Second Chances

"Just shut up Harper!" Beka shoots an impatient glance at her engineer as she stalks up and down the room that her crew had choosen to regrouped in. Her scowl deepens as her gaze clashes with Gerentex's disdainful eyes.

"Me?" Harper spreads his hands in a mock bewildered gesture. "What'd I say?"

"I can't believe it. I can't believe it!" Beka strides past Harper, pausing for a second to return Gerentex's sneer with interest before pivoting sharply on her heel to retrace her route.

"It's not my fault that the guy got away, Beka." Harper sighs loudly as Beka stomps by him again, still in full rant mode. What had she expected him to do? Beat Captain Oversized over the head with an engineering flexi until the guy surrendered? Beka can be so unreasonable sometimes. An out of place scent drifts to him. What? He sniffs and frowns. Apples? Where is that coming from? Why apples of all things? He pinches the bridge of his nose. Weird. Maybe he should attempt to consult Trance again.

"Harper, what the hell are you doing?" Beka comes to a sudden halt and stares at her engineer in disbelief. Was he just sniffing her? What the hell is going on with Harper? Her engineer hasn't been his usual self since this trip started.

Harper glances sheepishly at his boss. He can feel color rising in his cheeks as he involuntarily sniffs at the crisp, apple scent wafting around Beka. She smells like apples, like those really tart green apples that he occasionally managed to get hold of as a kid. Huh. Nice but he didn't think that Beka went for perfumes. "What?"

"Tell me you didn't just do what I think you did?"

"Boss? What are you talking about. I'm just trying to get a headstart on these repairs." Harper widens his eyes innocently, trying to look as if he has nothing on his mind but compiling a mental list of things to do. He is suddenly, distractingly aware of other smells. He takes a step closer and frowns, sniffing again, ignoring his Beka's widening eyes. She smells most strongly of green apples, but there's something else...something mildly astringent...something forestry smelling...juniper? Yes. Juniper. Harper takes deep breath and almost chokes on the unexpected influx of smells. So many smells. Carbon. Blood. Mechanical odors. Metal. Shorted wiring. Oil. Lube. Apples and juniper trees again. He sways. Whoa...sensory overload.

"What's the matter with you?" Beka demands, gripping his arm with a steadying hand.

"I'm good." Harper inhales in short panicked pants. Other scents crowding fast upon him. Too much. Too intense. Too fast for him to sort out. What is going on? What's wrong with him? He leans back, hunching against the wall. "I'm good...I'm okay."

Rev moves toward him, "Harper?"

Ewww. Harper swallows hard, forcing back the sudden rise of his stomach at the stench filling his lungs. What is that smell? His eyes widen as Rev moves closer to him and the odor gets stronger. Oh, man. That smell is Rev? Well, he isn't going to be the one to tell the Magog to take a shower or about the wonders that could be achieved with a few hygiene products. Oh, man. "Back off, Rev. I'm okay. Really. Great. Stellar. Never better."

Trance moves between him and the others. Her hand strokes his face as she stares into his eyes. "He's fine."

"Geeze." Harper pants, getting himself under control. Trance doesn't smell like anything to his immense relief. He whispers urgently, "Trance, what's going? What's wrong with me?"

She smiles. "Nothing is wrong, Harper. I told you, you're just changing."

"Changing how?" Harper asks acidly. "You didn't bother to answer that part of the question did you?" He jerks the lavender scarves off and stares at his arms. They look perfectly normal except a slight redness that marked his earlier scratching fits.

"I know you're out of sorts, Harper." Trance pats his shoulder. "You worry too much."

What's that? Harper turns his head sharply, looking for the source of the odd musky smell. The strong smells are making him feel confused and sick. He breathes shallowly as Gerentex walks by him. What the hell is wrong with him?

The Nightsider smirks at Beka as he delicately shakes back the lace flopping around his bony wrist and lays his hand against the control panel. "Unlike some incompetent people, I came prepared for all contingencies."

Beka whirls and advances on Gerentx. "You, again? I thought I'd made myself clear earlier."

"Are you threatening me, Captain?"

Beka shrugs her slim shoulders. "Call it what you want. I'm just saying..."

"I do not like being threatened, Captain Valentine..." Gerentex interrupts smoothly. He activaties the door and waves a hand idly toward the big man filling the doorway, "which is why I brought him."

Harper's eyes widen as Tyr strides in, followed by several other mercenaries. His lover's beautiful amber gaze slides over him with apparent indifference. Not a flicker of emotion on the dark face. Okay, he's not supposed to know Tyr right now. Harper dips his chin in a minute nod. When did Tyr get here? How did Tyr get here? The cargo pod! Gerentex’s cargo must’ve been mercenaries.

"I'll take it from here." Tyr glides into the room. He pauses next to Harper, his eyes narrowing on the human's too pale face.

Harper stares back. A rich, sensual sandalwood scent curls around him, easing the panicky tightness in his chest. His lover eases closer, all the while apparently paying no particular attention to him. Harper inhales deeply, concentrating on the sandalwood aroma. It's comforting, and strong enough to over-ride the clamor of the other smells. His breathing eases back into a normal rhythm. There's something vaguely familiar about the scent, Harper thinks absently as his admiring gaze skims discreetly over his lover. The silver chainmail shirt gleams in the light; intriguing shadows beneath hint at the angles and curves of muscular chest and abs. Tight black leather pants faithfully outline his lover's attributes. Harper straightens against the wall as Tyr moves away. The wonderful sandalwood scent fades as his lover walks off. Wait. That smell is Tyr? But why has he never noticed it before? He is becoming aware of other smells again, but the smells are not so overwhelming this time. Harper slowly turns his attention away from Tyr to study group of mercs spreading out behind his lover. What a crowd of creeps.

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"I think I've heard enough, Andromeda." Dylan's head is bent, hiding the hot color flooding his face as Andromeda's soft voice recites the information on Nietzschean command bonding rites. He slowly fastens the battle armor over his torso. The breastplate doesn't feel quite right. Too bad his personal armor is back in his quarters. The standard sizes available never fit quite right across his chest. With his jacket on, this one is too tight. And now with his jacket discarded on the floor, the breastplate is too loose, rubbing uncomfortably against his ribs. Thinking about his armor seems much safer than contemplating the images that are rising in his mind with Andromeda's quiet words, but he cannot stop listening or envisioning the scenarios that she is describing in such devastating detail.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. Continue." His breath quickens as Andromeda's soft voice continues detailing increasingly fascinating Nietzschean rites. The image of Rhade standing by his bed, stripped down to nothing, but golden skin...of himself...constrained, confined on the bed...that image has him sweating, tugging, and fumbling with his armor like a flustered novice. The weapons locker suddenly feels much too hot. What had Rhade said to Andromeda that had her reading a Nietzschean sexual treatise to him instead of demanding that he maroon Rhade on the first semi-habitable planet that they came to? Not that he is objecting. The treatise is quite...intriguing. The idea of being able to order Rhade to...of having Rhade fully available to him at any time...of having Rhade at all...Dylan swallows hard. His fingers slip and leave a fastening hopelessly tangled. He looks down at the errant fastening and swears softly.

"Captain?"

His head jerks up at the sound of Rhade's quiet voice. His hand drops to his force lance as he glances up to see the Nietzschean standing just inside the doorway. Thank the Divine that Andromeda has stopped reading or his face would be even more flushed than it is already. What to say to a man who just tried to kill him? To a man that he'd almost killed? Especially when that man is someone that he'd trusted, admired and...desired. A man who had just, via Andromeda, suggested that his body is available at any time and in any way desired. "Rhade."

“I need to speak with you, Captain.”

"Speak with me, Rhade?" Dylan forces his gaze away from the bulge mounded against the front of those beige pants. His glance slides upward, encountering the cling of navy sweater, hinting seductively at the hard musculature of Rhade's torso. "We don't have anything to discuss."

"There is much to talk about, Captain."

When had the weapon's locker gotten so hot...so airless? A tingle runs down Dylan’s spine at the forbidden idea of being able to have his First Officer to do anything...anything at all. "Am I still your Captain, Rhade, or is that just habit? Perhaps you would rather play ball with the other side? I hear they have a Nietzschean."

"Why would I want to do that?" Rhade steps into the room, locking the door behind him. "I'm on your team."

"That's what I thought before, and you betrayed me." Dylan drags his gaze up to meet the dark eyes. His breath hitches as he glances from Rhade to the locked door. He can order Andromeda to open it, but there's something strangely exciting about Rhade locking that door, locking them in together...about having Rhade's powerful body between him and the exit. Even his heavy-worlder genes do not make him physically stronger than a Nietzschean. In a contest of physical strength he can come close, but he cannot completely match Rhade's raw power. Dylan tugs at his armor. He feels so hot. Maybe he should take the armor off. Maybe it's defective. He shouldn't be feeling so...so...warm while wearing it.

"I tried to warn you, Dylan."

Dylan laughs ruefully. "Warn me? Is that what you call trying to kill me, Rhade?"

Rhade looks away then glances back at Dylan. "That was...unfortunate."

"Unfortunate? Is that what you call the betrayal of the Commonwealth?"

"I would have supported the Commonwealth. Many Nietzscheans would have continued to be loyal and productive citizens of the Commonwealth, if not for the Treaty of Antares." Rhade eases further into the small room. Had this Dylan been warned also and failed to pick up on all the dropped hints? Or had his Other not even bothered to hint? The concealed pain gleaming in the depths of those blue eyes make him suspect that this Dylan had trusted too much, too completely. A useful tendancy if he can regain the Captain's trust. Make Dylan want to trust him. "You must believe me, when I say that I never wanted to betray you."

Dylan shakes his head dismissively. "Easy, empty words now, Rhade."

"No, Dylan. I speak the truth."

"How can I believe you?" Dylan clutches his forcelance.

Rhade shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Dylan...Captain..."

Dylan glances at Rhade then begins to fiddle with the straps holding the armor. "So, the treaty was the last straw that goaded the Nietzscheans into revolt? Not likely. Were there none who wanted to remain with the Commonwealth?"

"There were far more of us who were content enough with the Commonwealth than those who whispered of rebellion, but making peace with the Magog...that was the Commonwealth's fatal mistake." Rhade stands, perfectly still, strong hands out and away from his weapons as he watches the Captain closely.

Dylan forces his gaze away from the potent lines of the Nietzschean's powerful body. "No. Trusting Nietzscheans was the Commonwealth’s mistake."

"The so-called 'peace treaty' was a sham, Dylan. Surely you would have seen it." Rhade takes a small step closer. "While the Magog were biding their time and laying plans, the Commonwealth was celebrating the peace of the willfully blind."

"I heard what you said while you were trying to kill me. Every word." Dylan glowers. "You were wrong. Your people were wrong. The Commonwealth fell because of your treachery and it was disaster for everyone."

"There is no way to know if the Commonwealth would have endured another three hundred years, Captain. Empires rise and fall. That is their nature. The Commonwealth was already weak, the fabric of it riddled with decay, or it would not have fallen so easily."

Dylan yanks irritably on the fastenings of his armor. "What do you want, Rhade? Why are you here?"

"I want...I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" Dylan laughs with no trace of amusement. His hands jerk at the fastenings with increasing annoyance. Why are his fingers trembling? Why can't he fasten the damn thing?

"Here, let me help you with that. Hold your arms out." Rhade walks over to the human. His fingers deftly untangle the errant fastening. He pauses, his hands on the breastplate...no, he doesn't want to do this with Dylan armored up. He wants the feel of human's bare skin under his hands. Rhade slips the breastplate off and sets it aside. "There. That should feel better."

"What..." Dylan stammers. What is Rhade doing? Why is the Neitzschean easing off the armor that he'd just put on? He should object. He shouldn't be allowing this to happen, but...how many times had he dreamed of being undressed by Rhade...of being shoved down on his own bed and...Dylan draws in a sharp breath.

Rhade meets the cool gaze of his captain. "Yes, Dylan?"

Dylan sighs. It feels oddly right to simply stand there in silence, allowing Rhade to strip off his armor, to make him vulnerable. Does he want to risk trusting Rhade in this? His body most emphatically wants this. His cock is trembling with want beneath the fabric of his pants. Can he believe the Neitzschean’s words? Words that imply that the attempt on his life was not personal, but political, and that the politics that powered the attempt are turned to dust? And then there is that tacit personal offer on the table as well. He is deeply aware of silent offer of Rhade's nearness and waiting stillness...waiting for him to touch or turn away. Part of him wishes that Rhade would save him from this dilemma of choosing. That Rhade would back him up against the wall and take that choice from him. Dylan licks his lips and looks away. "Rhade..."

"You have a question, Captain?"

"Am...am I your Captain? Do I still have your loyalty?" Dylan's voice is breathless. He steals another sidelong glance at Rhade's aroused body before lifting his gaze to meet the Nietzschean's dark stare.

"I've always been loyal to you." Rhade inhales slowly. The scent of desire is growing stronger and yet there is an underlying nervous excitement tinged with fear. He looks into the slanting blue eyes. What does Dylan want from him? Well, he knows basically what the human wants, but he is beginning to question his assumptions about how the human wants it. The possibilty of being able to assume his preferred role makes his abdomen tense with need.

"If the situation warranted it?"

"Of course." Rhade arches his eyebrow. What else had the human expected? What benefitted his family, his Pride, his people, those things always come first.

Dylan tosses his head, shaking his fawn brown hair out of his eyes. "And now?"

"We are the only two survivors of the original crew. Does that not bind us together?" Rhade asks, lowering his voice to a throaty sensual tone.

"It will take more than that to assure me of your loyalty after...what happened."

"To whom else, what else, would I give my loyalty now? Andromeda says that my Pride is gone. The Commonwealth is gone. The Nietzscheans are scattered and fragmented."

"That's not exactly an affirmation, Gaheris."

Rhade smiles at intimate sound of his first name on the Captain's lips, at the way the the human's voice softens and lingers faintly on the syllables. The Captain that he'd murdered in another time and universe had wanted him, but not so openly or naively. There is a certain refreshing charm in the uncertain, hopeful need smoldering in those beautiful eyes. A certain thrill to being so desired, so needed. The human plainly wants to believe him. "What will it take to convince you?"

Dylan presses his lips together firmly and glances away. "It's not my duty to instruct you in loyalty."

"I realize that, Captain."

How Dylan longs to go back to the way it was before. To look at Rhade, and see his friend and loyal First Officer again, instead of a dangerous predator that might turn on him at any moment. Yet he has always been aware of the predator lurking within his First Officer. Some of the other human Captains who commanded Nietzschean First Officers had been uncomfortable with them, with that sense of something wild and dangerous always watching them with calculating eyes, but he had always found it exciting. What should he do? His command instincts tell him that allowing Rhade to get away with making this offer of submission to him through Andromeda isn't something that he should permit...besides he wants to hear it in Rhade's rough velvet voice, from Rhade's beautifully sculpted lips. He wants to hear Rhade ordering...Dylan shivers as an image of Rhade sternly demanding that he...no, that's not the way it's supposed to go, according to the treatise that Andromeda read. He's supposed to be the one comanding. He knows how to order, how to command. He's been doing it for years, why does he suddenly want to...be different. Confused, Dylan deliberately turns away and begins gathering the supplies he will need for his sortie, dumping them into a small bag. Will Rhade attack him again? He swallows hard at the thought of Rhade pressing him up against the wall and forcing him to..."You know what you need to do."

Rhade is silent for a long moment and when he finally does speak his voice is uncharacteristically hesitant. "There are ways...traditional ways...to bind a Nietzschean to his Captain. Even in the Commonwealth those ways were used between Nietzschean Captains and their Nietzschean crew members."

Dylan turns back, his eyes narrowing at the implications of that quiet statement. The rituals that Andromeda had begun reading to him were not something old and archaic? Not some leftover code of conduct from a more primitive time? "You're saying that there was something extra, something different in the way that Nietzschean Captains and crews interacted in our own time?"

"Yes." Rhade looks directly into the slanting blue eyes. Desire burns there, but desire for what exactly? Dylan's gaze is not meeting his boldly, but almost shyly, sliding aside even as he tries to catch the human's gaze. That unexpected hint of demureness, of shyness combines with human's uncertain body language and the scent of desire to raise his cock high and hard. He is warming to this Dylan in way that he never had with the Dylan of his own universe.

"Tell me."

"For Nietzscheans everything is a sexually charged contest. Sex underlies many of my people's customs and ways. Situations involving power and status are especially charged for us." Rhade stares openly at the lines of Dylan's mouth. He is close enough to kiss, will the human make the attempt?

"And no one ever noticed or reported this extra bit of business going on?"

"No Nietzschean would bring that interaction to the Commonwealth's official attention. Why would they? For us, it is a part of our culture."

Dylan lifts his eyebrows in disbelief. "So a Nietzschean captain had complete control of his officers?"

"Complete control, captain?" Rhade smiles, amusement at the question gleaming in his dark eyes. No Nietzschean captain would expect or want such a uselessly docile crew. That would be so boring for all concerned. The power in such relations could shift either way and a good dominant was alert and responsive to signs of encroachment. But the fact that Dylan asked such a question...the implication that Dylan is so very vanilla...a husky growl escapes Rhade at the thought of introducing Dylan to...a wider experience. "The Captain would simply order whichever crew needed his attention, to attend him on some excursion off the ship."

"What about the A.I.s on all our warships? You can't tell me that they noticed nothing."

Rhade shrugs. Some A.I.'s had been aware. Particularly the ones with majority Nietzschean crews. "A.I.s tend to be pragmatic. They might have been aware but, consider this, no one was protesting and the activities did increase cohesion, performance efficiency and loyalty. All qualities that enhanced the ship’s survival and efficiency."

Dylan stares at the temptation of the Nietzschean's mouth. The part of the treatise that he'd heard so far had been explicit. He is the Captain. If he wants Rhade, he must demand...command. Can he do it? Rap out the order like it is any other normal command? Strange, how hard this is. He's so used to giving orders. Why does the idea seem unsatisfying suddenly? Does he want Rhade to attend not as part of a command, but because the Nietzschean desires him? Yes, he wants proof that Rhade wants him. Proof that Rhade is suggesting this change in thier relationship out of true desire rather than Nietzschean pragmatism or as another way to attempt to regain the Andromeda. He would feel more certain of that, if Rhade wanted him enough to demand the surrender of his body, instead of forcing him to command his First Officer in this. Can they not be Gaheris and Dylan rather than Captain and First Officer? This would be...better if...Dylan shakes his head. He's thinking crazy thoughts. The treatise had said that he must give the orders. "Well, we can't have you operate at less than peak efficiency, can we? Come here."

"Captain." Rhade steps forward, close enough that his chest almost brushes the human's.

"You will service me," Dylan orders softly. He frames Rhade's face with his hands. It's strangely intimate, cupping Rhade’s face between his palms, staring into the midnight eyes, watching as they go soft and slumberous. The golden skin is warm, warmer than a human's would be, and the shaven cheeks rasp against his palms. The thick hair is satin glossy, and equally soft against his fingertips.

"Service you?" Amusement gleams behind the smolder in Rhade's eyes.

"Do you question me, First Officer?" Dylan demands sharply.

"No, Captain." The dark gaze lowers with mock demureness.

"Good." Dylan firms his grip and slowly closes the last few inches, giving himself over to a world of sensation. He hesitates, lingering over the first nanosecond of contact. Those hard-edged lips prove surprisingly soft, yielding territory readily in response to his demand. Dylan groans as his tongue slides over the velvet heat of Rhade's. It's so far beyond what he had imagined...the difference between seeing a flexi picture of a dragonia vine and actually smelling the seductive fragrance. Rhade's hands close over his shoulders, urging him closer. The prick of bone blades against his arms and the latent strenght in those hands are tangible reminder of Rhade's dangerousness, adding more fuel to the heat of his arousal. Ummm. Dylan slowly pulls away from the Nietzschean. Part of him is disappointed that Rhade doesn't resist, doesn't demand that he continue exploring the velvet heat of that mouth. He stares at the curves of Rhade's lips. If the Nietzschean's mouth felt that good under his, what would it feel like when Rhade...Dylan shivers.

"Does that please you, Captain?" Rhade asks huskily. The kiss had been pleasant enough, but he'd been expecting something less tentative and more aggressive. Is it because he's male? Because he's Nietzschean? Or does something else lie behind Dylan's veneer of mastery?

"Hardly." Dylan gasps. "It's going to take a bit more to please me."

"What more does the Captain require?"

"Kneel."

"Yes, Captain." Better. It almost sounds like a geniune order that time. Perhaps a test is in order. Rhade drops to his knees. He leans forward slowly, giving the Captain plenty of time to react, before nuzzling the rigid of cock thrusting eagerly against the human's pants. Dylan's hands tangle in his hair, but only to press him closer. Rhade boldly cups hands over the human's ass and roughly kneads the swells. The Captain's only response is to gasp and squirm under his caress. Dylan doesn't pull away or yank on his hair to jerk him back. The human doesn't punish him for taking liberties. Hmmm. Rhade hides a pleased smile as he continues kneading and nuzzling. A true dominant would have punished him for touching without permission, without waiting for commands. Could it be that Dylan's instincts and needs in this game leaned toward the submissive role? That would be a sweet bonus. "What will you have of me, my Captain?"

Dylan runs his fingers through the glossy black hair as he looks down, watching Rhade rub against him. It feels so good. He can hardly think. If only he could just leave this to Rhade and simply enjoy whatever happened instead of struggling to remember the words of the ritual demand. "First Officer...I demand...Submission...as my right."

"What form of Submission will satisfy, my Captain?"

"I...want to...enjoy your mouth." Dylan shudders as Rhade kisses the line of his erection. He can hardly form coherent thoughts. The nuzzling feels so damn good. "From this moment...until...until I release you, everything that you have...everything that you do...is solely for my pleasure."

"Yes, Captain." The Nietzschean's hands slide around Dylan's waist unfastening his holster and dropping it to the floor. Rhade smiles as Dylan starts nervously at the soft thud as his holster lands next to his foot. Rhade carefully unfastens Dylan's pants and frees the hard cock.

"What are you doing?" Dylan breathes in sharply as his pants are roughly yanked lower. He's never felt so bare...so exposed in his life. He shifts his weight nervously under the Nietzschean's intent stare.

"Servicing you, my Captain," Rhade murmurs reassuringly in response. He blows his breathe softly against the rosy cock, smiling at the way it bobs in reaction to the airy caress. For the moment, he will play his assigned role until he is sure that his growing suspicions are correct. Then things will be different. Very different. Rhade slants a glance upward and boldly tugs Dylan's pants down around the human's knees. Hmmm...interesting. His boldness is drawing no rebuke. "May this Submission be found worthy."

"Begin." Dylan gasps at the rasping sensation of Rhade's shaven cheeks as the Nietzschean lightly nuzzles the delicate skin of his cock and balls, before soothing the rasp away with soft, damp kisses and teasing flicks of velvet tongue. "More." Dylan groans as the heat of Rhade's mouth covers his cock. His hands tighten demandingly, roughly over his First Officer's head. He looks down, watching in fascination as Rhade labors over him. Watching as the strong hands caress his cock and balls. Watching as those sculpted lips slide up and down the glistening red length of his cock...faster, faster...harder, harder as he thrusts into the demanding pull of Rhade's mouth. Dylan throws his head back as the sensation overhelms him and he yields to that demand, spilling himself into the wet warmth of his First Officer's mouth. "Ahhhh...Gaheris!"

"Is the Captain pleased with my Submission?" Rhade looks up, studying Dylan's flushed face.

"Umm, yeah." Dylan sways, dazed with the force of his climax. He'd never cum so hard in his life. That had been...nothing had ever felt as good as Rhade's mouth on him. He's supposed to say something...how did it go? His brains are so scrambled right now. His hands flex on Rhade’s head, gloating over the feel of that thick satiny hair against his palms. His hips arch as the Nietzschean's warm hands curve over his bare ass. Dylan bites his lower lip to hold back a shocked groan as Rhade's fingers glide down his cleft teasing the tight furl. He opens himself willingly to Rhade's probing fingers, pushing back into the touch. So good...so good. He can't think. Words...what are the words? What's he supposed to say? "Everything that is yours, is mine now. To demand whenever I will it. You are mine to use as I will."

Rhade's lips curve into a slow, feline smile. So, the Captain would enjoy a little assplay as well, would he? Good. He rises up suddenly and shoves the human back against the wall. "No...Dylan."

"No? How...how...dare you!" Dylan presses back, feeling the coolness of metal against his ass and thighs. What is Rhade going to do? He's in no position to fight with his legs hobbled by his trousers tangled around his boots. No. If Rhade wanted to kill him, the Neitzschean had a perfect opportunity only a few seconds ago. This is something else then. Where is Rhade going with this? He cannot stop his hips from tilting pleadingly into the Neitzschean's. There's something so exciting about the feel of Rhade's clothed body brushing against his bare thighs...the hard gripe of strong hands on his biceps.

"I said 'no'." Rhade growls while giving Dylan a little shake. "You may be my Captain, but in this, you are mine to command. Mine to use as I will."

"What?" Dylan can feel the sealed covers of the weapon-filled niches biting into his back. He has an array of weapons within easy reach, but his palms merely flatten against the smooth covers as he stares into the smoldering darkness of Rhade's eyes. "What are you..."

"This is mine to command." Rhade curls his hands over the human's red cock, feeling it stir and rise against his palm. He slides his hands around to seize the human's ass in a hard grip. "This is mine to command. Your body is mine to claim, to take...to fuck when I will and in whatever way I will."

"No," Dylan protests. No. Please, no. He doesn't want to hear the next sentance, the one that will demand his ship. He doesn't want to fight Rhade again. Watch blood stain the beautiful, honey skin again. It will be twice as hard to steel himself to harm Gaheris now. Twice as hard to lose the Nietzschean. But he will not yield his ship, his command. Rhade will have to kill him to gain that. He stares back into the dark eyes, trying to conceal the depth of his disappointment. "Andromeda is mine. I will never give her up. Not for anything."

"Did I say anything about the ship? Did I demand control of the ship?" Rhade smacks the human's white flanks hard. Too bad they are too close right now for him to enjoy the sight of Dylan's skin flushing red with the imprint of his hands. A pleasure for another time and a pleasure that will be tripled by the knowledge that Andromeda will be helplessly watching as her Captain writhes in delight under his hands.

"No." Dylan gasps as the Nietzschean's hands curve firmly around his ass.

Rhade leans close and snarls against Dylan's lips. "You. Are. Mine. I demand Submission."

Dylan shivers at the feel of the Rhade's fingers gliding up and down his cleft. The slow, maddening stroking makes him want something more. His head falls back against the wall. "I...Gaheris...I..."

"Give me the words, Dylan," Rhade demands sternly.

"What...what form of Submission will satisfy?"

“I will have your ass.” Rhade steps back, releasing the human.

"My...my...ass?" Dylan shudders with longing at thought of Gaheris taking him like that. He's never wanted anything like that before, but now, remembering the way that the Nietzschean's fingers had felt, tenderly probing him, he yearns for it. But he fears it too. "I've never..."

"Are you questioning me, Dylan?"

"No." Dylan swiftly lowers his gaze. He hadn't expected Rhade to demand that right off. He'd expected to be told to take the Nietzschean's cock in his mouth. Had been looking forward to being allowed to taste Gaheris that way. "I was only..."

Rhade leans forward and licks the line of Dylan's throat, pausing for a sharp nip to the human's earlobe. He pulls back as the human tentatively reaches for him and growls menacingly. "Turn. Around."

Dylan's eyes widen. Fear and anticipation tingle down his spine as he turns slowly to face the wall. He moans as Rhade's warm hands cup his ass roughly.

"Good boy. Now lean against the wall."

Dylan leans forward, flattening his hands against the weapons lockers. His cock quivers and rises higher as Rhade steps close behind him, spreading his cheeks wide. The blunt tip of Rhade's cock is slick and wet against him, pressing him slowly open. The hard relentless push inside makes him wiggle, needing more. Ahhhh. It feels so right to be filled like this. To have Rhade sliding deep and hard inside with a pressure that staggers between pain and pleasure. Dylan groans loudly as he feels the soft brush of Rhade's hair against his ass and the brush of the Nietzschean's heavy balls against his. "Ahhhh, Gaheris, please."

"Exactly so, Dylan. When I please. As I please. How I please." Rhade growls as he grips the human's ass tighter and firmly pulls Dylan into him. One day soon, he will enjoy spanking Dylan's white ass until it glows a warm, rosy red shade that matches that of the human's cock. For now he will enjoy plundering the Captain's virginal ass. Rhade jerks his hips forward so that every last inch of his cock is buried in Dylan's trembling ass. He turns his head as the ship's hologram image blinks into existance next to him. Holding her shocked stare, Rhade slides slowly in and out of his Captain's ass. "Do you like this, Dylan?"

"Yessss. Oh, please. It feels soo...so...ahhh. More, Gaheris. I want more."

Rhade smiles triumphantly at Andromeda as he shoves Dylan's sweater up, baring the human's back. He leans forward to kiss the human's shoulders. "Do you want me to stop, Captain?"

"No." Dylan groans. "No, don't stop...don't stop."

Ummm. The human is so wonderfully tight. Rhade growls with pleasure at the tightness and the way that Dylan moves to meet his every thrust. Now to add just a little extra thrill, to make certain that he has the Captain throughly appreciative of the pleasures that he can provide, Rhade begins thrusting as deeply as he can, angling so that his cock presses firmly over the human's sweet spot with each pass.

Dylan cries out, squirming desperately against him. "Oh, god! Rhade!"

"Did I hurt you, little one?" Rhade purrs as he holds Andromeda's stunned gaze. He laughs breathlessly as Andromeda's stare goes to her Captain's flushed face and writhing body. As long as it is clear that Dylan wants to submit like this to him, chooses to submit to him, she will do nothing. He rubs his cheek against the human's sweat slick back, watching Andromeda as she waits for her Captain's response. "Answer me, Dylan!"

"I'm okay. So good...so GOOD! I want this. I need this."

Rhade pounds harder into the willing ass of his Captain as he watches Andromeda watch him. He slaps the human's flanks sharply. "Enough to beg me for it?"

"Yes! Oh, yess." Dylan bucks back wildly. "I've never felt anything like this. Please, Gaheris. Please. Please, fuck me."

"It will be my pleasure, Dylan." Rhade laughs as the hologram winks out abruptly.

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"Great. Not just another Nietzschean, but a Nietzschean with a chip on his shoulder." Harper pitches his voice deliberately loud, watching in amusement as the heavy muscles of Tyr's shoulders tighten and bone blades flutter. Ah-ha, looks like somebody is feeling as deprived as he is. He's been happily teasing Tyr ever since the Nietzschean stalked on the Command Deck. It's been fun, admiring and teasing his lover under the unknowing gaze of the others. And to add the pleasure, the thrill of wondering what Tyr will do to him when the Nietzschean finally gets him alone. Harper grins and wriggles back under the panel that he is working on.

Rev stares at Tyr. He seems transfixed by the Nietzschean. His nose flares damply as he inhales deeply. "Another of the universe's little jokes at our expense."

Hmmmm. Harper glances over his shoulder at the Magog. He doesn't like the way that Rev is reacting to Tyr. It's unnerving the way that Rev keeps staring, in such an openly savoring way, at Tyr. Like Beka opening a box of gourmet chocolates and inhaling the scent, her face filled with bliss. Harper coughs as Rev moves to crouch next to him. Oh, man. The smell. What is going on with that? He didn't remember Rev smelling so awful on other missions. Nobody up here now, but him, Tyr and Rev. If he can just get rid of Rev...He has the slipstream drive fixed and the Maru's already pushed the Andromeda far enough away from the event horizon that they are in no danger of slipping back in. No reason for a hard-working engineer not to take a well deserved break. Harper makes a show of fumbling with his tool belt. He sighs loudly and looks hopefully the Magog. "Damn it. Rev, I left my jack back in engineering. Would you mind grabbing it for me? I can keep working here but I'm gonna need the jack in a bit."

"Harper," Rev throws a suspicious look over his shoulder at the Nietzschean on the other side of the room, "I do not think that I should leave you alone right now."

"I'm good, Rev." Harper smiles and pats the gun holstered against his thigh. His jack is safely coiled in the pocket right under the gun. With any luck, it will take Rev quite awhile to find one of his extra jacks. Especially since none of them were in engineering.

"Very well, Harper. I will be back soon. Very soon." Rev directs a hard stare at Tyr's broad back before walking out of the room.

"Tyr..." Harper stands up, opening his mouth to ask about his lover's game plan with Gerentex only to find himself plastered up against the wall with the heat of Tyr’s mouth covering his. Ummmm. Oh, yes. Harper opens his mouth wider, welcoming the velvet slide of the Nietzschean's tongue. He curls his tongue into his lover's mouth, revealing in the taste and feel as he wraps his arms around his lover's throat, pulling Tyr closer. It's been so long. This feels too good. Questions can wait.

Tyr finally lifts his head to stare down at his small lover. With each mission that he's accepted, he's missed Harper more. He buries his face against the human's pale throat. His Harper smells so good, feels so good. The scent of his lover's desire perfuming the deck had almost had him losing control. It won't be long now before Harper becomes his permanently. "Enough talk, Little Man."

"Talking?" Harper gasps. "Who's talking? I'm not talking." Harper wraps his legs around his lover's narrow waist. His hands roam greedily over the plush skin. He suddenly cannot get enough of the way Tyr feels, tastes or smells. Hmmmmm, Harper hums happily as Tyr presses closer, harder into him. His whole body clenches with need as hot velvet lips slide down his throat to nibble at his dataport.

"I have missed you, Harper. I want you." Tyr growls hoarsely.

"Oh, yeah?" Harper shudders at the sensation, arching his throat. "Kinda noticed that." Tyr knows what that does to him. How many times had Tyr made him cum just by playing with his dataport? His hands fist in the softness of the long braids, urging Tyr on. "You feel so good. Missed you, too."

"That hideous creature will be back soon." Tyr pushes Harper higher up the wall, roughly shoves the white tee shirt up. The pale silken skin feels so good under his hands. He greedily presses his mouth to pale peach nipples.

"We have time..." Harper gasps, his body arching in delight as Tyr begins kissing and nuzzling his chest. Oh, yeah. Oh, yes. More. More. His legs tighten demandingly around Tyr, pressing his aching cock against his lover's torso in silent demand. Much more.

"Not enough." Tyr murmurs between kisses. "Not nearly enough."

"I guess we'll have to make the most of it, huh?" Harper grins.

"Indeed." Tyr moans. "That...beast...sickens...me."

"Rev?" Why are they talking about Rev right now? Harper strokes his hands over the heavy shoulder muscles. He wants to feel skin, not metal under his palms.

"I do not like you working with it, or being alone with it. I do not like its stench touching you." Tyr rubs his bearded chin over tight peach nipples, smiling as his lover deliciously squirms against him. His big hands slide down to clench around the tempting curves of his lover's ass. He knows that Harper is used to being around Rev after so many runs together, but now Harper is in more danger than ever from the creature. How to tell Harper that now that the human is changing that he will be even more tempting to Magog senses?

"His stench?" Harper stares down into the amber eyes. He'd never been entirely at ease with Rev, but he'd never really had much trouble with Rev either...until this last run. He had to admit that Rev had been strange this time out. He'd never noticed the way Rev smelled either until today either. "Rev smells really bad to you?"

"Does he not to you?" Tyr raises a sardonic eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah." But who cares right now? Harper slides back down and presses his face against the warmth of Tyr's throat, into the wonderful sandalwood smell. He presses closer, rubbing his cheeks against Tyr's skin. Oh, man, did Tyr smell delicious. "But you...you smell good enough to eat." Harper licks the line of Tyr's throat, winning a contented growl from his lover. Tyr smells...so intensely, deliciously Tyr-like. He'd always liked the way Tyr smelled but now, it's so much richer, deeper...more. Tyr's rough growls vibrate luxuriously against his dataport, making him squirm needily against the hard heat of his lover's body. He's got to have Tyr. Now. He can't wait another second. Harper grabs the hem of the chainmail vest and shoves it up. "This off, now. I want to feel your skin."

"You want to eat me, Little Professor?" Tyr grins as he pulls his vest off and tosses it carelessly away. He wants to feel Harper's cool skin against him. He grabs Harper's white tee shirt and rips it open. His hands spread possessively over the contours of the pale chest.

"Oh, yeah." Harper rubs his face against the plush dark skin. He licks the dusky nipples into tight beads and begins kissing his way lower. He eases to his knees and unfastens the flap on his lover's black leather pants, carefully freeing Tyr's swollen cock. "And I know just where I wanna start." Harper leans forward, nuzzling the soft, black curls.The luscious scent is stronger here. He's gotta have a taste. He loves everything that they've done together, but this is what he loves best...the plush roundness of the head against his tongue. The way the thick cock slides between his lips. The way it quivers and throbs as he licks and sucks. The lush feel of the heavy balls cradled in his hand. He has to have this.

"Harper...yesss." Tyr growls as his hips arch into the pull of his lover's gifted mouth. The cool dampness surrounding the throbbing heat of his cock is irresistible. No one has ever given him such intense pleasure. He'd known that too much of this might make Harper change, but from the first time, he hadn't been able to deny himself the pleasure of Harper's mouth. He'd known that the more often he allowed Harper to claimed him this way, the greater the chance of change. The longer that he'd known Harper, the more he wanted the change. Harper must become Kodiak if the human to be his mate. His hands clench on the human's muscular shoulders as the delicious pull increases. "Harper...Harper...Harper." Tyr moans , trying to hold back and draw out the sweet delight of his lover's caress, but he can't resist Harper's wiles. Hasn't been able to since he first took the human to his bed. Tyr thrusts one last time and yields, spilling his release into the human's ardent mouth.

Ummmmm. Harper reluctantly allows the Nietzschean's dusky cock to slide free. He polishes it with soft, slow licks, drinking in every lingering taste of his lover. Good. So good. He nuzzles the soft cloud of dark curls, breathing in the intensely enticing Tyr smell. His hands close over the sumptious swell of Tyr's ass. He dusts an affectionate kiss on the head of his lover's cock and gently eases it back beneath the leather flap and laces the leather pants back up. "You like, babe?"

"Yes." Tyr sighs. "Oh, yes."

Harper bounces lightly to his feet, grinning at the dazed expression on his lover's dark face. The Harper is very good. He loves seeing that look on Tyr's face and knowing that he put it there. "This has been one weird trip, Tyr."

"Weird? What do you mean?" Tyr nuzzles his mate, savoring the intoxicating scent.

"I know I've told you a lot about what happens with the Maru, but..."

Tyr pulls back, looking at his mate in concern. Just how troublesome has the Magog been on this trip? The creature will have been drawn by the changes in his Harper's scent. He would have never permitted his mate to leave for this trip if he'd suspected that Harper was so close to a full and complete change. It is far too dangerous for Harper to be around a Magog at this time. "But?"

"I don't know. Weird stuff." Harper shrugs with false indifferance. He can't help, but remember several mortifying occasions when he'd had to beg off a much anticipated romantic encounter because he'd come back with some weird bug or other. How amazed he'd been when Tyr showed up anyway and insisted on taking care of him. He'd never guessed or expected that an Uber mercenary could be so tender and gentle. "I guess I need to get Trance to check me over real good. Assuming I can get a straight answer out of her."

"What do you mean?" Tyr asks cautiously.

"My arms have been itching like crazy since last night and today, I suddenly began smelling stuff."

"Smelling what?"

"That's just it, Tyr." Harper pulls off the tattered remains of his white tee and tosses it on the floor. "I smell everything."

"Perhaps we can talk more about this later." Tyr leans down, kissing his mate slowly and deeply. "When we are alone and in bed."

"That sounds promising." Harper smiles slyly as he slides his hands over his chest and down to his waist to unwrap the sleeves of his jumpsuit. He fingers the zipper, teasingly inching it lower to reveal the edge of his burgundy boxers. It always thrills him that no matter how many times he has stripped for Tyr, the Nietzschean always watches with such intensity...as if each time he is about to unveil some new erotic mystery. "Are you sure you want to wait until later, Big guy?"

"Can you describe the scents...smells?" Tyr asks, forcing his gaze away from the slow baring of his lover's stomach. He'd known as soon at he'd seen Harper and breathed in the engineer's altered scent, that finally he could claim Harper as his mate. It had taken all his discipline to keep his joy off his face in front of the others. How far has the change gone? How far will it go? So few humans had been given this opportunity that there was little data for him to predict the effects. Some had eventually become fully Neitzschean while others lingered in a halfway state and for some, the changes had only been inward. Tyr smiles as he looks deep into the beautiful blue eyes. Already the look there is sharper, and more predatory. More like the gleam that he sees in his own mirror. His mate’s scent has always enticed him, but now Harper’s scent is deeply alluring and completely irresistable. Harper smells of home, of Kodiak.

"Okay...alright." Harper gazes up at his lover. "Rev suddenly began smelling really disgusting. But Beka smells nice, like green apples. It's weird, you know? Beka doesn't wear perfumes and stuff so why would she suddenly start smelling different?"

"And me?" The amber eyes are wide and curious. "What do I smell like to you?"

"You smell like sandalwood." Harper laughs as Tyr's big hands close over him, pulling him gently down to the deck. He grins as the Nietzschean settles between his spread thighs. He lifts his hips as Tyr eases his boxers down. For now, he will seize what pleasure he can steal during Rev's absence, but later...oh, yeah...all those empty beds in all those crew quarters...it'd be a shame to let one of those go to waste.

"My scent pleases you?" Tyr kisses the quivering tip of his mate's rosy cock. Ummm.

"Oh, yeah." Harper gasps as Tyr licks his cock. His hips lift, pleading for more. "You smell delectable."

"Good." Tyr greedily closing his mouth around his mate's cock. He wants to taste the joy of his mate's pleasure. To hear Harper's cries and pleas. To feel his mate writhing with want beneath him.

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"You left Harper alone with that Uber thug?" Beka glares at Rev Bem. She grabs the dangling jack from his claws. "Our Harper? Geeze, Rev!"

Rev straightens his orange Wayist cape with dignity. "Harper is armed, Beka. He may be small, but he is not incompetent with weapons."

"That's not what I'm worried about. Sure, he can defend himself if he has to, but he has all the common sense of one of Trance's plants." Beka pockets the jack. Only Rev's Divine knew what fresh mischief an armed and mouthy Harper might be getting into on the Command Deck. Just what she needs. Another problem. As if she doesn't have enough with her idiot employer and his hired thugs, and the Commonwealth clowns. "Have you forgotten what happened on Sapphire Drift?"

Rev redirects his gaze to the floor. His ears droop slightly. "Oh, yes. That was most...unfortunate."

"Ya think." Beka sighs. To be fair, Rev hadn't known Harper long enough at that point to know exactly how mouthy Harper could and would get around Nietzscheans. Personally she'd always suspected that the mouth was a result of having to squelch so much of himself to survive on Earth. Allowing Harper to go unsupervised around Niets was just asking for trouble and Rev should definitely know that by now.

"Perhaps he won't say anything..."

"Rev, this is Harper we're talking about. I hope there's enough of him left to get to Medical."

Rev flexes his claws and takes a step down the corridor. "You stay here. I'll go back."

Beka shakes her head. "Go keep an eye on Trance. I'll check on Harper."

She runs lithely up the corridor as Rev turns away to head down another one. What is she going to do? This whole damn job seems to be spiraling out of control. She'd suspected that Gerentex's cargo contained hired muscle, but a Nietzschean warrior? That had been an unnerving surprise. Gerentex must have even more of a bankroll than she'd thought to be able to afford a Nietzschean mercenary with the kind of experience that Rev had told her that Tyr had. And Nietzscheans were only slightly fonder of Nightsiders than they were of Magog, so Gerentex had to be paying some serious thron for Tyr's services. She skids to a halt as she spots one of the mercenaries sprawled in the corridor. He lies on his face, a pool of blood spreading rapidly beneath him. Rhade is crouched over the man, his extended bone blades bright crimson with fresh blood. Oh, shit. Beka back pedals, grabbing for her gun. Her weapon comes up at the same time as his force lance does.

"Captain Valentine." Rhade's voice is calm. The dark eyes regard her with mild interest. "It's good to see you again."

"Is it?" Beka matches the Nietzschean's tone.

"Yes. You appear to be in a bit of a hurry. Going anyplace in particular, or were you looking for me?"

"Bit of exploring actually." Beka calms her breathing. Does she want to shoot him? The Commonwealth officer is all armored up. Her targets are limited if she doesn't want to kill him with a headshot. Hard to strike a deal with a dead guy, and the way things were going, she might need to make a deal with the High Guard team.

"Ah. I see."

"You've been busy." Beka nods in the direction of the dead man.

"Just tying up a few loose ends." Rhade arches an inquiring eyebrow as notes of fear infuse Beka's scent, but there is no trace of it in her face or attitude. He might as well take the opportunity to let her know that he willing to negotiate with her. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"Uh huh. You seem better than the last time I saw you."

"Much. Thank you for asking." Rhade stares thoughtfully at her. Beka seems distracted and not merely by him although he had initially alarmed her. He breathes in, sorting out the cues of scent. The notes of fear are fading while the notes of desire are rising as she stares at him. That is hardly surprising since he is Alpha. The fear is nothing unexpected either in the circumstances. She would be a fool not to fear him. But she smells most strongly of anger. Why? Has something happened recently to tip the balance of alliances among the intruders? "And where will your exploration take you, Captain?"

"Here. There." Beka shrugs. Her finger eases slightly on the trigger. "Wherever. Just getting the lay of the ship."

"Indeed." Rhade slowly lowers his force lance and tucks it back in the holster. A risky move given that her reflexes are almost as quick as his, but her scent cues indicate that the chances of her attacking now him are small. He layers his smile with invitation and sensuality. "When we have time I would enjoy giving you a tour."

"I'm not busy." Oh, my. Very nice smile, but she's been around long enough to know that the sexy First Officer could smile just as wide and warm while stabbing her in the back if it suited his needs. Okay, she'll play along. No hardship there. Beka lowers her weapon and flashes a flirtatious smile at him. "How about right now?"

"Your schedule is flexible? I thought you were out exploring."

Beka relaxes her stance. She glances at Rhade from under her lashes and lowers her voice to sensual tones, "I've always found that being flexible pays off."

"Your invitation is tempting, Captain Valentine, however, I have other more pressing business." Rhade leans forward and removes the merc's transmitter. He crumples it in his hand.

Far be it from her to tell the man his business but...Beka raises her eyebrows. "Shouldn't you have kept that?"

"Why?"

Her eyes narrow at the expectant way that he is watching her. Is he testing her? "Gosh, I don't know. Maybe something useful like listening in on their orders."

"No need." Rhade slants her a sidelong look. "Andromeda can hear what they are saying."

Beka fingers the transmitter curled around her own ear. He's telling her that she can communicate with him through her transmitter and the ship. Oh, yeah. A smile tugs at her mouth. The Commonwealth team wants to deal. Good. "I assume you located your missing Captain?"

"Yes."

"When can I talk to him?"

"He's busy. He's doing a bit of...housekeeping." Rhade casually rips the dead mercenary's shirt off and begins cleaning his bone blades. He seems to be giving the task his full attention.

"Oh. Tying a few loose ends, is he?" Beka asks. She strokes a hand down her hip as she stares at the hard length of the extended bone blades and Rhade’s hand stroking the fabric over them. What would they feel like? Is it true what they say about the size of a Nietzschean's bone blades?

"I can't say."

Beka taps her boot against the floor. Pushing to contact the Commonwealth Captain is exactly the wrong move. It will signal exactly how badly she needs to deal, but she doesn't have the time to spare. Not with Gerentex and his cronies plotting against her as well. She stills her foot as the Nietzschean’s speculative gaze lowers to her boots. "So, when can I talk to your boss?"

Rhade tosses aside the remains of the stained shirt. He tilts his head, considering his extended bone blades with an idle air, as if making sure that he hadn't missed any spots is the most important thing on his agenda. "I may be able to arrange a meeting, if it is worth the effort."

"I assure you, it is worth the effort."

"For whom?" Rhade gives her an amused look.

Fine. She might as well admit that this is a time-limited deal. Beka shrugs. "Depends on how soon I get to meet him."

"Why should the captain want to speak with you at all?"

"Oh, I think that your Captain will find that a little conversation can be amazingly conducive to clearing up any minor misunderstandings."

"Are you speaking for the Nightsider?" Rhade stands up. "Or for yourself?"

Beka taps her fingers against her gun butt. The Nietzschean does not seem to be terribly interested in her suggestion. On the other hand, he hadn't tried to kill her either so he must be willing to deal. "I speak for myself and my crew."

"Bargaining?"

"Negotiating."

"Negotiating, then." Rhade smiles as he takes a step toward her. "Very well. Tell me, what do you want?"

"My crew's safety. My ship's safety. And freedom to leave in peace."

"Why, Captain Valentine, I do believe you've changed your tune." Rhade takes another step toward her, his gaze intent. "Earlier, you insisted that the Andromeda was yours to salvage."

Beka offers a sunny smile as her palm tightens around the butt of her gun. She can't allow Rhade too close. With her enhanced genes, she can come close to matching his reflexes, but not his strength. "Like I said, I'm flexible."

Rhades eyes her with a considering air for a long moment. "How...flexible...are you willing to be, Captain? How far will you go against your employer's interests?"

"He's no longer my employer." Her deal with Gerentex was done when she overheard the furry bastard and his little band of Nightsiders calmly discussing the best way of murdering her and her crew, and which order they should be killed in. She is first on the list. Her first move must be to establish good relations with the High Guard duo and get a guarantee of safe passage for her crew and ship. Then, she will take care of Gerentex. She isn't sure how, but she'll find an opportunity to make things go her way.

"No? Prove it."

"Prove it?" Sheessh. Nietzscheans can be such a pain to deal with. Too bad, she hadn't run into the Captain instead. Beka gives the First Officer an exasperated look. "I'm here talking to you, aren't I?"

"Words are easily spoken and easier to retract." Rhade waves a hand dismissively. "Show me an act of good faith, and maybe then I'll arrange a meeting with you and the Captain."

Beka sighs loudly. "I assume you have something specific in mind?"

"Blow the mercenaries' weapons cache."

"What?" Beka stares at him. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"You're a resourceful woman." Rhade casually turns away, walking down a branching corridor. "A pleasure speaking with you, Captain."

Ohhhhh. Nietzscheans. Rhade just had to set a little loyalty test for her. Bastard. Oh. Shit. Nietzscheans. Harper has been on Command Deck with that Nietzschean thug all this time. Beka races down the corridor and all the way to Command Deck level. She stops outside the door to take a deep breath and put up a facade of calm. She might walk in and find Harper being strangled by an infuriated mercenary or she might find him working and the Uber thug skulking about, reading the console panels. She sets a casual hand near her gun and steps onto Command Deck. She slips and glances down to see a shredded white tee shirt under the toe of her boots. She draws her gauss gun and looks up to see Tyr kneeling over her engineer, his gun aimed steadily at her. Harper lies sprawled on his back with his jumpsuit and boxers pushed down, revealing way more of him than she'd ever wanted to see.

Beka glares fiercely at the Nietzschean. "What have you done to him?"

The Nietzschean doesn't move or speak. His smoldering eyes glitter with annoyance as he stares at her as if considering exactly where he wants to shoot her first.

"Beka..." Harper hastily tugs up his boxers and jumpsuit. He wiggles into the sleeves, brushing against the Nietzschean's leather clad thighs as he squirms about. The Uber thug growls roughly in response.

Beka risks a step closer. "Harper, get away from him."

"It's not what you think, Beka." Harper zips ups his jumpsuit and curls closer to the big Nietzschean.

"What do you mean it's not what I think?" Beka demands sharply. "He's all over you."

"Yeah...well..." Harper looks up at the mercenary with languorous eyes. His hands settle possessively over the hard thighs bracketing him.

"What is going on, Harper...you look like..." Beka's glare fades as she looks more closely the scene. Harper's lips are swollen and there is a passion mark next to his dataport and another just under his jaw. She'd spotted beard burn on the pale skin of throat and chest and stomach before Harper had closed his jumpsuit. The blue eyes have the dazzled glow of someone who has just had a really, really good orgasm. Whatever had happened here had clearly been voluntary on her engineer's part.

Harper turns his head and gives her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Boss. You startled us."

"I startled you?" Beka snorts as she holsters her weapon. Apparently her engineer doesn't need to rescued. Harper still has a weapon but the gun is holstered. No sign that he’d made a grab for it or resisted the big Nietzschean who is curling one arm around her engineer, pulling Harper up to lean against his side. Her assessing gaze drifts over the hot amber eyes, the passion mark, half-hidden by the long hair and the hard bulge filling the front of the black leather pants. Tyr was clearly not satisfied while Harper had the languid air that came with good sex. If Tyr had taken care of his partner first and Harper is doing everything but purring with contentment...hmmm. "Geeze, Harper...tell me you weren't just...geeze!"

"Well, I..." Harper sits up with a soft, satisfied sigh. "I'm fine, Boss."

"Yeah. I can see that."

"It's okay, Tyr. She's okay." Harper turns his head, meeting Beka's gaze. "And I'm fine, Beka. Really."

"Very well." Tyr lowers his gun and gets to his feet, pulling Harper up along with him.

Her engineer and a Nietzschean? She'd known that Harper was equally happy with a male or female partner, but a Nietzschean? And in, just the short time the two had been on the Command Deck alone? Talk about fast work...or is it? Beka looks at Harper in sudden speculation. "You've got some explaining to do, Harper."

Harper glances at Tyr, then Beka. "About what?"

For such a talkative man, Harper was actually very discreet about the things that really mattered to him. His other affairs had been strictly casual and he'd been equally casual in talking about them. But, this last one...Harper didn't discuss at all. She knew he had a steady relationship with some guy, but none of the crew had ever met this mystery lover, or even heard the guy's name. Harper seemed to drive lovers away as fast as he attracted them, yet this latest one had been with Harper for over a year. Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. Harper didn't cook, but over the past year he’d taken to buying unusual spices, and gourmet condiments, and cooking flexis when they went on a run. And the mystery lover did seem to travel a great deal...just like a mercenary would.

"Well, for one thing I thought you were supposed to be making repairs. Repairs crucial to our getting out of here fast." Beka frowns sternly at her engineer. "Not seducing mercenaries."

"The repairs are up here are finished, Boss." Harper rubs his cheek against a Tyr's bicep. He playfully nips the hard curve of muscle as he slants the Nietzschean a look full of promise. "At least the crucial ones are."

"Then I suggest you get busy on the crucial repairs needed elsewhere," Beka snaps. Why hadn't Harper told her about this when Tyr first appeared?

"I'll get right on it, Beka." Harper walks by Beka with a yearning glance over his shoulder at the big Nietzschean.

"We're still going to have that talk, Harper." Beka frowns at him.

"Yeah, sure, Boss." Harper snags his tool belt and hurries out. Beka turns back to the Nietzschean with a sharp smile. She knew she'd find a way to take care of Gerentex. This is perfect and has the added benefit of offering no risk to her crew or ship. A Nietzschean mercenary could be useful to have on her side. If Tyr is who she thinks he is, he will not be happy about Gerentex's plan to murder Harper. No need to mention that Harper is last, not first on the Nightsider's list. And no time like the present to spread some dissent. Beka meets the cool amber stare. "So...I don't suppose you have a hobby by any chance, Anasazi...say gourmet cooking?"
TBC