AU after the events of Abridging the Devil's Divide.

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Breaking Point
by Lianne Burwell
August 2004
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“Darest thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in
And bade him follow.
	William Shakespear


"Okay, Rommie, give it a try now."

There was a soft rumble as Andromeda started up the engine 
in question, and this time there was no sign of the high-
pitched whine that had been there a few hours earlier.

"Stresses within acceptable limits. Efficiency... thirty-
seven percent above baseline." She actually sounded 
impressed.

Harper nodded to himself, then rubbed his eyes. "Good. Now 
bring up the readings on the port side laser battery 
three."

"Harper, you have been working for thirty hours straight. 
You should get some rest."

"Later. There's a couple more things I want to finish up 
first."

"Harper..."

"Rommie. The readings. Please." There was a pause, then the 
console came to life with the readings he wanted. "Thanks, 
sweetheart."

"He wouldn't really put you off the ship."

Harper flinched. "You can be sure of that," he said flatly.

"Since I wouldn't let him, yes I can."

Harper sighed as he started to recalibrate the system. "Yes 
you would if he was determined. Besides, if he does decide 
to get rid of me, there wouldn't be much point in refusing. 
He could make life hell for all of us, right?" Andromeda's 
holographic expression turned pained. "Right."

Andromeda sighed, then vanished, and Harper turned back to 
the task at hand. "Now, let's see what we can do about that 
targeting error."

>>>~~~<<<

"Is he *still* at it?" Beka asked, stopping at the entrance 
to Engineering. Rhade was leaning against the door frame, 
his arms folded over his chest and a blank expression on 
his face.

"Yes. If Trance didn't bring him trays, I don't think he 
would even remember to eat."

Beka shook her head. "This is ridiculous. He's going to 
have a breakdown at this rate. Rommie?"

The ship's avatar flashed into view beside them. "I tried. 
He still doesn't believe that Dylan won't really follow 
through on his threat to put him off the ship."

"Which means until Dylan tells him otherwise, he's going to 
work himself ragged." She sighed. "He was like that after 
he joined the Maru. He was trying to convince me of how 
useful he was so that I wouldn't drop him off on another 
slave world."

"I keep telling him that Dylan wouldn't do that..."

"Are you sure?"

Andromeda turned to Rhade with a horrified expression. "How 
can you say that?"

Rhade just shrugged. "When it comes to Dylan Hunt, I'm not 
sure what to believe. Nietzscheans do not play the sort of 
mind-games he does. He should either forgive Harper or send 
him away. Leaving him like this is... wrong."

"He can't send him away! He's my only engineer."

Rhade's eyebrows went up. "What about the others?"

That was still a sore point with Beka. "There aren't any. 
The new Commonwealth found a mothballed shipyard, so 
they're churning out HighGuard ships, but they don't have a 
lot of trained engineers. Since Harper knows Rommie inside 
and out, we were low on the list for additional engineers 
even before the Triumvirate turned on Dylan."

"So, in other words our Captain is working our only 
engineer into an early grave," Rhade said. "When he isn't 
putting him in harm's way."

Beka winced. "Not a good idea," she agreed

"Very short-sighted."

All three of them turned back towards Engineering, where 
Harper had finally slumped over at his console. Asleep, 
Harper looked like he was all of thirteen, even with the 
lines of strain on his face. "I better put him to bed," 
Beka said softly, heading over to the sleeping engineer.

Rhade just looked thoughtful.

>>>~~~<<<

It took Harper nearly a month to start to relax again. 
During that time, the only time Dylan spoke to him was to 
give orders, and Harper did his best to stay out of his way 
otherwise. He didn't like feeling so unsure of his place 
again. It had been years since his position had been so 
precarious. He still had trouble sleeping, though.

Then, without warning, Dylan ordered him onto the Eureka 
Maru, along with Beka and Rhade, to go pick up some parts 
arranged for by Tri-Lorn. Now that they couldn't simply 
stop by a Commonwealth depot and requisition what they 
needed, they were back to scrounging again, just like the 
old days.

Harper's paranoia suggested that this was how Dylan planned 
to dump him, but he told himself that Beka would never go 
along with that. Rhade... well, he wasn't quite as sure 
about the Nietzschean. He got along fine with Rhade, 
although not as well as he one had with Tyr, but like all 
Nietzscheans, Rhade was a pragmatist. In the end, he would 
do what was best for Rhade.

The parts had been deposited by Tri-Lorn at an old mining 
station in the played-out asteroid belt of a system with no 
habitable planets. A hundred years or so ago, it had been a 
base for pirates, but even they'd abandoned it, since it 
was too far off the prime trade routes.

As a result, the last thing they'd expected was an ambush 
party lying in wait for them. After all, why bother? Take 
the parts and leave.

Harper quickly found himself cut off from the others, 
although he wasn't sure how. He wedged himself between a 
pile of boxes and a wall, darting out from time to time to 
fire off a few shots at the bastards who had Beka and Rhade 
pinned down near the Maru at the opposite end of the dusty 
bay.

On one of those brief forays he saw Rhade go down. He had a 
bloody gash on his forehead, but he was still breathing. He 
just wasn't conscious to help them anymore. Beka jumped to 
his rescue as Harper froze, just long enough for one of the 
black-suited attackers to sneak up behind him and shove a 
blaster muzzle against his ear. "Move and you die," he 
growled.

Harper, being a smart boy, froze.

"We have what we want! Leave now and we'll let you live," 
the man yelled.

"Not without Harper!" Beka yelled. The sentiment warmed 
Harper's heart.

"Then we'll just kill you all."

That certainly killed the warm fuzzies fast. "Get out of 
here, Beka," Harper yelled. He wasn't really big on self-
sacrifice, but when it came to his friends...

"Harper, I'm not leaving you," Beka yelled back.

"And if you're dead, there's no great rescue," Harper 
pointed out. His captor just chuckled. "Go!"

Beka looked unhappy, but she finally grabbed Rhade by the 
shoulders and dragged his no doubt heavy butt up the ramp 
into the ship. Harper found himself a little surprised that 
no one took at potshot at them while they were out in the 
open. A minute later, the Eureka Maru powered up. As his 
captor herded him into a nearby airlock, the Maru lifted 
and swept out of the bay.

When he didn't hear any explosions, Harper breathed a sigh 
of relief, deciding to assume that they'd gotten away in 
one piece. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but at least 
this bunch seemed to be more interested in him alive than 
dead. Of course, so did the Templars, and look how that 
turned out.

With the Maru gone, the attack party finally emerged, and 
he realized with a start that they were all Nietzschean. 
Not a good thing. There were a lot of Nietzscheans out 
there who *would* want him dead, slowly and painfully. 
Still, never let it be said that Seamus Harper couldn't 
learn new tricks, once you hammered them in often enough. 
He kept his mouth shut.

"This way," his captor said, giving him what was for a 
Nietzschean a surprisingly gentle shove.

Since there was a dozen of them and nowhere to go, Harper 
did what he was told.

At least Beka and Rhade were safe.

>>>~~~<<<

"I can't believe we left Harper behind," Beka said, yet 
again, as she docked with the Andromeda Ascendant. "Dylan 
is going to be furious."

Rhade snorted. "He'll probably be more upset that we ended 
up leaving most of the parts we were sent for behind."

"Rhade!"

Rhade eyed her from the co-pilot's seat. Nietzscheans might 
be designed to heal fast, but there were limits. The gash 
on his forehead was just barely closed, and the entire side 
of his head was still black and blue, although the 
concussion was already gone.

"Welcome back," Rommie said as they exited the ship. Then 
she frowned as she noticed Rhade's condition and Harper's 
absence. "What happened?" she demanded.

Beka winced. "There was an ambush waiting," she said 
weakly.

"You left my engineer behind!?" Rommie shouted.

Beka winced. Here, she'd been worried about *Dylan's* 
reaction. An enraged ship's AI was not a good thing. "There 
wasn't a choice," she said softly. "It was stay and die or 
get our butts back here so that we could go to the rescue 
with more firepower."

"And what if they kill him?" Rommie said almost 
plaintively.

"They were after Harper. I doubt they plan to kill him."

"Indeed," Dylan said, striding into the bay. "Report."

"Aw, crap," Beka muttered to herself. "It was a trap, 
Dylan. They were waiting for us. They took Harper, but let 
us go. We need to get back before the trail goes cold."

"Already plotting the course," Rommie added.

Dylan stared at them, and the silence stretched. Too long, 
as far as Beka was concerned. "No."

"What?" Beka stared at Dylan in disbelief. That was *not* 
the response she'd expected.

"You said it: It was a trap. I can't justify taking 
Andromeda in. They may have let you go just so that you'd 
come back with the real prize: The Andromeda Ascendant. We 
can't risk it."

"But what about Harper?"

"He's a big boy, Beka. He can take care of himself."

Beka started to shake. "Harper is a member of your crew, 
and the best damned engineer you're going to find, and 
you're just going to abandon him," she said flatly.

"We are *not* going after him until we know it's not a 
trap. And that's an order." With that, he turned and left 
the landing bay.

"I can't believe. I can't fucking believe it," Beka shouted 
at the ceiling.

"You have to admit, he does have a point."

She spun around and jabbed a finger in Rhade's direction. 
"Don't. Harper saved your life--"

"And he wouldn't appreciate you throwing away yours," Rhade 
said calmly.

"Bastard!"

Furious, Beka threw herself at him, fists flying, not 
caring that Rommie was staring at them with a shocked 
expression. But fury didn't work against a Nietzschean. In 
a flash, she found herself pinned face-first against a 
wall, Rhade pressed up behind her. His mouth was close 
enough that his breath sounded like a wind rushing past her 
ear.

"Harper's in no danger," he whispered hoarsely, so softly 
that no one else was going to hear. "*Trust* me."

"How can you be so sure," she hissed back.

"Because I'm the one who set things up."

Beka froze. "What?"

"When it was clear that Dylan was going to use Harper up, 
then discard him, I contacted Tyr--"

"Tyr's dead," Beka said, shaking her head.

Rhade chuckled. "Do you really believe that? Unlike Dylan, 
Tyr values Harper's intelligence. He'll keep him safe, and 
keep him from making any more foolish mistakes."

Tyr Anasazi, alive. Beka's mind reeled. And yet, his death 
had seemed too... easy for so cunning a man. And yes, Tyr 
valued Harper. Respected him, even.

Beka sagged, the tension going out of her. Rhade backed 
away, and she turned around, rubbing her eyes. Suddenly she 
was tired. So very tired. Ever since Dylan had ended up on 
the outs from the new Commonwealth, it seemed like they 
never stopped running, never stopped fighting. "Some days I 
just want to get back in the Maru and *go*," she said.

Rhade actually smiled at that. "If you do, let me know," he 
said, lifting a hand to touch her cheek.

Beka blinked in surprise. "Rhade?"

When he leaned forward, she met him half-way.

>>>~~~<<<

Four days after the ambush, Harper was still thoroughly 
confused.

A new ship had arrived within minutes of Beka's escape, and 
he was quickly herded on board. They locked him up, sure, 
but not in a cell or a closet. No, he was put in a very 
nice passenger cabin. Okay, it was completely cut off from 
the rest of the ship, but it was comfy. Nice. They even 
threw in a reading screen -- too rudimentary to be used to 
break out of the cabin, unfortunately -- to keep him 
entertained. It didn't work very well, but at least it was 
something. The alternative was breaking out of his cabin, 
but on a ship full of Nietzscheans, that probably wasn't a 
good idea. Sure, they'd left him strangely unmolested so 
far, but there was no point in goading them into doing 
something he'd regret.

Since leaving the mining base, the ship had made at least 
seven slipstream jumps. Wherever they were going, it was 
either far off the beaten path, or they were taking the 
scenic route in order to throw off any pursuers; since he 
didn't have a viewport in the cabin, Harper wasn't sure 
which. But now they'd been in regular space for nearly a 
day, and he was about to go stir-crazy.

It was nearly time for dinner when his cabin door finally 
slid open. It was the first time he'd seen anyone other 
than the silent kid who delivered his meal trays.

"We've arrived," the man said. It was the same one who'd 
taken him prisoner back on the mining station. The one 
who'd found the suggestion of rescue so amusing. Of course, 
since there'd been no sign of rescue since then, at least 
that Harper knew of, he hadn't been wrong to be amused. 
Harper was beginning to wonder if they'd even tried to come 
after them.

He stood up, trying not to tense up. A tense fighter was a 
dead fighter, he reminded himself. "Arrived where?"

"Why don't you come see?"

He stood back and waved towards the open doorway. Harper 
eyed him for a moment, wondering what the game was. Hunt 
the kludge? And yet...

He decided to take the chance.

He followed his strange guide through corridor after 
corridor. He hadn't been allowed to get a look at the ship, 
coming aboard, but even assuming that he was being led in 
circles, it had to be big.

It was also full of Nietzscheans, which would normally give 
him panic attacks, but like his guide, they weren't exactly 
acting like normal Nietzscheans. In fact, they were acting 
more like Rhade. Or Tyr.

Whatever the reason, though, the looks he was getting were 
just cautious. Evaluating. Maybe even a little respectful. 
Respect from Nietzscheans. And maybe Santa Claus was going 
to come riding through the slipstream on his sleigh.

"Here we go," his guide said, the door to the bridge 
sliding open. Harper immediately stumbled to a stop, his 
eyes focused on the viewscreen.

Ships. Lots and lots of ships. Everything from small 
trawlers to what looked like a ship of the line. All 
hanging in space near the dim remains of a dying sun in a 
system that would be of no interest to anyone. "What the 
hell?" he muttered in awe. "What is this?"

"You'll have to ask the Commander."

That sent a shiver through Harper as he considered all the 
candidates he knew of. "Who's that?"

The man smiled enigmatically. "You'll see."

>>>~~~<<<

Not long after, they docked with another ship in the 
makeshift fleet. It wasn't the largest or the fanciest, and 
it was closer to the edge of the cluster than the center. 
Harper approved: There was nothing about the ship to 
attract unwanted attention, assuming that any enemies 
turned up.

Harper was almost vibrating with tension as he was escorted 
over to the new ship. The 'welcoming party' waiting for 
them in the landing bay didn't reassure him either. Large 
numbers of oversized, well-armed Nietzscheans rarely did. 
At least they weren't growling orders or brandishing those 
weapons in his direction. Instead, they simply fell into 
step around him subtly guiding his steps.

That led to another long march through another large ship 
while Harper tried to figure out why these Nietzscheans 
were so behaving so differently from most others he'd run 
into in his life. He didn't bother looking around as they 
walked, assuming that he could even see anything through 
the wall of well-muscled flesh. He twitched his fingers, 
willing himself not to start sweating or babbling. He did 
*not* want to show these people any signs of weakness. A 
lesson Tyr had taught him.

The walk seemed to take forever, and at the same time, not 
long enough. Harper's mind was still trying to add things 
up when they stopped in front of the bridge doors for what 
seemed like and eternity -- damn those Nietzscheans and 
their sense of drama. Then the doors hissed open, and the 
wall in front of him parted.

And for a moment, Harper felt like his heart had stopped.

The bridge was almost as big as the one on the Andromeda 
Ascendant, and it was full of people staring at him, but 
Harper didn't notice. All his attention was focused on a 
single figure; a man who shouldn't have been there. A man 
he had thought was dead.

Tyr Anasazi stared right back, a tiny smirk on his face.

"Bastard..." Harper muttered under his breath. One hand 
clenched hard. His blood began to boil to the point where 
he could actually *feel* it pulsing. "You son of a ..." He 
swung.

Tyr blocked the punch, now smiling openly. "I am glad to 
see you as well," he said mildly. Harper wanted to wipe the 
grin off his face. He wanted to make the bastard pay for 
running out on them, for letting him think he was dead. He 
wanted to...

"Damn you!" Harper snarled, then hugged the SOB.

Tyr hugged him back, and he started to shake. He was not 
going to cry, damnit. He was *not* going to cry. Not in 
front of all these people.

But the stress of the last few days -- hell, the last month 
-- just came together and there was nothing he could do to 
stop it. But he was not crying, and if you told him 
otherwise, he would deny it to his dying day.

Finally, he pulled away to find his escort gone, and the 
few people left on the bridge were carefully ignoring the 
little reunion scene.

"Better?" Tyr asked. The bastard actually sounded smug.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do," Harper growled. At 
least, that was what he planned to do, but his voice broke 
halfway through.

Fatigue. That was what it was. He didn't sleep well in 
captivity, and he'd been under stress. That was all.

"Since when have I explained myself to anyone?" Tyr huffed, 
but Harper could see the gleam in his eye. Harper whacked 
him in the arm, and Tyr rolled his eyes. "Fine. Come with 
me."

Tyr led him through a side door off the bridge into a short 
corridor with three doors. One of them was part open, but 
it hissed shut quickly, although not so quickly that Harper 
missed the small eyes watching him warily. "Your son?" he 
asked softly. Tyr had told them that the boy had died, but 
he'd never quite bought the story. Tyr just nodded.

Tyr led him through the door opposite the one just closed, 
and Harper looked around, curious.

He found himself in a fair-sized sitting room, with two 
more doors leading off. One was open, and through it he 
could see a rather austere bedroom. The sitting room, 
however, was anything but. The walls of the room were 
paneled with wood -- an expensive luxury in space -- where 
they weren't set with bookcases with transparent doors that 
would keep the books in place in case of maneuvers to fast 
for internal systems to compensate for. The bookcases were 
filled with actual books, many of them antiques. A scan of 
titles found most of them on history and warfare. Harper 
couldn't remember ever having seen so many books in one 
place. Most information was stored electronically and never 
made it to print anymore. And in the center of the room 
were a handful of chair upholstered in what looked like 
genuine leather. All together, the room had a feel of age 
that verged on decadent.

Information as luxury. How very Tyr.

Harper turned to face the man. Tyr had his arms folded over 
his chest, just waiting. "Why the hell didn't you let me 
know you were still alive?" Harper demanded, poking a 
finger in Tyr's direction.

"Because I didn't want Dylan to know."

That stung. "You thought I'd just tell him?"

Tyr glared at him. "No, but how was I supposed to contact 
you without going through the ship? And *she* would have 
told him."

"You could have found some way," Harper grumbled, but 
decided to let it go for the time being. "So you've been 
running around without us knowing for the past few months. 
Why am I here now? And how the hell did you know where to 
send your goon squad? And what the hell is with the fleet 
out there?" Harper waved his arm in the direction of the 
hull, not caring that he had worked his way up to shouting.

Tyr was openly grinning now. "I've missed you," he said 
unexpectedly, and Harper felt a flash of pleasure hearing 
that.

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Now, start talking."

Tyr rolled his eyes, and waved towards the chairs. Harper 
hesitated, but once Tyr sat down, he decided that he might 
as well be comfortable as well. And the chairs were *very* 
comfortable. They were also bolted to the deck, he noted in 
the back of his mind. Good idea.

"You are here because Dylan obviously does not value you 
the way he should. His behavior put you in the hands of the 
Templars, and then he blamed you for being true to your 
nature."

"What? How did you..." Harper frowned, putting two and two 
together and coming up with something close to infinity. 
"Rhade." Then his eyes narrowed. "If you can contact him, 
then why not me?"

"Because, boy, I did not contact him. He contacted *me*, 
and through a complicated series of drops only to be used 
in dire circumstances. He let me know what was happening, 
and where you would be."

The idea that Tyr or Rhade would consider his problems as 
'dire' was too weird for words. "And you grabbed me. 
Because you don't like how Dylan's been treating me." 
Harper eyed him cynically. "You want something. What?"

"Is it so difficult to believe that I want your safety? 
Perhaps even happiness?" Tyr sounded insulted. Harper just 
gave him his patented look of disbelief. "Fine. Your 
engineering abilities would be a great help. We have 
engineers, but none that think as fast under pressure as 
you."

"Aha. I thought so." Actually, Harper was flattered. And 
reassured. A totally selfless Tyr would be just too damned 
weird to deal with. "So, what is with all the ships out 
there? I'm impressed, but confused."

Tyr's expression turned grimmer than usual, although 
someone who didn't know him as well as Harper did might not 
notice the difference. "I am taking a different path from 
the good captain, Dylan Hunt. The Magog are coming and in 
such large numbers that the now-collapsing Commonwealth 
does not have a chance. Saving all worlds is a fool's 
dream. I am saving what I can."

Harper frowned. "What do you mean?"

"There is a cluster of systems at the end of the galactic 
arm. They are close enough together to be defended, out of 
the path of the worldship, and we are the only ones who 
know the series of transit points to get to them."

Two and two were adding up again, and Harper was shocked at 
what he was hearing. "The Nietzschean race is running?"

Tyr shook his head. The lack of the long dreadlocks still 
struck Harper as strange. "Not all. And not only 
Nietzscheans. If nothing else, my time on the Andromeda 
Ascendant opened my eyes to the fact that there are those 
of other races who are worthy. Since I left Dylan's foolish 
quest, I have been gathering the best and the brightest who 
would listen."

"And found yourself and out of the way spot to hide and 
hope that the Magog don't find you?" Harper shook his head. 
"That doesn't sound like you."

A soft growl filled the air. "We are *not* hiding like 
cowards," Tyr said, and Harper flinched slightly in the 
face of his anger. Then Tyr calmed himself. "We are 
creating a safe haven while we develop the weapons capable 
of driving the Magog to the edges of the universe and 
wiping them out to the last one."

That brought a laugh bubbling up in Harper's chest. "Now 
*that* sounds more like Tyr. Retreat, regroup, then roll 
over the enemy and crush them like ants. So why me?"

Tyr raised an eyebrow. "You don't consider yourself one of 
the best or the brightest?"

Harper snorted. "A former slave with a compromised immune 
system who has screwed up too many times to be counted? Or 
trusted," he added bitterly. Tyr's expression stopped him. 
"What? It's true. Just ask--"

"Don't say that name. You have more heart, soul, and 
courage than most. You survived to *become* a former slave 
when most under the Drago thumb give up and die. And if you 
have made mistakes, it is because you concentrate too hard 
on the problem at hand to realize the possible dangers. 
Which is why you need someone to keep an eye on you; a job 
which Dylan has failed miserably at."

"So what? You're appointing yourself as my keeper?"

Tyr smiled. "Think of me more as your... common sense."

"Like you're going to have time for that with everything 
else you're doing."

"I'll make the time. And in return you'll have the chance 
to devise the weapons that will wipe out the Magog. A 
pleasant thought, isn't it?"

It shouldn't have been. Dylan would point to Rev Bem as an 
example of how the Magog could be 'redeemed'. He wanted to 
stop them, but not destroy them, which seemed a little 
short-sighted to Harper. Of course, Dylan wasn't the one 
who'd lived with a Magog-larva death sentence for months. 
And that weirdly advanced Magog who'd come through the time 
bridge had said that Rev Bem was his grandfather. Right 
before he marked Harper for breeding purposes. Harper felt 
his stomach rise at the memory. "Yes," he said.

"Good. Now, we have several ships full of scientific 
equipment when we reach the Havens, and scientists who will 
need direction. The first priority is to set up a defensive 
perimeter in case the Magog find us before we're ready. 
I'll provide you with the information on what we have, and 
you can tell me what we still need."

"Huh? Why me?"

"Because you'll be directing the research teams."

Harper froze. "You're putting me in charge? You can't be 
serious. I'll screw it up! Just look at--"

"No. You won't."

"How can you say that?" Harper bounced out of the armchair 
and started pacing. 

"Because I am your common sense," Tyr said, reaching out 
and grabbing his wrist as he passed within arm's length. 
"Trust me, Seamus."

Harper swallowed at the unexpected use of his proper name. 
"I do," he said. And he really did, crazy as that was.

"Good."

"So now what? I hope you've got quarters for me, because I 
haven't had a good night's sleep in a long time, and I'm 
about ready to fall over on my face."

"Right through there," Tyr said, waving towards the open 
door to the bedroom. Harper frowned.

"I thought these were your quarters."

"They are."

Harper tugged, but Tyr wasn't letting go of his wrist. "I 
don't get it."

"If I'm going to keep a close eye on you, I need to keep 
you close," Tyr said with a smile. Then he tugged, and 
Harper tumbled into the man's lap.

"Um, don't you think you're taking this just a little to 
far?" Tyr was stroking the inside of his wrist, and 
Harper's breath caught. "I mean, what are people going to 
say if I'm in here?"

"Nothing, if they know what's good for them," Tyr said. The 
fingers of one hand were now tangled in Harper's spiky 
hair, and Harper was back to wondering just what the hell 
was going on with the big guy. This was not the Tyr he 
remembered.

Still, he didn't fight when Tyr pulled him closer -- as if 
you could get any closer to someone whose lap you were 
sitting on -- and kissed him. He just groaned and opened up 
to it. After several years in the shadow of the man 
considered to be a sex god by many, Dylan Hunt, and first 
one genetically perfect Nietzschean, then another, his 
libido was in full control and eager for whatever Tyr had 
in mind. They could deal with the whys later. *Much* later.

Abruptly, Tyr stood up. He didn't let go of Harper, but 
thankfully he didn't sweep him up into his arms either. 
That would have been too much like one of Beka's romance 
novels for his tastes, although he was sure she would have 
loved it.

"This way," Tyr said, steering him towards the previously 
mentioned bedroom. "And do lose that shirt. It's rank."

Harper didn't mind following that order. "Your rescuers 
didn't exactly stock any clothing in my size. There's only 
so much you can do about clothing in a ship's shower."

Tyr's expression was fond, and Harper melted, just a tiny 
bit, at it. "Less chatter and more disrobing," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," Harper said, tossing the man a sarcastic 
salute, his mood lifting for the first time in weeks, if 
not months. He'd missed the big lug, not that he'd ever 
tell Tyr that.

Tyr growled, and took a step towards Harper. Harper just 
laughed and ran for it, leaving a trail of clothing behind 
him. The fact that Tyr hadn't caught him before he'd gone 
three steps told him how much the other man was enjoying 
this.

But faced with a bed, he started to wonder if he'd gone 
completely around the bend. Growing up on a slave world, 
he'd been fucked by Nietzscheans before -- how else was a 
slave supposed to get a high-end education? -- but he 
hadn't touched one since then. He'd stuck to the honeys, 
preferably human, even though most of them had turned out 
to have ulterior motives. The story of his life.

Of course, he was betting on Tyr having his own ulterior 
motives, like keeping him controlled with sex.

Still, this was Tyr. And in his crazier moments, he even 
trusted the man, and he didn't trust easily. He was also 
big, muscular, and almost depressingly good-looking. And 
for tonight at least, it seemed, he was all Harper's. He'd 
have to be a fool to say no, and despite what others might 
say, Harper was no fool. He took a deep breath, then turned 
around.

Amazingly enough, Tyr seemed to like what he saw, going by 
the heat in his eyes. "This isn't going to be much fun if 
I'm the only one naked," Harper said.

"I'm finding it quite enjoyable," Tyr said mildly.

"Well, if you *don't* get naked, I might as well get caught 
up on my sleep."

"I'll let you get that sleep, but not for a while yet," Tyr 
said, stripping out of his tight shirt and even tighter 
leather pants. He wasn't wearing anything under them, which 
Harper appreciated. "On your back, boy."

"Don't call me that," Harper said, even as he moved to 
obey. "In the bedroom, that's just creepy."

"All right, then. On your back, *Seamus*."

Harper groaned. There was something incredibly sexy about 
his proper name coming out of the man's mouth. As if he 
needed to get any harder. As for Tyr, he didn't seem to 
need any help. Rampant was a pretty good term for his 
anatomy. Harper might get an inferiority complex looking at 
Tyr if he wasn't so damned brilliant to make up for the 
size difference.

Still, it was an inspiring sight, and Harper started to 
stroke himself without thinking.

There was a soft growl, and Tyr moved to the bottom of the 
bed. He crawled the length of the bed, like a large and 
very dangerous jungle cat, to hover above Harper. "It's not 
nice to tease, *Seamus*," he said.

"Really? I thought it was. Look at how long you teased 
Beka."

"She deserved it. But I have no intention of teasing 
*you*."

"Really?"

"Really," Tyr said, lowering down onto Harper. Harper just 
squeaked.

Nietzscheans had higher metabolisms, and as a result, Tyr 
felt like a furnace as he started to move against him 
sensuously. Harper moaned, and pushed up against the man.

Tyr latched onto the side of his neck and started worrying 
at the skin with his teeth, then sucked hard. There was no 
way Harper was going to be able to cover up the hickey that 
Tyr was creating. Of course, knowing Tyr, that was the way 
he wanted it, whatever his reasons.

Then he let go and shifted to kiss Harper before sliding 
down his body. They probably heard Harper's shout of 
surprised back on Earth. The universe had narrowed to one 
very talented mouth. That had usually been Harper's 
position in the past, and it shocked him that Tyr was 
willing to do this for anyone, even him.

Harper had to move, and Tyr made no effort to stop him. 
Tyr's short hair didn't give him anything to hang onto, but 
Harper didn't care. He was flying, and nothing was going to 
stop him. His throat was sore and his ears were ringing as 
he collapsed back against the mattress, and he was having 
trouble breathing.

And Tyr, damn him, looked smug. "When my limbs start 
working again, I'm going to show you what I can do," Harper 
said sleepily. His eyelids were heavy, and he didn't have 
anything to prop them up with. "Gonna make you scream 
louder."

"Go to sleep, Harper. You can do that in the morning."

"'Kay," Harper muttered. And if Tyr did anything about his 
own state, Harper was too soundly asleep to notice.

>>>~~~<<<

It was nearly two months after the kidnapping of Harper 
before Dylan sent Rhade on a supply run where he could 
check one of his drops. Life had gone on about the 
Andromeda Ascendant. Dylan had found a new chief engineer -
- this one had an actual staff -- although Rommie continued 
to complain that the replacement was barely competent. 
Watching all three of the ship's personality avatars giving 
their captain the cold shoulder was amusing.

They weren't the only ones. Beka was barely civil. Rhade 
had talked her out of leaving the ship, at least for the 
moment, but she never spoke to Dylan, outside of ship's 
business..

When Andromeda had her breakdown, Rhade had been glad that 
Harper hadn't been around to see it. They had managed to 
restore her personality, but Harper would have surely 
blamed himself. And Dylan, irate as he had been, would have 
agreed, even though it wasn't true. Even Andromeda had 
admitted afterwards that it was her own fault. Harper had 
put in some safeguards after the first encounter with the 
Magog Worldship, back before Rhade had joined the crew, but 
Andromeda had been rewriting them, making them even 
stricter.

After arriving at the space station to collect the waiting 
cargo, Rhade had directed the small crew he'd brought with 
him to start loading, then had left the docking bay. His 
excuse had been a meeting with a spy passing information on 
the what the slowly disintegrating Commonwealth was up to. 
It wasn't a complete lie, but he also had personal 
business.

Rhade had drops all over known space, set up long before 
he'd been assigned to join Dylan Hunt's crew. Data from one 
would be duplicated to the other, and he checked them as 
regularly as circumstance allowed. He was pleased to find a 
message waiting for him.

He slipped the tiny chip into his viewer and settled down 
to watch the message. The screen stayed black for a moment, 
then brightened to show a room with no distinguishing 
characteristics. It could have been a ship or a station or 
a windowless room on a planet. There was nothing to lead an 
unplanned viewer to Tyr's current location. A sensible 
precaution considering that even presumed dead, the 
Commonwealth still had a price on his head.

Tyr was smiling. A quick check showed that the message had 
been recorded three weeks earlier. "You will be glad to 
know that the package was delivered in good condition," he 
said, ignoring a protest from off-screen. "The scientific 
team also appreciates it, although there is some doubt that 
they can keep up with his enthusiasm."

"Hey!"

Rhade smiled. Clearly the 'package' had returned to his old 
personality.

Tyr was smiling fondly. "We have finished preparations and 
will be departing soon. Directions have been left. You will 
know where to find them. We expect to see you again, so be 
careful."

Harper moved into the camera's view. He looked better 
rested than the last time Rhade had seen him. He'd also put 
back on most of the weight he'd lost and gotten rid of the 
dark circles under his eyes. He'd also acquired a hickey on 
the side of his neck, with the fading marks of others to 
say that it wasn't the first. Or likely the last

"Take care of yourself, Rhade," Harper ordered sternly. 
"And Beka and Rommie if you can." Rhade noted the names 
that were missing. "Bring them with you when the time 
comes."

The screen went black, and Rhade removed the chip. He 
slipped it into his pocket. It might not be a good idea, 
but he'd find a way to let Beka see it. Perhaps even the 
android, if she swore not to tell Dylan. They would most 
appreciate knowing that Harper was safe.

In the meantime, they had a battle to continue to fight, 
even if it was becoming obvious that it was a losing one. 
He had the feeling that those promised directions might be 
needed sooner rather than later.

THE END