Shieldbrothers: The Rescue

BY : Lursa_and_BeTor
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Dragon prints: 3848
Disclaimer: I do not own Andromeda, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

"DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!!!!"
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This chapter contains the RAPE of a major character. Stop reading and turn back NOW if this squicks you.
Serious Non/Con sexual situation. We're not kidding.

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Chapter Four: Escape at What Price


Tyr sits on the couch, remembering the last time that he had sat on that couch with Harper. The playful teasing. Harper’s gentle yielding and the surprised pleasure in Harper’s face at the end. His fingers touch the locator on his gauntlet. If only he had insisted on Harper wearing one.

He rubs his face against the back of the couch. Harper’s scent is fading but still there. A bright splash of color behind the couch catches his eye despite the dim lights. Tyr reaches down and fishes out one of the wildly colored shirts that Harper loves. Oh, Seamus. Seamus. Tyr stares bleakly at the shirt.

It’s been three weeks since his sons limped in on the Eureka Maru with no Harper. He knows the others think that his shieldbrother is dead but he cannot accept it. He will not accept it. Not until he sees it for himself. But where to even begin looking? By the time that he and Dylan came back to the Andromeda, it was already too late to trace the ion trails. He had no way to follow the Sharpened Claw; to know where in all the universe that it went.

Tyr buries his face in the shirt. Harper’s scent is rich and strong on the fabric. He wants Harper back. He will have his shieldbrother back. Tyr lowers the shirt and smoothes it tenderly across his leather-clad thighs. The chime of the door interrupts his thoughts. What now? Why could these people not leave him alone with his thoughts and grief? Who now is planning to force their falsely cheerful company on him? “Enter.”

Dylan strides through the door, bouncing a basketball. His manner brims over with good cheer. “Tyr, how ‘bout joining me for a game?”

Tyr sighs. The Captain meant well but never would understand Nietzscheans. He had sought solitude in his off-duty time however he is not merely pining away in an aimless fashion but plotting both revenge and Harper’s recovery. “Not right now, if you don’t mind.”

“You need to get out of these quarters. We never see you except when you’re on duty.” Dylan tucks the ball under one arm. His pale eyes are watchful and concerned.

“Captain…Dylan…I am not good company right now.” He will not open his heart to this man. Harper is the only one on intimate enough terms with him to rightfully demand that privilege. He has already found as much physical release as he can in doing a particularly demanding series of katas. He does not want company or conversation.

“You could come to my quarters…we could have a game of Go.” Dylan offers.

Tyr sighs. He really does not feel like being tactful. He feels like killing things. His bone blades flex. Still he may need Dylan’s aid to recover Harper. Tyr keeps his voice soft, reflecting none of his impatience and anger. “Captain. You have offered and I have refused. Your obligation to try to raise my morale is duly noted. Now…if you please…allow me to think in peace.”

Dylan stares appraisingly at him for a long moment. “Okay. But if you ever need to talk…”

Tyr meets the stare, carefully blanking all emotion from his face and eyes. “I know where to find you.”

Dylan nods and leaves.

Tyr covers his eyes with one hand. He raises the shirt to his face again, greedily breathing in the scent. “Seamus…where are you?”

***

Thank the Divine that the kids got away. That knowledge is his one comfort as Harper sits in his cell. He had awakened naked lying on the thin mattress. The cell was cool and the mattress seems to soak up the chill from the floor.

Harper shivers. He draws his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. He rests his chin on his knees and closes his eyes. Damn Niets. It would have cost them nothing to leave him his clothing or raise the temperature in the room to a more comfortable level for a naked person but no. He knows what they are after. They want him uncomfortable and off-balance. They want him to feel vulnerable. “So sorry…been there…done that, hated the tee shirt thank you very much.”

His hand still aches and stings. Harper opens his eyes and looks down at the back of his right hand. He scowls at the fresh tattoo. Yesterday…the day before, maybe…Harper tightens his arms. He is beginning to lose track of time in the eternal dim lighting of his cell. His meals come irregularly. Everything is designed to keep him confused.

He looks back down at the tattoo. That damn Über Bitch Athena had her men brand him with the Creek-Shalom slave marking. As soon as he escapes, he will have it removed. He might be forced to wear it now but he will be free of it at the first opportunity. At least, it was just his hand. Katherine had gleefully suggested several more sensitive locations.

Speak of the she-devil! Harper straightens his back and wraps as much dignity around himself as he can. The force field lowers and Katherine walks in. She poses, her hands on her hips as she openly looks him over and sneers. Harper stares coldly back, refusing to cringe or show his embarrassment at being naked before her. He will not give her the pleasure of reacting the way that she wants him to.

“Hello, kludge. Do you like your new room?” Katherine waves her hand indicating the bleak, metal walls.

“I’ve had better.” Harper responds quietly. He watches her closely. What is she after this time? More mind games? “But, ya know what; a few flowers, some curtains and paint job would help immensely.”

Katherine purses her lips in mocking pout. “Don’t be rude. I picked it out for you myself. Don’t you like it? It’s really important that you are comfortable with your surroundings.”

“I’d be a lot more comfortable if I had some clothes.” Harper shivers in the chill air. He hates being cold. “Oh and I’d like a couple Sparkys with my evening meal too, since you want me to be comfortable.”

“We can’t have that just yet.” Katherine crouches in front of him. She slaps his face. “Now have you decided to tell us what you did to our computer that has left us disabled?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Harper can taste his own blood in his mouth. He feels a warm satisfaction in the knowledge of just how bad he had messed up their computer systems.
They may have gotten him but it would be a long while before they could try to pursue the kids. His boys were safe.

“Come now. We both know that’s not true.” Katherine grabs his chin, her fingers digging painfully into his skin. “My engineer can’t make heads or tails out of the mangled mess you left behind. We barely managed to get communications back up.”

“Funny…” Harper snips. “I thought you Übers were a brainy lot.”

“I’m glad you’ve got a sense of humor. I find the idea of a kludge disabling a starship quite entertaining.” Katherine releases him and stands up. She turns as if she’s leaving then turns back. “You know…it’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been less than cooperative with your keepers. Is that true?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harper shifts on the mattress. Now what? He knows this ploy from his days on Earth under the Drago-Kazov. They are going to hurt him no matter what he does or does not do. The only real question is how badly will they hurt him? The mind games are on. Fine. He is going to survive this. He is going to escape and he is going back to the Andromeda. Won’t Tyr and the kids be surprised when he pops up?

Katherine tosses her white blond ponytail over her shoulder and moves further into the room. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t you, kludge?”

It hurts knowing that he’ll probably never get to talk to his mate again. No, Harper tightens his grip around his legs; he isn’t going to think like that. Defeat lies that way. Giving up lies that way. He’s seen enough of this sort of stuff on earth to know that that is exactly how they want him to respond. They want to break his will and spirit.

He will not yield to this. He will hold it together. He will get back to Tyr. Sometimes, at night he can almost feel Tyr’s big body wrapped around him, holding him close. He can almost smell him. Then he wakes up and he’s still in hell. And not the sunny side of hell. Oh, no…strictly the dark, dank wrong side of the hell tracks for Seamus Harper. “No. Nope. Nada. Haven’t got a clue.”

“I think you’re lying. I can’t tolerate that.” Katherine sighs in apparent regret but her eyes are filled with excitement. “All liars have to be punished.”

Harper stares at her, trying to brace himself for the coming pain. What are they going to do this time? With Katherine in charge, it’s going to be much worse than a beating. He had taken her measure when she suggested it would be fun to tattoo the slave mark on his cock. “What do you mean, ‘punished’?”

“You’ll see very soon. But if you will just tell me how to fix my computer so I can fly my ship I might go easy on you.”

“I can’t do that.” Harper snorts. He isn’t naïve enough to believe that. They are going to do whatever they have planned anyway.

“Such bravery. Misguided but admirable.” Katherine leans against the far wall. “I thought it was exceptional how you sacrificed yourself for the young ones. Almost Nietzschean really. Our children are valued above all else you know.”

“I’m glad they got away.”

“A shame we didn’t get to play with the kludge spawn. They would have very entertaining.” Katherine sighs over lost opportunities.

He’s profoundly thankful that his boys aren’t in this creature’s hands. The kids were too young to deal with such a twisted person. At least he knows how Niets like her think and act. Whatever he has to endure is worth it if it buys the kids’ safety and Tyr time to hide the boys somewhere nice; somewhere where they could be happy. The more time Katherine and Athena waste on him, the less time they have to be hunting down the boys.

Katherine looks toward the door of Harper’s cell. She smiles. “Now, I suppose you’ll be our only entertainment.”

“Oh no.” Harper stares as three very large Nietzschean males swagger in. None of them are wearing anything but leather pants. Oh, damn. He may have overestimated his endurance. He isn’t sure if he can or wants to survive what he fears Katherine has in mind. Already his heartbeat is spiking and he knows those damn Niets can smell his fear.

The largest of the three has the same white blond hair and blue eyes as Katherine, obviously a sibling. He poses in front of Harper, making a show of rolling his broad shoulders and flexing his muscles. The other two men are almost as tall. One has dark gold hair pulled back at his nape. The other has black braids falling down his copper chest. All three of the men stare at Harper like he is a dessert buffet.

“Sheesh, what a showoff.” Harper looks away dismissively. None of these guys are anything next to his lover. Tyr is impressive enough just standing still; he never has to put on a show to scare someone.

Katherine gazes with anticipation at Harper. She licks her lips as she looks from Harper to the three big men. “These are your trainers. They will be taking care of you for the next few hours.”

“Thanks but no thanks. I don’t need to be ‘taken care’ of.” Harper tightens his arms around his legs. He glowers at her, trying to hide his fear as best he can.

The largest man slides a hand down the front of his pants, his fingers rest on the fastenings as he looks at Katherine. “Are you ready for us to discipline the kludge?”

“Yes. Just make sure the cameras catch his face. I want to be absolutely certain the Kodiak has no doubts that we do have his shieldbrother.” Katherine laughs as she leans against the edge of the doorway to watch.

Harper looks up, scanning the ceiling. “Cameras? What cameras?”

“Get on your feet, kludge!” The man with the braids grabs him and yanks him to his feet.

Harper stumbles into the wall and presses back against it. The three men spread out around him. Harper looks quickly around. He has nowhere to go. This is almost exactly how it was that day on Earth when he got trapped in that alley. Despair and fear rise inside him in an overwhelming tide. He survived this once but he isn’t sure if he can do it again.

Harper stands frozen as the white blond Nietzschean shoves him into the wall. His skin shrinks form the rough rasp of the shaven cheeks as the Niet sniffs his chest. The Niet growls and steps back. “He stinks of Kodiak!”

“So the Kodiak broke you in, did he?” The Niet with the dark blond ponytail moves closer. His cruel eyes are hot as he slowly looks the human up and down, lingering over the bare groin. He grabs Harper’s chin and leans close. “Are you his fucktoy little human? Hmmm? Are you his bitch?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Harper lifts his chin defiantly. What lies between him and Tyr is not going to be stained by this scum. Ponytail can go to hell.

Braids drops down and rubs his cheek against Harper thigh. The dark eyes stare coldly up at Harper. “Liar. You’ve got his markings and his scent all over you.”

White Blond laughs. “Did the Kodiak ride you, boy? A little kludge whore like you would probably beg for it.”

“What are you talking about?” Harper decides to play confused. Maybe if he could make them believe him ignorant, they would settle for a beating instead of this. “What do you mean?”

Ponytail leans in close to Harper’s face and whispers loudly. “It’s a surprise!”

“Oh nonononono.” Harper groans. His nose wrinkles at the smell of alcohol. These men were drunk…or at least had been drinking. Tyr said that Nietzscheans didn’t like to dull their minds with alcohol. He has obviously never met members of the Creek-Shalom.

“Why are you moaning, kludge?” Braids runs a hand up the human’s thigh and flank. “We’re going to have a good time. Just good clean fun.”

The big blonde’s icy eyes glow with anticipation. “Well, we are…don’t know about you.”

“Fellas…I…I…I like to have fun as much as the next guy. I…I…I just think we need to table this discussion until tomorrow…or the next day.” Harper presses against the wall. His brain feels oddly fuzzy and slow.

Braids bites Harper’s thigh hard. “You think we need to put this off for a while, is that right?

Harper draws in a sharp breath. He can feel blood trickling hotly down his thigh. “Yeah…see…I’m thinking that what we…”

The big blond begins undoing the laces of his leather pants. He tosses the flap aside and strokes his hand over his large, red cock. “That’s your problem, kludge. You think too much. You talk too much. I’ve got something to put in that mouth of yours.”

The other men laugh.

Harper trembles, knowing what’s coming next. The memories that he has tried so hard to repress rise fresh and ugly in his head. The Drago-Kazov had been trolling through the street in the Boston ghetto where Harper had chosen to hide. Two of the men had chased him down an alley behind a restaurant. They had grabbed him, yanked his pants down and bent him over a crate. After they were done, they had left him in that alley. He had laid there, dazed. He can still remember the words on the crate. Shurlock’s Finest Apples. He had not eaten an apple since that day. The very thought of one makes him feel ill. He used to like apples.

The big blond crowds close, roughly raking his fingers through Harper’s hair. He forces Harper’s head back at an awkward angle and stares down into his pale face. “You’re a little one aren’t you? I’m going to enjoy breaking you in.”

The big blond steps back and nods to the other two Niets. They grab Harper and shove him out into the center of the cell where the cameras will have a view of everything.

“Why don’t you just fucking kill me, okay?” Harper squirms desperately in the hard grasp of the two men but he can’t break away. Maybe he can provoke them into knocking him out. He glares at them defiantly. “Fucking Übers! What? Are you beta’s not good enough to find a real woman so you have to settle for a little kludge action?”

“Shut. UP!” Ponytail backhands him. Harper’s lip splits and blood drips to his bare chest.

“Must be a bitch to know that no woman wants you. No children for you. Never gonna get that husband and father status you crave. You never get to play with the good toys.” Harper spits blood in the face of the big blond. He waits hopefully as the large hand grabs his throat.

“I’m not going to kill you no matter how much you bait me.” The man leans close to Harper’s face. “I’m just going to make you wish I had.”

“Too late. I already wish it.” Harper moans. The bleakness of despair is sapping his will. From the corner of his eye, he can see Katherine watching, her face flushed with excitement. Maybe they’ll just kill him afterwards if he’s lucky. He can’t face Tyr after this. He can’t.

“Turn him around and hold on to him.” The big Nietzschean orders the others.

They force Harper to present his back and bend over. Harper breathes faster and faster. He can’t quite seem to catch his breath. He feels dizzy and on the verge of fainting. The big blond slides his hands down Harper’s pale back, pressing painfully over each bruise. Harper is hyperaware of the large, rough hands moving lower to squeeze hard the curves of his ass. Harper flinches as the fingers dig into him, forcing his cheeks apart. “Did the Kodiak not train you properly, kludge? No matter. You will be properly trained by the time we’ve finished our sessions today.”

“Please. Please…don’t…” Harper is appalled to hear himself begging hopelessly but can’t seem to stop. He cries out as a big finger is jabbed into him abruptly and yanked back out. Tears slide down his face as the big blond roughly shoves in, pressing all the way down. Something rips inside and Harper screams in pain.

“He’s tight. Hot too. Hold him steady!” The big blond laughs breathlessly as he yanks almost all the way out and shoves back in. His hands are hard on Harper’s hips as he begins thrusting.

“Tyr…” Harper whispers. He closes his eyes tightly. He imagines being back in their quarters, watching Tyr read. He can see Tyr’s dark face. The lush lines of his lips. The soft amber eyes. The long, richly luxurious mass of braids spread softly over him as they curl together in the big bed. The scent of Tyr on the pillows. The comfort of Tyr holding him close as they drift to sleep. He can almost hear the deep rumble of Tyr’s voice, reading LuXann of Talismania or Shakespeare aloud to him as they lie in bed.

“Praying to your lover, boy?” The big Nietzschean pounds savagely into the smaller man. “He’s not here to save you but I am. Pray to me.”

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod…” Harper can hear his voice continuing to beg, to plead but distantly. He concentrates fiercely on the soft tones of Tyr’s voice, filling his head with the comforting sound. “It hurts! Pleasepleasepleaseplease…please…”

The big blond slaps Harper’s ass. “Shut up or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“My pain belongs to the Divine. It is like air. It is like water.” Harper whispers the mantra Rev Bem taught him. His voice sounds faint and far away. His voice forms a fading background to the soft murmur of Tyr’s voice deep in his mind. He blocks out the rest, listening to the rich, velvet cadence of Tyr’s voice. “My pain belongs to the Divine. It is like air. It is like water.”

“Affirmations won’t help you, boy.” Braids laughs as his cruel grip tightens, holding Harper’s trembling body still as the big blonde Nietzschean thrusts harder and deeper into Harper.

“The kludge must be a virgin! Look how he bleeds.” The big blonde man finishes and pulls roughly out. He grips Harper tightly and laughs as Braids moves behind Harper and begins thrusting deeply into the human.

Harper moans and struggles feebly. He feels shattered into a thousand fragments like smashed crystal. He can almost see shimmering slivers of crystal glittering on the floor at his feet. Even the comforting notes of Tyr’s voice can’t stop it. Harper sways and crumples.

It is as if he is gone. Drifting up to the corner, watching as someone else’s body falls to the cold floor. Someone else who jerks and twitches in aimless motions with the rough thrusts. Someone else who begs and pleads from cracked, bleeding lips. Someone else who is reduced to panicky inarticulate noises as one man then another thrusts into him, over and over until they finish with him and drop him in a puddle of semen and blood. Someone else who mindlessly repeats a mantra as he curls into tight ball…his face a mask of pain.

***
The command deck is strangely quiet. Usually there are bouts of chatter and teasing in between dealing with the business of the day but not this time. Tyr ignores the silence as he generally ignored the chatter. He can feel curious glances flickering over him as he stares at the readings on his console. His fingers stray to the locator. Since Harper vanished, he has never been without his lover’s last gift. Tyr keeps his face expressionless. He wants no conversation. He has plans to make. A shield brother to reclaim and avenge. His sons to protect. Everything else is secondary.

Bellerophon steps tentatively onto the bridge. He pauses, looking around uncertainly. He is greeted with wide, encouraging smiles from the rest of the crew. He walks up to Tyr. “Father? May I speak with you for a moment?”

Tyr turns to look at his tall son. The boy’s eyes are dark with distress. Tyr softens his expression and nods. “Yes.”

“May we speak privately?” Bellerophon leans closer and lowers his voice.

“This way.” Tyr taps his console to shut it down and steps away. He walks into the corridor.

Bellerophon looks at Trance who smiles shyly and gives him a shooing gesture. He smiles back and hurries after his father.

Tyr is waiting in the corridor. His arms are folded over the chain mail vest covering his chest. “What is it?”

“Father…Chimaera and I want to…we want to apologize for…” Bellerophon cannot meet Tyr’s eyes. He stares down at the floor. His voice gets softer and softer as he speaks. “…leaving Harper behind. We should have stayed and fought.”

Tyr cups his son’s chin, tilting the boy’s head up to meet his gaze. “If you had not followed his instructions you would have all been lost.”

“We could have fought father. Harper says we have improved.” Bellerophon’s voice is passionate. His bone blades flex and extend.

Tyr strokes his son’s face affectionately, noting the shadows under Bellerophon’s deep-set eyes. His son has been worrying about Harper and Tyr’s reaction to losing him. He should have spoken to the boys sooner but he thought that they understood. “I know you have, my son. But Harper understood your importance to me. Nothing is more important to a Nietzschean than his child.”

“You have told us to seek our own survival above all else.” Bellerophon gazes into his father’s eyes.

“That is correct.”

“I don’t understand, father.” Bellerophon frowns. “Harper didn’t look to his own survival. He looked to ours.”

“Precisely.” Tyr taps the boy’s cheek lightly with his fingertips. “Harper thinks of all of you as his sons.”

“We will get him back, won’t we?” Bellerophon’s eyes are bright with unshed tears. He looks down hastily to hide his emotion.

“You can be assured of that if nothing else.” Tyr strokes his son’s long hair. “Look at me. Don’t worry. All will be well.”

Bellerophon tries to paste on a brave smile. “Yes father.”

“Go. Find your brother and work on those katas I taught you. You need to get rid of some of this frustration.”

“And you father?”

“I have another method for relieving my frustrations.” Tyr kisses his son’s forehead and turns away. He walks back on the bridge, conversation flickers and dies in his wake but he does not care. He walks over to his console and taps it on.

The screen version of Andromeda appears on the left screen. “I’m receiving a transmission from the Sabra-Jaguar starship Sharpened Claw.”

Tyr goes completely still.

“That’s the ship that Bellerophon and Chimaera escaped from.” Trance gasps. She turns to stare at Tyr.

Dylan glances at Tyr. “On screen.”

Andromeda looks in Tyr’s direction. “It is a private communication for Tyr. It is from Athena Rachmaninoff.”

Tyr turns on his heel. “I’ll take it in the conference room.” He strides off the command deck.

“Engage privacy mode.” Tyr snaps as he enters the conference room.

“Privacy mode engaged. Authorization Fire Control Officer Tyr Anasazi.” Andromeda states.

Tyr sits slowly at Dylan’s desk. He looks at the dark screen for a long moment, trying to gather his composure. What is he going to see? Is this proof of Harper’s death or proof that his lover yet lives? “Play message.”

Athena Rachmaninoff’s face appears on the screen. “Tyr Anasazi…you and your little kludge have been a thorn in my side. What is it with you and kludges? I don’t understand the attraction. First that…creature…of Valerus Prime, now this little man, you must have a higher tolerance for them than I do. I had hoped to have your spawn as well but that will have to wait for another time.” She leans toward the screen, smiling. “I have something you need to see then I’ll share my proposition. Enjoy the show.”

“Oh. Seamus…” Tyr’s hands clench in fists as he watches his lover being abused. Tyr watches the whole thing, noting every detail, everything that is owed to his shieldbrother. His bones blades snap out as he listens, broken-hearted and furious, to Harper’s cries and pleas. Watching is unbearable yet he owes Harper this witnessing of his shieldbrother’s pain and suffering. If Harper endured it, then he can watch it.

Tyr feels ill. Icy cold and burning hot. He watches as the men take his mate over and over. He marks their faces and identifying characteristics. They will die and die badly at his hands. Finally the men leave, laughing as Harper shivers and trembles on the floor. The image of his mate’s pale, pain-filled face is large on the screen. Instinctively, Tyr reaches out to touch the image but clenches his fist when Athena’s smiling face reappears.

“So Anasazi are you ready to bargain for the release of your pet?” Athena laughs. “It’s simple really. Just turn over control of the Andromeda to me and I’ll let you have your toy.” She pouts. “I don’t think we’ve broken him…yet. You have one day from receipt of this message.”

The screen goes dark. Tyr sits, trembling with the need to kill. His bone blades ache with the need. He growls low and savage. He can barely think. Harper is alive. At least he was when the recording was made. Harper is alive.

The Holographic Andromeda appears beside Tyr. Her dark eyes are grim. “Tyr. Harper is my engineer. I want to help.”

“Surely you realize that this message is a ruse.” Tyr responds quietly, still staring at the blank screen. The screen may be blank now but the images fill his mind, playing remorselessly over and over.

“I have nothing to fear from those women or their weapons.” The hologram crosses her arms.

“I will not risk Harper’s life.” Tyr stands slowly. He does not trust himself to step outside the room yet. All he wants is to release his rage and kill.

Andromeda stares back at him. Her face is determined and hard. “Neither will I.”

“Can you trace where the message came from?” Tyr asks her.

Andromeda looks thoughtful for a moment. “No. The message was encrypted.”

“So we’re back to where we started.”

“My chronometer shows that the message is not more than a day old. They may be in a nearby system.” The hologram looks toward the door. “My avatar would like to come in.”

Tyr glances at the blank screen again. Harper would not want anyone to know this. Much less see it. He can, at least, do that much for his shieldbrother right now. “Make sure you erase that message. I don’t want anyone else to see him like that.”

Andromeda pauses for a nanosecond. “Message is deleted.”

“Remove privacy mode,” Tyr orders. He slowly raises his hands and ties his long hair back. He needs more time before he can face the curiosity and concern of the others.

“Privacy mode released.”

Rommie strides into the conference room. Her eyes are enormous and her face is pallid over the red leather of her uniform. “I am going with you. You will need someone to watch your back. I am the logical one for that job.”

“Ship…Andromeda…Harper is...” Tyr can barely control his voice as the images wash over him again.

“He’s MY engineer.” Rommie’s eyes go dark and cold. “He has been violated in a manner I almost don’t have words for…I can’t wait here and do nothing.”

Tyr looks down at his clenched fists imagining them clasped around the throat of each of Harper’s violators. “I will be honored to have you fight by my side.”

“Dylan, Beka…Andromeda and I are headed to the Maru.” Tyr announces over the com link as he steps into the corridor. Rommie matches his stride.

“I’ll come with you.” Beka adds.

Tyr looks down at Rommie. “No. We won’t need your assistance.” Rommie nods once.

Trance’s voice comes over the com link. “Tyr? I have a weird feeling that you need to look in the Pylea system.”

“Why?” Tyr’s eyes narrow. What does Trance know and how?

“It makes me itchy.”

Now he knows where to look. He is grateful for the information but if he discovers that Trance knew earlier and did not choose to speak….Tyr growls. “As good a reason as any I suppose.”

“Be careful.”

“I’m going to pick up a few things and prep the Maru.” Tyr turns to Rommie. “Be ready to leave in one hour.”

“Understood.”

Tyr walks toward the Maru. The hologram appears in front of him. “Tyr?”

“Yes?”

“Bring my engineer back!”

Tyr nods curtly and enters the docking bay.

TBC




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