeworld, instead of massacring each other. The Bolivar family knows this. They've ever gone so far as marrying off one of Charlemagne's sister to Cuatemoc."

"Cuatemoc?" Tyr frowned. "One of the Drago-Kazov fleet commanders? Are the Jaguars allied to the Dragans now? That would be… unfortunate."

"If that was the intent, it failed spectacularly," Nathaniel shrugged. "If possible, the relationships between the two Prides have gotten worse. They say Beatricea doesn't get along with the Dragan First Matriarch," he added with a grin.

"So there is no alliance yet?" Tyr pressed. Nathaniel shook his head.

"Not that I'd know of. And rest assured, I would know of it."

"It must not get so far," Tyr said emphatically. "The two together would be too strong for all the others to stand up to."

"I quite agree," El-Hakim nodded. "And accidentally, so does Tamerlane. In fact, there are rumours that he'd consider marrying off his First Daughter, Elssbett, to Charlemagne."

"Hmmm…" Tyr considered this for a moment. "The united Sabra-Jaguar fleet would be strong enough to face the Dragan fleet in battle… and even win."

"That's true," El-Hakim agreed, "but I'd be surprised if Tamerlane didn't have a hidden agenda with this plan."

"He'd be a fool not to."

"Indeed," Abigail said with a thin smile. "But if Bolivar agrees, they'd need a ship to take Elssbett from the homeworld to her future husband."

"Preferably a very big one, under the command of a third party, right?" Tyr grinned. Nathaniel nodded.

"Exactly. I think you happen to know the perfect vessel for that purpose?"

"I just might… if I can persuade its esteemed captain that doing so would be good for the new Commonwealth."

"The new Commonwealth!" Joshua, an ebony-skinned man with short-cropped hair, almost as big as Tyr himself, snorted in amusement. "A few backwater planets band together to play galactic empire… what a joke!"

"You might be right," Nathaniel agreed, "but there's always a chance that one of the big players would choose to use Captain Hunt's game board for their own game."

"Certainly," Tyr said. "Or do you believe I'd bought into Dylan Hunt's oh-so-noble quest of restoring the so-called lost civilization?"

"Of course not," El-Hakim's thin smile mirrored that of his First Daughter. "That'd mean you are a fool, and I'd never marry off any daughter of mine to a fool. You're aiming for the Andromeda Ascendant, aren't you?"

"And what if I did?" Tyr asked.

"In that case I'd say that a heavy cruiser would strengthen the united forces of Kodiak-Sabra Pride tremendously," El-Hakim replied. "But it won't be an easy task. We've had our fair share of trouble with sentient High Guard ships, even derelict ones. In most cases, we had to eradicate the core AI's personality and replace it with a new one."

"I've taken that possibility under consideration," Tyr replied calmly. "I'd regret to erase Andromeda, but I'd do so if there wasn't any other choice. There have been certain… step taken to that goal. But I'll try other methods first."

"We might have less time than you'd think," Nathaniel warned him. "Not only has Magog activity steadily increased in the recent years, but there's a new threat to our people, too."

"The Genites," Tyr nodded grimly. "I've heard of them."

"Have you also heard of their technology?" Nathaniel asked. "It seems they didn't suffer a scientific setback after the Commonwealth era. They are stronger now than the High Guard used to be before the fall of the Long Night. And they are making hunt of all genetically modified humans. Our people are their primary targets – the only good thing is, they are still too few for an all-out attack. But that might change."

"The Prides must be united to be able to face this double threat," El-Hakim added. "That is why I suggested this alliance. You may be prideless now, Tyr Anasazi, but your bloodline has descended directly from the Progenitor. If he is ever to be reborn, he'd come from your line. Every single one of your current wives – including Mikaelan – could become the one who'd give birth to the genetic reincarnation of the Progenitor. We need you – your heritage – to reunite the Prides."

"Only the Progenitor himself can do that," Tyr said. "And although I'm a close enough match, I'm still not him."

"What you're not now, you still can become… under the right circumstances," El-Hakim said. "However, for that you'll need to retrieve what once belonged to your family."

You need to re-claim the bones of Drago Museveni, said the unspoken message. Which happened to be one of Tyr's long-term goals, of course. Together with rebuilding Kodiak Pride and re-establishing its righteous status in Nietzschean society.

He also knew that El-Hakim had been right. There were methods, hazardous they might be, to make subtle changes to someone's genetic make-up, so that he could, indeed, pretend to actually be the Progenitor. With the matching background story to explain why the 'fact' had been hidden so far, of course.

And if he could find a certain Perseid geneticist to do the dirty work, he could swat two flies at once, as humans liked to say.

"We can't help you with the action itself," El-Hakim added. "We must not risk this colony or reveal our true strength. But Nathaniel can provide you with sufficient intelligence."

"I have the means that would enable to re-claim what's mine by right," Tyr said. "But you could help me a great deal if you found a person for me. A Perseid, to be more accurate."

"I've got good connection to the Sinti Council of Directors," El-Hakim said thoughtfully, "and Nathaniel can hunt down the person you need… if you can give him anything to work with."

"I can't, personally," Tyr replied. "But there's a Völsung physician on El Dorado Drift who could supply some essential data, I think. His name is Kaveh Hamayouni. He's a simple doctor now, running a clinic for our kind, but he used to know the Perseid in question."

He scribbled Kaveh's comm code to a flimsy and handed it to Nathaniel. The spymaster gave it a glance and nodded.

"I'll see that it be done."

"Good," El-Hakim said. "Now, there's only one more detail to discuss: the future whereabouts of Mikaelan. I'd prefer to keep her here, as long as you still don't have a home of your own."

"I concur," Tyr said, although he knew this was another way to ensure his loyalty: by keeping his new wife and his unborn child here, El-Hakim could be reasonably certain that he'd keep up his end of the bargain. "My Völsung wives also chose to stay on Haukin Vora for the time being. But one day…"

"One day the new Kodiak-Sabra Pride will be united," El-Hakim nodded in agreement. "We'll take good care of your wife and progeny in the meantime."


With that, the meeting was adjourned, and Tyr returned to his most recent wife for a few short hours. Mikaelan was awake already, packing his bag for the trip back to Haukin Vora. Nietzschean women were nothing if not practical.

"I've added a few documents about our family," she said quietly. "Our line is an old and respected one, and the history of our colony honourable. I thought you'd like to know us a little better."

"I'd like to know you a little better," Tyr replied. "Our union might be a political one, but one day you'll live with me… with us. So, tell me about yourself. What do you do? What do you like?"

"I'm a diagnostic engineer," Mikaelan said with a shrug, "and I've also been trained as an assassin, in case something would happen to Abigail. I've served aboard her ship, the Hand of Victory, up to a few weeks ago. Till my father ordered me back for our wedding."

"Were you agreeable?" Tyr asked.

"Of course," Mikaelan laughed now; it softened her slightly hard features and made her look beautiful. "I'm twenty-seven – it's high time for me to breed, and you area worthy mate. Should I one day choose to return to my old job, we'll find a way. Abigail has children as well. They are raised in Jonathan's family. I'm sure your other wives would do the same for me."

"They certainly would," Tyr agreed, thinking of Derdriu and Finnabair, his most mature wives. "Though I'd prefer not to send you in any danger."

"So would I, but we can't always make that choice," Mikaelan replied quietly.

"True again," Tyr said. "But you still haven't told me what you like."

Mikaelan looked at him in mild confusion. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"We all have favourite activities," Tyr shrugged. "I like to read old books; really old ones, not just flexi copies. And I like to paint sometimes, or to cook. Freya, my First Wife, loves music. And she likes to work in Hydroponics. She used to live within a barren asteroid and now enjoys to see growing things. What do you like?"

Mikaelan thought about that for a moment.

"I'm not sure," she finally said. "By father insisted that we all got a good education – we're the ruling family, after all, and knowledge can be a powerful weapon – but beyond that, I've had little time for personal interests. The training of an assassin is hard and time-consuming."

"Everyone needs personal interests," Tyr said, "or we could all be robots."

"Well…" Mikaelan hesitated for a moment, "I used to play the flute as a young girl. It was good for making my lungs stronger."

"I'm sure it was," Tyr said. "But did you enjoy it as well?"

"It was… a challenge," she said uncertainly. "The instrument wasn't easy to master. But my tutor was quite content with me."

Tyr sighed. "That was not my question. Did you enjoy it?"

"Sometimes," Mikaelan admitted. "That wasn't the purpose of the lessons, though. Mastering the task was important… the discipline it taught me."

"Wrong," Tyr said. "It is important that you find something you enjoy. Something that helps you to relax. It doesn't make you weak, you know."

"Perhaps," she said, not entirely convinced. "Perhaps I'll pick up my flute again. When we have a permanent home."

"I'd love to listen to you playing it," Tyr smiled; the mental image was nice. "And I, too, am looking forward to have my whole family together, hopefully in the not too far future. But right now, it's safer for you – and for our child – to stay here."

She nodded. "I know. I still envy Freya, though. I'd prefer going with you, too. I like starships; and you might need my skills."

"And I'll put them to good use, when the time is right," Tyr promised. "I know you're a warrior, and I won't deny you your battles. For now, though, I need to know that you are safe. You and the others are the future of Kodiak Pride. I cannot put you at risk."

"And yet you allow Freya to travel with you."

"That's different. Freya has nowhere else to go. She chose me above her Pride; the Matriarch would never forgive her for that. She and our child were at much greater risk with her own people. You won't be with yours."

"Fair enough," Mikaelan said. "I accept the necessity of staying here. But I expect regular messages. And you are to call me when I'm needed, child or no child. Understood?"

"Understood," Tyr smiled. She was so fierce, so admirable, laying down the law for him, instinctively behaving as a future Matriarch that she might become. "Now, I still do have two more hours before my scheduled start. How do you want to spend them?"

"By giving you a chance to know us better," she replied. "We'll go and have breakfast with my mother and my siblings. My father would probably be eating with one of his other wives where the children are younger, but my mother has expressed the wish to meet you under less formal circumstances."

"I'd be honoured," Tyr said.

He meant it. Being chosen by a woman didn't automatically mean that the chosen man would be accepted by said woman's family as well. By earning the favour of El-Hakim's First Wife, the powerful and highly respected Judith Hassidim, he could become a trusted member of the clan. Sabran clans were exceptionally close-knit as a rule, and what he'd seen from this particular branch so fear had shown that the unity and survival of the colony was maintained by pride and discipline. There could be no doubt that great sacrifices were expected – and made – to ensure the survival of the Pride as a whole."

"Follow me then," Mikaelan said, and taking his hand, she led him out of their bedroom to present him to her mother and siblings.

TBC