ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: This is for DeeDee, who wanted to see Tyr give up control.
*
Tyr Anasazi strolled Antolli Drift idly.
Having completed the Andromeda's supplies transactions, the crew was on a brief shore leave until delivery was complete. He had made some inquiries and checked in on a few contacts; it was important to keep as many avenues for scheming open as possible, hedged against later need.
But now even that business was done, and Tyr was starting to get bored. He disinterestedly scanned the crowds of babbling people, smelled the alcoholic beverages as he passed a down-scale bar, curled his lip in contempt as he meandered past a room-rent establishment for trysts... That's when he realized he was moving from the working-class section of the Drift into the 'unsavory' part.
His pace slowed slightly. He wasn't afraid; after all, who would attack him? A large, well-armed Nietzschean was not the kind of target these reprobates would choose. No, he just wasn't in the mood to deal with human garbage right now.
He slowed to a stop and sighed quietly, casually eyeing the nightclub across the alley. No way was he going in there, he snorted to himself. It stank of intoxicants and human sweat -- and the music! *If you feel generous enough to call it that,* he thought disdainfully. It was talentless and too jagged on the nerves.
He was just turning about to go back the way he came when he saw Harper stagger out the front door of the offensive place. The Little Professor looked done-in; he was flushed and breathing heavily, and appeared to need the support of a wall in order to remain standing.
Tyr was about to leave the pesky engineer to his own debaucheries when something else snagged his attention. There was a man lingering just inside the doorway Harper had just exited, and he was trying way too hard to seem casual. The lurker was eyeballing Harper as the little blonde bent over and 'whoofed' for air, staggering a little on the sidewalk.
As Harper swayed, grinning, Tyr saw the watcher compress his lips and narrow his eyes in satisfaction. Obviously, he had targeted the boy for something. Possibly drugged him? Or maybe Harper was just drunk. Tyr sneered momentarily.
Regardless, he couldn't let some punk from a half-throne Drift damage *his* engineer. The scoundrel was obviously up to no good, so it was up to Tyr to retrieve his (although he would never admit it aloud) friend.
Tyr walked forward purposefully. His sudden motion startled the watcher, he noticed peripherally, who ducked guiltily back inside the nightclub. Contempt flitted momentarily across the Nietzschean's thoughts, and then he was seizing Harper by the scruff of the neck.
"Tyr!" the inebriated genius squeaked in surprise. "Buddy. Fancy seeing you here," he added, as Tyr hustled him away from the almost-scene-of-a-crime.
"Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you were nearly in, boy?" the ex-mercenary demanded, tightening his grip on the little man's collar.
"Trouble?" Harper shot back in disbelief. "I was having a good time," he huffed indignantly. "But I wasn't doin' anything," he added defensively. "I was makin' nice an' evr'thing."
Tyr noticed that Harper's speech was becoming slurred, and he was stumbling. This uncharacteristic clumsiness was slightly suspicious; Harper usually confined himself to beer, and never had this kind of difficulty with the brew. What had he been consuming?
"This guy even bought me a drink," Harper continued, answering the unspoken question. "Something special," he informed his large companion petulantly, balking to a halt so he could glare up at Tyr.
"What special?" Tyr crossed his arms and glared at the engineer.
"Sounded something like iggaleebuff."
"Eaglabuef?"
"Yeah, that's it. Have you had any before?"
Oh, no. Tyr took immediate action. He scooped Harper up, slung him over his shoulder, and quickly ducked into the room-rent establishment he had seen earlier, conveniently near.
"Whoop," said Seamus. "What the hell just happened?"
He didn't sound distressed, just confused.
"Quiet, boy," Tyr grumbled. *His survival skills are better than that,* the large man mused. Harper should have thrown a fit; even his friends weren't allowed to manhandle him like this. *Another indication that he's drugged.*
Tyr approached the clerk's desk, fished the appropriate amount of currency out, and rented a room. The clerk surely thought he was taking a catamite to bed, but Tyr wasn't concerned; it meant nothing what that kludge thought of him.
Once the door locked securely behind them, Tyr set his companion down.
"Want to 'splain to me wha's goin' on?" Harper demanded. He was starting to look angry, and he seemed steadier on his feet.
*He's going into stage two,* Tyr noted. *He's about to become a handful.*
"Eaglabuef is a drug, boy," Tyr informed him, sounding annoyed but feeling concerned. "Not a mere intoxicant."
"What kind of drug?" the blonde demanded. "Wa's it do?"
