Humans were strange, confusing creatures. Before Andromeda, Tyr had paid them little mind. They were everywhere, yes. Loud and erratic. Sometimes prideful, boorish, and greedy which made them easy to exploit. Other times they were out to infect the Tri Galaxies with their collectivist beliefs that strength came from an archaic notion of community where self-sacrifice and loyalty were considered desirable traits—glad to make themselves martyrs for unrealistic ideals. Those humans would succumb to their own sentimentality eventually.

Nietzscheans were immune. They believed that you had to wrest power from the uncaring universe. In his life before whatever this was, humans had been insignificant and only useful when he needed to advance his own agenda. Now it was hard not to notice them and not just because he lived on the Andromeda.

Before him, Tri Gemma spoke to the crowd while the sulfurous smoke from the fireworks lingered in the air around her.

"…to thank you for your service. We are stronger together. This Commonwealth, our Commonwealth, is the final defense against the darkness to come. If we continue…"

He tuned her out. Peace. Unity. Diplomacy. Hadn't they learned their lesson three hundred years ago?

Yet, there was a part of him that believed. Dylan had proved himself time and time again to have great tactical instincts and even stronger survival skills. He pitted himself against the hostile universe and bent it to his will. That man had gathered together a crew of criminals and deviants and built all this with scraps and sheer tenacity? It was very Nietzschean of them, even if he didn't always agree with the basic tenants of the Commonwealth.

Out of the crowd he picked up Harper's voice and Trance's beside it, both moving closer. He turned his head to see them weaving through the crowd towards the Senate building, Harper's arm wrapped around Trance's slim waist. He could make out their discussion as they moved closer.

"Think they still have the food out?" Harper asked.

Trance laughed. "How are you still hungry?"

"Oh, and some of that lager from earlier."

"If you have any more alcohol you aren't going to be able to walk. You're cut off."

"Spoilsport. Why did I even ask you…"

They moved out of range of Tyr's hearing and eventually the crowd hid them from his sight as well. Harper, too, had remarkable survival instincts and intelligence for a human. Tyr had dismissed him as weak when they first met. Hardly a threat. That had been a mistake. The Dragons had raised him well and through their brutality taught him the truth of this Universe. It was unfortunate he'd had to live under their reign, but it had hardened his instincts.

Yet the boy, for all his potential, ran on emotion. He fought when he ought to abstain; risked himself when he should seek safety; and threw himself at and loved with reckless abandon any woman who paid attention to him. Like this foolishness with Trance. The love was mutual, clearly, but with procreation out of the question Harper's intelligence, quick wit, and fast reflexes would die with him. He'd lose the chance at a sort-of immortality, and for what? Smiles and kisses? A warm body in the bed next to him?

Passion, Tyr. Love too.

He grunted, turned, and pushed his way through the crowd. People stepped out of his way to make a path as they often did. He needed to get away from these people and their noise and smells. This worthless gathering where they patted each other on the back for a job well done and spouted out overly optimistic dreams for the future. The uncaring Universe didn't care about their dreams and aspirations. It cared about strength, and while it was impressive they'd come so far so fast, if they didn't grow stronger, the Commonwealth would crumble like a castle of sand under the waves of Magog to come.

No. There was more to it. All of these platitudes.

Passion. Love.

Beka.

The feel of her in his arms. The taste and smell of her. It lingered.

A calm mind was a strong mind—rational and logical. She'd cast his thoughts into disarray and they wouldn't fall in line again. Passion and love, they were human considerations. He'd lived among humans too long. His duty to himself, his long-dead pride, and to his son was to build himself up and bide time until he could seize power. Until he could build an empire in his son's name and gift it to that perfect child. His perfect child.

More and more he wondered what it would be like to rule that empire beside Beka. It was foolishness in the same vein as Harper's. Beka wasn't a woman to be held down by duty and family. She was a fighter with an almost Nietzschean soul but she wasn't Nietzschean.

His feet carried him through a maze of hallways with plush carpets and wood paneling. Passed evenly spaced rows of office doors. Faceless bots polished the wood, while others dragged carts of soiled plated and cups towards a door at the other end. Tyr wrinkled his nose at the stench. There were cameras lining the halls, he noted, counting them as he went. It wasn't often that civilians and contractors were afforded such access to the Capitol building. The Commonwealth trusted to easily. He could already see a half-a-dozen ways to infiltrate the building and take this fledgling society to its knees.

At least those plans, though it wasn't in his best interest to enact them, kept his mind off Beka. For a time. There'd been such a challenge in her eyes. It pulled taut the invisible string between them, drew him in. Her will, sharp and shining like a blade. Was that why he desired her more than he had ever desired another woman? How did she hold so much power and self-possession, even in moments of weakness?

The cold hit as he exited through a side door onto a stone pathway lined with barren, snow-covered trees. It wound its way through a wide, white field of snow with trails of footprints in all directions. He set out towards guest housing, a lavish hotel meant to impress political guests. He'd rather have returned to Andromeda, but Dylan was clear that they would accept the hospitality of the Senate and Triumvirate. Tyr didn't like it. Dylan and his honor. So different from Nietzschean honor. If they'd made any political enemies this was the perfect opportunity for someone to do something about the Andromeda and her crew. Though unlikely, he preferred not to risk it.

Inside the well-appointed lobby, people in dresses and suits lingered in small groups, chatting in soft voices. He stood just inside the door and ignored the nervous looks of the other patrons.

"Mr. Anasazi, is there anything I can help you with?" the maitre-d, a dark-haired young man with nervous eyes, asked as he approached.

"No."

The boy's eyes widened and he swallowed heavily before he smoothed his expression again. "Let me know if anything comes up."

Tyr brushed passed, towards the elevators. He pressed his palm to the security console and entered the floor number. The doors slid open and he stepped inside. It carried him up five floors and deposited him in an empty hall. Not surprising, since the Andromeda crew had been given the floor to themselves. He strained his ears, but either the soundproofing in the walls was effective, or the rest of the crew had yet to return.

You know where to find me.

Halfway down the hall, he stopped and studied the door in front of him. A door the same as every other door save for what laid behind it. This was folly. Human sentimentality. There was no future down this path.

You know where to find me.

He knocked twice. Heavy knocks that reverberated down the hall. The lock disengaged with a click and buzz of electricity. The door opened.

Beka had changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Her hair, damp and perfumed with shampoo, clung to her forehead. Her gaze moved over him and she raised an eyebrow. He traced the outline of her muscles with his eyes as she studied him. A heat that had nothing to do with wine warmed his stomach and spread through his limbs. Her chest rose and fell. He met her eyes again and there was a small smile on her lips.

"You came." There was a hint of disbelief in her voice. Rightfully so, because even he couldn't say why he was there.

He didn't wait for an invitation. He scooped her into his arms and crushed her lips with his. Pulled her body against his, reveled in the feel of her muscles rippling beneath his palms. The warmth of her skin, still hot from her shower. He breathed her in. The clean scent of soap mixed her unique odor.

The door shut behind them. His eyes adjusted to the low light and took in her beauty. He'd wanted this for so long now. Wanted her. She returned his kiss in kind, her hands traveling, digging in. She fought him. Asserted herself and her desire. Made him want her more with each breath she released against his mouth.

Passion and love. Human things. This went against everything he'd ever been taught. Yet, he could not deny her, or himself, any longer.