The Kludge Prince by scheherezhad

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A silly Andromeda fairytale!fic based on the classic story "The Frog Prince." Written for the archive's first anniversary.

Disclaimer: Andromeda and all its components belong to Fireworks, Tribune Entertainment, and Gene Roddenberry's estate. "The Frog Prince" belongs to the ages. I'm making no money off of this, and no infringement is intended.

Author's notes: Dedicated to my dear krysis_, who suggested the fairy tale and was then kind enough to beta for me.

Feedback: Please. Praise me, criticise me, outright flame me. I don't care; I just want to know what you really think. scheherezhad@yahoo.com

Long, long ago, in a gal--wait, wrong space setting. Ahem. In olden times when the Long Night had passed, there lived a High Guard Captain from the past whose ship was beautiful and whose crew were an odd bunch, but the weapons officer was so handsome that the second-in-command, who was a tough blond and a looker in her own right, made a pass at him (and was thoroughly rebuffed).

In the captain's ship lay a great, dark engine room, and under an old scaffolding in the engine room was a good place to be alone, and when the captain's relentless do-gooding got too annoying, the weapons officer went to the engine room and sat down under the scaffolding. When he was bored, he took out his son's DNA and pondered using it to make himself the genetic reincarnation of the Drago Mussevini, and this DNA was his favorite plaything.

Now it so happened that on one occasion, the ship was attacked, and the Nietzschean weapons officer could not do his own repairs, for he did not fit in the little crawlspace. The Nietzschean gave the too-small space a genetically superior glare, but it refused to bend to his will and accomodate his large but very sexy frame. At this he began to glare harder, and glared so hard that it started melting the poor circuitry. And as he thus glowered someone said to him, "What's got your panties in a twist, über? Your glaring's screwin' up my work."

He looked round to the side from whence the voice came, and saw a human stretching forth its cute, spiky-haired head from the crawlspace. "Ah, little inferior being, it is you," he said. "I am glaring, for my large but very sexy frame will not fit into your crawlspace, which has the section of the weapons system that must be repaired."

"Quit yer whinin'," answered the kludge. "I can help you, but what will you give me if I fix your weapons system?"

"Whatever you will have, boy," said he. "Tools, Sparky cola, and even fashion tips" (for the Nietzschean's superior eyes were offended by the human's taste for Hawaiian print shirts and very red cargo pants).

The kludge answered, "I do not care for your taste in clothes, and I have plenty of tools and Sparky, but if you will tolerate me and let me be your companion and play-fellow, and sit by you at meals, and eat off your plate, and drink out of your cup, and sleep in your bed - if you will promise me this, I will go into my crawlspace and fix your weapons system."

"Oh yes," said he, "I promise you all you wish, if you will but fix my weapons system." But he thought, "How the silly kludge does talk. All he does is fix the ship, and talk incessantly. He can be no companion to a genetically superior being."

But the human, when he had received this promise, put his head into the crawlspace and disappeared; and in a short while he came shimmying up again with a cocky grin. The Nietzschean was delighted to know that his system was working once more, and he ran away.

"Wait, wait," said the kludge. "Take me with you. I can't run as you can, dammit!" But of what use was it for him to shout profanities after him, as loudly as he could? He did not listen to it, but ran to the bridge and soon forgot the poor kludge, who was forced to go back into his crawlspace again.

The next day, when he had seated himself at the table with the captain and all the crew, and was eating from his plate, something came stomping thud thud, thud thud, up the corridor, and when it had got to the mess, it knocked at the door and cried, "Hey, you Nietzschean bastard, open the door for me."

He ran to see who was outside, but when he opened the door, there stood the kludge in front of it. Then he slammed the door to, in great haste, sat down to dinner again, and was quite perturbed. The captain saw plainly that his weapons officer was scowling violently, and said, "Uh...Tyr, what are you so mad about? Is there, perchance, a Drago-Katzov outside who wants to steal the remains of the Progenitor?"

"No," replied he. "It is no Nietzschean, but a disgusting kludge."

"What does a...human want with you?"

"Ah, Dylan, yesterday as I was in the engine room sitting by the wall, scowling because I could not fit into the crawlspace to repair my damaged weapons system. And because I glared so, the human fixed it again for me, and because he so insisted, I promised him he should be my companion, but I never thought he would be able to come out of his crawlspace. And now he is outside there, and wants to come in to me."

In the meantime he knocked a second time, and cried, "Dammit, über, open the door for me! Do you not know what you said to me yesterday by the scaffolding of the engine room? Open the freakin' door for me."

Then said the captain, "That which you have promised must you perform. Go and let him in."

He went and opened the door, and the human swaggered in and followed him, step by step, to his chair. There he sat and cried, "Lift me up beside you." He delayed, until at last the captain commanded him to do it. Once the human was on the chair, he wanted to be in the Nietzschean's lap, and when he was in the lap he said, "Now, push your plate nearer to me that we may eat together."

He did this, but it was easy to see that he did not do it willingly. The human enjoyed what he ate, but almost every mouthful the weapons officer took choked him. At length the human said, "I have eaten and am satisfied. Now I am tired; carry me into your room and make your bed ready, and we will both lie down and go to sleep."

The Nietzschean began to fume, for he was an alpha, and alphas did not allow screwy, scrawny, scrappy human males in their beds. But the captain grew angry and said, "He who helped you when you were in trouble ought not afterwards to be despised by you. And if it weren't for the Nietzscheans on Earth..." And everyone tuned out the captain's speech on injustice during the Long Night.

So he tossed the human over his shoulder, carried him upstairs, and put him in a corner, but when he was in bed, the kludge crept to him and said, "I am tired, and I want to sleep as well as you. Lift me up, or I will tell Dylan."

At this, the Nietzschean was terribly angry, and took the human up and threw him with all his might against the wall. "Now, will you be quiet, odious kludge?" said he.

But when he fell down, he was...well, he was still himself (but with much better fashion sense). He, by the captain's will, was now the weapons officer's dear companion and fuckbuddy. Then he told him how he had escaped from Earth and met up with the second-in-command, and how no one could have delivered him from the crawlspace but himself, and that tomorrow they would have hot mansex.

Then they went to sleep, and the next morning when the ship awoke them, a hologram popped up with a much nicer hairstyle than her android counterpart, which had awkward blue streaks, and behind entered the young human's friend Perky Trance.

Perky Trance had been so un-perky when her friend sulked in his crawlspace that she had caused three new plants to grow in her garden and named them and made them her companions, lest the human should sulk forever. But now Perky Trance fed the human and the Nietzschean breakfast, and placed lube at the bedside, and was full of joy. And when they had eaten, the human heard a giggle. So he turned round and said, "Uh...Trance, I thought you'd left."

"No, Harper, I was watching you make cow eyes at Tyr. It's much better than watching you sulk in a crawlspace." With that, Perky Trance left the room with a twinkle in her eye so that her friend could have hot mansex with Tyr. And when the Nietzschean found himself pounced upon by a screwy, scrawny, scrappy, horny human, he thought that maybe alphas should rethink that whole woman thing.

The end.