Birthright 8 - Untitled - Random scene
Tyr-Harper scene
(Takes place shortly after The Prince)
Previously: Höhne (at Tyr’s request) calls Harper to GS92196, saying that they need his help with knacking the databases there. Dylan, completely oblivious of what’s going on behind his back, agrees to “lend” them Harper. Arriving at the station, Harper is a bit shocked to find it completely overhauled and populated partly with Eric’s subjects and partly with Nietzscheans from Centauris A.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There were half a dozen ships docked at the station, all of them obviously High Guard designs but not centuries-old derelicts. Harper stared at them in awe.
“What is this place?” he asked. “I mean, I know of course what it is… or what it was a year or so ago, but….”
“It is our shipyard,” Tyr replied simply. “Your shipyard, if you want it.”
“My shipyard?” Harper echoed in confusion.
Tyr nodded. “You are the best. My Sabra engineers are good but they can’t even come close. You have wasted enough time to serve that big, ungrateful ship and that big, ungrateful captain of hers. Doing mundane tasks, suitable for drones - or for Worker bugs. I offer you the chance to build ships, not just fix old rustbins. My engineers can work with High Guard blueprints, but you could construct new ships never seen before.
Harper blinked a few times in surprise. “Have you just told me that I’m better than your Über technicians?”
“I have, because you are,” Tyr answered calmly.
“And you are offering me a job as a ship constructor?”
“I am. Your talents are wasted on the Andromeda. You know that as well as I do.”
“Perhaps,” Harper allowed, “but all my friends are on the Andromeda. Why would I want to work for people who consider me a lower life-form?”
“Your friends?” Tyr emphasized. “The Magog never moved a claw to help you getting rid of your… passengers. The purple girl would have happily left you die a grisly death, as long as her secret, whatever it might be, would die with you. The avatar treats you as if you were its personal servant. And Dylan only needs your skills to keep his ship together.”
“Which would be different from you using my skills… how exactly?” Harper asked.
“You could focus on the really important things here,” Tyr said with a shrug, “and leave the mundane tasks to your staff. King Eric offers you citizenship, so that you could have a permanent home - isn’t that what all mudfoots dream of? To start a family with Yvaine? To live among your own kind - humans - and still have access to the highest level of technology currently known?”
“I won’t deny that it is tempting,” Harper said slowly. “I’m just not ready to leave Beka and Rommie behind, okay? Let’s just deal with the job you need me for right now for the time being.”
Tyr shrugged again. “As you wish. Basically, I want three things from you. First: we’ve just equipped one of our ships with a brand new slipstream engine. I need you to check it for any possible faults. It’s Perseid design, so it shouldn’t have any, but if anyone can find the hidden faults, you can.”
“Sure,” Harper’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Man, to be able to get his hands on a newly built slipstream engine… even go for a shakedown cruise perhaps… “What else?”
“The ship’s core AI has been erased and completely reprogrammed,” Tyr said. “The avatar has suffered some damage, too - I want it fixed, with a few modifications.”
“No problemo,” it was Harper’s turn to shrug now. “I’ve built Rommie from the scratch, after all.”
“Which brings me to the third point,” Tyr said. “Our flagship needs a brand new avatar, ‘built from the scratch’, as you’d say. The specifications are on this disc,” he handed it to Harper. “The reprogramming of the AI is still in process. You’ll have to work with my Fourth, Finnabair, on this project. She’s a highly skilled programmer. I’m sure the two of you will get along fabulously.”
Harper nodded noncommittally. He had nothing against working with a hot Niet babe as long as she was a professional - and withheld any kludge remarks.
“Okay,” he said, happy to finally be doing some real work again, other than just the never-ending repairs. “Where are those ships?”
“On the far right,” Tyr replied, guiding him to the large observation window, and Harper’s eyes practically bulged, as if he had suddenly turned into a Than.
“That’s not possible! The Pax exploded before our very eyes!”
“Not really,” Tyr said dryly. “But this isn’t the Pax Magellanic anymore. It’s been overhauled and reprogrammed and is now called the Phoenix Rising. I decided to keep the avatar, though.”
“Yeah, I can see why,” Harper grinned. The Pax avatar had been and ice-cold, leggy blonde… and Tyr was known to have a thing for leggy blondes.
“However, I want her to be equipped with Nietzschean traits,” Tyr added.
“You mean bone blades and leather and stuff?” Harper was still grinning. “I guess you’ve already programmed the attitude…”
“Finnabair has,” Tyr corrected. “Now, as for the avatar of the Seven-Arara, I wish it to be built in the likeness of my ancestor, Suleiman ‘the Sultan’. I’ll provide all necessary details.”
Harper rubbed his hands gleefully. “Oh, the Harper loves a good challenge! But what sort of ship needs a sultan as her avatar?”
“A Siege Perilous starship killer,” Tyr replied calmly, pointing out the ship in question.
Following the direction of his pointing finger, Harper finally detected the second ship - a deadly elegant monster that had been hidden from his eyes so far.
“That’s not possible!” he muttered again. “You’ve managed to get your hand on the Balance of Judgement as well? How?”
“The same way as we seized the Pax,” Tyr explained. “We erased the core AI with the help of a virus, initiated a spectacular explosion - and whisked the ship away in its guise.”
“So this is your flagship, yes?”
“Indeed. It’s called the Seven-Arara now, after the deadly sunbird from the Mayan mythology.”
“Deadly,” Harper repeated sourly. “Why am I not surprised?”
Tyr shrugged. “The sun can support life - or end it, given the circumstances. Just like this ship. And when the Magog come - and they will come, we both know that - we’ll need every ounce of power we can get our hands on.”
“So you aren’t working against Dylan?” Harper asked.
Tyr shook his head. “No. I follow a different path, which happens to lead to the same goal - for the time being. To deal with the Magog, once and forever. After that… things will be different.”
“You will turn against him? Against the Commonwealth?”
Tyr snorted. “Boy, I don’t care about the Commonwealth, one way or another. My vocation is to unite the Nietzschean Prides; to bring my people back onto the path of greatness. To make them what they were supposed to be. I can still work with Dylan’s ridiculous Commonwealth - they are too insignificant to be bothered by them.”
“And you wish me to work with you - for you - instead of Dylan?” Harper asked doubtfully. “Why should I? In case you’ve forgotten, I hate you Niets almost as much as I hate the Magog.”
“Almost being the key word here,” Tyr pointed out. “Besides, you’ve managed to work alongside Rev Bem for how long?”
“More than six years. But the Rev isn’t your average Magog. Just as you aren’t the average Niet.”
“You shouldn’t be so sure about either of us,” Tyr warned him. “But I will give you a reason why you should work for me instead of the esteemed Captain Hunt: I have better chances to win.”
“If you say so…” Harper said wryly.
Tyr rolled his eyes. “Boy… Dylan has one aged warship that would fall to pieces without you; and the Castalian fishing fleet. We have an entire fleet of ships built after High Guard design, and that’s just the beginning. You’ve got excellent survival instincts - what do they tell you?”
“That make an already way too strong Niet armada even stronger would be bad for my continued health,” Harper countered.
Tyr grinned. “I always knew you were clever. Very well, I’ll raise the stakes. Help me destroy the Magog, and I’ll free your pitiful home planet from the Drago-Kazov.”
Harper snorted. “As if you hadn’t planned to get back at the Drago-Kazov anyway!
“Of course I had,” Tyr agreed. “But I have to start somewhere - and Earth is as good a place for that as any… if that is what you want.”
“So, that’s the deal, uh?” Harper glared at him in suspicion. “Gimme the doomsday weapon and I’ll give you planet?”
“Yes,” Tyr said with another shrug. “It matches my long-term plans, so it won’t be such hardness.”
For a surprisingly long time (for him anyway) Harper remained silent. Then he turned away from the magnificent sight of the Kodiak-Sabran fleet abruptly.
‘I need to think about this,” he said.
In the end, he agreed, of course. How could he not? Offing the Magog and freeing Earth from the iron yoke of the Dragans - which Earth-born kludge could say no to that?
(Takes place shortly after The Prince)
Previously: Höhne (at Tyr’s request) calls Harper to GS92196, saying that they need his help with knacking the databases there. Dylan, completely oblivious of what’s going on behind his back, agrees to “lend” them Harper. Arriving at the station, Harper is a bit shocked to find it completely overhauled and populated partly with Eric’s subjects and partly with Nietzscheans from Centauris A.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There were half a dozen ships docked at the station, all of them obviously High Guard designs but not centuries-old derelicts. Harper stared at them in awe.
“What is this place?” he asked. “I mean, I know of course what it is… or what it was a year or so ago, but….”
“It is our shipyard,” Tyr replied simply. “Your shipyard, if you want it.”
“My shipyard?” Harper echoed in confusion.
Tyr nodded. “You are the best. My Sabra engineers are good but they can’t even come close. You have wasted enough time to serve that big, ungrateful ship and that big, ungrateful captain of hers. Doing mundane tasks, suitable for drones - or for Worker bugs. I offer you the chance to build ships, not just fix old rustbins. My engineers can work with High Guard blueprints, but you could construct new ships never seen before.
Harper blinked a few times in surprise. “Have you just told me that I’m better than your Über technicians?”
“I have, because you are,” Tyr answered calmly.
“And you are offering me a job as a ship constructor?”
“I am. Your talents are wasted on the Andromeda. You know that as well as I do.”
“Perhaps,” Harper allowed, “but all my friends are on the Andromeda. Why would I want to work for people who consider me a lower life-form?”
“Your friends?” Tyr emphasized. “The Magog never moved a claw to help you getting rid of your… passengers. The purple girl would have happily left you die a grisly death, as long as her secret, whatever it might be, would die with you. The avatar treats you as if you were its personal servant. And Dylan only needs your skills to keep his ship together.”
“Which would be different from you using my skills… how exactly?” Harper asked.
“You could focus on the really important things here,” Tyr said with a shrug, “and leave the mundane tasks to your staff. King Eric offers you citizenship, so that you could have a permanent home - isn’t that what all mudfoots dream of? To start a family with Yvaine? To live among your own kind - humans - and still have access to the highest level of technology currently known?”
“I won’t deny that it is tempting,” Harper said slowly. “I’m just not ready to leave Beka and Rommie behind, okay? Let’s just deal with the job you need me for right now for the time being.”
Tyr shrugged again. “As you wish. Basically, I want three things from you. First: we’ve just equipped one of our ships with a brand new slipstream engine. I need you to check it for any possible faults. It’s Perseid design, so it shouldn’t have any, but if anyone can find the hidden faults, you can.”
“Sure,” Harper’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Man, to be able to get his hands on a newly built slipstream engine… even go for a shakedown cruise perhaps… “What else?”
“The ship’s core AI has been erased and completely reprogrammed,” Tyr said. “The avatar has suffered some damage, too - I want it fixed, with a few modifications.”
“No problemo,” it was Harper’s turn to shrug now. “I’ve built Rommie from the scratch, after all.”
“Which brings me to the third point,” Tyr said. “Our flagship needs a brand new avatar, ‘built from the scratch’, as you’d say. The specifications are on this disc,” he handed it to Harper. “The reprogramming of the AI is still in process. You’ll have to work with my Fourth, Finnabair, on this project. She’s a highly skilled programmer. I’m sure the two of you will get along fabulously.”
Harper nodded noncommittally. He had nothing against working with a hot Niet babe as long as she was a professional - and withheld any kludge remarks.
“Okay,” he said, happy to finally be doing some real work again, other than just the never-ending repairs. “Where are those ships?”
“On the far right,” Tyr replied, guiding him to the large observation window, and Harper’s eyes practically bulged, as if he had suddenly turned into a Than.
“That’s not possible! The Pax exploded before our very eyes!”
“Not really,” Tyr said dryly. “But this isn’t the Pax Magellanic anymore. It’s been overhauled and reprogrammed and is now called the Phoenix Rising. I decided to keep the avatar, though.”
“Yeah, I can see why,” Harper grinned. The Pax avatar had been and ice-cold, leggy blonde… and Tyr was known to have a thing for leggy blondes.
“However, I want her to be equipped with Nietzschean traits,” Tyr added.
“You mean bone blades and leather and stuff?” Harper was still grinning. “I guess you’ve already programmed the attitude…”
“Finnabair has,” Tyr corrected. “Now, as for the avatar of the Seven-Arara, I wish it to be built in the likeness of my ancestor, Suleiman ‘the Sultan’. I’ll provide all necessary details.”
Harper rubbed his hands gleefully. “Oh, the Harper loves a good challenge! But what sort of ship needs a sultan as her avatar?”
“A Siege Perilous starship killer,” Tyr replied calmly, pointing out the ship in question.
Following the direction of his pointing finger, Harper finally detected the second ship - a deadly elegant monster that had been hidden from his eyes so far.
“That’s not possible!” he muttered again. “You’ve managed to get your hand on the Balance of Judgement as well? How?”
“The same way as we seized the Pax,” Tyr explained. “We erased the core AI with the help of a virus, initiated a spectacular explosion - and whisked the ship away in its guise.”
“So this is your flagship, yes?”
“Indeed. It’s called the Seven-Arara now, after the deadly sunbird from the Mayan mythology.”
“Deadly,” Harper repeated sourly. “Why am I not surprised?”
Tyr shrugged. “The sun can support life - or end it, given the circumstances. Just like this ship. And when the Magog come - and they will come, we both know that - we’ll need every ounce of power we can get our hands on.”
“So you aren’t working against Dylan?” Harper asked.
Tyr shook his head. “No. I follow a different path, which happens to lead to the same goal - for the time being. To deal with the Magog, once and forever. After that… things will be different.”
“You will turn against him? Against the Commonwealth?”
Tyr snorted. “Boy, I don’t care about the Commonwealth, one way or another. My vocation is to unite the Nietzschean Prides; to bring my people back onto the path of greatness. To make them what they were supposed to be. I can still work with Dylan’s ridiculous Commonwealth - they are too insignificant to be bothered by them.”
“And you wish me to work with you - for you - instead of Dylan?” Harper asked doubtfully. “Why should I? In case you’ve forgotten, I hate you Niets almost as much as I hate the Magog.”
“Almost being the key word here,” Tyr pointed out. “Besides, you’ve managed to work alongside Rev Bem for how long?”
“More than six years. But the Rev isn’t your average Magog. Just as you aren’t the average Niet.”
“You shouldn’t be so sure about either of us,” Tyr warned him. “But I will give you a reason why you should work for me instead of the esteemed Captain Hunt: I have better chances to win.”
“If you say so…” Harper said wryly.
Tyr rolled his eyes. “Boy… Dylan has one aged warship that would fall to pieces without you; and the Castalian fishing fleet. We have an entire fleet of ships built after High Guard design, and that’s just the beginning. You’ve got excellent survival instincts - what do they tell you?”
“That make an already way too strong Niet armada even stronger would be bad for my continued health,” Harper countered.
Tyr grinned. “I always knew you were clever. Very well, I’ll raise the stakes. Help me destroy the Magog, and I’ll free your pitiful home planet from the Drago-Kazov.”
Harper snorted. “As if you hadn’t planned to get back at the Drago-Kazov anyway!
“Of course I had,” Tyr agreed. “But I have to start somewhere - and Earth is as good a place for that as any… if that is what you want.”
“So, that’s the deal, uh?” Harper glared at him in suspicion. “Gimme the doomsday weapon and I’ll give you planet?”
“Yes,” Tyr said with another shrug. “It matches my long-term plans, so it won’t be such hardness.”
For a surprisingly long time (for him anyway) Harper remained silent. Then he turned away from the magnificent sight of the Kodiak-Sabran fleet abruptly.
‘I need to think about this,” he said.
In the end, he agreed, of course. How could he not? Offing the Magog and freeing Earth from the iron yoke of the Dragans - which Earth-born kludge could say no to that?