Second Chances

AN: This is the final chapter in this story.

Summary: Harper and His Mate come to an understanding. A certain Captain realizes that his First Officer is quite 'commanding'.

"Damn it, Rhade." Dylan frowns disapprovingly. His pale brown hair falls into his eyes as he watches his First Officer easily carrying the corpse of one of the mercenaries. The warmth of the mercenary slung over his own shoulders is reassuring, comfirming that the man is still alive and well. How could Rhade be so casual about killing? They had been having variations of this discussion since they first meet as "Mr. March" and "Mr. April". The fact that Admiral Stark had openly approved of Rhade's decision to murder the dictator of Mobius had only given more positive reinforcement to the Neitzschean's predatory essence. "I wanted you to capture them...not kill them."

Rhade lifts a questioning eyebrow. Leave proven enemies alive and well to create fresh problems? "Why?"

"Why?" Dylan laughs with disbelief. "Why, Rhade? I can't believe you even asked."

"Please clarify your reason for me, Captain."

"We could have gotten useful information from them. Surely you see the logic in that."

Rhade smiles with satisfaction as he jettisons the corpse. There. That makes one human mercenary and two less Nightsiders to deal with. "I...respectfully...disagree, Captain."

"Give me a reason, Gaheris..." Dylan sighs. "Give me one good reason why we have to kill them."

"Simple. Our numbers are limited, we cannot afford to leave live enemies at our backs."

"So, we just murder them. Is that it? We can dispose of them with no harm to them or us." Dylan dumps a tall, heavily muscled human into a suspension capsule. He straightens with a soft groan.

"It's not murder, Captain. It's war." So the Captain is still feeling the effects of their earlier encounter. Rhade smiles at the idea of Dylan running, fighting, and plotting with the human's ass aching all the while in reminder of his possession of it. His cock stirs and rises at the memory of sinking deep in Dylan while Andromeda watched with shocked eyes. And since Dylan would hardly be so foolish to trust him so quickly, she will probably continue to watch them for some time. Well enough. It adds a certain something to know that Andromeda is watching him fuck her Captain. Rhade walks over and peers into the next capsule. Ah, the cyborg. The enemy’s numbers are diminishing nicely. If they make an alliance with Captain Valentine then the numbers will favor their side. That possibility should be enough to distract Dylan from lecturing him on the virtues of mercy. "Captain Valentine is interested in joining our side."

Dylan snaps the capsule closed. His pale eyes brighten with interest as he turns to look at Rhade. "She is?"

"The change may prove temporary, but she seems ready to abandon the Nightsider." Rhade adjusts his breastplate with a soft, pained hiss. The constant rub over his wound is most annoying, but he is not one to abandon any advantage in a fight.

"Rhade. What is it?" Dylan glances at his First Officer.

"It's...nothing." Rhade allows a note of pain into his voice. So, Dylan already seeks an excuse to touch him again. That's promising. He'll permit it this time, but only because it pleases him to have Dylan's hands on him. And these things can't be rushed...with so tender a virgin as his Captain is, he will have to go slowly in teaching Dylan to fully embrace the human's submissive instincts.

"You're still in pain?" Dylan walks toward the Nietzschean.

"Yes." Rhade allows his voice to drop into husky, sensual tones. "Do not concern yourself, Captain."

"Take this stuff off, Rhade, and rest." Dylan begins unfastening the Nietzschean's armor.

Rhade stands still, neither hindering or helping as Dylan eases his armor off. He sighs with relief as the breastplate is removed. Much better. He feels almost content now. This desire of Dylan's to attend him is very promising. Worthy of reward and encouragement. He strokes back the fawn pale hair as Dylan continues unfastening the rest. "I can manage."

"No. Let me help," Dylan tilts his head into the warmth of Rhade's caressing hand before reluctantly turning away from the touch to prop Rhade's armor against the wall. He straightens, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he begins removing his own. His gaze slides with hunger over the powerful lines of his First Officer's body. Even wounded and tired, Rhade still looks dangerous. Dylan glances shyly at the half-erect blades on Rhade's forearms. Can he touch them? Since hearing what the treatise had said about bone blades, he hadn't been able to stop stealing glances at the thick bones.

"Your help is appreciated, little one."

Dylan glances uncertainly at Rhade as he smoothes his hands down the Nietzschean's forearms. What kind of touch will please the most? How sensitive is the area around the bases? His fingers slide down, threading between the bone blades. "What did Valentine want?"

"A promise of freedom to leave in peace. Safety for herself and her crew." Ummm. Rhade growls softly with pleasure as the human's fingers slip beneath the fabric of his sweater to touch the bare skin around his bases. It feels so good. Where had Dylan discovered this...ahh...the treatise. Ummmmm. He will have to add undressing him and dressing him to the private duty list that he is composing for his Captain. Dylan will make a fine bath attendant as well.

"I don't see a problem there, but I want to talk to her crew before they leave."

"Why?" Rhade leans against the wonderful coolness of the cyborg's capsule and closes his eyes to better savor the slow stroke of the human's fingers around his bone blades. No doubt Dylan will lecture the survivors on the virtues of the Commonwealth and demand their aid in restoring it. Will they stay as they had when he demanded it or would some leave instead? This time is so deceptively similar to his former situation yet wonderfully different. In this time, his geneline will have the opportunity to flourish and grow strong on Terazed. And there are other compensions, such as the pleasure of commanding his Captain in private. A smile edges his lips as he breathes in the heavy scents of their arousal.

"For the same reason that I still have you."

"And what reason in that?" Rhade arches an eyebrow at the arrogant note in the human's voice. Someone is forgetting their place. He hadn't intended to take Dylan's ass more than once today, but it sounds as if a reminder of his private dominance will be required. Tonight then, he will have Dylan's ass in the Captain's own bed. Rhade closes his hands over the swells of the human's ass and squeezes firmly, ignoring Dylan's gasp.

"I...I...The ship," Dylan murmurs breathlessly as the Nietzschean's strong hands roughly knead his ass. He moans with helpless longing at the feel of the thick cock rubbing against him. Is Rhade going to demand his ass again? He's so sore from the first time, but still he wants it. He wants to do anything...everything with Rhade. He slides his arms around the Nietzschean's waist and presses his face into the golden throat, kissing the quickened pulse throbbing there. Will Rhade use him again? Will he force him against a wall or the cryogenics unit and fuck him like the first time? His breathing becomes quick and shallow at the thought.

Rhade laughs as he slides his hands up Dylan's back. "That makes perfect sense, Captain."

"Andromeda's a big ship. She needs a crew."

"Them? As crew? Valentine has potential, but the rest?"

"Andromeda is interested in their engineer. She says he is quite talented. Both the Magog and the purple girl seem to be good at their jobs." Dylan pulls back to look into his First Officer's dark eyes.

"A Magog." Rhade sighs at the idea of having to work with Rev Bem. Again. This Magog is probably every bit as annoying here as Rev was in the other universe. Neither of them had been able to tolerate each other for long. That Rev had left the crew after a mere month. Rhade slides his hands into the shaggy fall of fawn brown hair, stroking lightly through the soft strands. He likes the way that it falls into the blue eyes and frames the human's face. He will insist that Dylan keep it this length. The look suits the human and he likes the feel of the locks sliding through his fingers. Rhade takes Dylan's mouth in a long, rough kiss. He raises his head to survey the human's swollen lips and gleaming eyes. Oh, yes, this Dylan is going to be much more entertaining than the one that he had killed. He toys with the long hair falling over the Captain's collar.

"Yeah..." Dylan's leans into Rhade's caress, his eyes narrowing with pleasure at the touch. "Um...what was I saying?"

"You were talking about Captain Valentine?"

"Oh, yeah," Dylan sighs and closes his eyes. It's hard to think about such things with Rhade holding him. "That's right."

Rhade turns his face into the crook of Dylan's shoulder and throat, inhaling the human's scent of arousal and need. His hands slide back down the Captain's back to knead the curves of the human's ass with deliberate roughness. He smiles as Dylan gasps and trembles against him again. Ummmm. Very nice. "I told Valentine to blow the mercenaries' weapons cache. A gesture of good faith."

"Why?" Dylan traces a light line of kisses along Rhade throat. His hands glide possessively over the hard muscles of the Nietzschean's shoulders. "Rommie has already taken care of that. She replaced the live rounds with duds."

"It gives Valentine something to do. Since Rommie has already taken care of it, if Valentine fails, then it costs us nothing."

"So, she does what you ask...we get nothing."

"Not necessarily. If she makes the attempt, that shows that she will most likely be willing to keep the deals that she makes with us as long as we do. If she never makes the attempt or if she tells Gerentex about it," Rhade tilts his hips into Dylan's, twisting in a slow subtle motion that makes the human gasp and squirm against him, "that also tells us something about her."

"That she can't be trusted."

"Indeed."

"Captain." Andromeda shimmers into view, frowning at the two men.

Dylan tries to pull away, but his First Officer's grip only tightens, holding him firmly in place. He yields, too enthralled by the subtle, sensual flex of Rhade’s body against his to bring himself to insist on moving away. He probably should, but Rhade feels so good against him. Dylan inhales sharply as Rhade's muscular thigh rubs firmly over his flank and the velvet heat of Nietzschean's lips continues to drift leisurely over his throat. Dylan moans softly, sliding his hand into the black hair, cradling Rhade close. "Yes, Andromeda?"

"Captain Valentine and her engineer have been busy. Harper has finished the critical repairs on Command Deck." The hologram looks away as Dylan presses his groin against Rhade.

"Good." Dylan sighs with pleasure as Rhade moves against him. "That's nice."

Andromeda studies the floor for a moment. "It is very impressive for one engineer working alone. We are moving away further away from the black hole."

"Has Valentine attempted the weapons cache yet?" Rhade asks her, deliberately drawing her gaze back to them. A secretive smile edges Rhade's lips as he remembers Andromeda's expression when she caught them in a much more intimate position. Of course, Dylan had been far too preoccupied at the time to have noticed her. He pulls Dylan to him for a long sweet kiss. He wants Andromeda in no doubt as to her Captain's pleasure in his closeness and touch. No doubt, the ship will try to talk Dylan out of so intimate a relationship later, but her logic will be a cold thing compared to the Nietzschean passion that he can offer Dylan. Rhade turns his head to nuzzle Dylan's throat, smiling at the responsive shudder that ripples through the Captain's body.

"No."

"What's she doing?" Rhade lifts his head and glances thoughtfully at the hologram. Is Valentine planning to play both sides then? She had seemed genuinely interested in talking to Dylan.

"It appears that Captain Valentine has chosen another path to defusing the situation with the mercenaries. She just made a deal with their leader."

"A deal?" Dylan asks breathlessly. "What kind of deal?"

"A temporary alliance against Gerentex. The Nietzschean will no longer be following Gerentex’s orders. Nor will Beka. Gerentex’s options are limited now."

Dylan frowns, considering. Valentine sounds more and more like good officer material. Smart. Quick to seize opportunties and persuasive if she is able to get the mercenaries to switch sides like that. The mercenary leader is more of an unknown quantity. "The Nietzschean...does he have a name?"

"Tyr Anasazi."

"Why did Anasazi agree? What's in it for him?" Dylan squirms as Rhade leans forward, kissing his throat. It's becoming increasingly difficult to pay attention to Andromeda or care about her presence with Rhade's strong hands roaming his body so freely, sliding up under his sweater to caress his bare skin.

"Captain Valentine revealed to Anasazi that Gerentex intends to kill Harper, along with the rest of her crew. The result is a shift in alliances."

Dylan turns his dazed blue gaze to the hologram. "Why would Anasazi care what happens to Valentine's crew?"

"Harper is the Nietzschean's lover," Andromeda responds dryly with a meaningful look at her Captain and his First Officer.

"So the balance shifts in Captain Valentine's direction, or so she will think since she is unfamiliar with Andromeda's abilities. She will think that she has us well outnumbered. Will she still want an arrangement with us, or will she attempt to claim Andromeda again?" Rhade nips the human's jaw. It looks as if Gerentex will be taken care of with no additional effort on his part. No need to mention that Gerentex just signed his own death warrant to Dylan. Dylan would only insist on protecting the Nightsider and putting the creature in custody. He can't help but notice that Andromeda seems to have arrived at the same conclusion since she carefully didn’t mention Tyr’s current location. His guess would be that even now, Tyr is heading for Gerentex. "What's she doing?"

Andromeda tilts her head as if listening to something far away. "She is attempting to locate the Captain. She wants to talk to him."

"I want to talk to her as well." Dylan reluctantly pulls away from his First Officer's seductive touch. Later. Later, he will have Rhade to explore without interruption. He runs a hand through his hair, attempting to restore it to some kind of order. It will hardly do to go talk to Captain Valentine looking...well, like he's been doing exactly what he was doing. "Where is she?"

"Command Deck."


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Harper pauses outside the Med Deck as he hears a noise inside. Is Trance nosing around in there? Maybe he can finally get a straight answer out of her. He's kinda gotten used to all the smells, but it's still weird. And the itchy sensation is still coming and going, but now he can feel tiny little bumps along his arms. That can't be good.

"Hey! Trance! You in here?" Harper glances around, but gets a big fat nothing in reply. "Okay, Trance, I want some answers and I want 'em now." Harper stalks into Med Deck and stops, staring at the woman standing next to one of the biobeds. She is the very image of the A.I. that he'd encountered on his first attempt to jack into the ship’s system. His eyes widen and he takes a slow step back. "Or maybe later. Yeah, later's good. I'll just come back later."

He jumps as the doors hiss shut behind him. Harper glances over his shoulder. Okay. Apparently he isn't leaving. He looks back at the deceptively delicate beauty watching him. "Uh...Hi."

"Hello."

"Um...You're the ship, aren't you?"

"I am the ship made flesh."

"Wow!" Harper tilts his head, studying her. "What? So you're like a real android."

"I am the ship's avatar."

"Oh, man." Harper walks toward her, instantly fascinated. She's perfect. She looks, moves, and interacts like a human. Seems just like a beautiful woman if he can ignore the mechanical scent. "What are you called? Are you called Andromeda too, like the core A.I.? Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Harper...Seamus Zelazney Harper, super genius."

"I know who you are." The coolness in the avatar's big, dark eyes reflect the coolness of her voice.

"Okaaaaay." Harper takes a wary step backward. Okay, he can understand that. He wouldn't be feeling any too friendly either to someone who just jacked into his mind without permission either. "Bite my head off, why don't ya?"

"My name is Rommie. The repairs you've finished have been...inventive."

"Yeah, that's me all right, Mr. Inventive. Anyway...good to meet you. Gotta run. You know how it is" Harper turns to go. The door does not open. He sighs and turns back to face her. "Did you do that?"

"Secure the door?" Rommie tilts her head to one side. "Yes."

"Okay...all right...I guess an apology is in order. " Harper glances over his shoulder at the closed door. "Look...I know we invaded you, and I tried to jack into your system, but I didn't know that you were sentient then. I would never deliberately harm you."

"This has nothing to do with that."

Harper frowns in confusion. "Then what is it about?"

"When it's safe, I will allow you to leave Med Deck."

"'When it's safe?!' What do you mean – when it's safe? What's going on out there?" Harper's eyes widen in alarm. What's going on? Is Tyr okay? And Beka? If Andromeda is hurting his friends then all bets are off. His hand drops with apparent casualness to his tool belt. "What have you done to my friends?"

"I have done nothing. Your Nightsider employer, Gerentex, plans to kill you and the rest of the Maru crew."

"What!" Harper bites his lip. His fingers tap against the leather of his belt. He's gotta warn Beka and the others. "I have to let Beka and Tyr know. Let me talk to them. Please."

Rommie shakes her head. "There is no need. They are aware."

"What do you mean, 'they are aware', what does that mean?" Harper bounces from one foot to the other. "Let me talk to my friends."

Rommie moves around the biobed. "I want you to stay. I will not risk your safety by releasing you from this room until the situation is under control."

"You want me? Really?" Harper lights up despite his worry then he frowns and takes another step back. "Why do you want me?"

"I need an engineer and you are very talented." Rommie walks over and stands next to the diagnostic console. "Dylan plans to ask Captain Valentine and the rest of you to join us. I need crew. I want crew."

Harper runs a hand through his hair. It's a lot to take in. He wants it. This ship...it's so fascinating. He wants this chance but...he'd miss the rest of the crew if they don't sign on. Well, he wouldn't miss Rev that much...not as weird as Rev's been acting lately. And Trance...he's pretty annoyed with how purple she's being over his mystery ailment. But Beka...he's been with her a long time. And Tyr...he can't give Tyr up. "Does offer that include the mercenaries?"

"Yes."

"I'll think about it." If Beka and Tyr stay then the choice will be a no brainer. Harper shrugs, keeping his face carefully noncommittal as he looks around the room. He pokes the biobed. Hopefully he won't be stuck here long enough to need it, but he's slept on worse if it comes to that.

Rommie frowns at him. "Are you sick, Harper? Your temperature readings are higher than they should be."

Harper blinks. He's been sick often enough to know when he is running a fever and he isn't. He couldn't seem to turn around without catching every thing that came by. It wasn't that long ago that he’d caught some weird thing and ruined what was supposed to be a romantic weekend with Tyr. Still, since he is stuck here until Rommie lets him go, he might as well see if she can throw some light on all those weird sensations that he's been plagued with lately. "I don’t feel hot, but I've been feeling weird since last night."

Romme pats a biobed and offers him an encouraging smile. "Define weird. Lie down and I will examine you."

Harper hops up on the bed and lies down. He feels more confident discussing this with Rommie than Trance. Finally, he'll get a straight answer. "Well, my arms itch. It's driving me crazy. That started last night. Then later on today, I started smelling all these odors that I'd never really noticed before. I asked Trance about it and she just kept saying that I was changing."

"Tell me about the odors, Harper." Rommie stares at him. "When did you first notice these strange smells?"

"When we were down by the airlock. We were talking and all of a sudden...I felt overwhelmed by so many odors. One minute Beka didn't smell like anything and the next, she smelled like apples. Rev smelled awful, almost rancid. Tyr smelled like sandalwood. And I could smell oil and lube...and it was beyond bizarre."

"What do I smell like to you, Harper?"

"A machine." Harper glances away, uncomfortable with his answer. What a thing to say to a gorgeous woman...yet Rommie isn't a woman. Not really, but she seems so human. So beautiful. Harper frowns as he hears footsteps outside. He props himself up on his elbows, frowning at the closed doors. "Rommie, there's someone, out there."

She tilts her head as she studies him. "You can hear that?"

"Of course, I can hear that. Nothing wrong with my hearing. Why shouldn't I..." Harper's voice trails off as he realizes that he is hearing footsteps through the heavy metal door and walls. Come to think of it, he'd heard Beka running up to the Command Deck earlier before she'd burst in on him and Tyr at an unfortunate moment. Well, he hadn't known it was Beka specifically. Only that someone was heading for Command in a hell of a hurry.

"I asked Commander Rhade to report here." Rommie turns, ignoring Harper's protesting noise, to face the door as a handsome Nietzschean walks in.

"Rommie. What did you need?"

Harper eyes the newcomer. A grin tugs at the edges of his mouth as his gaze flickers over the thrusting shape revealed by the tight uniform pants. Ouch. That's gotta pinch. Apparently Rommie had summoned Rhade at an inopportune moment. A whole lotta of that seemed to be going around lately. Which only raises the fascinating question of who had been sharing Rhade's inopportune moment? He'll have plenty of time to find out if he accepts Rommie's invitation to sign on as crew. Harper's grin widens as he studies the Nietzschean. No wonder the guy looks and sounds seriously cranky. His grins fades as he breathes in, noticing the same jumiper scent that he'd smelled on Beka earlier. Why is he smelling a forestry fragrance? It seems to be coming from the big stranger.

"An opinion." Rommie narrows her eyes at the Nietzschean.

Rhade raises an eyebrow. "On?"

"What do I smell like to you?"

"Machine parts."

"What did Captain Valentine smell like to you?"

"Apples."

Harper's eyes widen at the implications. What the hell is going on? He runs a finger down the bridge of his nose. It doesn't feel any different. How had he suddenly acquired a heightened sense of smell? And what did that have to do with itchy arms?

"Thank you." Rommie turns back to Harper with a puzzled look in her eyes. "Harper, are there any Nietzscheans among your ancestors?"

"What?" Harper sits up, swinging his legs off the bed. He lifts his chin proudly. "Certainly not. I’m 100% unmodified human. Why would you think that?"

"You are highly conscious of scents like a Nietzschean would be. You and Rhade identified the same scents in separate tests. Your body temperature is high for a human, but normal for a Nietzschean. And my scans are registering the presence of bone blades growing under your skin. And, I suspect, that your hearing will test into Nietzschean ranges. A human wouldn't have heard Rhade's footsteps through the soundproofing in Med Deck."

"But..." Harper runs a hesitant hand over his forearms, lingering over the small bumps lining his arms as he glances sidelong at Rhade's arms. He stares into Rommie's dark eyes. "But...I can't be...I'm human, Rommie. I've always been human. You're saying that I'm changing...turning into a Nietzschean."

"It would appear so."

"How, damn it? How can that be possible?"

"I don't know, Harper. But your readings are no longer those of a human. Medically speaking, you register as Nietzschean." Rommie lays a comforting hand on Harper's shoulder. She directs a narrow-eyed stare at Rhade. "Can you explain this?"

"Me? How would I be able to explain it?" Rhade matches her stare. He is not about to share that secret of his people with a Commonwealth warship. Rhade glances at the Maru's engineer with renewed interest. Have the Neitzscheans of this time forgotten the precautions necessary when having sex with humans or had Tyr deliberately neglected those protections? If so, why? What could this small human have to offer that would make Harper so potentially valuable to a Pride that the Matriarch would agree to allowing and accepting this change? Rhade inhales thoughtfully sorting scents. Harper's scent is rich and strong like that of his own people rather than the fainter scents that humans carried. "I suggest it would be more effective for Harper to direct any questions that he has to his lover."

Harper stiffens. Has everyone figured out that he's been doing the Big Guy? His eyes narrow on the Nietzschean officer's face. "Tyr? You're saying that Tyr has something to do with this?"

Rhade looks down at the small human and gentles his tone. "I'm saying that you should talk to him."

Harper stares back, his blue eyes hard and cold. He curls into himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. "When can I get out of here, Rommie?"

She tilts her head as if listening to something. She smiles at him. "You can leave now, Harper. Gerentex is no longer a threat to you."

Harper slides off the bed and stalks toward the door. First, he's gonna hunt down Tyr. And then...well, what happens then depends on what his lover tells him. Rhade's got no reason to lie to him about this being something to do with Tyr and Rommie has no reason to lie about his condition. Maybe...maybe it...whatever it is, was an accident. Harper stumbles down the corridor, trying to ignore the numb, empty sensation spreading through his chest. Facts first, then he can decide what he needs to do. "Ah, Andromeda...where's Tyr? What's he doing?"

"He's inspecting the available senior officer's quarters."

"Right. Uh, thanks."

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Dylan runs through the corridors. His breathing is harsh in the silence. His faded gray tee shirt clings damply to his chest. No matter how hard he runs he cannot run away from the image of his Sara with tears in her eyes as she watches him leave again...for what neither of them knew would be the last time. He'd expected to be back soon for his wedding and another round in their constant fighting over the same ground. Her wanting him to resign or find a place in administration that would leave him largely planet bound. Him refusing to give up the Andromeda, refusing to choose between family life and the Andromeda. Insisting that both were possible. If he'd yielded to her that last time, he might be with her. Might have had that life with her. Had children with her and watched them grow up. But choosing that had meant losing the Andromeda, losing Rhade. Now fate has made that choice for him. So why does he still feel as if he is running from it? Running from all the decisions that will come with tomorrow. He'd let it be known that tomorrow, he will make a formal offer to the Maru's crew and to Tyr's remaining mercenaries to sign on with the Andromeda. If they accept, it will be a small start on gathering a new crew. And he will have Rhade to help train them. And Andromeda to keep a sharp eye on them all.

He'd gone back to his quarters. Tried to find the rest that he needed to face the next day shift, but he couldn't settle down. He needed...something to soothe him into sleep after the excitement of the day. Impossible to forget Rhade with the ache lingering in his ass so despite it, because of it, he'd decided to run. Run and run and run. Away from the memories of Rhade attacking. Rhade fucking him and how wonderful it had felt. But it's not helping. His body is tiring, but his mind endlessly recycles the events of the day and the tireless shadow trailing him is impossible to escape. He can hear the thud of Rhade's feet behind him as the Nietzschean follows, pacing him at a careful distance. Far enough behind to allow him the illusion of aloneness, but close enough to provide a certain silent comfort. His stride falters and he slows to a jog. Dylan lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his face then allows it to drop back over his navy shorts.

"Captain?" Rhade speeds up to jog next to Dylan. A black tee shirt clings to his muscled chest, falling loosely over black shorts. A fine sheen of sweat glosses over the golden skin, but his breathing is smooth and even. Rhade still moves with a fresh, bouncy stride as if he could run for miles still. "Feel better?"

"Not notably. I can't stop thinking about Sara...the wedding. Wishing that I could have..." Dylan cuts the words off with a sidelong look at Rhade. Should he not discuss Sara with Rhade? It isn't as if Rhade hadn't known her. Known that he was marrying her. Just he'd known vaguely that Rhade had a handful of wives. But now that he and Rhade are...lovers? partners?...perhaps he shouldn't mention Sara. Does the Nietzschean feel anything at the sound of her name? He can't tell. The golden face is smooth and serene, revealing nothing to his apprising gaze. "Ah, Rhade..."

"You need something to engage your mind as well as your body. Might I suggest..." Rhade stops outside the gym door and waves toward it, "a game of basketball?"

Dylan pauses uncertainly. The husky note in the Nietzschean's deep voice had made his cock harden in hopeful expectation of an order instead of a simple suggestion. Perhaps following the suggestion would lead to more. He's being greedy and he knows it. He's already had the completely unexpected delight of Rhade's mouth on him, followed by the intense pleasure of Rhade thrusting into his ass. He still wants more. More of Rhade's time, attention and touch. Dylan follows Rhade into the gym. "Basketball would be good."

"Then let us play." Rhade bends to picks up a ball.

Dylan stares, fascinated by the way the black fabric faithfully molds the muscular swells of the Nietzschean's ass. He licks his lips as his gaze slides over the bareness of Rhade's powerful thighs. An image flashes through his mind from one of those damnably fascinating illustrations in the treatise, but instead of the nameless Captain and First Officer, it is Rhade's thighs pressing against his, spreading them wide. Dylan shakes his head sharply to banish the image just as Rhade straightens and tosses the ball. Dylan fumbles a moment then gets a secure grip on the ball.

"Captain?" Rhade is watching him with a knowing glint in his black eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Dylan forces his gaze away from the cruelly sensual curves of the Nietzschean's mouth. "Let's play."

Yes. This is what he needs. Dylan moves lithely down the court, shadowed by the smooth grace of his First Officer. How had Rhade known that he needed this? His world is reduced now to the more manageable boundaries of the basketball court with nothing existing outside. No confusing choices. No conflicting feelings. Just the flow of the game. There is only the feel of the ball in his hands and the soft thud of it as he dribbles. Only the damp, velvety heat of Rhade's body brushing repeatedly against his as they flow over the court, jostling for position and place. Only the ache of his burning muscles, the raspy sound of his breathing, the sweat mingling with tears on his face as he pushes himself harder and harder. Dylan staggers into the wall, dropping the ball as Rhade jostles him. He leans, panting against it, only vaguely aware of the ball rolling off into a corner. How long has he been playing? His thighs feel wobbly and his knees ache. He can't seem to catch his breath. Sweat burns in his eyes and his hair is damp with it.

"Enough." Rhade slides an arm around the human's waist, smiling at the way the damp navy shorts cling to Dylan's erection. His own black shorts faithfully mold his cock, revealing his own condition. No one seeing them now would have any doubts as to the nature of their relationship. Rhade eases Dylan's arm over his shoulder and walks out of the gym, toward the Captain's quarters.

"Where...where are we going?" Dylan leans heavily against his First Officer as they walk slowly down the corridor. At first he'd assumed that Rhade was steering him toward the communal showers in the gym, but apparently not. There was a time when he'd trusted Rhade so completely that he wouldn't even thought to question. He would have followed Rhade anywhere without question, but now he must constantly fight against the part of him that wants to trust Rhade despite everything that had happened.

"Your quarters. We need to get you cleaned up. Then you should be able to sleep."

"Captain Valentine." Dylan sways to a stop as he spots Beka in the corridor. Her pale hair is glossy in the lights, the ends brushing against her shirt. He can feel his face turning as red as her shirt as she runs a slow, speculative gaze over him and Rhade.

"Captain Hunt." Beka nods with mock solemnity to them. "Commander Rhade. Enjoying a late night...workout?"

"Dylan is fond of basketball." Rhade looks blandly back at her.

"Basketball? I don't think I've heard of it." Beka frowns as she looks more closely at Dylan, taking in his obvious exhaustion and air of sadness. "Are you okay, Hunt?"

"Fine." Dylan manages to summons up a reassuring smile for her. He must not worry prospective crew by making an exhibition of himself. It's only after everything has been settled that he's had time to think of all that he has lost forever. Tomorrow...tomorrow he will find the strength to deal with this new time. To lay plans for restoring the ideals of the Commonwealth. At least with Rhade, he doesn't need any words to explain his current mood. That just leaves him with explaining why he is so wobbly that he is clutching his First Officer for support. "I'm fine. Just overdid it, playing basketball. Rhade is helping me back to my quarters."

"Uh-huh." Beka's doubtful glance slides by him to Rhade. "Is he really okay?"

"He will be. Once he gets some sleep."

Dylan sags into the damp heat of Rhade's hard body. He's too tired to even find the energy to be indignent about the way that they are talking around him, about him, like he isn't there. All he wants is the coolness of a quick shower and the healing peace of sleep, the blissful loss of the awareness that everything that he values, except for Andromeda and Rhade, are a time and universe away. "Good night."

"Goodnight, Hunt." Beka walks past with an amused grin. "Later, Rhade."

Rhade's arm tightens around his human's waist, urging Dylan forward. "Just a little further, Dylan."

Dylan stumbles into the peaceful dimness of his quarters, through his bedroom and into the bathroom. He sinks onto the toilet, mindlessly watching as Rhade pulls off his running shoes and socks. Shirt. He needs to get his shirt. Dylan grabs the hem of his wet shirt and peels it off, allowing it to puddle on the floor. When he looks up, Rhade is already bare and adjusting the shower. His gaze slides over the broad shoulders and ripple of impressive back muscles to focus on the tight, hard curves of the Nietzschean's ass. He wants to lean forward to touch, to kiss, to bite the honey gold skin...to feel the wonderful heat of Rhade's skin against his, reminding him that he hasn't lost everything. He needs to lose himself and his grief in Rhade's hard body, but will the Nietzschean allow him further liberties today? Rhade must be tired as well and the Nietzschean is hurt also. Dylan shakes his head, blinking away the vivid images that the treatise had so clearly described. He can almost hear Andromeda's soft voice reciting how to...Dylan runs a hand through his damp hair. "No."

"No?" Rhade turns and lifts an eyebrow. His husky voice holds a sharp edge of challenge. "No what?"

"Nothing." Dylan forces himself to look away from the impressive jut of the Nietzschean's heavy cock, but the image remains vivid in his mind. Despite his tiredness, he wants to touch it. Taste it. Stroke it. Explore it. Will Rhade allow him to do that? Dylan struggles to stand up on his aching legs. He is intensely aware of how vulnerable he is to Rhade right now...much too exhausted to fight well. He'd barely managed earlier on the Command Deck. If Rhade turns on him now, he will lose...part of him is intensely excited at the knowledge of his vulnerablity, at the risk that he is taking. At the knowledge that Rhade, predator that the Neitzschean is bred to be, is sharply aware of his condition and situation. Dylan fumbles his damp shorts off, and with racing heart, allows Rhade to grab him and push him into the shower. The spray is just right, warm enough to sooth his sore muscles, cool enough to revive him a little. Dylan ducks his head under the spray, trying to will away the tension building in his thighs. He stares down at the water running over his chest and stomach at the straining redness of his cock. He'd been looking forward to learning Rhade's body on a more intimate level and now he has an opportunity. He can at least take that memory to bed with him tonight for comfort. He turns to face the Nietzschean. "May I wash you?"

Rhade strokes back the wet silk of the human's fawn hair as he considers the request. He had intended to make Dylan his personal bathboy as part of the human's private list of duties. His hands slide to the human's shoulders, steadying Dylan's sway. No. That can wait. The human is too tired tonight to last through two encounters. If he takes Dylan in the shower, the human will quickly fall asleep once they are out of it and tonight...tonight, he intends to reinforce his position by fucking Dylan in the Captain's own bed. "No. Tonight, I will wash both of us. Later...if you please me, I will allow the priviledge of attending me in my shower."

Dylan closes his eyes as Rhade's warm hands move over him. Massaging. Soaping. Washing. He leans against the cool tiles, obediently moving, shifting under the guidance of those strong hands. His mind is drifting again. Yearning after sleep. He is barely aware of the shower cutting off, of Rhade guiding him out and of the brisk roughness of terry cloth towel rubbing him dry again. He isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that Rhade is ignoring their mutual arousal.

"This way." Rhade slides an arm around the human's waist and urges the tall man out into the bedroom. He pushes the beige sheets back and eases his Captain into bed.

"What?" Dylan stirs, eyes opening as the plush heat of Rhade's body follows him into bed. He can't read the Nietzschean's expression in the darkness, but his cock swells higher in hopeful expectation of attention. His hands grip Rhade's hard biceps. "Rhade? What are you doing?"

"I demand Submission." Rhade leans down, softly kissing the human. "Your Submission, Dylan. Do you need a refresher on this lesson?"

"Rhade, I..." Dylan moans as the Nietzschean's body settles over his. His hips twist, rubbing against the velvety hotness, hardness of Rhade's cock. His hands close over muscular shoulders. A vague alarm is filtering through his fog of exhaustion at the way Rhade is taking charge. He should do something...exert himself...give orders, but the velvet thrust of Rhade's body feels so good against his. It feels so good to yield to the silent demands of those strong hands, to allow Rhade to set the pace and make the decisions on what will happen in his bed tonight. Dylan stirs, pulling the Nietzschean more firmly against him. "Ah. You feel so good. So good. What form of Submission will you have of me?”

"Kiss me." Rhade kisses the human again and again, forcing himself to keep his mouth moving slowly and softly over Dylan's. His tongue dips teasingly into the cool damp of the human’s mouth, stroking over Dylan’s tongue. Ummm. He growls with pleasure at the intimacy, at the pliant yielding of his Captain's lean body. He can almost taste the sage of Dylan's scent. Rhade stretches sensually, thrusting against the silky coolness of Dylan's skin.

"Rhade." Dylan pants as Rhade's hands roam boldly over him...rubbing his nipples into aching beads, stroking across his chest, sliding down his sides to cup his flanks. His hips arch, twisting in need as the Nietzschean's hard thighs shove between his and spread them wide. Will Rhade grant him this pleasure twice in the same day? The slow velvet rub of Rhade's cock against his own is almost more than he can stand, yet the slow stroking feels so heart-stoppingly wonderful. "I need you. I need...need...please."

Rhade looks down into the slanting blue eyes. He stills the movement of his hips and smiles at Dylan's urgent squirms against him. Has he kindled Dylan to the point that the human will not only accept his taking of the Captain's ass for the second time, but beg for it? His smile deepens. It will add a whole new level of pleasure to know that all the while Dylan is giving orders and making speeches tomorrow that the Captain's ass with throb and ache from being taken by the First Officer. He will enjoy watching Dylan trying to walk without limping. And enjoy the knowledge that Andromeda will be watching both of them, helpless to intervene as long as her Captain wants what he can give the human. "You are not the one who gives commands in this bed. I am."

"Please," Dylan gasps. He can't stop his hips from rubbing enticingly against the swollen thickness lying so temptingly against his cock. He's so close...so close. How can Rhade just stop moving? His hands slide around the narrow waist and down to clutch urgently at the hard swells of the Nietzschean's ass. At first his grip is tentative as his hands spread over the muscular curves then his hands clench in sudden possessiveness, pressing Rhade against him as he rubs his throbbing cock against his First Officer. Dylan presses pleading kisses along the corded lines of Rhade's throat. "Please. Don't stop. In bed, I am yours to command."

"I demand Submission as my right." Rhade kisses the human, aggressively pressing Dylan's lips open wide. He flexes his body in a teasing thrust that makes Dylan moan and arch impatiently into him.

"What form of Submission will satisfy you?"

Rhade growls softly against the vulnerable arch of his Captain's throat. He shifts his hips, rubbing his cock against the pleasant coolness of the human's. "I will have your ass again."

"May this Submission be found worthy." Dylan moans, writhing as Rhade thrusts against him, rebuilding the exquisite friction. His lips part as the Nietzschean kisses him roughly. His hands clutch urgently at the flexing swells of Rhade's ass, holding the Nietzschean close. His thighs tense and tremble as the rhythm increases. Yes. Yes. Almost there. Almost. Yes. Dylan cries out in disappointment as Rhade stills again, pulling away slightly. "No!"

"No? You dare say 'no' to me?" Rhade demands sharply. He rises up on his knees, kneeling between the human's thighs as he slowly slicks lube over the heavy jut of his cock, pretending to ignore the way Dylan's hungry stare follows the stroke of his hand. "This is your Submission? It is not worthy of my attention."

"I didn't mean...please. I want you." Dylan sits up, sliding his hands over the powerful muscles of the Nietzschean's thighs. "I want this. I want to Submit...just tell me what to do."

"Kneel to me. On your hands and knees."

Dylan turns and kneels in the center of his bed. He looks over his shoulder, watching as Rhade's shadowy form moves into position behind him. He can't stop himself from wiggling as the dampness of lube slides over him, soothing the lingering ache there at the same time that the slow probe of Rhade's fingers inside him rewakens his soreness. He doesn't even want to think about what he will feel like tomorrow. Right now, he doesn't care. He needs the evidence of Rhade's private possession of him branded on his flesh and nerves. He trembles with knowledge of how much it will hurt as he feels the thick head of Rhade's cock pressing inside him. Dylan moans and tries to relax, to open to the intimate invasion as the Nietzschean presses deeper and deeper. He's sore. It hurts...it hurts, but it feels so good too. "Oh, Divine...Gaheris...ahhh."

"That's better." Rhade smooths his hands over the human's tense back muscles, staying still and gently massaging until he feels Dylan's tightness relax around him. "That's good."

"Ahhhh." Dylan moans loudly as the warmth of Rhade's hand closes firmly over his cock, pumping him as the Nietzschean begins thrusting. The prickly sensation of Rhade's bone blades raking his stomach and thighs makes him buck back, impaling himself deeper despite the tremors in his tired thighs. Between the run and the basketball game and this, he'll be lucky to be able to crawl out of bed tomorrow, but the sound of Rhade's hoarse growls, sting of the bone blades is so good that he doesn't care. All he cares about is that Rhade doesn't bring him to the edge only to stop again. "You feel so good."

Rhade clenches his hands tightly on the human's flanks as he quickens the pace. Neither one of them is in any shape for extended play. He looks down, watching his cock move in and out. There are advantages to being the power behind the scenes. Let Dylan have the spotlight while he stands in the shadows. His power may begin in bed and be based in sex, but it will not be long before his will extends far beyond the bedroom door. Any of his own people will know how to read between the lines. Rhade grins to think of the raised eyebrows that will accompany realization of their private role reversal. He allows himself a last flurry of hard thrusts before spilling himself in the tightness of his Captian's ass as Dylan calls out his name and collapses beneath him.

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Tyr sweeps his long hair over the shoulder of his crimson silk robe. The cool, soft slide of silk over his bare skin makes him wonder how much longer it will be before his lover will be finished communing with things mechanical. He'd been looking forward to collecting on the silent sensual promise gleaming in Harper eyes as his mate's skillful hands and mouth had teased him higher and hotter on the Command Deck. The changes in Harper's scent had only made his lover's allurements that much more difficult to resist. To think that that worthless Nightsider had dared...dared to threaten his lover, his Pride...Tyr growls and tosses his hair back. Gerentex would never be a threat again to anything that he held dear. Soon, he will have to discuss things with Harper. The changes are becoming too blatant for Harper to be unaware of them. Some changes, such as improved immunities, are so subtle that Harper hasn't noticed. Those are the changes that came first. The changes to Harper’s reflexes and strength had crept up so gradually, in such tiny increments, that Harper had not yet become aware of the slow increases. Harper is in the latter stages of change now. The awareness of scents and the growth of bone blades are the last two changes. Soon, his Harper will be fully Kodiak. Fully his. Tyr turns around, smiling in welcome, as the door hisses open. His crimson robe falls open, enticingly displaying the aroused lines of his body. "Harper."

"We've got to talk!" Harper stalks into the room. His vivid blue eyes are brilliant with anger; his pale cheeks flushed with the emotion. It rides his scent like the ominous smell of ozone before a storm.

Tyr looks quizzically at Harper. It's time then...he had hoped to have this conversation in better circumstances, circumstances that might render his lover more amenable to the change. He sighs with resignation. "Very well. Talk."

"What did you do to me?" Harper glowers up at Tyr.

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"Well, let's see. I can hear through the fricking bulkhead for one." Harper holds up one finger. "I can smell a gnat's sweat at 500 paces."

"And this is my fault?" Tyr stares coolly back. How had Harper drawn that particular conclusion? He had expected to have to explain the source of the changes in his lover. There is no reason for Harper to assume that he is the catalyst.

"I talked to Rommie and that guy."

What guy? It's impossible to what knowledge of Nietzschean custom that the human captain might possess, but it seems unlikely that even 300 years back that his people would have disseminated that particular secret to the humans. The only man on aboard who would know about the change and notice Harper's alluring scent would be the First Officer. What game is the other Nietzschean playing? He would have thought that Rhade would have his hands full with Hunt. He cannot think of any acceptable occasion in which the subject of Harper's changes might have arisen between the two. The sooner Harper is his acknowledged mate, the better. Tyr growls. "What man has spoken to you?"

"The second...the Nietzschean First Officer." Harper steps closer to Tyr. He looks up, searching the amber gaze. "He told me I should talk to you."

"He did." Tyr scowls. What else had Rhade said and what had Harper said back? He crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn't like this show of interest in his Harper from another Nietzschean. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing. He just said I needed to talk to my lover. I still can't figure out how he knew about us."

Now that his Harper has Nietzschean pheromones, any Nietzschean will be able to scent the difference and know that Harper's physiology has changed...that Harper must have highly valuable qualities to be selected for change. Qualities that any Pride would want to claim. Had the First Officer touched his mate...attempted to seduce Harper away? Tyr reaches out and wraps his hand around Harper's nape, pulling his mate closer. He presses his face urgently against the pale throat, testing Harper's scent. His bone blades ease back as he detects only his scent layered over his mate's own delicious scent. "I gave you a gift."

Harper twists away. "Did you think I'd want this?"

"It increases your chance of survival."

"I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask you to do this."

"I know." Tyr clenches his hands behind his back to keep from reaching for his mate. He needs the reassurance of Harper's touch, particularly after hearing of Harper's discussion with the First Officer, he needs his mate's touch...needs to deepen the notes of his own scent on his lover's silken skin. It hurts that Harper pulled away from him. Hurts that Harper is on the verge of flatly rejecting the most important gift that he can give.

"Then why?" Harper asks, his voice softening in response to the hurt in his lover's eyes. "I don't understand."

"It's complicated."

"Isn't it always? Well, why don't you un-complicate it for me."

"This gift...is rarely given. It is a great gift." Tyr takes a step closer. He reaches out, closing a possessive hand around Harper's nape, sliding his fingers up into the blond hair. His mate. His. As long as Harper had remained human, the engineer could only be his lover or concubine at best. Never an acknowledged member of his family, but with the change he can claim Harper as mate, as shieldbrother and as co-father for his new family. He had argued long and hard with his Matriarch over the advantages and disadvantages of Harper's geneline, but the proofs he'd been able to present of Harper's genius had tipped the scales and he'd been given permission to claim Harper for Kodiak. Harper should be honored that he was chosen to become Kodiak. It is a rare privilege given only to those select few whose characteristics were deemed worthy of adding to the Pride. Even with the destruction of his own Pride and the need to create a wider gene pool than the Kodiak survivors alone could offer, the Matriarch had been very selective in accepting outsiders into Kodiak. But how to explain all this to Harper? Tyr pauses, searching for the right words.

"Yeah. I can see how you might think that." Harper laughs bitterly. Of course, an Uber would think that there was nothing better in the universe than being one of them. "Rommie says that I'm not human any longer. What am I, Tyr?"

"Kodiak. You are Kodiak now." Tyr frowns. He has that machine, as well as the First Officer, daring to interfere in his relationship with Harper? He will not have it.

"Kodiak? As in like you?! No...I don't believe it!" Harper jerks away. He glares at Tyr. "I'm human! I'm not an...Uber!"

"You are Kodiak."

"How? How did you do this to me?" A menacing growl rumbles in Harper's throat. His eyebrows rise like startled birds at the sound and he lifts a cautious hand to touch his throat. That sound had come from him?

"I did not do this alone." Tyr smiles at his mate’s disconcerted air. “We did this together, Harper. We made you Kodiak together."

"Together? What do you mean?" Harper frowns. He doesn't like where this seems to be heading. It's a bit late if this is the Uber version of the birds and the bees. Suddenly he isn't sure that he wants the details.

"When a Nietzschean takes a human lover...there are certain precautions that must be taken. I did not take those precautions with you." Tyr eases closer, breathing in his mate's dizzyingly sexy scent. His cock lifts higher in urgent response.

Harper narrow his eyes in warning as his lover reaches for him. He backs away. It's hard enough to think with Tyr's heady scent wrapping around him and the sounds of male arousal and satisfaction coming from the room next door, reminding him of the intense pleasures that he always found in Tyr's arms. He'd never be able to keep his brain on track if he allowed Tyr to touch him. "Precautions? What precautions?"

"Nietzschean genetic matrix is dominant, Harper."

"Okay...I got that. What's that got to do with us?"

Tyr glances sidelong, through a veil of braids at Harper. How will his mate respond to this information? "Prolonged and intense exposure to our genetic matrix will cause a human to absorb it, and change. To become more than human...to take on Nietzschean characteristics."

"Exposure? I wasn't exposed to anything..." Harper's eyes widen in shock. It's almost too much to take in. He takes another step back. "Oh shit! Your cum! You mean when I...when I went down on you...I...we..."

"Indeed. There are ways of preventing this, as well as ways of accelerating the effects, if a Pride should want to lay claim to the genes of a particular human. It's a way of claiming and adding desirable characteristics to a Pride." Tyr eases forward, following his mate's line of retreat. Does Harper have any idea how much excitement the element of chase, of pursuit fires a Nietzschean's blood? His control is eroding with each retreat, each trace of Harper's lush scent drifting to him. "I wanted you for myself, for my family, for my Pride."

"You wanted? What about what I wanted? What about my choice?" Harper glowers as he circles around behind a chair.

"Choice! What choice? The choice to get sick all the time? Should I risk losing you to some random disease when I could so easily keep you safe? The choice to be weaker? Slower? Look at yourself now, Harper! You are faster and stronger. You have Kodiak nanobots to speed your healing and protect you. You have heightened senses to alert you to danger. You will soon have bone blades to defend yourself with. Your chances of survival are significantly higher now." Tyr watches his mate's flushed face closely. Which way will Harper dart? Toward the door leading to the corridor or toward the bedroom? Anger and desire mingle strongly in Harper's scent.

"It was my decision to make, Tyr, not yours. But you didn't offer me a choice. You took that from me." Harper glares balefully at his lover.

"What was I going to do...hmmm?" Tyr struggles to control his temper as he remembers the times that he'd taken care of Harper. How his heart had ached with fear that Harper might not shake off the next virus, might not survive the next illness. "I watched you suffer during our time together...that vacation. I knew then that I couldn't lose you. I would do anything...anything to keep you safe...to help you survive."

"Damn you! I trusted you, and you stole who I am. I don't know who I am now or what I am." Harper throws a measuring glance at the door leading to the corridor.

"The essence of you has not changed, Little Man." Tyr's jaw tightens as he follow's his mate's glance. No. He is not allowing Harper to leave in this unsettled mood. Not with a strange Nietzschean on board, and particularly not when he does not know what Pride the First Officer claims. Or the nature of Rhade's interest in his Harper. Definately not with his mate so vulnerable to the allurements of scent. Even now, despite his mate’s anger, Harper is responding to his own scents of arousal and need just as a Kodiak mate would. Tyr glides in front of the door. "I've told you. You are Kodiak now, Harper. You are my mate. A part of my family. A potential husband to the women of my Pride. Do these things mean nothing to you?"

"Tyr..." Harper sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He can't deny that the idea of being Tyr's mate, openly being part of Tyr's family moves him deeply. He's been alone for so long that warmth curls through him at the thought of belonging to Tyr, of being part of Tyr's future, but still he should have been asked. Been offered a choice to become Kodiak or remain human. He steels himself against the hurt in Tyr's beautiful eyes as he meets the other man's gaze. "Can you change me back...make me human again if that is what I choose?"

"It's possible...for some to attempt to change back. If the process hasn't gone to far."

"How far is too far?" Harper asks anxiously. "What would I have to do?"

"Harper..." Tyr inhales sharply and looks away. His husky voice is suddenly barely audible. "The things that we do together...that we have done together, that is part of what leads to the change. If I had permitted you less freedom with me, restricted what I did with you, and how often, then you would have remained human."

Harper frowns. He doesn't like the sound of this. "You saying that if we make love less and only in certain ways that I'll go back to being like I was?"

"Not exactly. That would have kept you from becoming Kodiak, but after the change has gone...as far as it has with you," Tyr meets his mate's blue gaze, "the only way to make you human again would be for us to not be together. Not at all."

Harper bites his lower lip and glances away. To never be with Tyr again? To look up one day in the future and see Tyr with someone else? "Not ever again?"

"Not ever. Is that what you want, Harper?" Tyr studies the pale face, trying desperately to read which way Harper is leaning? Can...will Harper give him up and refuse all that he is offering? It suddenly hits him, how much he has gambled on his moment. Gambled that Harper will choose him. His jaw tightens.

"Tyr..." Harper resolutely looks away from the amber depths.

"I see." Tyr nods slowly. He lowers his gaze, concealing the shattering pain that is filling him. "Tomorrow, shall I tell Hunt that I will not be joining his crew?"

Harper moves around the chair to stand in front of Tyr. He fingers the crimson silk lapel edging his lover's dark chest. "Is that my only choice here? I can revert to human, but only at the cost of losing you forever or I can be your mate, part of your family, but I will have to become Uber?"

"Yes." Tyr strokes a finger along his mate's jawline, urging Harper to meet his stare. "You do still have a chance to choose. What will it be?"

Harper searches the amber gaze, reading the pain, hope, and love mingling in the depths. How important is being human to him? He's always been proud of being 100% unmodified Earthboy. It's part of who he is, part of what shaped him into the man that he's become...but will he really be giving it up? If he allows the change to continue, will who he is, change also? Will he slowly become more and more Uber or will he always be human at his core? Or will he become some strange hybrid thing? There's no way to know. Then there is the other part of the package. Which part is most important to him...having Tyr or being human? Whichever he chooses, he loses something important. All his genius can't make this choice for him. This choice must come from his heart, from his inner most soul. "I love you. I want to be with you."

Tyr sighs with relief. He had began to doubt, to fear that he would lose one of the most important gambles of his life. He bends down for a passionate kiss. "You are my mate, Seamus Harper. We are bound. We are one."

Harper grins up at his tall lover. He absently scratches his arm."Well, if you're gonna put it like that...when will this damned itching stop? Don't tell me it's not until the full set grows in. And what the heck am I supposed to do with a full set of bone blades anyway?"

"Harper, don't do that." Tyr tenderly takes his mate’s forearm in his hands and examines it. The closer the budding bone blades are to the surface, the more acutely sensitive the area will be. Perhaps this is time to introduce Harper to some of the advantages of being Nietzschean. Tyr brushes his lips over the sensitive skin. "There are better ways of easing the sensation."

Harper draws in a sharp breath at the velvet glide of Tyr's full lips. His whole body clenches in a sudden spasm of intense delight as Tyr's tongue strokes over his skin. Then the Nietzschean's mouth closes over one of the itchy spots, softly sucking the skin, velvet tongue delicately caressing. Harper cries out, his body arching in violent release. He is only distantly aware of the dampness staining the front of his pants; of Tyr's hard arms curved around his traitorously pliant body as the Nietzschean carries him across, into the inner room and sets him down on the bed. Of Tyr's strong hands deftly stripping him and cleaning him.

"What the hell was that?" Harper asks softly, still dazed, as he watches Tyr shrugging the crimson robe off wide shoulders. He's never felt anything so decadently delicious in his entire life. Not even Tyr's mouth on his cock, not even the thick hardness of Tyr's cock gliding over his sweet spot matched the sparkling dazzle of pleasure that had sizzled up his forearms and straight down to his cock.

"Me," Tyr crawls into the bed and coils around Harper, dusting his lover's face with gentle kisses, "playing with your bone blades."

"I could get used to that." All that pleasure from a kiss on his arm. Harper stirs, pressing back into his lover's embrace. He is already rising, hardening again at the memory of Tyr's hot mouth on his arm. He moans, arching his hips as his lover's skillful hand closes around his swollen cock.

"There are other advantages to being Kodiak. Remember that recovery time of mine that you used to make so many comments about?" Tyr rolls over, pulling his lover on top of him. He spreads his legs and tilts his hips upward in a silent invitation that makes Harper's vivid eyes widen. Since the sensual possibilities of being Nietzschean seem to be reconciling his lover to the change faster than his other arguments, he will lay another inducement on the table. He would have never allowed a human, no matter how beloved, to take him, but another Nietzschean, a Kodiak...yes.

"Tyr?"

Tyr stretches against his lover in a slow, sensual ripple. He slides a bottle of lube out from under his pillow and offers it . "Take what I have to offer, Harper. Take it all, beloved."

"Beloved? I like that." Beloved? Tyr had never called him that before. Beloved. He can get used to that as well. It sounds nice. As comforting as a fireplace on a winter’s evening and as sexy as champagne and moonlight. Beloved. Yes. Harper stares at Tyr for a long considering moment before slowly reaching out and taking the bottle. He is deeply aware that if he accepts the bottle and the offered ass, he is tacitly accepting more. Accepting it all as Tyr had demanded. He squeezes some of the cool dampness out and closes his eyes, concentrating on sensation, on the velvet heat under his exploring fingers. He had waited for so long for Tyr to offer this, to want this from him. He presses a finger into the tight heat, keeping his eyes closed to better savor Tyr’s moan and the eager tilt of muscular hips into his touch. A second finger wins him an impatient squirm. He opens his eyes and smiles tauntingly at the dark flushed face. "More?"

"More!" Tyr presses urgently back on the caressing fingers.

"I don't know," Harper adopts a doubtful tone as he savors the moment, the intimate feel of his fingers stroking Tyr. "I'm not sure that you're ready yet."

Tyr curls in need as Harper's fingers tease his sweet spot. "Harper. Take me."

"So impatient." Harper adds a third finger. His breathing quickens as he stares down as his fingers sliding slickly in and out of Tyr's ass, teasing the sweet spot with every other stroke. "What's your hurry?"

Tyr pants, tossing his head against the pillow and taking in the increasing scent of his mate's arousal, which in turn, drives his own higher. A fine sheen of sweat is dampening the long body, leaving his skin shimmering in the light, highlighting the flex and coil of his muscles in response to his lover's slow caresses. "Take. Me. Now."

Harper slides his fingers away and pauses for a long tantalizing moment before pressing the wide head of his cock against the gleaming dark furl and easing inside. The heat and tightness that surrounds him is almost more than he can hold out against. Harper flexes his back, pressing deeper. "You feel so...hot, so tight. So good."

He reaches down, trailing a caressing finger over the spot where they are joined. Watching the swollen thickness of his cock gliding in and out, framed by the hard swells of Tyr's magnificent ass. The slick, wet sound as he squeezes more lube on himself and thrusts deeper, deeper into the quivering heat clinging to him. Listening to Tyr’s husky, urgent noises. His hands glide up Tyr's flanks and over the rippling abs, carefully avoiding the dusky cock trembling in front of him.

"Harper." Tyr sweeps his hands over his mate's back to curl commandingly over the maddeningly slow flex of Harper's hips.

"I wonder..." Harper leans forward, pressing kisses over the wide chest and lingering over the taste of the dark nipples, beaded and tight under his tongue. He swirls his tongue over the hollow of Tyr's throat and then lifts his head to stare down into hot amber eyes. "I wonder how many times I can make you come before I do."

Tyr laughs breathlessly and lifts his head to kiss Harper. His long legs curl around his mate's waist. "You propose a competition?"

"Why not?" Harper nibbles tauntingly the lush outlines of Tyr's mouth. "Not afraid of a little friendly competition are you?"

"No." Tyr gasps, body arching as Harper thrusts deep and slow inside him. "Show me what you have, Little Man."

"Now, comments like that are gonna cost you." Harper slides his hands along his lover's sinewy forearm. He'd never really paid attention to the bone blades before; he'd always ignored them as much as possible. He stares, watching the betraying way they flutter and snap out as he glides repeatedly over Tyr's sweet spot. He smiles down into his lover’s wide eyes as he sets his mouth against the base of one bone blade and begins sucking lasciviously.

Tyr arches hard against him. "Harper!"

Harper laughs smugly at the betraying dampness gleaming on his stomach. "That's one."

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Oh, man, does he really have to go listen to Hunt's recruitment speech in only an hour? Harper winces as he shifts amid the wildly scattered sheets and pillows. He definitely underestimated what a combination of his new recovery time and the intense pleasure of bone blade play could inspire him to do to Tyr, and allow Tyr to do to him. His only consolation is that Tyr will not be sitting much today either. He turns his head and smirks at the sight of Tyr spread face down over the other side of the bed, long dreads flowing around a plump pillow. Tyr's scent curls beguilingly around him, tempting him to linger in bed and snuggle close. He's never been able to resist Tyr. From the very first moment that he'd seen Tyr, all Tyr had to do was just look at him with those glorious amber eyes and he got so hot that his commonsense jumped right out the window. That was how he’d ended up in bed with an Uber mercenary/assassin. The hallujah chorus of his sensuality had completely swamped his brain and the next thing he knew he was accepting Tyr’s invitation to go somewhere more private. Harper eases the sheets back and gingerly sits up. A soft moan escapes him. Big ouch. Sitting is definitely off the Harper agenda for today. Maybe he can stand while listening to the big speech.

"Harper?" Tyr asks softly, sleepily as he turns his head. He stirs and freezes with a stifled gasp.

Harper grins at the sound. He is suddenly feeling much, much better. "Sore?"

There is another stiffled noise as Tyr eases over. "No. Not at all. You?"

"No. Not at all." Harper forces himself to bounce perkily out of bed under his lover's disbelieving amber stare. He manages to keep the strut in his stride until the bathroom door slides shut behind him. Oh, man. Harper subsides into a slump and staggers into the shower. He leans into the spray of warm water, muscles loosening. "Ooooh. Yeah. That's better."

Harper hurriedly pours a handful of shampoo into his palm and lathers up his hair. He ducks under the water, closing his eyes and tilting his face into the spray. He rinses the last of the lather from his hair and begins spreading soapsuds over his skin. Man. Where had all those passion marks come from? His fingers trail over blue splotches on his inner thighs and over the lingering red marks of beard burn on his stomach and chest mingling with the faint lines of scratches left by Tyr's bone blades. His hands spread over the purplish handprints decorating his flanks. Harper turns, blinking water from his lashes, as Tyr steps into the small shower. His cock rises in quivering response to the amber gaze sliding with open appreciation over him. "Tyr?"

"Last night was glorious." Tyr leans down, brushing his lips over his mate's. Tyr captures Harper's hand and lifts it to his lips. He dusts delicate kisses down the row of nascent bone blades pressing against his mate’s pale skin.

"You keep doing that and we're gonna be late."

"Do you want to join this crew, Harper?"

"Yeah. This ship is so amazing...there's so much to learn here. So many cool toys." Harper's grin fades as he searches the amber eyes. "But you don't, do you?"

"I am Alpha, Harper, and our prospective captain is not." Tyr shrugs. He can foresee certain difficulties, but none that he can't deal with. At least a demand for Submission won't be one of them. He can just imagine Harper's reaction to discovering that particular Nietzschean custom. But from what he had observed during his interview with Hunt and Rhade, it seems highly unlikely that Rhade would permit Hunt to demand Submission from any other Nietzschean who might turn the tables on the Captain as Rhade had and challenge Rhade's control. "But I will take his orders for a time, if staying will please you."

"It will."

"Then we will join the Andromeda's crew." Tyr smiles at his small lover. For now he will stay but if the situation changes...well, that's a thought for another day.

THE END