ZS: First, to ArmourMe who had the idea for the plot and the mom knowledge and the idea for this partnership and… well, if you enjoy this story, all the kudos go to her. I was just along for the amazing ride. AM, you’re a wonderful person and believe me when I say that it shines through so brightly even across these hundreds of miles and my little internet connection. Thank you!

ZS: So ArmourMe and I heard the story of how Zack and Ashley became writing partners, and though we didn’t plan it, it was kind of the way we became writing partners, over the internet and purely by chance. So, by virtue of coincidentally having the first letters of our screen nicks match Zack and Ash’s names, and our total fangirl and writer-wannabe admiration of these two guys having a dream and making it big, we dedicate this to Zack and Ash. When we were feeling sluggish, we told ourselves, “We’re the female ZackAsh!! Nothing can stop us!” Thanks guys, for inspiring us to dream big and in bright colors.

AM: Zion's Starfish and I would also like to dedicate this story to Robert Hewitt Wolfe. Its not just the coincidence of timing but for a much bigger reason. We just loved writing this story while aspiring to the kind of story telling that Andromeda has given us. We were striving to write characters as complex, a mood as rich and as dualistic as Robert had invented. We had so much fun going places TV has a hard time going - taking advantage of the still places, as Keith calls them, and the character moments - taking our time. I'm really sad that Zion’s Starfish and I and other fanfic writers aren't going to get to see the still places as Robert was envisioning them. I'm sure they would have been rich, and subtle, complex and layered.....

AM: When Zion’s and I decided to try to write together, we laid out our future story ideas, and looked at where they over lapped. We both really wanted to follow up on Double Helix, so we chose to start there, thinking we'd just take it slow and see how we worked together. HA! It was like being on a runaway horse! We wrote the outline in detail in about 3 hours of IRC chat, and finished totally high and breathless. Two nights after Zion’s and I outlined the story, I woke up out of a dream in which she and I were pitching the story to Robert and the writing team It was the lovely pipe dream of two amateur writers. But at the very least we are now able to dedicate our story, written as close to the Robert spirit as our skills would allow....to Robert

ZS: I read somewhere that coincidence is just diluted magic. Timing may be an even more dilute form. We’re writing this as we’re about three scenes and a huge edit from finishing. And as the story grows and takes shape, it’s beginning to feel real to us. More than words on a page, more like tangible visions. Magic, right? Which is what Andromeda is. Truly. And for being the guy who brought us the opportunity to write together and who brought us the magic, Robert, we’d like to dedicate this to you too.
Here we go!

One Dear Perpetual Place

by ArmourMe and Zion’s Starfish

May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.
A Prayer for My Daughter W.B. Yeats

“Boy, what’s our ETA? If we miss this contact, we won’t get a second chance with these people. And Andromeda needs these weapons.” Tyr was impatient enough to be pacing the decks of the Maru.

“Hey, no back seat drivers, okay?” Harper called over his shoulder. “ETA is fifteen minutes. Which is exactly the same ETA as when you last asked!”

“If I’m impatient it’s because you made us late with your little sight seeing back at the Drift. Ogling women,” Tyr said with a slight smile.

Harper snickered under his breath.

“As if you’re a breeding specimen.”

“Hey!--“

“Keep your mind on flying this....ship. And while you’re at it, are we within broadcast range yet?”

“Keep your pants on, Tyr.”

From behind Harper, the pacing stopped and an audible snort came from Tyr. Harper punched in from the pilot seat and accessed the outcoming general broadcast of info from the Drift. Tyr stepped up to a console and began reading.

“Here we are. News, weather, sports, mail…” Harper said, glancing up at Tyr. “I wonder if Trance won the sweepstakes lottery again?” Tyr shot a dark look at Harper. “No, I don’t open her mail!” Harper came back indignantly.

They both bent to their consoles for a moment, reading their personal correspondence. Harper muttered under his breath, “Bills… bills… speeding ticket… Aw man! I wasn’t going anywhere near that speed--“

“Harper, we have to... I’ve got to leave, now.”

Harper caught Tyr’s sudden urgency and looked up, confused.

“There’s something I must do...” Tyr
stopped, unwilling to say more.

Harper unbuckled and turned partway around in the pilotseat. “What’s up, Tyr?”

“Look I’ll drop you off at the drift and take the Maru, but I’ve got to go,” Tyr said as forcefully as he could. But it didn’t come off as he expected. Harper had been inside Tyr’s defenses and wasn’t going to be dismissed nearly this easily.

“Hey! Beka trusted me with the Maru. Wherever it goes, I go. She’s gonna kill me if I let you get your hands... uh...” Harper paled at Tyr’s obvious anger. Tyr was desperate!? Desperate over what?

Tyr stepped forward and leaned down into Harper who pulled back. “Harper I’ve got to go, and I need a ship.” There was a tense silence. “Look, either you stay here where you’re perfectly safe and I’ll come back for you... or I take you with me where you’re likely to get shot. Make a rational decision!”

Harper let Tyr keep him pressed back in the seat while his mind raced for a way to get Tyr to keep him onboard. He owed Tyr, true, but beside that he was hardly going to miss what ever excitement Tyr was headed off too.

“Hey, look. Wherever you want to go, we can get there faster if I pilot the Maru. If you drop me off somewhere, it’ll only take more time. Okay?”

Tyr pushed abruptly back from the armrest and stomped in the tiny forward space of the Maru. “This is not some joy ride, boy! People are going to die on this mission, I'm quite sure of it!”

Harper’s face dropped. “Tyr, uh... what exactly is this mission? I mean, if people are gonna die, I think we could use a bad ass ship like the Andromeda at our backs, don’t you think?”

Tyr stopped his restless movement and turned to Harper. “No. Absolutely not. This is a...family matter.” Harper was not squishing as easily as Tyr had expected. Tyr growled with frustration at Harper’s refusal to back down. He struggled to say something while revealing nothing and turned again for a final attempt to intimidate Harper. But in the end he said calmly, “Are you going to do the sane thing and get off this ship? We’re wasting time.”

“Look, Tyr. You don’t have to tell me anything. If there’s anything I understand, it’s family stuff, okay?” Harper knew Tyr was out of time for this argument. “Who can get you there the fastest? You or me?”
Tyr looked at Harper for a moment longer, then exhaled. Tyr stepped forward, taking a flexi from his console and handed it to him. “Fine. We’re going here. Now get us there quickly.”

“We just... leave the big scary arms dealer dudes hanging?”

“We leave them. I have people MUCH more important to worry about.”

The Maru settled in a very narrow space between thickly standing trees. Harper eased her down, scrunching some brush, fitting her snug in a perfect hiding space.
Harper unbuckled the slipchair harness and watched Tyr disappear around the corner. He followed, still wondering what had gotten Tyr so agitated.

Tyr flung open the right side of the weapons locker and started picking out weapons. Harper approached carefully.

“Uh, Tyr?”
There was no answer.
“Uh… mind telling me where you’re going?”
Harper watched Tyr slide two knives into his boot.

Shrugging, Harper stood beside Tyr, flung open the left side of the weapons locker, and started grabbing weapons too.

Tyr paused. “Boy, what are you doing?”

“Going with you.” Harper smirked but carefully so Tyr couldn’t see it. “Wherever that is.”

“I think not.”

“Excuse me? You’re running head long into some mysterious situation that you said would get people dead, and you don’t want someone along who can watch your back? Carry more weapons? Uh… shoot the occasional bad guy?”

Harper returned Tyr’s determined look, trying not to project the fear that was settling into the pit of his stomach right next to the Magog. Mysterious Nietzschean situations were scary enough. But a Tyr-related mysterious Nietzschean situation? That was downright freaky. But he owed Tyr big time. And it just so happened that the only thing worse than a mysterious Nietzschean situation was owing Tyr.

Harper reached for a laser rifle but Tyr stopped him.
“Tyr, I thought I said--”
“I heard you, boy. Do what you want, but if you’re coming with me, bring these.”
Harper looked down at the bundle Tyr put into his arms.

“You want me to carry blankets? Uh… wouldn’t you rather have a laser rifle? A sling shot? A pointy rock?”

Tyr shot him a withering look. Blankets it was.

While Harper struggled to fold the blankets, Tyr went into the kitchen and filled a couple of canteens with water and raided the more nutritiously stocked cupboards. He stuffed all the items into a small pack and dropped it at Harper’s feet.
“Put the blankets in here.”

“So… we’re going camping? I’m telling you right now, I’m not sharing a tent with y--”

Tyr growled and stepped all the way in to Harper’s personal space. Harper’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Listen well. If you come with me, you will do exactly as I say. And you will keep your mouth shut. Do you understand me.”
Harper nodded. He’d never seen Tyr so serious.

“Good. Let’s go.” Tyr moved away and Harper sighed.

Before Harper left, he deployed several plasma mines around the Maru. If things were going to be as bad as Tyr suspected, he wanted the Maru to be here when they got back.

If.

Tyr walked ahead of Harper, moving quietly and at a pace Harper was pressed to match. They walked a rough path between the trees - it appeared to be a very overgrown road that hadn't been used in many years. Not a modern industrial road, but the track of animal drawn wagons - narrow, rutted and twisting along a path so haphazard it must have been an animal track in the distant past. Harper sweated in the rear as his curiosity ate away at his determination to remain silent and wait Tyr out.

"Tyr, do you know where you're going?"

"I was given very specific directions. I know exactly where I am." Tyr turned a moment to evaluate Harper. "Are you able to keep up with me? Or should you stop and rest? We can rejoin you on the way back," he offered.

"No no! I'm fine, really!" Harper trudged behind Tyr for a while longer. The forest was thick with underbrush and tall old trees - not like Earth’s forests which were blasted and desolate places. This one smelled rich and damp... and sported far too much life - most of it winged and determined to bite his neck. He smacked at a large buzzing fly for the nth time.

"Tyr, what are we doing here?" he burst out finally. He immediately wished he'd been able to stay quiet. He waited, holding his breath, expecting Tyr to bite his head off.

Tyr flicked a look at Harper over his shoulder, and walked on. Harper hoped Tyr would just let it go - he was too tired to be chewed out just now. To his surprise, Tyr began to speak in a very quiet voice.

"You remember many months ago our little... encounter with Guderian of Orca pride?"

Harper looked up, a bit puzzled. "Yes...."

"I wasn't lying when I said I had been asked to join their pride. I was asked. By one person--"

"Tyr! We're here to pick up a woman?” Harper blurted, stunned and struck by the hilarity of the reversal of their usual roles.

Tyr stopped walking and stepped in front of Harper. His words were not the kind of disdainful criticism that Harper was used to, they were... almost pained. "Harper, I didn't just have a one night stand with this woman. When Nietzscheans mate it is for procreation as much as it is for bonding within the pride." Tyr stopped to see if Harper was getting it...

Oh yes, Harper got it - his voice rose an octave. "You're telling me we're here to pick up a woman and a baby?" he squawked.

He and Tyr stood, nose to nose across a gulf of cultural difference.

"We're here to pick up my mate, the alpha of my pride, and our child, the foundation of my pride. Can we keep walking now? We're short on time."

He turned and stalked off, head down, done with any further discussion.

With a disbelieving laugh, Harper shouldered the backpack and followed him.

Part Three

After another thirty minutes of hiking along the narrow trail, Harper could see a lighter patch ahead of them - the trees thinned there. Tyr turned to him and placed his finger to his lips and stopped them. Motioning Harper back with his hand, Tyr looked quickly around the glade a few feet away through the trees.

“Stay here, stay down and don’t move until you have my say so.” He was curt, his eyes continuing to scan the area, his attitude saying he knew Harper would obey him without question At least, not here and now, he thought almost smiling.

Harper crouched down behind a leafy bush and against a tree. Tyr glanced, approving, and continued forward, stalking. He moved silently through the last few trees, listening, looking, feeling the silence through the soft forest floor... he felt in his pores that there was someone here to be afraid of. But with his eyes and ears he couldn't sense any actual threat.

A flash of silvergold color against the darker trees to his left revealed Freya. She obviously wasn’t hiding - he couldn’t have missed her. She was leaning slightly against a tree, looking out over the small salt water inlet... holding his child to her breast.

Against his better judgment, Tyr allowed himself a moment to just drink them in. His mate, his child nursing strongly, gaining nourishment to grow healthy and tall, bonding with its mother as the first bond of its pride. This is what every gene in him craved, called out for. This was health, was life. Tyr stood stock still, but deep in him he felt a shaking, so tight it was almost a vibrating, a longing so deep, so buried, so long denied he almost didn’t feel it. It seized him, and for just a moment, he couldn’t move.

Tyr saw Freya’s gaze move from the slightly misted water to the eyes of the nursing infant she held close under one arm. He watched her as she touched the baby’s face with her free hand, the tip of one finger tracing every line. An instinctive action - setting in her memory every part of her child, calling to her attention every visible trace of genetic heritage bonding her child to all of its ancestors. Freya was making a place in her heart so that she would do anything, commit any crime, make any sacrifice to ensure that this child could grow to maturity and pass on its genetic strength to the pride. Tyr's own sudden desire to know this child caused his shaking to abruptly end in a flush of heat to his face.

Freya looked up just then, right into his gaze. They both stood still, just looking. Taking each other in as water after long thirst at first, then gradually relaxing their gazes to frank appraisal of each others’ condition.

Before moving towards them, Tyr cast one more look around the clearing. “You’re sure you were not followed?”

“No,” she said, turning fully toward him, her back to the tree. During their long look, the infant had fallen asleep nursing, and she eased the baby across her stomach to rest in the sling of fabric wound round them both. She kept one arm under the infant, supporting it, and with her free hand, pushed away from the tree and walked toward Tyr.

Still cautious, Tyr only took a few steps. Freya met him close to the trees and stood a couple of paces away looking Tyr over, clearly looking for deception. Wondering if he here for what she asked? Her eyes evaluated him mercilessly; looked at his body and his armaments, also followed his expressions as he looked at her.

Tyr submitted himself to her visual inquiry. He contented himself with watching her, determining her intent, and then reveling in her strength to interrogate him silently this way, across the sleeping baby he had yet to see clearly. He watched the baby slung across her chest, breathing regularly and deeply, snug. He could wait to see the infant, but he was consumed with a hunger to know it - to know it safe and strong and filled with the joy of dangerous life.

Freya stepped forward and took Tyr’s hand. She placed his hand lightly against the breathing belly of the sleeping infant, and left her own lying across his. They both looked at the face of the baby, turned partly to her breast so that only a cheek and closed eyelid were visible; olive skin with fine lambswool curls of amber fuzzed on the baby’s head.

Tyr looked at Freya. “Strong, healthy child,” he said as she met his eyes. He leaned down to the infant. “Strong and sleeping one, rest,” he said softly. He remained there a moment, eyes closed, lips almost touching the baby’s curly head, feeling the rise and fall of its belly. He felt the tension deep inside harden and cool to a core of steel, and unconsciously he put an arm around Freya’s shoulders. His mate. His child. Their pride.

Freya, tall and straight within the circle of Tyr’s arm, was independent of him in a way that made Tyr uneasy. She was his own kind, and at their last meeting he'd found her to be a worthy mate - outspoken, strong, cunning and full of her own plans. Was she truly here to join him and leave behind her whole history, her pride? Tyr felt it was very unlikely. From the first he had suspected this was a plan to lure him into the guns of the Orca so they could have vengeance....but there was still no evidence, no guns were pointed at him. And if she was honestly here to become his mate....he would take any risk to bring her and their child out of here. Any at all.
She took his hand, caught his gaze from the face of the sleeping child and moved them forward toward the trees where Tyr had come from.

“We need to be on the move - Guderian won’t hesitate to hunt you down, once it’s realized that we’re gone,” she said.

“Freya," Tyr said, low, "you have to know I believe this is all a trap."

Her gaze was steady, "I knew you would think that - I couldn't prevent it. But I'm here now, and there's no one else. If I'm telling the truth, we have got to get out of here before we're discovered." she said urgently.

Tyr checked his weapons to make sure all were ready to use, considering Freya's words. "How long until they know you’ve left?” he said, after a moment.

“I left camp about four hours ago. My sister thought I was taking the baby to bathe and rest. I don’t think it could be much longer before they realize that I haven’t returned. But they’ll check the lake’s edge first. They have no reason to think I might have come down this far, or toward the salt water. Where is your friend? I can smell him on you - I know you traveled with someone.” She smiled.

They moved into the woods. Tyr pointed toward Harper’s hiding place. “Harper, come out. We’re leaving, quickly.”

“Finally,” Harper said as he stood up stiffly and brushed the leaves and dirt from his pant legs. Before Harper could make the smart-assed comment about to roll off his tongue, Tyr said, “Freya’s absence has probably been detected - we move, we stay under cover and we stay quiet, understood?”

“Okay, okay,” said Harper, hands raised in acquiescence. Freya looked at Harper, her eyes narrowed. Her glance turned to Tyr.

As he moved them all onto the track through the woods, he answered, “I know, I know he’s a liability. I’ll explain later, but he’s here, and he’s going to get us off this planet. We need him, and we’ve got to keep him safe, just as if he were a child---"

Tyr was cut off by Harper's outraged, "Hey!" Harper stepped up between Tyr and Freya ready to argue, "I can take care of----"

Tyr stopped Harper with a rumbling sound, "Not now, boy," and turned back to Freya, "Can you deal with that?”

Harper stood, hands raised, all at the ready to establish himself 'adult' and then suddenly the futility of proving this to two Nietzscheans hit him & he dropped his hands & turned away in disgust.

Freya watched this little by-play with interest. What was Tyr doing, traveling with this little weasly human? There was clearly a many paged story hidden in Tyr’s explanation, and Freya accepted his judgment and request without saying anything.

Tyr knew she would make her own determinations in time, but immediate survival depended on trusting Tyr’s knowledge, and she did so without wasting energy. He felt another level of satisfaction enter his feelings about Freya. Her discernment was excellent, another expression of her superiority. She was not going to get anyone killed over petty power struggles or demands for information out of turn. She knew when to play her cards. What a marvelous asset she would be to any pride. As the founding alpha female of his pride, she was of incalculable value.

They moved quickly through the forest, Tyr scouting in the lead, Freya and the baby in the middle, Harper keeping a nervous lookout behind. After several hours of traveling, Tyr judged when Harper would begin to flag, and before Harper could make any noisy complaining, Tyr quickly diverted them all through the bracken fern down a ravine to a stream that was off the pass and out of
sight.

“We’ll rest,” he said and gestured to the water. “Drink it, Harper, you’re tired and dehydrated.”

Harper, pale and blown from the quick pace quipped, “I knew you cared,” as he kneeled down awkwardly at the water’s edge and cupped his hands to drink. Freya was already kneeling and drinking a few feet away. Tyr stood, watching, listening and feeling more uncertain than he thought reasonable. Then he too drank quickly before returning to straining his ears into the forest.

“I feel it in the forest - there are people coming, I just can’t hear them yet.” He looked hard at Freya, who was sitting cross-legged to gently wake the baby with nursing. Harper sat back on his heels, looking alarmed.

“If they find us here, we’re dead! I thought she, you,” he glanced at Freya “arranged this rendezvous far from her people!”

“Quietly, boy!” Tyr whispered in a low growl. “Freya?” he said in a soft questioning drawl.

Freya settled the nursing baby comfortably on her lap. “Tyr I’m not part of an ambush. You’d have sniffed them out at the clearing and gotten away from there. I have every intention of being with you and our child. But I can’t say how secure my message was.” She lowered her voice further to a growled hiss. “Guderian has to assume we've been kidnapped....because if Guardian intercepted my message and has allowed me to be unwitting bait thereby endangering this child, he knows he would have the undying hatred of the females of the pride!”

There was a pause as Tyr and Freya considered the situation.

“Geesh, don’t mess with the females,” Harper said.

They simultaneously looked at him scornfully.
With a tolerance Freya didn’t yet understand the origin of, Tyr bothered to answer Harper. “Boy, think, if the pride is to survive, the strong healthy children must be its most valued members, right? A pride leader who would put in jeopardy a child, a healthy, genetically strong child, to satisfy a personal or even pride vendetta would be a threat to all the children. Who protects the welfare of the children? The mothers. And the husbands and fathers never forget it, either,” he ended with a slight chuckle. Freya smiled. From its sling of cloth, the baby was fully awake now, having satisfied its hunger. It waved its little dusky colored arms, and Freya lifted it out of the sling smiling and caressing the almost naked baby. As Freya tended the baby, Tyr sat down, chin on hand, elbow on knee watching her while he listened to the forest. They needed to get back on the road, but the needs of the baby couldn’t be ignored. And he hungered to see this little life revealed.

“She’s a girl!” he said in a deep voice..

“God help us, a female,” intoned Harper but with a joyful expression at his friend that made Tyr growl and smile at his levity.

“Yes,” Freya said ritualistically, “a girl child. A girl child to grow into a strong woman, first daughter of a new pride. To breed strong children and guard their genes and their lives with her own.”

Freya dangled the baby gently in front of her having changed her while talking and smiled, changing her tone for the baby. “A heavy weight for a few pounds of flesh!” she said to the child with a sensual chuckle. Motherhood inspired deep instinct in most humans, but in Nietzscheans it was about the height of life achievement and it showed in Freya. Harper was embarrassed to see such naked emotions in this strong Nietzschean woman. Tyr’s woman, he reminded himself. She was beautiful with the beauty of a glossy wild animal, and as dangerous. Harper made himself busy finding some food in the pack.

“So, does she have a name?” he asked, trying to be casual without, for once, being disrespectful. He just wanted to bring himself out of the Niet intensity surrounding family for a moment.

Freya settled the child on the other breast. “No.”

Tyr added, “Usually, Nietzscheans name their children in a ceremony with both parents.” To Freya, he said, “I had supposed that this child was still unnamed. Officially.”

Freya smiled a calculating smile. “Well, I have a name in mind that would be... in keeping with both of our own.”

There was a pause. Harper’s hope of
escaping the quagmire of politically charged conversation was apparently hopeless, but he plunged in anyway. “And that name is?”

“Ingemar,” said Freya looking at Tyr and then down to the baby. “It means ‘of the sea’. I birthed her near the shores of the ocean. Until we were driven from our asteroid, I had never heard the sound of the ocean and it drew me...” She broke off, clearly not wanting to continue to expose her strong feelings about life on a planet after generations spent living inside rocks.

Harper understood what she meant though, and still wishing to diffuse the conversation, he said lightly, “Oh, I love the sound of ocean waves. Of course on Earth all the oceans were toxic dumps you couldn’t get near, but I loved the sounds of surf there. Learned how to swim in them later.” He smiled, eating food rations. He handed rations to Freya, and to Tyr.

Tyr rose and did a quick circuit of their creek site before sitting down and eating.

“Ingemar, eh,” he said.

“Do you like it?” asked Harper.

“A name is a name; a convenient handle, nothing more,” said Tyr. “What’s not to like?”

Freya watched them, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Tyr looked at her abruptly, and she quickly busied herself adjusting the position of the baby in her lap.

“Oookay, Tyr. Spill it - you’ve got a name for the baby.” prodded Harper, “C’mon! Tell it!”

“The name is fine. It’s at the discretion of the mother, in any case. Freya chose Ingemar, Ingemar it shall be,” said Tyr, attempting tones of finality.

Harper laughed at him. Freya looked at him in amusement.

“Boy, go fill up our canteens will you? Give me a few minutes of peace and quiet!”
Tyr tossed the canteens at Harper, who juggled them for a second with a few muttered remarks before catching them and taking a few steps toward the stream.

Freya looked at Tyr consideringly. At first, Tyr looked at his food, the dirt then at her. He’d be damned if he was going to be embarrassed by Harper of all people. He looked at Freya forcefully, but under her steady look he quickly found his avoidance of embarrassment ridiculous, and dropped his gaze, laughing at himself. Freya laughed too - the first time he’d heard her laugh. It was low and kind but still merciless. Even her laugh demanded total revelation from him.

“Harper and I have a history in this past year. He is a genetic disaster with a gut full of trouble. But somehow he has....sneaked under my protection. He’s like an older child...” He broke off and looked at Freya, unsure if she would understand. Could she understand that he tolerated Harper because his instincts drove him to create family relationships where he could? Freya watched him attentively but there was no judgment in her expression.

“You’ll have to tell me how that happened. When we have time,” she added inclining her head with a smile to indicate their current hurry.

Tyr looked at the baby nursing, already drooping her eyelids. “Can you nurse her as we walk? We’d be well to be on our way.”

“Yes, she’s almost asleep already. Where is your friend? Ah, here he comes,” she said as Harper came out of some bushes, grabbed the canteens he’d left in a pile by the stream and walked toward them.

“Harper,” said Tyr, standing and strapping on his canteen, “lets move. Are you rested?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m not as wimpy as all that, you know. I have roughed it on a planet before,” said Harper, a mixture of humor and indignity in his voice.

Freya was standing holding the child, who was asleep again in her arms. Freya lifted her to tuck her into her wrap of fabric, when she looked up and saw Tyr watching, watching with that hunger to know his child in his eyes.

“Tyr, would you carry her? She doesn’t even know your smell yet, and by now if things were going normally, she would be delighted to spend time in her fathers arms.”

Harper looked up in surprise - he couldn’t picture Tyr holding a... He looked at Tyr’s face and saw the passing of emotions there and realized suddenly that he was in unknown territory regarding Nietzscheans. He knew hearsay about how much they valued family life, but mostly what Harper knew about Nietzscheans he’d learned from the wrong end of a Gauss gun.

“Yes, I would like to,” said Tyr, after a pause. Holding the baby in the crook of one arm, Freya unwound the fabric she’d carried her in, and stepped up to Tyr to hand him the child.

“Here, let me put this between your armour and her,” said Freya, and arranged the fabric to cushion the infant from Tyr’s equipment studded chest, and then while Tyr held the baby, Freya expertly wrapped the baby to Tyr. “I’ll show you how to do this another time but for now know that she won’t fall, so your hands will be free.” Freya looked at Tyr and the baby to make sure everything was in place, and Harper was surprised to see Tyr stop Freya with a gentle hand on her shoulder and a soft look into Freya’s eyes. Harper looked down at his feet.

Okay, so Tyr had only had one night with this woman, and had never met his daughter, but could they maybe not make every moment an intense act of intimacy? Sheesh. Nietzscheans.

They started their climb out of the small ravine.

“So, Tyr,” said Harper when they were back on the trail, walking abreast on a wide stretch of path, “did... you have a name? For the...your baby?”

Tyr shot him a look, trying to determine if Harper was making trouble. Freya looked at Tyr, waiting. Harper looked up at Tyr, also waiting. Tyr looked down at the sleeping baby, who was a patch of fuzzy amber curls tucked into her pouch of fabric. In the narrow clearing they were walking through the sun caught the child’s curls and they flashed gold, like her mother’s. Tyr felt again that deep strong place within him. My child. My pride. My mate.

“Saga,” he said. “It means ‘epic story’ in the language my name came from. And Freya’s name too, actually. She’s a small child to carry such a name...” He didn’t go on.

“Saga,” said Freya, mouthing the name. “It’s a strong name. A fit name for the first child of a new pride.”

Tyr gave her a look that was almost sharp. He wasn’t superstitious by nature or by culture, but he felt a flash of apprehension. Was Freya playing him? Were they eve now heading closer to an Orca ambush?

Freya didn’t see his look, her eyes were on the trail and looking inward, considering the name. “Saga. I like it. I also like Ingemar - a child of the sea. The first child of the sea for my people in generations.”

The walked on in silence. Harper looked from one to the other. “Well, use both names. They’re both good - use them together,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Nietzscheans don’t carry two names, boy. One name, the mother’s name, the fathers name and the pride, that’s it.” Tyr shifted the baby slightly as he stepped over a rock.

“So?” said Harper in his classic impudent Harper style. “You’re making your own new pride right? So you can make some of your own new traditions.”
He wiped his arm across his forehead, done with trying to push Tyr, who seemed very quiet.

Freya looked at Tyr as they walked. “Harper is right. We’re breaking free. We’re doing something no other Nietzscheans have done in recent history, founding a new pride. We’re not just running off as renegades. Let the child carry both names. She is the union of two distinct pasts, blended to make a whole.”

“Are we really? Are you breaking free?" said Tyr.

Freya shot a look of quick anger at Tyr, who hadn't turned to look her way.

Tyr was considering the child.

"Saga,” said Tyr as they walked. He cupped his hand around the child’s sleeping head.

“Saga Ingemar,” echoed Freya. She stepped in front of Tyr, stopping him. He looked up at her, saw her anger. She lay her hand on Tyr’s hand. Her other hand she put on the baby’s feet. After a moment’s hesitation, Tyr covered that hand with his own. “Saga Ingemar, we name you,” said Freya. “May your legs grow strong and swift, may your mind hunger for knowledge -” Tyr caught up with Freya’s solemn words, and together they finished, “- may your heart be strong and may your children flourish.” They looked up at each other over the baby, still testing, still unsure.... then both whirled as Harper suddenly ducked down, “I saw movement back there!” he whispered harshly.

Freya grabbed Harper by the shoulders and shoved him off the trail on Tyr’s heels.
They hunkered down in the thick overgrowth.

Tyr was checking his weapons, handing a weapon to Freya. “We’ve been careless - we need to move fast, silently and cover our retreat.” Tyr began to swiftly unwind Saga to hand her to Freya, then stopped as he realized he’d just handed Freya a gun.

“I can hold her.” Harper swallowed as two sets of disdainful eyes lit on him.

“I think not,” Freya said.

“Come on. Out of the three of us, who’s better at shooting bad guys, me or the two of you? And wouldn’t it be better for the people who are better at shooting bad guys to not be holding a baby?”

Tyr hesitated.

“I know what you think of me, Tyr Anasazi. But you have no idea what I’m capable of. If you think I won’t protect her with my life, you’re wrong.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because she’s family. That’s why.” Harper’s whisper was harsh and almost insulted. He watched the look that Freya gave Tyr.

“You trust him?” she said.

“He has a point,” Tyr said, and placed the baby in Harper’s arms. It was probably the closest thing to a compliment Harper would ever get from Tyr.

Freya looked at Tyr again, maybe gauging Tyr’s sanity, Harper wasn’t sure. But she did finally help Harper wrap the drowsy awakened baby to his chest. Harper was struck by the softness and sweetness of the child in this crazy setting of pursuit and violence, and cooed to her, trying to soothe her back to sleep.

“Aww, hello there. I’m your Uncle Seamus. That’s right! Uh…”
Freya was glaring at him as she tied the wrappings.

Harper looked down at the baby in his arms and said, “Uh… right. Scratch the Uncle bit. You can call me Harper like everyone else does when you’re old enough to talk.”

“She’ll be able to tear out your throat before she says a word,” Freya said simply, making sure the knots were secure.

“We need to be on the move,” interrupted Tyr. “Quietly now, follow me - we can parallel the trail but we need to move fast and stay low. Harper, you get in front and if you hear any danger, you get back to the Maru and don’t look back, do you understand? Freya and I will cover you. Okay, move!”

They pushed forward, quietly, Harper with his arms around Saga to keep the branches from whipping at her and waking her again. He was worried she would wake and cry. He didn’t want her crying and drawing attention to them; he fought down a rising panic fear of any noise she might make. He walked quickly trying not to stumble, his head down covering her from the branches that lashed his face.

Tyr and Freya kept a watchful retreat, weapons ready. They worked smoothly together, pacing each other - one covering, one walking freely, trading off without wasted words.

“We’re close,” Tyr mouthed to Freya. Close to the ship. She nodded, and they looked at each other and exchanged slight smiles.

The tree beside them exploded in fire, throwing Freya to the ground and Tyr forward. Tyr shoved Harper, yelling, “Run, get her out of here! Run!”

Arms around Saga, Harper took a huge leap into some bushes, ducking low and using the cover just as he had done many times when hunted by Nietzscheans on Earth. Tyr was hot on his heels.

Another barrage of fire was heard behind them, and they heard Freya’s cry of pain, then her screams in a voice as deadly as anything Harper had ever heard.

“No! Saga!”

Under the thick cover, Tyr provided sporadic covering fire as Harper ducked down, almost crawling in a primate lope to stay low and cover ground. Ahead of them was a rock formation. As soon as they rounded it, Tyr leaped into the lead, grabbed Harper’s wrist and took off running, dragging Harper along at his pace, ensuring Harper didn’t fall and slow them down. Harper couldn’t see Tyr’s face, but it was grim with realization that Freya had been telling the truth....and they had lost her.

“Where are you going?”
Tyr could feel Harper’s nervous gaze on his back. They’d hidden beneath a small grove of trees after the gunfire had stopped and even then Tyr had insisted that they wait till nightfall before moving.

“Freya,” was all Tyr would say.

“What? You’re insane, Tyr! The Orcas will be looking for us with a hell of a lot more guns. Bigger guns, too. We’ve got the kid. Rommie might be able to synthesize a milk substitute for Saga.” Harper put his hand on Tyr’s arm. “We should run.”

Tyr regarded Harper grimly. “You will run. Get Saga to the Maru.”

“Uh, hello? I really doubt that you’ve forgotten that I’m not a Nietzschean but in case you have? I can’t see in the dark. I barely know where the hell we are now! How the hell am I supposed to find the Maru?”

Tyr slid his left gauntlet off and handed it to Harper.

“A local positioning system? Man, I’ve got to get myself one of these.” He slid it on, aware of the bone blade holes and said, “Tyr, this has your ECM generator in it. You need this.”

“Take it. Take yours too. Saga is my priority, Harper. Protect her.”

Harper cast him a solemn look and Tyr was struck by its intensity.

“I’m not back by dawn, you will leave.”

“Tyr - “

“You will leave.” Softening his tone, Tyr added, “They wouldn’t expect me to come so soon. Besides, they believe I attempted to kidnap Freya. She will try to slow them down.”

Harper snorted. “If Freya’s on our side. How can you be so sure she just didn’t happen to get caught in the cross fire?”

Tyr sighed and stroked his daughter’s head. “Perhaps. However… I believe her. Now go.”

“Okay, okay, we’re going. Just… be careful. I don’t feel good about this, Tyr.”
Tyr helped Harper shoulder the pack and with one last glance, Harper headed into the darkness, Saga clutched against him.

Tyr forced down his own sense of foreboding and headed in the opposite direction. The Orcas had made a fatal mistake. They’d attempted to keep him away from his family, his pride.

He promised himself they would fail. And pay.

He moved quickly, blending into the darkness and shadows. He’d listened to Harper’s footsteps grow more and more distant until the sound vanished completely. He almost laughed at himself - if he’d been told yesterday that he’d be entrusting the life of his only child with Harper… He shook his head and continued forward.

The moon was a quiet sliver but the light was sufficient. He could smell Freya’s blood mixed with the scent of night: nocturnal creatures, night blooming flowers. He followed it, drawn.
He wasn’t far behind. Perhaps two hours.
Like he’d told Harper, he believed Freya’s intentions were genuine and it wasn’t just her words that had all but convinced him. Something in her eyes, in her body language; something ancient and powerful.

The night wind carried the scent of a burning campfire. The Orcas had stopped.
He broke into a run.

He caught up as the Orcas started to break camp. The smoke from the fire and the favorable winds had masked his approach and now he crouched at the edge of the clearing, forming a plan. He’d tried to catch Freya’s eye but to no avail. The guards hovered too closely around her, overwhelmed with concern for her well-being. Which they should be, having shot her, he thought angrily.

There were seven guards in total. Two were with Freya, five were guarding the perimeter. Freya had done well in slowing them down but the problem was her injury. There was a thick bandage on her leg and she looked pale and shaky. Since the Orcas believed that Tyr had tried to kidnap Freya, they had no reason to think she’d turn against them. But with her injury, it didn’t seem likely she’d be able to fight effectively when Tyr ambushed the camp.
Change of plans, then. He’d kill all the guards and Freya would have to run.

He made his move when one of the perimeter guards turned to add his help to those who were helping Freya stand. He shot one of the guards and as the Orcas fired back, he ducked behind a tree, paused, and returned fire. Another guard fell. More return fire, Freya’s screams, and then a spike of fire raked up Tyr’s arm. The pain was easy enough to ignore but the damage had been done - his left arm was a mess, ravaged, numb. The gun fell from his hand.

He heard four sets of footsteps pound the soft earth as four of the remaining five guards began to pursue him. There was no way he could go back for Freya now. He left the gun where it fell and ran, pulling the force lance from its holster.

“The kid must be around here!” he heard one guard say before a tree to Tyr’s right exploded in a rain of fire.

Tyr knew what he had to do.
He fired a few shots behind him and kept running, fast enough to stay ahead but not fast enough so the guards would lose interest. He vectored away from the Maru. He had to lead the guards far enough away from Harper so he could regroup and kill them.

And if it took till dawn… so be it.

Part Five

Tyr got up from the ground, streaked in mud. He let the guard’s broken body slide from his hands to where the other lay. He was worried. He’d killed two of the guards who’d come after him but two had evaded him. Perhaps they’d gone back to the Orca strong hold. Or…

Tyr picked up the force lance. There was a decision in front of him but between his daughter and his mate, there wasn’t even a choice.

Dawn was approaching. He ran for the Maru.

Part Six

Approximately four hundred meters from the Maru, Tyr began to smell something under the overwhelming stench of rotting leaves and mulch but the scent faded in and out and he couldn’t identify it. But he knew Harper’s scent and Saga’s and they were near.

Something had burned. The air was thick with it. The worst possible scenario assaulted his mind and his imagination and he had to force the images away.

As he stepped into the clearing, he saw the flash of the blade and that was all. The knife plunged towards him, angled up so it would miss his armour and slide into his belly.

He deflected the blade but not soon enough. It sliced into him just before he caught the arm, slammed the heel of his hand into the elbow and ground his fingers into the pressure point on the wrist.

The knife dropped to the ground and Harper screamed in pain.

…Harper?

Tyr shoved Harper to the ground, hand over Harper’s mouth.

Harper’s eyes were wide open but Tyr was sure he was seeing nothing but fury.

“Harper! Look at me!”

Harper was all fists and knees and anger.

Tyr closed his hand around Harper’s windpipe
and started to squeeze but Harper finally focused on him. Tyr watched the light in his eyes change.

“Oh God…” Harper choked out. Tyr released Harper’s throat but didn’t get up.

“Where is Saga, boy?”

Harper pointed a shaky finger to a clump of brush. Tyr got up and Harper rolled away, gasping.

“She’s all right, I swear, I swear, not a scratch on her.”

Tyr pushed aside the shrubs and scooped out Saga, who merely blinked at him. Harper was right; she was fine. She reached out and pulled at Tyr’s hair.

Tyr turned to Harper. “What in the name of the Vedran Empress happened here?”

“Guards came after us… two of them.”

Tyr could see the signs of a fight. Matted leaves, crushed foliage.

“Where are the guards?” Tyr pulled Saga against his chest and lifted the force lance, ready for any enemies.

“Dead,” Harper said, and Tyr frowned.
“Dead.”

Harper wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered. Tyr realized that Harper was drenched and shivering. “You can check for yourself. I buried one of them over there.” He gestured.

“And the other?”

“Vaporized.”

Tyr watched Harper for a beat, put Saga in Harper’s arms, then went to the well concealed heap of rotting leaves to see for himself. He was still wary of Harper’s willingness to protect his child as if it was his own, but Harper clearly needed something to ground him right now.

His wariness vanished when he cleared away the leaves and sure enough, there was the dead Orca. He reburied the body and went back to Harper, who was gently bouncing Saga in his arms, murmuring something to her even Tyr couldn’t hear.

“You buried the body under leaves?”

“Old Earth trick,” Harper said distantly. “What’s another organic mess under all that compost?” Saga reached up a hand and tugged at Harper’s damp shirt. The gesture seemed to lend Harper strength to continue. “I set the force lance to overload and threw it at the guard that was circling around behind us but… but… afterwards I washed up in the stream. All that blood…”

Harper clammed up. Tyr knew there was more. He pictured the guard under the leaves. Along with the slash wounds in the body, his face had been purplish. Tongue swollen, eyes protruding and dark bruises on his neck.

Tyr imagined the fight in his mind and saw Harper trying to surprise the guards. Throwing the force lance. Defending himself and Saga with the knife but being disarmed. Defending himself and Saga with the only weapons he’d had left.

The guard had been strangled. And… Harper had strangled him.

Tyr pulled off his overcoat and held it out.
“Take off your shirt and put this on. It’ll have to do until we can get to the Maru.”
Harper moved woodenly. Tyr could smell Harper’s adrenaline fading and being replaced with shock. Harper handed Saga back and dressed. The coat dragged on the ground.

“Are you injured?” Tyr asked.

“I don’t think so.” He laughed and it was awkward, strained. “I can’t really feel anything right now.”

Harper held Saga in his arms, Tyr covering the rear just in case. She was rooting at his shirt, obviously hungry, and starting to cry. “Hi sweetie, helloo Saga,” he cooed shakily. “Saga-with-a-middle-name. I have a middle name too - Zelazny. Yours is Ingemar. Saga Ingemar Anasazi out of Freya by Tyr of… um… Orca pride? Kodiak? Uh…”

Saga began to cry an intense keening of hunger as they finally reached the hatch of the Maru. “Oh baby,” said Harper under his breath. He reached up and punched in his command code and the doors slid open.

“Tyr, take her?” he said, not waiting for Tyr’s response. He passed the crying baby to Tyr and fled to the Maru’s command center. Tyr followed, setting down weapons with one hand and then the other as he juggled Saga, bouncing her, trying to calm her. His shoulder ached but he ignored it.

“Harper? Get us off the groun--“

The Maru shuddered as the thrusters fired and they took off, launching into orbit with an abruptness that threw Tyr back against a bulkhead. He struggled upright and against the pull of the gravities walking forward.

They cleared the atmosphere... into a waiting fleet of Orca fighters. Trapped.
Tyr slammed a free hand against the edge of the railing; Harper cursed and looked down, lips in a snarl and face whitening. They looked at each other.

“They won’t blow us out of the sky, but they won’t let us go until they have her back,” said Tyr.

“How do you know they won’t kill us then?” asked Harper, intense anger visible on his face.

“I don’t. Let me negotiate with the Orca, I’ll find a way out of this.”

“They’re way ahead of you,” said Harper, gesturing to the viewscreen. “We’re getting a hail from the surface. Damn them, they must have had their big cannon shielded down there - now that they dropped their shields to transmit I’m getting some big weapons signatures. Locked on our asses of course.” He thumped the console. Tyr jiggled Saga, letting her suck on his pinkie finger. She was finally quiet.

Part Eight

Guderian looked out of the Maru’s viewer, his hardness evident even on that small screen. “You have to put the child back with the mother, Tyr, we all know that. Your little kidnapping venture has utterly failed.”

“Yes, we all know what has to be done to save the child, But what of Freya? Is her safety assured? My child cannot be safe if your pride threatens my mate” Tyr’s body was relaxed with assured defiance - no matter what Guderian believed, Tyr knew Freya was his. Her defection was real.

“She is Orca Pride, Kodiak!” Guderian was incensed.

Tyr looked fiercely at the tiny viewscreen. “But her child is an outsider and they'll be persecuted for that,” he said so low it was a growl. Clearly, Guderian had no knowledge of Freya’s true intentions, and it would only endanger Freya and the child if he were ever to find out.

“You hardly have a choice, Tyr,” he said,
sneering the name. “Your child, your only child will die without her mother, is already suffering without her.”

Tyr looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. She would wake again. She would wake hungrier than last time, and he had nothing for her. He and Harper couldn’t leave the system with all the guns of the Orca trained on them. And for once in his devious life, he didn’t have a plan B... because there wasn’t a plan that didn’t risk the life of Saga or Freya or both...

At the Orca stronghold, Guderian tired of staring at the viewscreen and began talking to his right hand man.

Behind him, the hangings moved aside and an older female entered. After a moment, Tyr recognized her - Olma, the matriarch of the Orca. Her face was set, but her eyes flashed anger. “Guderian, just what do you think you’re doing?” she said icily. “No, don’t tell me. You’re playing out a small boy’s game of vengeance and trophy seeking. You want to win against this adversary, just as you wanted to win a wrestling match when you were an adolescent.”

Guderian lowered his head menacingly and began to speak, but the matriarch cut into his words with a harsh, heavy authority.

“You’re playing a game in my arena, Guderian. Get out.”

“That man out there isn’t playing by OUR rules!” yelled Guderian. “He…”

“Oh isn’t he?” asked the Matriarch. “Did he not risk everything to try to abduct his mate and his child? Hasn't he avoided fighting or fleeing because either of these would decrease the baby’s chance for survival? He has taken a gamble on the only thing worth taking a gamble on - procreation."

She let her words sink in. "I see clearly he is more purely Nietzschean than you are yourself, you who gamble pride and childish vengeance against the life of a baby born of two superior genetic lines!”

Her words were stinging, contemptuous.
Guderian’s head was bowed down. His teeth gritted, he rumbled, “What would you have the Orca do?”

“Bring Freya here,” said the Matriarch.

Guderian looked up, suspicious.

“Who better to convince her mate that she is safe and will guard her own? This is a womyn’s issue, Guderian. You have put yourself at as much risk with the pride's women already. Leave the power games and let Freya negotiate.”

Guderian glowered at Olma for a few seconds, obviously weighing the risk to his own Alpha standing against losing Tyr. He finally turned and stomped out of the room.
Tyr stared admiringly through the viewscreen. He could remember the jurisdiction of womyn over their own from his childhood but he had long lived in a world of human values, and the values of men. Winning, strength, cunning. It was more than half a lifetime since he had been near the almost comforting strength of Nietzschean womyn. The governed breeding; the ultimate strength of any pride. It was a deep, quiet strength. Not a weapon, rather the act of creating the future - that act being far far stronger than any destructive force.

Tyr unconsciously swayed Saga. The scene before him on the viewscreen had been reframed as the domain of procreation. And without asking himself why, he let his tense chest relax. He didn’t have a plan; Guderian didn’t have a plan, and no wonder. They were both outside of their terrority. This was not for either of them to decide. Not if they valued Nietzschean survival.

Freya walked straight through the hangings to the viewscreen. Guderian stepped in behind her, caught Olma's glare and throwing up his hands, he turned and left the room

Freya stared into the screen with a consuming intent, looking over her child.
“She is unhurt?” Freya said in an almost monotone whisper.

“She is fine, Freya,” said Tyr quietly, instantly sorry he hadn’t said it as soon as he saw her. “I’m sorry, “ he said answering the suspicion that had kept him quiet, “Its hard for me not to question your loyalty...but I should remember you are always loyal to her” he glanced down softly at the baby. His own tension was gone. There was only one outcome here.

Freya looked around the command center. The other Nietzschean males were all bent over their consoles, communicating with their fleet surrounding Tyr in space. They weren't paying any attention, clearly deferring to Olma's supervision.

Freya looked back at the screen. “You’re wounded,” she said, brushing her own shoulder with her hand. Her face bore the look of concern that she had to conceal from her voice.

“Yes, but it’s nothing. You... they shot you, I heard you scream...” He broke off.

Freya saw Tyr look down.

For Tyr to run had been the right thing, the only Nietzschean thing. But to hear Freya cut down as he saved their child had carved out a place inside him previously owned only by the death of his mother.

“They shot me in the leg,” she said shortly. Seeing Tyr’s suppressed feeling, but without the time to address it, she spoke quickly and low, “It was only enough to take me down. I’m fine. Tyr...”

They looked at each other a moment, a long moment of appraisal... Was she still his mate? Despite the dangers to her and the child? Was he still centered in the Nietzschean ethic of father and husband? Not lost in the immature fighters fantasies of Guderian?

Tyr’s doubts answered by the forthright mother’s rage in Freya’s pose, he looked down first, his eyes on the amber-haired child he would soon be separated from. Seeing him look down, Freya relaxed ever so slightly. He was here. Here with her and their daughter, and their ambition to found a new pride. He was centered.

Tyr looked up into Freya’s eyes, the viewscreen nonexistent, seeing only the inevitable present course for this moment. “Where? And who can we trust?”

“Where I met you,” said Freya, without hesitation. “No one knew where I was.”
Freya gestured back toward the Matriarch. “Olma will meet you…”

Tyr cut her off. “Saga is very hungry and getting dehydrated - she needs to come straight to you.”

“You know they won’t risk you 'kidnapping' me again. But they won’t risk Saga either. As soon as you’re gone, they’ll fly me right to her. Right, Olma?" Freya glanced to her left at Olma for confirmation. Olma nodded, still focused on Tyr, trying to read his intentions.

Tyr's eyes went wide as he realized that Freya must have confided in Olma. Dangerous. For now, though, he had no choice but to accept her judgment of Olma's integrity.

Tyr changed the subject. "Guderian... his arrogance is dangerous,” Tyr said, direct.
Freya started to answer, but Olma broke in

“He has far over stepped his bounds, Kodiak. You may be a thief and a renegade without a Pride, but your genes are both strong and unique. The child of Freya’s superior qualities with your unique admixture is not to be risked. We will keep Freya and... Saga safe. And Guderian will have plenty to distract him reestablishing proof of his worthiness as an alpha that he has so foolishly risked. Do not fear for the safety of the child, Kodiak. And,” she paused almost menacingly, “do not risk her safety yourself by helping her escape again.”
Olma turned and swept out of the room.

Freya took a step closer to the viewscreen. Her eyes on Saga, the desperation in her obvious in the straining of her body toward the viewscreen and tension of her set lips.

“We will not forget you,” said Freya, looking up to Tyr’s eyes. She glanced furtively at the remaining Orca males in the room, each busy with command center operations. “We will not forget you.”

She wrapped her arms across her chest and clamped them tight, willing her message to Tyr, willing her self control to hold at the strain of separation from her child, loss of the freedom she had had within reach and loss of her mate...

Tyr’s arms closed tight around Saga, and he held Freya’s gaze, unable to answer her question because of the guards, but glancing down in acquiescence, in understanding.
On the tiny viewscreen, Freya turned, tight, controlled and left the command room.

Tyr reached forward and keyed the viewscreen off. Harper looked up from where he’d been watching a small console screen.

“Tyr? What was all..?” He didn’t finish.

“Take us down, boy. Down to the north end of that glade where we found Freya.”

Harper nodded and jumped into the Maru’s slip chair. “Okay, mind telling me what was in all those um, ever so pregnant pauses?” He pointed the Maru’s nose down into the atmosphere.

Tyr still stood with the exhausted and sleeping Saga. He was too tired to dissemble in the usual Tyr fashion. He answered directly.

“Freya was telling me she’d try again. That she would choose a time and place more likely to succeed and when the child is older and less vulnerable. She was telling me... that she would remember me to Saga in the meanwhile... that she wouldn’t let Saga be raised an Orca. And she was asking me if I’d still come back for them.”

The Maru burned through the upper atmosphere, shuddering. Harper’s hands worked without thought, guiding the ship’s decent. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

The roar of the atmosphere faded away to silence as they came in view of the continent and Harper checked navigation to pin point their landing spot. He stared straight ahead, but directed his questions behind to where Tyr paced gently with the restless baby.

“You, uh, sure we should land so close?”

“They won’t fire, “ said Tyr with assuredness.

“Because of that showdown with the old battleax?” asked Harper, incredulous.

They skimmed the treetops. “That old battleax could organize an opposition to depose Guderian. He messed up. He forgot about her. He forgot what it means to be Nietzschean,” Tyr said quietly.

Harper set them down in the glade. Saga was awakened by the rumble of the landing thrusters and woke crying. Tyr picked her up out of the fabric wrap and put her over his shoulder, walking her awake.

Harper settled the Maru and jumped up. “Do I come with you and get shot or stay here and get shot?” he asked.

Tyr stopped pacing for a moment to
consider. He lay Saga back in the crook of his arm and offered his pinkie finger for her to suck on as he’d done before. Despite her anger at there being no milk, Saga sucked fiercely, watching her father’s face.

“Come. Bring a weapon, carry it openly, in its holster but do not pull it out unless I say, all right?”

“Okay, boss,” said Harper. He was distracted from his own turmoil by sympathy. Tyr may have only been showing the strain mildly, but if Harper could see it at all, he knew the grief Tyr was hiding must be huge. He holstered his Gauss gun and followed Tyr out the airlock.

“Wait,” Harper said, overcome by something deep and ancient he couldn’t name. Tyr turned around and Harper hesitated. “Um… can I say goodbye to Saga before we get out there? Before… whatever happens happens?”
Tyr put the baby in Harper’s arms and took a step away.

Harper looked down at Saga and everything he’d planned to say to her dried up in his suddenly tight throat. It was freakin’ goodbye again. He hated goodbyes.
He realized Saga was studying him back with those amazing eyes.

“Harper,” Tyr said, almost gently.

“Right, right, I know. I’m just trying to think of something inspirational and witty for her to remember me by but it’s taking a little longer than I expected.”

He blinked hard. He stroked Saga’s face and said so softly he wasn’t even sure Saga heard him, “Remember who you are. Don’t let the universe or anyone else tell you differently. Okay?”

She giggled and Harper had to laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tyr’s shadow fell over them and Harper looked up.

“Harper, she’ll remember you.”

“Are you going to give me some spiel about Nietzschean infant memory development?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Harper placed Saga back in Tyr’s arms and, after a deep breath, followed him down the path.

They emerged into the grassy glade by the inlet again, only now from the north, the opposite side. In the middle without hiding or duplicity of any kind stood Olma.

Tyr walked up to within ten paces of her and stopped. “How quickly can you get Saga to her mother?” he asked.

“Freya is five minutes from here, under heavy guard, Kodiak. Come, I know you won’t try anything foolish and you know I will do what is best for the child. We are both too Nietzschean to do otherwise. Give her to me.”

Olma walked straight up to Tyr. He let her, looking down at Saga as she sucked solemnly on his finger. Her cheeks dimpled in a slight smile at his eye contact. Her amber fuzz moved in the breeze of the storm blowing in. Her eyes a bright blue-going-goldenbrown were ever so slightly tilted. Like Freya’s.

Tyr put his face down to Saga’s forehead and with his eyes closed inhaled a long breath of her hair. He pulled back and looked at her. “I will not forget you,” he breathed, “daughter.”

He held her tight for a moment, then looked down at Olma. The words he wanted to say, he did not say. If taken as a threat they could endanger Saga even more by alienating her strongest guardian. But Olma heard them anyway and answered.

“I will protect them."

Tyr's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"I know she was coming to you - if I thought you were taking her against her will, my will would be set against you, Kodiak I will give my life to guard them. They are my pride, too. And,” she hesitated slightly, “Freya is my sister’s daughter. They are my blood. I guard my own blood, know that. I guard it as you would guard it.”

With an arched eyebrow requesting Tyr’s help in transferring the child she slid her arm under Saga and lifted her away from Tyr. He supported Saga to Olma’s arms... then relinquished her and backed away. He met Olma’s eyes and nodded shortly. He looked at Saga’s retreating face, twisted in a sob as Olma positioned her and slipped her own finger quickly into Saga’s hungry mouth, turned and walked away.

Tyr forced himself not to watch Olma’s retreating back. He put the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment and then abruptly turned. He almost knocked over Harper, forgotten behind him.

Tyr walked back to the Maru, Harper at his heels.
His grief was visible through his back, if that were possible, Harper thought. He didn’t know what to say and followed silently. Harper found himself replaying in his mind the old Nietzschean woman taking Saga and walking away into the woods with her, and was surprised to find himself deeply sad. She’s not mine, he thought to himself... but she was Tyr’s. Oh, man, he has got to feel like his heart is ripped out...

They climbed in to the airlock of the Maru. Harper started for the slipchair, but Tyr brushed past him and sat down, kicking the ship into antigrav, and then activating the thrusters to maneuver them to a safe distance to blast into orbit.

Harper perched on the railing behind Tyr waiting for Tyr to lash out, to blame him for slowing them down, getting Freya captured, losing his family.

Tyr reached orbit, vectored away from Eden and opened a slip portal as soon as he could safely do so. They streamed away to safety, to anonymity. Tyr never turned. Never said anything.

They emerged from slipstream and after a moment of scanning, Harper found the Andromeda - a blip on the screen two hours away at normal speeds. Tyr lay in a course and turned over the Maru to the autopilot. But he didn’t get up. He sat in the slip chair with his face in his hands and for a moment Harper thought Tyr, the toughest attitude dude ever, might start sobbing. It was unnerving! He had expected rage or vindictive sarcasm... as Harper felt. This almost blank shock of loss took Harper out of his own morass of self-hatred and blame.

“Tyr?” Harper moved forward and sat on his heels next to the pilot seat. He went slowly - but he was on familiar ground. Loss, and grief, he knew. “I can’t imagine, except, watching you give up your child and your mate, I can. I can see it... I want you to know I see the pain in you.” Tears stood in Harper’s eyes.

Tyr looked up, his hands shaking, but his eyes dry and wide. He saw the honesty in Harper’s face and for once their values met in the same place. He put a hand around the back of Harper’s neck and pulled Harper into a wordless hug before pulling back.

“I can’t.” Tyr shook his head and stood, gently pushing Harper out of the way. Tyr walked back into the recesses of the Maru. Harper sat on the steps, his head in his own hands and let his shaking and sobbing happen for them both.

Freya sat with Saga on the edge of a bed. It was the quiet time of the evening - sitting near fires, story telling, all the teaching and practising done for the day. She could hear the chirping of some insect, and it subtly rasped at her as well as delighted her. She wasn't used to all the noises of evening on a planet yet... wasn't sure if she would ever be used to them. She closed her eyes, rocking, listening to the hum of the camp and the insects, the gentle lapping of the edge of the lake not far off, feeling both drawn to her people and intolerably removed from them. She wasn't supposed to be here... But right now she had to make life for Saga here, until they could leave again and find Tyr, build a life as an alpha and her family.

A least she was sure now that Tyr was still Tyr, unchanged by any intervening time or events. To be watched carefully, to be sure. She could count on never knowing his full agenda. But he had been undaunted by single-handedly removing her from her pride. Watchful of treachery, watchful even of herself lest she be the betrayer he was constantly prepared for. But clear hearted in his acceptance of the baby. He was as pure Nietzschean in these values as she could have hoped for.

Somehow, some way in his life of desperate survival and isolation he had preserved, purified and refined the deepest inner drives of their kind. To be the strongest, the most cunning, to mate with an equal, and to grow up children with a passion that would defend them as well as deliver them into the cruel realities of life when they were tempered for them.

He was her mate. The father of her child. And he was worthy of it.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the baby, who was surprisingly wide-eyed and awake, as if her mother's tight twisting thoughts were disturbing her sleep.

"Baby brown eyes, baby mine,” she cooed, letting the rhythm of her voice soothe Saga. “What do you think of all this strife and stress? Little girl, little alpha to be, let me tell you about your father. A strong man, a cunning man…"

Freya stroked Saga's amber curls and rocked her. "A brown eyed man… a devious man... a man who spoke sweetly... a man who longs for you, a daughter...a man who is treacherous, devious, strong, sweet tongued and deeply rooted in desire for a family of his own…”
Saga's eyes fluttered closed.
“Your father... a good man... strong and soft brown just like you... little daughter...."

Saga slept.

Freya watched the baby's eyes moving beneath delicate eye lids, her face changing expression from joy to concern, from peace to tension and she wondered what such a tiny bit of baby could be dreaming of... dark hair... brown eyes... tall and tall and taller still... blue eyes... sad smile... longing... fear... terror… being longed for... Emotions dreamed across her sleeping face… dreams of faces to fade and resurface out of pools of memory.

Part Ten

Tyr watched from the doorway. Harper struck the air with the force lance, sparring with an imaginary opponent. Certain angles were off but Harper had definitely improved. It wasn’t until Harper whirled around that Tyr realized Harper’s eyes were closed and he had an info disk in his port.

Interesting.

He cleared his throat and Harper struck out at him instinctively. Tyr grabbed the force lance, pulled, and Harper went tumbling onto the mat.

Harper cursed and detached the disk. “What the hell was that for?” he yelled, flat on his back.

Tyr retracted the force lance and crouched down. “You’ve improved.”

“Oh, spare me.” He rolled to his feet and snatched the force lance from Tyr. “If you don’t mind, I still have some practising to do before my shift starts.”

Tyr watched as Harper sparred again, but this time without the disk. “Who are you fighting?”

Tyr expected some flippant response. But Harper said smoothly, “Nietzscheans.”

“Nietzscheans.”

“Yup.”

Harper swung the lance again at the imaginary Nietzschean’s head.

“Any… Nietzschean in particular?”

“Why do you care? I mean, it’s not you.”

Harper jabbed the lance into the imaginary Nietzschean’s solar plexus.

“Do you wish it was?”

“Huh?” Harper stopped and looked at him. “Tyr, what the hell are you talking about? I know you’re still pissed that I let the Orcas get away with Saga and Freya, so if it makes you feel better, you can go back to giving me the silent treatment with the occasional patented Tyr-glare from afar instead, okay?”

“Harper, it’s not your fault.”

“Oh, really? Really?” Harper threw the force lance against the wall and it clattered to the floor. “How can you not blame me? I mean… I heard the baby crying.” Harper lifted his gaze to Tyr’s but couldn’t hold it. Harper turned away but Tyr noticed his hands shaking before Harper wrapped his arms around himself. He started to pace around but never quite faced Tyr. “She was crying and… I couldn’t get her to stop. I knew the Nietzscheans would hear her and come after us. She was my responsibility and… damn it, she wouldn’t stop crying.”

Harper looked up and his eyes were shining, and Tyr knew that Harper wasn’t talking about Saga anymore. “They were in the forest, following us. I wanted to leave her and run, just… run. Dad told me I had to protect her because I was the oldest but that was a freakin’ lie… he went off to fight and I found his body along with everyone else’s in the morning when I went back to the camp and everything was so cold and clear and I know that the only reason the Nietzscheans hadn’t killed me too was because I left her.”

Harper rubbed his face. “I found her body too.”

Tyr watched Harper silently. He wondered if Harper had told this to anyone before but didn’t ask. From Harper’s palpable distress, he could guess the answer.

“I killed those Niets,” Harper said abruptly. He swallowed hard. “I put Saga under the brush and I killed them. I wish I didn’t remember it. That I could claim it was just a blur. I remember you said you couldn’t smell the blood, Tyr. But I could. I know it’s crazy but I think I still can.”

Tyr began to realize what Harper was trying to tell him. Harper hadn’t faced Nietzschean warriors when he’d protected Saga. He’d faced a lifetime of demons. Perhaps Harper still wasn’t sure who had won.

“I shouldn’t have gone with you. If I had stayed in the Maru like a good little kludge, everything would have turned out fine. You’d have your family, Tyr. What you’ve always wanted.”

Harper finally stopped pacing. He made a move to the door but Tyr was quicker and grabbed Harper’s arm. Harper didn’t recoil, he just stopped.

Tyr grabbed Harper’s chin and forced Harper to meet his eyes. Slowly, deliberately he said, “I will not say this again, so listen well. I have a family on Eden. I am a husband and father. I have met my daughter, Harper, and held her. She is alive and will grow strong for many reasons and I will have you know that one of them is you. So do not lie to me again.”

“Huh?” Harper seemed dazed. “Lie?”

“Do not tell me that I blame you for losing them.” Tyr searched Harper’s eyes a moment longer, then stepped back.

Harper didn't watch him go. He picked up the force lance and it was hard because his vision had gone blurry, watery. He swiped at his eyes.

Tyr’s words battered at his guilt. Maybe… maybe this time would be different. He’d protected Saga. He wouldn’t creep home tomorrow and find a small cold corpse. Maybe happy families and happy endings were possible and maybe part of him believed it.

But… he still hated goodbyes.

AAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG MORE PLEASE!!!

and zion i read what you had at your sight about Mr. Wolfe and i wanted to say i thought it was great!!!!and a-men.

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become who you are - nietzsche
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thank you You know what? "Harper's Hope" totally inspired me to keep writing this with AM... I hope you post lots more of that SOON!!!

{{{{{{{bobkat}}}}}}}
{{{{{{ed}}}}}}}
{{{{{{{sierra}}}}}}}}}
{{{{{{Aure}}}}}}}

Thank you guys all for reading this and for your comments... *sniffle*...

ZS

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"...Attack Pattern: Last Act of Freakin' Defiance, on my mark!" ~ Harper, USV
"[It] may have been a dream but dreams don't die." ~ Dylan, AFF
Harpy, honorary TYRant, member of the Cosmic Order of ZackAsh, Ethliest, Wolfe Packer, Pleyer, FTAer.
Visit the Slipstream Aquarium! www.geocities.com/zionsstarfish

says it all, really

Great job you two :)

Looking forward to more great works from both of you :)

Hail All
Aurelius

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Hail Rommie, Goddess of the Warship. To you I pledge my undying allegiance
Second in Command of the ROMan Empire
Commander-in-chief of the ROMan Defense Forces
Commander of the ROMan Heavy Battlecruiser Glory of Rommie
Devoted Husband to Saine

{{{{{{{{{{{{EdBlackadder}}}}}}}}}}}}} lol ty Ed

{{{{{{{{{{{sierraleone}}}}}}}}}} thanks Sierra - it was so fun to read your running commentary in chat!!! Glad we could wake you up

{{{{{{{{{{Aurelius}}}}}}}}}} ty ty Aur, high praises indeed (blushing!)

{{{{{{{{{{maryavatar}}}}}}}}}} Wow, thanks Mary!

Someone asked in chat bout writing & I wanted to put my answer in this thread as well: It was a very equal collaboration (despite ZSF's blush-inducing intro!!) We brainstormed the plot together and it was very much a collaborative session. Then we each wrote sections - about equal amounts I'm sure, and the editing we did together, cept Zions did all the spell checking (Without her, Niet would be spelled about 20 different ways)

{{{{ArmourMe}}}}
{{{{Zion's Starfish}}}}

You 2 work GREAT together, i hope you write more together!

Good job...no GREAT job, you guys.

Lil

quote:

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sierraleone:
Yeah, but now you make my fic seem unworthy I find that a problem, the more fics I read the less good mine seems <g>

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{{{{{{{{{{{Lil}}}}}}}}}} Wow, thanks Lil

{{{{{{{{{{{{Harper's}}}}}}}}}}} hands Harper's some kleenex GTBOS

btw thanks for the kind words about harper hope

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become who you are - nietzsche
_ ____________________ _

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Nympha Pura

{{{{{{{{{parisindy}}}}}}}}}
He he - wow, repeats!

{{{{{{{{{Cadey}}}}}}}}}
Man thanks Cadey! Actually, Zion's & I are going to write in the Andromeda Classic madness!

{{{{{{{{{Undina Arcania}}}}}}}}}
Thank you

{{{{{{{{{jm}}}}}}}}}}}
Wow! and yes, we'll be writing on the Andromed Classic project - look in this forum for a description of that

Thanks so much everybody! The responses are really meaningful for us both to read! And the reception this story has gotten has bowled us over
AM