Zoroaster's Legacy: Part 2 - Lifelines (R)

[imloco2]

After repeated  about the head and way too much  :donut: :cake: :icecream:  from a few, rather determined readers...it's heeere....     

This is the second and final part of Zoroaster's Legacy. You won't have a clue what's going on if you don't read Zoroaster's Legacy Part 1.

Thanks again to Catluckey who brought Cera to life with her art, Lobby for the wonderful banner, and myself for the rest of the pics. *g*  aeryncrichton did beta duties, above and beyond the call of duty  Thank you! And the hubby has my eternal thanks for being willing to 'talk fic' for hours on end. He's glad it's done. *g*

So without further ado, but with a little trepidation, I give you Part 2. Lifelines.


Rated: R (violence, icky Grayza sex, a few bad words)
Setting: Twenty-five cycles after PKW
Cast: Let's just say it's Crichton's family and leave it at that.
Disclaimer: Farscape is owned by Henson.

[Grayza’s Suite…..]
 

Grand Chancellor Grayza stalked through the corridors of the Command Carrier with a purpose. Someone was going to pay for this frelling mess and she knew just who it should be. She hadn’t been this angry in more cycles than she could remember. Outwardly she was in control of herself, but inside the blood under her skin pumped furiously. Angry? No. She was livid. So livid, in fact, that she was having a hard time keeping the gland under control. She could feel the moisture beading on her chest and it counted as one more mark against him.

She didn’t pause when she came to the door, but palmed the controls to open it and stormed into his quarters.

“Captain Hillet!”

Hillet was only half dressed, his shirt off, and was sitting on his bed bent over to remove a boot. At her entrance he leaped from the bed and snapped to attention. “Yes, Grand Chancellor!”

Grayza’s glare was scorching. “Why wasn’t I notified of this immediately?”

“Of what, ma’am?” He kept his face impassive, but she saw the spark of fear behind it. Good.

“Don’t play games with me, Captain.” She moved closer to him. “I just scanned the incident log for the last solar day.” She arched a brow. “A prisoner was taken in free space some six arns ago. The attached images of the spatial anomaly and the ship are…unique, to say the least,” she hissed. “I’ve seen those reading before, Captain. As have you. There’s only one place that ship could have come from.”

“I wasn’t certain, Ma’am,” he tried to explain. “I started to report that fact to you during your last recreation period. You assured me it was a random smuggler, and you said that it could wait.”

Grayza felt her face heat up at the implied criticism. “You would be wise to watch your step, Captain. My patience is running thin.”

She felt a sense of satisfaction when he blanched at her tone. She didn’t know when he had become so overconfident that he thought he could get away with such talk, but she knew just the cure for such insubordination.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Grayza waved the log at him. “Well? What have you learned from…” She glanced down at the log. “… her?”

“Nothing at all, Grand Chancellor. I assumed that you would want to handle any interrogation yourself. The prisoner has been held in an isolation cell since her capture, with the audio and video feeds cut off. The crew has no clue as to her significance.”

Somewhat mollified, she turned a predatory smile on him. “Very good, Captain. Have the neuro-techs begin running calibration tests on the Aurora Chair at once using the data that was gathered on John Crichton. I don’t intend to waste time with preliminaries. I want answers.”

“Already done, Grand Chancellor. The techs inform me that the chair is in full working order.”

Happier than she had been when she’d entered his quarters, Grayza nodded. “Very efficient, Captain, which is commendable.” He was still at attention as she circled him, running a finger along his bare chest until she came to a stop in front of him. She felt the oil lubricating her skin and tingled slightly at the thought of the power she wielded with each drop. She caught him watching her as she ran a finger up her torso and dipped beneath her shirt slightly just to see his reaction. His nostrils flared and his pupils darkened, whether in fear or arousal she wasn’t certain. Perhaps both. It had been a while since she had used the oil on the good Captain.

“Wrong behavior is punished, Captain. Good behavior is rewarded. Never forget that.”

“No, Ma’am,” he rasped.

She leaned against him and rubbed her finger just beneath his nose. She sensed his involuntary twitch as he tried to move away from her. She also felt his instant arousal pressing against her stomach. She looked down and saw the swelling behind the closings of his pants and almost laughed. This was the part she loved. The resistance followed by the sheer desperation for her. She reached out and cupped his genitals and watched as his eyes closed and he gave a helpless thrust into her hand. She squeezed lightly and then removed her hand. He would be hurting long after the oil wore off. She would make him wait as his punishment.

Perhaps later she could add to his punishment by coming to him and allowing him to actually recreate with her. She smiled to herself as the visions entered her head. Yes, that would be just the thing.

There were other things that required her attention just then though.

She pulled back and walked to the door. “Let’s get on with it then. I want to know what the prisoner knows before this day is up.”

Hillet’s eyes flew open and, with some difficulty, he bent over to pick his shirt up and started getting dressed.

In less than a quarter of an arn they approached the cell. Grayza motioned at the guards to maintain their position as she keyed the override on the door herself and entered.

She looked around the room.

“Captain Hillet. Please come inside.”

 He entered the room and came to stand beside her. “Here, Ma’am,” he said.

Grayza swept an arm around the room. “Can you explain why I have been brought to an empty interrogation cell, Captain?” She moved to stand in the middle of the empty room and turned slowly to regard Hillet. “Well, Captain? Are we in the wrong cell perhaps?”

Hillet swallowed hard and looked at the log. “No, Grand Chancellor, according to the log, this is the correct cell.”

“Then where is my prisoner, Captain?” Grayza asked with a dangerous softness to her voice. She didn’t like this. Something was happening that she wasn’t aware of and that could not stand.

“I don’t…” He stopped himself. “I’ll find out at once, Ma’am.”

“See that you do,” Grayza cooed, “or I’ll have you fed into the recyclers, feet first. Keep the investigation low key for now, but I want answers in half an arn. I’ll be in my quarters.”

She swept out in grand style, but inside, she had a sinking feeling that whatever was wrong, it was going to cost her a great deal.

Җ

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Five microts short of the deadline, Captain Hillet appeared at Grayza’s quarters. She allowed herself a small smirk. She stood as he entered the room. “Come in, Captain. I trust you have the information I need.”

Hillet moved to stand in front of her, his face impassive. “Grand Chancellor,” he acknowledged. “We still do not know conclusively what happened to the prisoner. A search of the ship did not locate her. However, a study of the logs shows that there was an interruption of the surveillance feeds in the maintenance shaft between detention and the aft launch bay for three quarters of an arn during the last duty shift. A flight maintenance tech was assaulted and stunned unconscious. He remains unconscious in medical at this time.” The small tick of a blood vessel at his forehead was the only sign that he wasn’t as calm as he appeared. He continued. “And an inventory of flight ready auxiliary craft shows that a Marauder is missing.”

There was a muted pop as the writing stylus in Grayza’s hand snapped. “So, what you are telling me is, she’s gone?” Grayza’s voice was strung tight. “Would you care to explain to me how a lone, more than likely human, female who is held prisoner in one of our cells could simply leave? And steal a Marauder as well?!”

She held up her hand before Hillet could answer. “Obviously, she had help. No mewling little Earth girl could escape and find her way to the launch bay undetected, let alone hope to fly a Marauder off of this ship.”

Grayza calmly picked up a lovely abstract sculpture sitting by her chair. It had been a gift from Chancellor Uhta and was one of the more delicate and valuable artifacts that she owned. She hurled it at the wall, where it shattered into a myriad of pieces.

“Who would dare?” she asked, although she knew quite well. She turned to Hillet. “I want them found!” A thought stopped her in her tracks. She turned to her personal security console and keyed in a sequence of numbers that ran a fore to aft scan of the personnel areas of the command carrier. She was looking for a specific signature. The signature of the subcutaneous implant her son had carried since his second birthday. The search came back negative. It was as she thought. Her son was not aboard the ship. A quick check of the duty roster showed that he wasn’t logged out on patrol either.

The vein in her temple began to throb. Juran! Her own flesh had betrayed her. “Captain Hillet. I want you to find out who brought the girl onboard, who authorized surveillance be turned off, then I want you to run a search of the Command Carrier for Lt. Juran Maryk. I have reason to suspect he may have fled the ship with the girl. If he is not found, I want him declared irreversibly contaminated.”

Hillet blinked. “But, Grand Chancellor…I…”

“Just do it, Captain, or you’ll be begging for the recycler when I’m done with you! Now get out!”

Hillet fled the room to carry out his orders.

Grayza stared at the wall for a long microt and then picked up a hologram of her son from her desk and gazed at it a moment. “I always said you were just like your father,” she whispered, before hefting it and sending it flying after the sculpture.

Keying her communications panel she contacted the deep space array. “Get me a beam to Ne-Sa Ren, at once. Tell them I want Grunchlk on the comms now, or someone will die the next time that I pay a visit.”

She sat down and began to plan her next move. She felt a curious ache in her chest, but she banished it from her mind. She couldn’t be bothered with feelings now. She stared at the flickering picture of her son on the floor.

So, her little boy wanted to be a man, did he? Well, she’d show him what she did with men. 

Җ

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[Ne-Sa Ren]


It would be dawn soon, she could smell it. The kylana blossoms were just starting to open, their spicy, musky fragrance a harbinger of dawn on Ne-Sa Ren. It had been four solar days since she had escaped from the bad place. It had been harder this time. He had put a collar around her neck, one that let him track her wherever she went. An alarm had gone off when she ventured too far from the compound, not to mention the sleeping sickness that came over her. She could stand anything but that. She never wanted to sleep again.

It had taken her a long time to figure out how to get it off. And longer still to bait a slow moving planaq flier into landing so that she could attach the collar to its leg before fleeing into the forest. The fruit eater was big enough to carry the extra burden, and docile enough to hold still while she did what she had to do. By the time the flier had finished eating the fruit that she’d laid out for it, she was far away and getting farther. She had known it would make him angry when he found out. He always got angry when she managed to slip away. This time had been different though.

The first time that she escaped, many cycles ago, they had found her quickly and brought her back with no trouble, because she’d been too frightened of the consequences to resist. This time it had been three days before they’d managed to track her down. But this time they hadn’t taken her, and they had paid for trying.

She wouldn’t go back. Not to the sleep death. She would do anything except that.

“Cera’Na?” said a voice from the darkness, causing her to jump. It was Shae. One of the guides sent by the Mother to help her. He spoke in the tongue of the people, which she found soothing, in spite of the fact that she would have understood him anyway.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Mother Sun will be up soon. We must move from here. We are too close to the place where we killed the dark one yesterday.” 

Cera nodded. “Can Thasq travel?”

“Yes, the wound is no worse. The bren moss poultice is keeping it from going bad. He is still in some pain, but he can ride the ka’thaan.”

Cera looked over at the ka’thaan not far from them, plucking away placidly at some moss. The fur-covered animals lived wild here, but the Mothers let a few be captured to be used as carriers. It was a beast of burden, not really meant for riding, but this was an emergency. Still, the journey wouldn’t be easy, especially for someone wounded.

Cera winced. “I am sorry that your brother…”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence, as Shae cut her off. “There is nothing to be sorry for. We are with you because Mother sent us.” He hesitated. “And because we wanted to help.”

The people of Ne-Sa Ren called themselves the Renaq’La, which translated as “The People.” She had learned growing up here that their clans were built on a Matriarchy whose leaders bore the collective title, ‘The Mothers.’ From what Shae had told her after they found her this time, Shae’s clan elder and actual mother had emerged from a meditative trance four suns ago and had ordered Shae and his brother to gather weapons and take a ka’thaan laden with provisions into the high forest. They had asked no questions, but had taken it on faith that the Mother knew what had to be done.

Cera knew it must be important if it required that the Mother send her own flesh and blood to deal with it. Although how she, Cera, figured into it she still did not know. All that the Mother had told them was that the Old One had whispered that someone needed their help, and that help would come to them in its turn. She hoped the Mother was right. She believed in the Old One, but Thasq was wounded. And it was all her fault. Cera stilled and concentrated, reaching out with her mind to see what her companion was feeling. Shae’s mind was uncomplicated, and the emotions that washed over her told her that he didn’t blame her for the trouble they were in. He was worried for his brother of course. Shae only had one brother and he loved him very much. She caught a hint of another emotion hidden beyond the surface and cut the connection abruptly. Some things were not meant for her to see. Even if she wished to. She bowed her head. She didn’t deserve the feelings she felt from him. Nor could she  bear it if one of the People died because of her.

A sound from Shae roused her from her reverie once more. Enough thinking. They had things to do.

Җ

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Shae watched as the girl moved away to see to her morning needs. He had not known her long, but he had known of her for a long time. There were many stories told about her. How she had come to the planet as a babe, how she had somehow caught the interest of the Old One. Enough so that it had been declared that she must be protected. Stories of the time she had escaped and lived among the people. He’d even seen a glimpse of her when she had been allowed outside the compound a few times.  He had been immediately caught by the shine of her black hair streaming down the back of her lithe body. She had seemed so vulnerable then. Like a gachon hatchling unsure of which way to turn or where to go. He had wanted to go to her then. Help her. Impossible, of course. She was never alone. The bad men guarded her too well. And they had both been too young, even allowing that there could have been an opportunity to actually talk with her.

This, though, was his first real interaction with Cera-Na. And she was everything he had thought. Only more. She was a curious mixture, his Cera-Na.  Both of the People and yet, not. The People had done what they could down through the cycles. They had volunteered to work at the bad place doing menial labor so that they might know and help her. They had taught her their ways in secret and kept her as safe as they could. The dark ones had not even given her a name so the People took care of that too, calling her Cera-Na. Sky eyes.

The last cycles when Cera-Na had been in the sleep death had weighed heavily on the People. And on him. It had taken a direct order from his Mother to stop him from launching a hopeless assault on the compound where she was held. He had given up hope of ever seeing her again when he had heard the news of her revival. But even so, he had been surprised to find out that the task Mother had sent him on led to here. And to her.

Cera had stumbled onto them, and vice versa, only half a day’s walk from the village. Slender and waif-like, she had been scared and alone, arousing his protective instincts as nothing else could. He didn’t know how she had survived living with the dark ones for so long. She had to be stronger than she looked. They had heard rumors of what went on in the bad place, though he had trouble believing it could be true. It was hard to think things like that could be done to others. But he was taking no chances. He would not…could not let the dark ones have her again. And his brother agreed. Shae and Thasq had taken her under their protection and they would have to trust to fate and the Old One that the promised help would come.

The day before had been close. Too close. Four of the dark ones, all armed with flame weapons had found them yesterday. Only Cera’Na’s last-minute warning had let them know that danger was upon them. But Mother had sent them for a reason. They were the best fighters of the tribe. One of the dark ones had died with an arrow in his throat after a short running battle through the trees. One had felt Shae’s blade rip through his chest before he fell. The other two had withdrawn in confusion as the heat of the day, and the death of their comrades had sapped their will to do battle. Thasq had been caught by a wild shot as the dark ones were withdrawing. Shae was simply glad that it wasn’t worse. All the same, without a Mother’s care, his brother could still die.

Shae looked away into the dimness of the high forest. The sun’s rays penetrated here, but slowly and fitfully. And the sun wasn’t fully up yet.

He heard her voice beside him. “I’m still sorry. I wish…I wish there were another way.”

Shae nodded his understanding as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He knew from the People’s past dealings with the dark ones that they were unyielding about things…or people. “I know. But…sometimes there is no choice. Sometimes you just have to do what is right, no matter the cost. For me…and my brother, that is being here for you. For you it was to escape the dark ones.”

He saw Cera smile in the pre-dawn light and his heart caught in his throat.

“Thank you, Shae.”

Shae dropped his hand to his side pouch and brought out a hand-sized packet wrapped in oiled cloth, and handed it to Cera. As an offering it wasn’t much, but it was all he had. “Here. Eat while you can. It’s just dried meat and palia bread, but I don’t know when we’ll get more.” He didn’t tell her his portion was in the packet as well. “We leave within the arn. I’ll tend to Thasq and pack up camp.”

Cera nodded her thanks and tore off a chunk of bread.

He stood a moment longer watching her. Wondering what would become of her. Out there in the moss-covered forest, the night hunters were beginning to retreat, though here and there the odd hungry predator was hanging on in hopes of making a meal out of some unwary daylight creature who was foolish enough to be an early riser. This world was not all bad though. There were safe zones where the beasts did not go and they rarely ventured out during the day. The Great Mother Sun above would soon warm the air. The nearby water grove could be heard singing its song as it tripped along the stones. What always soothed him, however, was the bright springy cushion of ferns they trod on, the trees with their branches dripping moss, spread all around them, their arms spread wide. The beauty of his home never failed to please him. There was savagery here, yes, but there was peace and beauty as well. He would like to show it all to Cera someday.


He could only pray to the Old One that he would get the chance. But he had his doubts.

Җ

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Juran and D’Argo were both sitting in the control deck of the Nostromo as D’Argo shaped their approach orbit to Ne-Sa Ren. D’Argo had opted for a fuel wasting high-speed approach that would take them from just inside detection range, to holding a geosynchronous orbit over the hidden stronghold in less than what he said was an earth minute. The two men worked together, but they were still vastly uncomfortable around each other.

Like now. D’Argo kept looking at Juran and then away as if he wanted to say something. Then…

“So, what do you think of Valerie?” said D’Argo, as he made a pretense of calling up alternate orbital profiles on the nav-system.

Juran raised an eyebrow. “Think of her?” He seemed uncertain as to what exactly his ‘brother’ was asking. “What am I supposed to think of her? She’s an attractive female. She’s smart, tough, resourceful, and resilient. What more do I need to know?”

“She’s from earth,” D’Argo added.

A puzzled Juran frowned. “Yes, I know that. That’s why she’s here with us, instead of back on my mother’s carrier, getting her brain peeled in the Aurora Chair.”

D’Argo’s frustration bubbled over. “I’d have to be blind to miss the attraction between the two of you.”

Juran cocked his head. “And that is a problem?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t take kindly to any attempt to engage Valerie’s attention. You have your own woman. And besides, any possibility for recreation will have to wait until after the mission is done.”

“Any possibility?” D’Argo sputtered. “There is no possibility. Do you know anything about the rules regarding...er...recreation, back on Earth?”

In the rear of the compartment Valerie and Veela listened intently. Covering her mouth against a giggle that might betray her presence, Valerie cut her eyes to find Veela doing the same thing. It was a bit uncomfortable kneeling in this position, but this promised to be too good to miss.

Back at the controls, Juran stared at D’Argo with a look bordering on bemused. “Rules? What rules are you talking about?” 

D’Argo looked grim. “My dad told me about them. Recreation between blood relatives is taboo over most of the planet. It’s a cultural thing, but it is also prohibited by law in most civilized areas. Something about not reinforcing defective genes in potential offspring.”

Juran frowned blankly. “You mean they haven’t cleaned up their gene pool to prevent defectives? And what does that have to do with Valerie and me anyway? Recreation does not necessarily equal reproduction.”

D’Argo was sputtering again. “Reproduction not withstanding, sex between family members is seen as repulsive! Not to mention my dad will kill you.”

Juran leaned forward. “You think that scares me?” He sighed. “Okay, maybe a little. But, she is the first female that I’ve ever met that hasn’t been compelled to fall all over me. I’m intrigued by her.”

“What’s he talking about?” Valerie hissed to Veela. “Okay, he’s built like a Greek god, I admit. But compelled?”

Veela shrugged. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But that would explain a lot.”

“Compelled?” asked D’Argo, his voice taking on a suspicious edge.

Juran looked pained. “It’s the Heppel oil. My mother had the gland implanted. Around the time I came of age I started to notice that women and girls suddenly became more interested in me. My mother’s medtech tested me and found that my body had started manufacturing a male analog of the oil. Not as strong, but enough to make me more popular than I should have been.”

D’Argo glared at him. “And you were planning to use it on her, weren’t you?”

Juran shook his head. “No. It’s not a matter of ‘using’ it. It just is. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t take advantage of it now and then. If it makes you feel better, there’s a certain degree of mistrust in any woman who shows an interest in me. I don’t know whether it’s me, or my pheromones that are setting her off.”

“Setting her….” D’Argo trailed off. “You frelling bastard! Of course! That’s what it is. Veela has a pretty impressive sexual appetite under ordinary circumstances, but these last two days she’s been running me ragged…” He trailed off again. “All this time it was you making her so.…” He stopped and thought a microt, a sudden smile crossing his face. “You could have warned me you know. Much more of this and I won’t be able to walk!”

At the rear of the compartment, Val and Vee stared at each other for a long moment.

“Running him ragged?” Valerie whispered with a raised eyebrow.

Veela smirked and shrugged. “It’s not like I’m torturing him, the whining hingemot. But at least now I know why. But, why aren’t you feeling it?”

Valerie grinned back. “Oh…that. I had my adenoids out when I was a kid. My sense of smell sucks,” she said softly.

Veela’s eyebrow rose. “We’ll talk more later about your…adenoids. Now hush, they’re talking.”

Back up front the men regarded each other with mixed emotions.

D’Argo finally shrugged. “As Dad would say, I guess it sucks to be you. None of which changes the fact that blood relations don’t recreate on Earth. It isn’t done.”

“Why don’t we let her decide?” Juran said.

The antagonism levels were starting to rise again and Val had had enough. She moved from her hiding spot and strode into the main part of the cabin to stand behind the two men.

“He’s right. You might want to talk to me about this, both of you.” She waited for both men to swing around to face her. Both faces side by side startled her a little. On first glance they didn’t look at all alike, with Juran’s shading and D’Argo’s brown hair, but something about the shape of their face was the same. And the eyes. Both bright blue with a darker ring around the outside, giving the inner blue an eerie contrast. Definitely the same eyes. Blue and…obstinate. It was time to get a few things straight.

Valerie glanced at D’Argo. “News flash, Ace. I was adopted by Olivia, Jack Crichton’s daughter. I may call Jack ‘Grampa,’ but I’m no more related to you guys by blood than Veela is.” She shot them a look. “Assuming, of course, that you aren’t related to Veela.”

At the back of the compartment, Veela snickered…loudly. “No way am I related to these two fekkics,” she said.

Then Val turned narrowed eyes on Juran. “You’re taking a lot for granted aren’t you, Mr. ‘recreating will have to wait until after the mission.’ And we have to have a long talk about this smell business.” Valerie leaned close to him and spoke quietly. “But, thank you for calling me smart.” She kissed him on the cheek and then spun on her heel and marched out of the compartment, straight past Veela, who grinned at both men, then followed her.

She stopped just around the corner, but still out of sight of the men. She knew they had watched her leave. She waited.

“Did you understand that?” she heard Juran say.

“Nope, but welcome to the club.” D’Argo sounded equally bewildered.

“Well, at least she didn’t say no,” Juran said.

Valerie smiled to herself. No, she hadn’t said no.

Җ

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Cera knew when Shae turned and headed back towards camp, but didn’t acknowledge it by watching him go. Right now she just wanted to be alone. Usually it bothered her to have people near, but Shae didn’t bother her. Unless you counted a fixation on the way he moved and how he talked and the shape of his lips as bothersome. And the force of his emotions were seeping through to her. She had an idea he felt the same about her and she really didn’t know what to do about it. Or what she wanted to do. All these feelings were entirely new for her and she didn’t know how much was her own feelings and how much she was picking up from Shae.

Not to mention she had no idea what was going to happen now. Or if they’d even be alive this time tomorrow. She had only planned far enough ahead to think about escape. Perhaps she had had some vague idea that she would just live here in the forest for the rest of her life. Which was fahrbot, of course.  She wouldn’t last a weeken by herself. She looked down at the bread and tore off another piece. She didn’t feel hungry, but she forced herself to eat, in part because she knew that Shae wanted her to, and partly because she didn’t know when she’d get the opportunity to eat again.

Cera chewed her food slowly and let her thoughts drift to the bad place. The place where she had grown up. She tried to think of one, just one, good thing that had happened there. Something she could look back on and remember without loneliness and pain.

The Nacnats had been kind of cute, but she didn’t think the little creatures who chewed through the walls of the building in search of food counted.

In fact, the only people who’d ever spared her any thought, other than as a thing, had been the Renaq’La. They had brought her bread when she was hungry, told her stories through the ventilation pipes to keep her from going fahrbot in the tiny room she was confined to when she was being punished. The Renaq’La had even given her her name, something Grunchlk hadn’t bothered to do, and for that she would do anything she had to to make sure they stayed safe. They must not suffer because of her.

Cera shuddered at the thought of going back to the bad place. To most of the people at the compound she was a nuisance to be tolerated, to the diagnosian she was a test subject, to Grunchlk she was an annoying, yet necessary pet. And to her mother… Cera shuddered at the thought of the woman she had learned was her “Mother”. A woman who was nothing like the Mothers here on Ne-Sa Ren. The few times she remembered seeing her mother had been some of the worst days of her life.

Thrusting the thought away Cera stilled herself and listened to the coming dawn with more than her five senses. It came naturally to her although she couldn’t always control it. For a long time she had been aware of sensing energy all around her, though the People had cautioned her not to let the bad ones know. But since she had come out of the long sleep, the energy seemed to have grown. And out in the open it seemed to Cera to be gaining in strength. She could feel it crackling on her fingertips as she brushed a leaf with her finger. And the energy wasn’t the only difference. Now the feelings from others seemed stronger and clearer as well.

Cera’s mouth twisted, as if tasting something bitter. Her empathic abilities were an advantage in dealing with her jailors, one that she exploited without a second thought, but her occasional fits of full out telepathy were nothing less than a curse. It had happened only twice in her life. Both times had been driven by adrenaline...and fear. The first had come when she was very young, during one of her mother’s infrequent inspections of the compound. Cera had not seen her often, but she had felt the need that day. She wanted a Mother like everyone else had and after slipping away from a guard she had heard voices’ coming from her mother’s sleeping quarters. She had known better than to go, everything in this section was forbidden to her, but her curiosity had been too strong.

The sight that met her eyes as she rounded the corner of the room had seared its way into her young brain. The unclothed men were all around the naked woman who lay sprawled on the bed. The woman she recognized as her mother. One lay between the woman’s legs, rhythmically moving back and forth, his face drawn back in a grimace as he continued to move. The other four were doing things to her, touching her, biting her … their moans an unsettling sound as collectively they sent out a wave of pleasure into the air mixed with something a lot like anger. Or despair. But the woman was gasping and laughing so Cera didn’t know what to make of it.

She must have made a noise, though she didn’t remember doing so. Suddenly, the woman’s head turned and her mother’s cold appraising stare was focused on her. Without thought Cera had tried to divine what the woman was feeling. The panic driven probing had gone beyond anything that she’d ever known in her young life. The cold darkness in her mother’s mind had caused her stomach to knot up and rebel. She had run back to her room as fast as she could. Tried to erase the scene from her mind, as well as the woman she would never again call Mother. She had never been punished for the incident, but she had been sick for days afterwards, in body and spirit.

The second time was the first time she had escaped. She’d been on the run for nearly a weeken, with help from the Pauqui’na, when they had found her. Only microts had passed before the squad hunting her had her surrounded. In desperation she’d tried to touch them to find out why they would do this to her. But her fear had increased her unpredictable talents. What she saw in their minds froze her in place. The blank grayness of it, the machine-like devotion to duty coupled with their unnatural if unwilling attachment to her mother made her sick again. Only this time one of the guards had held a hand to his head and collapsed. She had never seen him again, but she knew it was because of her that he’d gotten sick and it had scared her badly. She had never meant to do anything to hurt anyone. She hadn’t known she could. As a result the squad had scooped her up barely a microt later and led her docilely back to her prison.

The only time that her gift gave her any comfort at all was in her dreams. In her dreams, the Old One came. She could see into him without obstruction, as if he possessed a soul of the purest crystal. He was good throughout, and he cared for her. He told her that her life would not always be this way. That one day she would be safe and warm, and that there would be people to love her for who she was, rather than wanting to own her for what she was. She knew that it was a dream, but she wanted so badly to believe that it was true. She was desperate for it to be true.

Her food gone, she sighed and looked at the advancing brightness filtering between the thick branches of the trees. It was time to move on. She headed back towards camp to help Shae pack up, and get Thasq ready to move. Thasq’s wound would slow them, but it could not be helped.

She wondered if she could call Shae and Thasq…friend. She had never had friends, not real ones. In the beginning she’d tried making friends with the others being tested at the compound, but they never lasted long enough to make it a good investment of her heart. After having her fourth friend die in the labs, she had decided she was better off without friends. It was easier that way.

She walked up to where Shae was helping Thasq to sit up and he turned and gave her a smile. And unbidden, a smile of her own answered his. Cera considered. She had friends in the Pauqui’Na, she had her freedom…and she had Shae. It was enough for now.

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Barely half an arn later they were approaching the limits of what Juran knew to be the planetary detection grid. He smiled to himself. The information he had taken with him was proving invaluable. If only he could have seen his mother’s face when she found out what he had done. Her prize had left her and she would be in fine form. She didn’t like being thwarted and he’d seen her revenge too many times to think it wouldn’t be bloody.

But he’d worry about consequences later. Right now they were getting closer and closer to their goal. After some discussion they had decided their course of action, and now D’Argo was throttling the Nostromo up until they were moving at maximum acceleration. In less than three macrots the people below would know that company was coming. He felt the familiar anticipation of battle that was second nature to him.

“This has to happen fast,” D’Argo said tensely. “Once we’ve hit our vector to make orbit, I’ll start jamming long range communications. We’ll be able to talk to each other, but not to any Peacekeeper ships in the neighborhood. By the time their sensors get enough resolution to know that we aren’t a cargo ship, or another Peacekeeper, they won’t be able to tell anyone about it.”

Juran grunted and concentrated on watching their own detection system. According to both his and Veela’s information, this base had no space interception capability, but that didn’t mean that there might not be something unfriendly lurking around. D’Argo had agreed, so Juran would be on the sensors until they were above the research compound.

Valerie and Veela were strapped in behind the men, waiting and watching. A mellow tone sounded and D’Argo clucked his tongue. “Okay we just dropped our pants on their detection screens.” Another tone sounded. “And we’re being hailed.”

“Ignore it,” Juran said. “We want them guessing until we’re in orbit.”

D’Argo threw him a frown. “Go suck barka eggs, brother. I know that.”

Five microts later D’Argo reversed thrust hard, breaking their momentum to a pin point stop above the base, a move that Juran wasn’t sure even he could do.

“Frelling show off,” Juran muttered.

D’Argo grinned as he activated the communications console. “Like my father always says, if you got it, flaunt it.” He cringed as Veela’s hand hit the back of his head. “What?!”

“Instead of showing off, I think it’s show time.” Val pointed in front of them.

The hologram came up to show a rotund and unkempt looking man peering at them from a sterile white room. His gray hair was flying madly about his face and his pock-marked face and blackened teeth were enough to make their skin crawl.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” the man said, without preamble.

“Well,” D’Argo drawled, “we could be tourists, or traders, or….”

“Plock! I’m reading pulse cannons and missiles with trakonite warheads.”

Valerie had unbuckled herself and leaned into range of the comm pickup. “Hi. I hate to break this up, but perhaps we could move this along with some names. Mine is Valerie Carelli, and you are?”

“They call me Grunchlk, if it’s your business, which it in’t. You do know no one is allowed on this planet? There’s nothing ‘ere to see. Just me and a couple of others minding our own business. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn right around and go back the way you came.”

Juran’s hand touched the display, muting the sound pickup. From where he was sitting, Grunchlk couldn’t see him. “He isn’t lying. The compound is empty, aside from him, a Diagnocian, and a few Sebeceans that read like they’re in the closing stages of the living death. What the frell is he doing down there?!” He tried not to imagine how the people had gotten into that condition or what they were suffering now. It was what all Sebaceans feared the most. He wondered for a microt if his being half human would affect his susceptibility to the living death, not that he wanted to test it. He looked at the man in the vid, spittle running down his chin and his hatred of the man grew. “I’m running a spiral sweep looking for his security staff.”

D’Argo nodded and reactivated the audio. “We’re here on family business,” he said evenly.

“Family business?” Grunchlk looked uneasy. “Look, you have no family here; I don’t want any trouble, but…”

“Good, then you’ll hand over my sister without an argument,” said Juran.

Grunchlk paled and looked around. “Who the frell is that?”

D’Argo threw Juran a dirty look for breaking silence and ran a finger over a touchpad, widening the video field to take in the entire cabin…including his recently acquired brother.

“That would be me,” Juran said with deceptive softness. This was a man he could gladly kill.

“You!” Grunchlk’s eyes widened with surprise then narrowed. “Now look here boy…”
Grunchlk began, only to be cut off by Juran’s voice.

“Weapons lock acquired,” he barked as he activated the targeting computer, knowing full well the sensors at the base would record the fact that the ship’s combat systems had selected a target….as well as what the target was. Then he grinned at the perspiring fat man in the holo-vid. If Grunchlk starting sweating any harder, he’d melt like cava wax.

“A word of advice…don’t ever mistake me for a ‘boy,’ Grunchlk…..no matter what delusions my mother may harbor about that fact.”

Stress only made Grunchlk talk faster, it seemed… “Now ‘old on a microt. You should have told me who you were right off. I have a message from your lovely lady mother.” He paused to let that sink in. “She wanted me to be sure and tell you that there doesn’t have to be any…unpleasantness. She’s willing to let bygones be bygones. All she needs is for you to return what you stole, and come home. All will be forgiven.” Grunchlk could apparently lie like a pro. He fairly oozed sincerity.

Juran could only feel insulted that she thought he would fall for something as obvious as that. She and her henchman could lie all they wanted to. Rain would fall on Sa’nartha before she’d see him coming anywhere near her. Juran felt his temper start to rage and D’Argo cut in before he could say anything.

“And you were wrong about me not having family here,” D’Argo said with a grin, gaining Grunchlk’s attention. “I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself. My name is D’Argo. D’Argo Sun Crichton.” He stopped for a moment, then said under his breath, “I always wanted to say that.”

Juran watched as the man’s eyes took on a strange look.

D’Argo continued. “That means that if she’s his sister,” as he jerked a thumb in Juran’s direction, “then she’s my sister too. And I know that Mom and Pop are going to be very unhappy when they get here.”

Juran saw the unconscious pride in D’Argo face when he mentioned his parents and Juran felt a twinge of jealousy that fate had let this man know his parents, or, more to the point, like his parents. Of course….his parents still scared the dren out of half the Territories. Much like Juran’s mother. Only he was sure D’Argo had gotten the better end of that deal.

Valerie chose that moment to lean forward again. “As the stolen ‘property’ in question, as well as being another member of the family, let me just cut to the chase here. Give us the girl and we go away. Don’t give us the girl, and things get complicated. And I really hate complicated.”

Grunchlk paled further. “Let me understand something? You’re a Crichton too?”

“You could say that.” Valerie’s mouth tightened. “Now, where is my cousin?”

Grunchlk swallowed. “I’m beginning to see I ‘ave been denied need to know information. In light of the current situation, I regret to inform you that I am not exactly sure where Cera’Na is at this precise moment.”

Juran and D’Argo looked at each other. This was the first time any of them had heard the name of the sister they had come to rescue. It just made her that much more real to Juran and he imagined it did the same for D’Argo and their companions. His concern for Cera’Na raised a notch.

Juran leaned forward. “What do you mean; you’re not sure where she is? If she’s not in the compound…then where the frell is she?”

D’Argo was the first to connect the dots and he snorted. “She escaped, didn’t she? That’s where all your people are aren’t they? They’re out looking for her?”

At that moment the console lit up and Juran studied it a moment, before glaring at Grunchlk. “I’m seeing multiple weapons discharges on the surface.” He glanced down again. “Those are Peacekeeper pulse weapons.” He looked up. “Please tell me that your people are not shooting at our sister?”

“Those goonlings are not my people!” Grunchlk said, with a note of desperation. “They are your mother’s handpicked men.  She’s been leading them around by their glands for cycles. They’re acting on her orders, not mine…”

Juran cut him off. “Then you can’t order them back…now can you?” He could hear the power beginning to build in the engines. D’Argo had read his mind.

“No, I….” Grunchlk began.

“Then this conversation is over,” D’Argo snapped. “You obviously aren’t who we should be talking to. On the other hand, if we leave you behind, there’s nothing to stop you from yelling for Grayza….” he nodded at Juran, who made some discreet adjustments to the panel to his right, then nodded back to D’Argo. The weapons lock had been updated and brought to real time speed. Which meant that the computers were updating from microt to microt now….. D’Argo turned to Juran. “Is there any way to save those people down there with Grunchlk?”

“I can only guess what he’s done to them, but all indications are it is the living death. At that stage it would be a mercy to kill them.”

“Then I guess this is goodbye.” D’Argo’s thumb moved over the control panel.

“Hey, guys. Don’t you think that’s a little extreme? Do we really have to…?” Valerie started.

The Nostromo shuddered slightly as the missiles were discharged.

“I guess we do,” she answered herself.

“Now hold on just a microt. I’m sure we can work out some sort of deal.” Grunchlk sounded panicked. “John Crichton!” He said the name like it was a talisman. “I worked with your father several times. He wouldn’t want you to...”

“Nope. You don’t get to play the friend of the family card.” D’Argo interrupted him. On the screen in front of him he watched as tiny blips of light moved away from the ship and closer to where Grunchlk stood. “But I’ll be sure and tell my father about how you took care of his little girl.”

The Nostromo was already moving on a vector towards the planetary surface as Grunchlk’s terrified voice sounded over the open link
 
Juran cut the com unit and focused on the sensors, trying to resolve what was happening in the firefight on the surface, and who the players were. He could feel Valerie’s gaze on him, but he didn’t look up. If what they had done bothered her she would have to get over it. His brow creased. He didn’t give two crendars about Grunchlk or his mother’s henchman, but he was worried about the girl he and D’Argo called sister. And wasn’t that strange? It was definitely something he would have to get used to. Worrying about family. He watched on the screen as the evidence of a battle somewhere below them became clear, and he could only hope they weren’t too late to do her any good.

[imloco2]

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Down on the surface in the control center of the compound, Grunchlik gave vent to curses in his native language as he saw his nemesis’ offspring’s ship become visible as it descended. The bright points of light that flew from it were closing fast on these coordinates. He didn’t have much time before they reached the compound and destroyed what had been his home for the last 25 cycles. All he had to do was survive. And Gurnchlk had always been able to find a way to do that. He had his escape route all planned. If he hurried he’d get through this yet.

He didn’t spare a thought for the guards who were out chasing the frelling girl down. Everyone here knew the price of failure. It was part of the price of living. A quick glance at his sensors told him the ship was on a course for the sector of deep forest where his security detail had located their runaway. With the ship busy, it should give him just enough time to put his plan into motion. He cursed silently at the thought of losing the Diagnosian, his prized asset, but it couldn’t be helped. He turned to bolt for the door only to find that his feet seemed glued to the floor. He tugged and wrenched at them desperately as the metronome of the sensors counted down the approach of the missiles, each beeping tone coming a little faster than the one before it. He growled in frustration as he strained to move and only succeeded in pulling a muscle in his leg.

“Well, you’re in a bit of a fix, aren’t you?”

Grunchlik’s head whipped around and caught sight of a man leaning casually against a door frame. He looked Sebacean, tall and slender, with gray hair and strange half-familiar eyes.

“Where the cranking hezmana did you come from?!” Grunchlik realized his mistake and switched to his friendliest persona. “Listen friend, I don’t know who you are, but we only have a few microts before this whole place is nothing but a steaming pile of silck. I seem to be stuck, and there are missiles headed this way…”

“Oh, you aren’t stuck.” The stranger said serenely. “We aren’t allowed to intervene that way. I’ve simply convinced your brain, such as it is, that you can’t move. It really doesn’t matter whether you’re really immobilized, or whether you just believe that you are….” The man flashed a dazzling grin “…the result is the same.”

Grunchlik’s time was running out as he glanced hysterically over his shoulder at the sensor screens. The missiles were only microts away. “Who the frell are you? Why are you doing this?”

The man shrugged. “Don’t take it personally…” He paused “…No, on second thought, take it personally. Your treatment of John Crichton’s daughter has been a long standing cause for consternation. Consider this payment long overdue.”

Grunchlik’s guts went cold as he realized why this was happening, even if he had no clue as to how.  “Who are you?”

The stranger’s grin widened. “You can call me, Jack.” With that, he vanished, and suddenly Grunchlik’s feet could move again. He wasted no time, but moved as fast as he could go towards his escape pod. If he could just get there he would be all right. He could still make it if he hurri…



 

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There was a soft thrumming vibration as the high thin winds of Ne-Sa Ren’s upper atmosphere strummed Nostromo’s hull. D’Argo had their ballistic plotted and locked in. He engaged the autopilot.

“Veela, swap places with me; you’re going to be the ship driver when Juran and I tackle the bad guys. The ship will fly itself until we’re on final approach to the target area. After that point I need a pilot in that seat. That’s you.”

“What about me?” Valerie chimed in.

“You think you can fly this ship?” Juran said skeptically.

“No, but I can fight,” she shot back.

D’Argo shook his head. “Nuh uh, no way. If I get Aunt Olivia’s daughter killed out here, my mother will have my spleen on cheeva toast. She really liked Olivia.”

“Aeryn Sun would understand,” Juran argued. “In Valerie’s position, she wouldn’t hold back.”

D’Argo looked ready to argue, but just shook his head sourly as Valerie unbuckled her flight harness and elbowed her way past them, headed towards the rear of the ship.

“Let’s move it then,” she called back. “I need a fast lesson in weapons before we land.”

As D’Argo and Juran moved to follow her, D’Argo answered with dour sarcasm. “Who said anything about landing?”

Ten microts later they were clustered around a belly hatch, listening to the whistle of the air through the deck plates, as Veela’s voice recited their speed and distance to target and D’Argo studied a small screen that was slaved to the main cabin terrain sensors. The last thing he wanted them to do was jump too far away from target.

“I hate sky diving,” Valerie muttered.

“Sky diving?” Juran asked. Whatever that was, he had trouble seeing Valerie hating to do it. He’d reached the conclusion there wasn’t much she didn’t like to do.

“That’s what they call it earth-side. Jumping out of a moving aircraft. The military do it as a part of their job. Some civilians do it for fun, the idiots. As a pilot I had to do it, but I didn’t like it worth a damn. This is going to be worse.” She fiddled with the belt and harness she had on in place of the familiar parachute. Her thumb caressed the sensor pad on her belt. “Okay. One more time...”

Juran grinned broadly at her nervousness. “The null-grav belt will activate as soon as you clear the ship’s internal grav field. It will let you drop slowly to the surface. That pad on your belt controls your rate of descent. Press on it with your thumb and you fall faster, press harder and you fall faster still. If you let up on the pad entirely, your rate of fall will slow to nothing.”

“By the way, that isn’t advisable,” added D’Argo. “The longer you’re in the air, the longer that you’ll be a target for ground fire.”

“Duh!” Valerie answered sarcastically.

Juran and D’Argo looked at each other in confusion, but they stayed silent. They’d figure out ‘Duh’ later.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this,” D’Argo shot back. “Besides, if you get yourself killed, aside from my personal unhappiness, I’ll have to explain your demise to my parents. So don’t do anything stupid.”

Valerie laughed. “According to Mom, I covered that when I followed Gramps and Uncle John into space. Of course, it brought me here, didn’t it?”

Juran listened to the sparring between his two new family members and felt something fall into place inside him. He had never experienced being close enough to anyone to tease and squabble like they were doing. He might have to practice it for a while, but he thought he might become quite good at it. His life was changing in more ways than one and somehow it all seemed to center on Valerie. Strange, unpredictable human woman. He was becoming more attached to her by the microt which made him slightly uneasy. His thoughts were cut short as Veela’s voice spoke over the com system.

“Three microts from the edge of optimum drop.”

“It’s closer to four microts,” D’Argo grumbled, but he didn’t speak too loudly. “Okay, equipment check.”

Their equipment was scant, a drop harness, self-adjusting jungle coveralls, a helmet with a visor and separate audio headset, and weapons. He had to admit he had been impressed when he had viewed D’Argo’s private arsenal. He and D’Argo had finally decided on a pulse rifle that carried over and under rocket launchers, a pulse pistol, and a few Tarbick grenades. Valerie had opted for speed over firepower. She was only taking a pair of pulse pistols.

At the last moment D’Argo added a special toy to his stash. One of his own making. An induction rifle. He had explained that back on Earth it would have been called a rail gun. Thanks to their obviously superior technology here it weighed next to nothing, but its trag-metal darts would punch through just about anything to kill anyone on the other side of it who was using it for cover. He had told Juran that he was following his father’s tradition when he named it “Ripley”.

An alarm sounded, and D’Argo stepped on a floor-mounted button. “Let me go first, count five breaths, then go yourselves. That puts the guards between us, where we can squeeze them.”  Their speed had dropped low enough to make a jump a safe prospect.

Juran caught Valerie looking nervously out the door to the sea of green below.

“Drop,” Veela sang. “Now, now, now.”

D’Argo was through the hatch and gone before the last “now” was out of her mouth.

“After you,” Valerie said, backing up slightly and waving Juran ahead of her.

“I really don’t think so Val,” he said as he stepped close and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snarled.

Juran stepped to the open hatch a thousand earth feet above the forest canopy. “I’m saving you from the moral crisis of choosing whether or not to jump.” His mouth closed on hers for just a microt before he stepped through the hatch and they were both gone.

Valerie’s scream reverberated in Juran’s ears.

“You son of a biii-i-i-i….”

Moments later they separated as their individual grav fields drove them apart. Heeding common sense, both of them thumbed the touch pads until they were nearing freefall velocities. Valerie released hers first, with Juran waiting a few microts longer. His feet were practically in the treetops before he acted. Both slowed almost immediately to a safe pace, the upper canopy of the trees brushing their faces as they broke free and floated towards the understory below. Far away they could make out the sounds of sporadic weapons fire as the guards sought their targets.

“I’m going to get you for that, asshole,” Val comm’d as she drifted down.

Even in battle mode he couldn’t help but smile. “Anytime, human.”

Once they reached the ground, they shed their helmets. “Communications check,” said Valerie.

“Coming in clear,” responded Veela from aboard the Nostromo. Both men responded as well.

“Vee, what can you see?” came D’Argo’s voice.

“I have six Peacekeepers. Three along the outer rim near D’Argo’s position and three nearer to Juran and Val. They are tracking a smaller group just ahead of you. Two of those energy signatures are much different than the others. Juran, unless I miss my guess your sister is about a third of a metra away and the people with her are natives of Ne-Sa Ren. Weapons fire seems pretty one-sided. Whoever the bad guys are shooting at, they don’t have weapons with which to fight back…they’re frelling lucky they aren’t dead already.”

“Agreed,” said Juran. “Let’s move before it’s too late and they drown my sister in firepower.”

“Our sister,” D’Argo said.

Juran and Valerie were moving quietly through the vivid green underbrush, towards the sounds of battle, with Valerie thanking the powers that be and the United States Air Force for making survival training mandatory. She wasn’t Special Forces, but she could “stealth” with the best of them. Especially with this soft springy moss that seemed to be everywhere. They were only about thirty motras from the nearest guard, who could be heard firing from cover ahead of them, when their headsets hissed softly.

“I’m in position,” D’Argo informed them softly. “I’ve got three Peacekeepers in sight about a metra from your position. I’m going to start raising hez in a microt or three. Get ready.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it soon,” Vee added. “One of your sister’s defenders is down. Not dead yet, but out of the fight. The other one is trying a tactical retreat. The Peacekeepers are starting to move forward.”

“Frell!” Juran cursed as they heard the sound of weapons fire intensify just ahead. At the same time it wasn’t as loud, indicating they were changing position.

“No time to be subtle then,” D’Argo said.

Far off to their left they heard a series of explosions, followed by a slackening in the weapons fire from the Peacekeepers.

“Grenade launcher,” Juran grunted. “Let’s move.”

Moving forward, leapfrogging from tree to tree and log to log, they made good time. Apparently the three Peacekeepers had completely focused on D’Argo whose continuous fire had exhausted his pulse rifle’s charge already, due to the need to make one man sound like ten.  Far away, the rifle’s heavy boom thundered through the forest.

“What the hell was that?” Valerie whispered into the comms.

Vee laughed over the com. “Just my man getting some field time with his favorite toy…other than me that is. By the way, scratch one Peacekeeper. Dar had to blow a tree in two to get him, but that’s what Ripley does best.” She paused. “Oh, frell!”

“What frell? What is it?” Juran demanded.

“You’d better move faster.” Veela shouted. “The last defender is down and Cera is on the run. The Peacekeepers are right behind her.”

Juran picked up speed and just hoped that Valerie could follow. He shouldn’t have worried. She was by his side as they began taking bigger risks in their dash towards Cera’Na’s position, sacrificing cover for speed. They were close now, but so were the Peacekeepers.

They rounded a tree just in time to see one of the men they had been chasing taking aim at something in the distance.

Valerie and Juran’s weapons exploded at the same time and the guard went down.

D’Argo’s gun boomed again. “Got the last one of these guys, piece of cake, no problem,” D’Argo yelled. “I’ll be at your present position in a tenth of an arn.”

“You can see about the ones who were defending Cera when you get here,” Juran responded as he squatted down to make sure the guard was dead. “We can’t wait. We’re going after Cera.”

As they ran forward they heard a despairing scream echo from up ahead.

“Shit!” hissed Valerie. “They’ve got her.”

“The frell they do!” snarled Juran. He put on a burst of speed. Nobody was taking his sister anywhere, except him

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Cera’s lungs burned and her breath was coming in great gulps as she hid at the edge of a small clearing. She was behind a moss-covered tree that had fallen cycles ago, shrouded by thick ferns, and cuddling a dagger that Shae had given her at her request. She had no illusions about being able to defend herself, but she didn’t intend to be taken. Not again. On the other side of the clearing the cliff dropped off suddenly, trapping her here, and in the back of her mind she knew what she would have to do. As she listened to the sounds of battle, the whistling thunder of the ship overhead played counterpoint to the thundering of her heart between her ribs. She was certain that it was her mother, come to drag her wayward daughter back to the labs. She couldn’t read the pilot, she couldn’t read anything at all, which redoubled her fear. The exhaustion and stress of the previous two days had suddenly combined to rob her of her empathic sight. It felt as if she were blind.

The sounds of fighting had been shifting back and forth for what felt like forever when there was a lull, and she peered over the log hoping against hope that Shae would be there. But no, she had seen the blast hit Shae. He wouldn’t be coming for her ever again. She couldn’t stop the tears as she played the vision of him falling face down into the moss again and again.

A small crack was the only thing alerting her before the Peacekeeper came from behind and dove at her through the ferns. She struggled as he drove her to the ground, planted a knee in her back, and wrenched her dagger away with a brutal twist of his hand. She did the only thing that was left to her. She screamed.

Which bought her nothing as the Peacekeeper yanked her roughly to her feet and dragged her into the clearing where he began using his comms to summon pick up. She recognized him as Raynar, one of the lead guards at the compound. As one of higher rank, he would be the one responsible for taking her back. She knew from past encounters she would get no reprieve from him.

He wasn’t having any luck trying to raise his companions. She listened as Raynar tried to contact the other guards again and then to reach Grunchlk at the compound. Nothing. A tiny blossom of hope stirred in Cera’Na. If whatever was happening was bad for the guards, surely it was good for her. When he received no answer, he cursed and shoved Cera back to the ground where he planted a heavy boot between her shoulders. Pointing a pulse pistol at her head, he spoke.

“Little girl, you are more trouble than you’re worth. The Chancellor said that we had to take you alive and intact, but if your friends don’t back off, I might have to forget what her exact orders were.” He paused and shifted his aim to her extended arm. “Or perhaps I can plead the necessity of blowing off a limb.” Cera knew that he wasn’t making idle threats and her heart pounded faster with fear. She braced herself for the pain she knew was coming, but before he could follow through, suddenly he was gone.

Cera was fighting tears inspired by equal parts of dust and pain when she heard a female voice hiss. “Does that mean that I can plead the necessity of castrating your ugly ass?”

She turned over, blinking the tears away, and saw Raynar stumbling backwards from a young woman whose hair looked like Mother Sun at her highest. He didn’t get a chance to recover because someone else brushed by her to engage him in hand to hand.

“See to the girl,” the stranger barked. “I’ve got this one…..and the next time I say let me take him, I mean let me take him!”

“Whatever you say, Flash,” came the response.

Oblivious to the sounds of combat behind her, the strange female turned towards Cera and squatted down next to her. “It’s okay Sweetie, we’re here now. No one is going to hurt you.”

Cera was almost beyond believing that there was someone anywhere who didn’t want to hurt her. Her world had narrowed down to noise and pain. The strange woman’s words didn’t have time to penetrate her fear before more trouble arrived.

The female looked up and cursed in a strange language, as another guard arrived. The woman didn’t wait for him, but closed with him quickly and launched herself into the air, feet first. The Peacekeeper managed to deflect her kick somewhat, but not enough to avoid losing the pulse pistol that he was in the act of firing. The blast went wild and hit next to Cera and discharged into the ground.

As Cera watched, the man tried to overpower the strange woman with hand-to-hand, but her combat moves were so foreign to his experience that he was at a loss as to what to do. The best he could manage were glancing blows and near misses. She seemed to be dancing with him…and not in a nice way. He was scoring hits, and she was being hurt, but it didn’t seem to be slowing her down.

The guard growled after the latest failed effort to lay his quarry low, and the woman grinned and motioned for him to come at her. “You’re a big bad Peacekeeper? Is that all you got?” He came at her fast and she gave a peculiar writhing twist, her foot coming up to kick the guard in the head, which was accompanied by a muted pop. It was the sound of bones breaking. His neck broken, he collapsed in a boneless heap.

“Thank God for gymnastics classes and Kwai Chang Caine,” the stranger muttered.

But she had a glazed sick look in her eyes that made Cera think she didn’t kill someone every day. At least she hoped she didn’t.

Trying to catch her breath the woman made her way back to Cera and squatted down beside her. “See, all gone. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Indeed, the woman’s companion had succeeded in overcoming the last of the Peacekeeper detachment and was standing over him with a pulse pistol pointed at his head.

“Traitor! Your mother knows you’re here. You’ll never get away,” the Peacekeeper hissed.

Cera could feel his fear, although she didn’t think it was a fear of the man holding a weapon on him. It was more like he wanted the stranger to shoot him. It made no sense. It was her mother that could cause such a fear in men that they’d rather be dead than face her. Who was this man’s mother? And why was she coming here?

The man shrugged. “She may be crazy, but I never thought that she was stupid. She might suspect that I’m here, but she can’t know for certain if no one is alive to tell her,” he said calmly.

The guards grin was forced. “You don’t have the mivonks for that, boy,” he goaded.

“I wish people would stop calling me boy,” the man sighed. 

Cera guessed his intent a microt before the pulse pistol fired and the guard’s body jerked as he got his wish.

“Much as I could wish it were otherwise, I am my mother’s son. Which pretty much guarantees that I have the mivonks for that,” he said, addressing the body.

He turned to Valerie, and Cera drew back. “We need to be elsewhere. If my mother knows that we’re here, then it means that she’s practically imploding her carrier’s engines to be here before we can leave.” He spoke into his comms. “D’Argo, we’ve got her. The Peacekeepers here are all dead. I’ll leave my comms open so Veela can home in on us. The sooner we’re away from this planet, the better for everyone concerned.”

She heard a man’s voice acknowledging. A few choice words between the men resulted in an agreement to have someone named Veela come for the two standing in front of her. After he’d finished talking, the man turned to regard Cera with an intense expression.

The fact that the guards were dead did not lessen Cera’s fear. She had no idea who they were or why the man kept talking about his mother. He was not from here so he must be Other. He had just killed the guard with no more thought than one of the guards would have had at killing her. And now they were talking about a ship to pick them up. She didn’t think she’d be going anywhere with them

When the man made as if to approach her, Cera scrambled backwards, trying to put distance between them. Her hand hit the edge of the rocky cliff and she knew she was at the steep drop off on the far edge of the clearing. She didn’t know what to do. They’d killed her tormentors, but that meant nothing, other than that they were killers themselves. The woman stopped the man from approaching closer, and regarded Cera with kind eyes.

“My name is Valerie,” she said. “Val-er-ie. Are you Cera?” 

Hearing the voice, but not really the words, Cera shook her head frantically and edged closer to the drop-off. She wasn’t going back into captivity. Not with anyone, not again.

The man cursed and pushed against his companion’s restraining hand, but she continued to hold him back. It surprised Cera that the man obeyed her. She heard the noise of a ship's engine coming ominously closer. She didn’t have much time left. She glanced over her shoulder at the drop behind her. The sharp stones that lay at the bottom would guarantee her death if she went over. And death wouldn’t be so bad, would it? The guard hadn’t seemed to think so. Certainly not as bad as the living sleep she’d seen in the labs. That she’d lived through herself.

“Cera.” The woman tried, again, to get her attention. “We are not going to hurt you. We are here to help you.”

She heard a strange whimper and realized it was coming from herself. But in spite of her fear she couldn’t help looking back into the woman’s eyes. She felt something flicker on the edge of her perception. A feeling of overwhelming compassion. Frowning in concentration she reached out and tried her talent on the stranger. She was rewarded at once with warmth and kindness. The woman actually liked her, and was afraid for her. Cera was mesmerized by the emotional aura, the likes of which she’d never known from anyone but the local people. Her heart was drawn to it, and suddenly her gift flared, letting her see the woman’s thoughts. Only, this time, more. For the first time she could actually see someone’s memories. And what Cera saw there made her nearly collapse with relief, even as she was stricken with wonder. It was the Old One from her dreams. The woman knew the Old One! She had many happy memories of him. She loved him. Cera felt her heart flutter as she traveled deeper and traced memories of him until she reached one that shook her to the core. She saw the blue eyes dimming and the thin frail hand lifeless against a white cloth. Still. Motionless. He was dead! The shock was so profound that Cera took the only route of escape that she had left to her. She fainted.

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Juran ran to the edge of the cliff where the young girl lay, too close to the drop-off for comfort. Carefully, he picked her up and motioned to Valerie as the noise from the Nostromo grew louder. Fifteen microts later Juran was standing by the controls of the gravity hoist in the personnel bay in Nostromo’s belly. They were on their way to pick up D’Argo and then the goal was to get away as fast as possible. Perhaps faster.

Veela had executed a perfect snatch and grab on them, getting them aboard in just a few microts. Juran had insisted on carrying a still unconscious Cera aboard by himself. For some reason he was reluctant to let her go. He wasn’t sure what he thought their reunion might be like, but nothing had prepared him for the fear in her eyes when she looked at him. It hurt in a way he hadn’t experienced before. He watched Cera for a moment, her head rolled to one side, and tentatively reached out a hand to brush a tangled strand of black hair from her face. Hair just like his.  His thoughts were interrupted by Veela’s voice over the comms.

“I’m holding station over D’s position. Lower away.”

Shaking his head to clear it of the strange sentiment, Juran thumbed the hoist control as the bay doors irised open. He saw charred grass and fallen trees in the small clearing that had been made during the battle they had just waged. D’Argo was standing next to one of the fallen trees and when he looked up Juran motioned for him to hurry.

He didn’t move.

“D’Argo! Unless you want to settle down here you better get moving!” Juran shouted in the comms.

“I’d love to join you, bro, but there’s a slight problem,” D’Argo said.

“Problem?” This from Veela who was listening in. “What kind of problem?”

“This kind of problem,” D’Argo motioned around him.

Suddenly Juran could see shapes forming in the trees around D’Argo. Five, no, ten…no, more. There were suddenly a whole lot of people surrounding D’Argo and if they were hostile there was no way for him to get to the ship.

Juran felt rather than saw Valerie crouch down beside him in the doorway. He never took his eyes off D’Argo, but he felt her hand on his shoulder and it felt right there. He knew she was with him and as strange as it sounded, it made him feel better. He would have to think on that later. Right now though he was going to have to make some sort of plan to extract his brother from his predicament.

“What can we do?” Valerie said.

“We could attempt to talk to them, but that would take valuable time. Time we don’t have if we have any hope of getting away.” He paused for a moment. “Veela. Does this ship have a pulse burst capable of taking out about a dozen…” He looked out at the scene before him. “…make that two dozen men?”

“I believe that could be arranged. But, what about D’Argo?” Veela’s worry radiated through the comms.

“We’ll have to set it on low and hope it doesn’t affect him too badly. Once the others are out we’ll go get…”

“No!”

The voice came from his right and he looked around to see Cera awake and sitting up. She was looking at him with something like horror on her face. A look he was helpless against. He didn’t want to be whatever it was she saw when she looked at him.

“It won’t kill them. It will just…put them to sleep for a little while.” The last thing he expected was for that statement to bring even more terror to her face. It seemed he could say nothing right.

But his blood ran in her veins and he watched as she screwed her courage up enough to say. “No! They are…they are my friends. You must not harm them. No sleep.”

Juran ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Right. No sleep. But we need to get D’Argo...” He had a thought. “D’Argo is my brother. And how strange it felt to say that! He is also your brother.” He waited to see if that meant anything to her, but she only cocked her face to one side quizzically. “I guess I’ll explain that later. We can’t leave until he comes and if we don’t leave soon it will be too late. Grayza will find us.”

At the mention of Grayza she stiffened. It was apparent she knew that name.

“Grayza?” she whispered?

“Yeah. Your mother. And as much as it pains me, my mother.”

“Both mothers are coming?”

She didn’t seem able to grasp the idea that both mothers were the same person. He’d have to work on that later.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Then I will go. They are the People. They will not hurt me. I will get this...D’Argo back for you and then you can go.”

From the way she said it Juran knew what she had in mind. He wanted to just order her to do as he said, but that wouldn’t work in this situation. Not if they wanted her cooperation. “You will have to come with us you know,” Juran said, more gently than he knew he was capable of being.

Cera shook her head. “I will stay here with the people.”

Valerie scooted to the other side of Cera and took her hand. “Honey, you’ve got to listen to Juran. It’s not safe to stay here. We’ve taken care of the bad guys for now, but Juran’s mama is not a nice lady and you don’t want to be here when she comes.”

Juran recognized the stubborn look on Cera’s face since he’d seen it on his own plenty of times. He sighed. It seemed the explanations would come sooner rather than later. “I know it’s not easy to understand, but you have family that wants to take care of you. That would be Valerie and me and even D’Argo out there, maybe more. I know you don’t really understand it. I’m having a hard time myself. But we are your family. I am your brother.”

He watched as what he was saying finally sank in. “Brother? Like Shae and Trasq…?”

He had no frelling clue who Shae and Trasq were, but he took a chance.

“Yes, brother. Same Mother, same Father. Born at the same time.” His eyes held hers. He felt a little shock at realizing they were the same shade of blue as his own with the same black ring around the outside. “You have to come with us Cera. It’s not just you who is at risk if our mother finds you here. You know that don’t you? You don’t want these people to suffer the wrath of Grand Chancellor Grayza do you?” It was a low blow, but he knew that would push her over the edge if anything would. She seemed extraordinarily fond of these people.

Cera’s mouth quivered slightly before she seemed to make up her mind. “You are right. We must hurry.”

She moved to get up and Juran held out his hand. Slowly Cera slid her hand into his and let him help her to her feet. No doubt she had never been in a ship before, because she looked around in a combination of fear and awe. She looked out the door of the ship down to where the others waited and turned to Juran.

“How do I get down?” she said.

Valerie took over. “Well, I haven’t been in these parts long, but I already know that. Here, let me help you.” She tugged Cera into position and kept an arm around her as the hoist plate slid out. She looked over at Juran and whispered ‘you stay here’ before she stepped onto it and brought Cera with her.

“I think..” he began.

“You heard her. They are her friends. You’ll just scare them. We’ll be okay,” Val said as they started to move.

Well, he had asked to meet someone different. He just hadn’t known she would be giving him orders. Or that he would be obeying them. Still he felt a small smile coming to lips. Valerie was definitely unique.

As they floated down, Juran thought he heard Cera moan softly, but she didn’t struggle and his admiration for her increased. She might be at a disadvantage, but she had courage. They came to a halt half a motra from the ground below, then they were on the ground and headed to where D’Argo and the others were.

Juran just hoped his mother wasn’t as close as he thought she was. But deep inside he could feel her drawing nearer. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he didn’t think so. She would not give up without a fight and the thought of the coming battle made him shiver. He watched Cera walk up to one of the native women and willed her to hurry.

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Cera tried not to tremble as she stood before the Mother. She knew she didn’t have much time, but this was something that she had to do. Oh, how she longed to stay with them and live her life in the peace and shelter of the People. But she knew that the man…her…brother, was right. Her mother, Grayza would not let her live with the People in peace. Many would die, and she would end up back where she started. If she did not die herself, and in spite of her willingness to die earlier, she knew that had just been desperation. She had no desire to leave the living before her time. She would miss the only place she had ever felt cared for. But there was no choice. She had to say goodbye and leave with the new ones. She just wished she were surer of them, but she couldn’t see any options. And they were waiting.

“Kind Mother, thank you for sending your sons to help me,” Cera said in formal greeting as she bowed her head.

“Don’t thank me child. It was the Old One that gave me direction. I am pleased you are safe.” Shae’s Mother was a tall statuesque woman with hair as dark as Cera’s own and skin the smooth brown of chisel wood. The only thing marking her as one of the Mothers was the thin gold wire that circled her head, but her eyes held the wisdom of her age. Now she looked a bit sad.

Cera didn’t have the heart to tell her that the Old One was dead. And speaking of which, “Will Shae live? And Thasq?” She dreaded the answer, but she had to know.

“I believe so. Your friend performed some kind of magic I believe, for even now Thasq and Shae recover faster than even I could have imagined.” She motioned behind Cera.

Cera turned to see Shae limping towards her, a bandage around his chest and his forehead. He stopped a few motras away from her and she turned back to the Mother.

“You will let the man go to his ship?” She thought she knew the answer because there were no longer any weapons being pointed at… D’Argo. It felt strange to say his name. She would have to find out how they could be of the same blood. The other at least looked as she did, but this one was different. Except for his eyes. They were the same. Strange.

“He is free to go, with our thanks.”

“And I too must go, Mother.” She blinked back the tears in her eyes. “Thank you for all the care the People have given me all my life. Without you…”

“Ssshh child. No thanks are necessary. We did what we had to do. What we…wanted to do. You were ever a blessing. Now go, before it is too late.”

Cera nodded and turned to walk towards Shae. She could see in his eyes he had heard and knew she was leaving. The thought of never seeing him again hurt in ways she didn’t understand. She barely knew him, but that didn’t seem to matter.

“Cera.” Shae reached out a hand to grasp her own. He looked at her for a microt and his eyes were suddenly older than his cycles. “You must go.”

It wasn’t a question, but Cera nodded her head in reply. She didn’t know what to say to him. There had been no words spoken between them, but he was more to her than the others were and she didn’t know how to say goodbye.

And he must have understood for he did it for her. He brought up a hand to brush her hair back and cup her cheek.

“May we meet again Cera’Na,” Shae said. Then he dropped his hand and turned away to melt into the forest.

She felt the tears burning her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. She turned to D’Argo and Valerie who had been watching the whole time. “We must hurry.” And without looking back she moved towards the ship where her life was waiting.

[imloco2]

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Juran felt his stomach flutter as more microts slipped past and he had almost given in to the urge to join them on the ground when he saw them moving towards the ship. Veela’s voice came again.

“Okay, he’s got them all on the hoist. Bring them up.”

Juran thumbed the control again and the plate rose into view through the iris, which cinched closed behind it. The plate hadn’t even settled to the floor when the tenor of the engines changed, indicating that they were moving under high acceleration. Veela wasn’t hanging around to enjoy the scenery.

D’Argo shucked his combat gear without bothering to stow it and scrambled up the crew ladder leading to the upper deck, with Juran right behind him. Valerie silently let Juran know she was staying with Cera and they followed him at a slower pace. From the look of his sister she was very nearly at the end of her emotional and physical strength.

Juran and D’Argo reached the narrow hatchway to the command deck at the same time and they both tried to go through it simultaneously. Stopping, they looked at each other and once again moved at the same time. Neither one was giving a dench. They didn’t have time for silly games, but it sure as hezmana wouldn’t be him to give in first, Juran thought. Finally, they both squeezed through with no bloodshed, and only a few muttered curses. Clearly, this brother business was more complicated than he had thought.

Slamming into his acceleration seat, D’Argo spared his console a glance. They were almost out of the atmosphere, holding at the highest acceleration the ship would tolerate without peeling off its hull. He turned to his co-pilot.

“In a hurry Vee?”

“Frell you, Lover. None of us want to be here when momma arrives.”

Behind them, sitting at the auxiliary sensor array, Juran snorted. “I’m sorry, but I have to agree with Veela. We want to be elsewhere, just as fast as we possibly can.”

They broke atmosphere and D’Argo edged their speed higher.

They were almost clear of the gravity-well when Veela sucked in a breath. “Frell! I’m getting an energy spike far above ambient from the far side of the outer moon. The profile says that someone is powering up a drive.”

D’Argo snorted. “Dad used to tell us stories about some pessimist back on Earth named Murphy. This would be right up his alley. I’m getting indications here that we’re being scanned by targeting sensors. Someone is tracking us.” He punched the drives to maximum, and the ship shuddered as its internal dampening field tried to compensate.

“What’s going on?” said Valerie, as she and Cera finally entered the command deck.

“Company coming to call,” Juran answered.

“Peacekeepers?” Valerie asked

Cera went to the far seat and curled up in it. She was trying to put on a brave face, but the fear was coming off of her in waves.

“Unknown,” D’Argo said.

“No, it isn’t,” Juran countered. “Not anymore. It just rounded the moon under acceleration, and locked on a vector tracking us. Frell!”

“What is it? A cruiser?” asked D’Argo.

“No, it’s a Sentinel.

D’Argo was silent. “Avenger class, or Tracker class?”

Juran sighed. “It’s a Tracker. That means….”

“….a power sink,” D’Argo growled.

“Guys, what the hell are you talking about?” Valerie asked from the back where she was trying to keep Cera calm.

“They’re talking about Sentinels,” said Veela. “A Sentinel is an auto-sentry. It’s fairly limited in what it can do, but what it can do it does very well. They come in two flavors, the Avenger class which is all guns and bad attitude; and Tracker class, which is more subtle, but just as dangerous. They’re very hard to get away from.”

D’Argo groaned. “I’m registering a fractional power fall-off from the engines. It’s just barely there, but it’s real.”

Juran thought furiously. His mother was smarter than he’d given her credit for. She’d been prepared, if not for this, then for something, anything, to take Cera from her grasp. He was setting up some calculations regarding time, power, and velocity when Valerie interrupted him.

“Juran?”

He sighed. He knew what the answers were anyway. They were frelled. “Valerie?”

“What the hell is he talking about? Why are we losing power?”

“It’s the Sentinel. The Tracker class has only a few smaller guns on it, defensive weapons only. Its primary offensive weapon is non-lethal. It’s a power sink. It drains the power from any non-biological sources that it’s focused on. Reactors, engines, power storage cells, it sucks them all dry.”

“Like a leech,” Valerie said, as she nodded in understanding.

“A leech?” said Juran, with a curious smile. Did all her people have this love of throwing trivia into the middle of a conversation?

“It’s a parasite that sucks blood,” Val answered. “They’re disgusting.”

Juran chuckled. “That sounds like a close enough description. Once a Tracker has latched onto you with its power sink, it becomes a numbers game. Are you going fast enough to outrun it on velocity alone? How much power do you have? How much can you lose before you’re seriously compromised? The Tracker will drain your power, slowing your escape. The slower you go, the closer it gets, and the faster it can drain your power.”

Valerie winced. “What do the numbers say?”

“That my mother, the tralk, was even smarter than I gave her credit for.” He ground a clenched fist against his thigh. “We’ll keep trying, but the odds are good that in a few arns we’re going to be dead in space, our engines running at near maximum, and us going nowhere.”

“I won’t go back,” said a quiet voice. It was Cera, speaking for the first time since she’d come back aboard. “I’ll kill myself first.”

Juran nodded. “If it comes to that, you won’t have to. I know my mother. I’ll do us both.”

From the command chair D’Argo said, “Can you guys hold off on any suicide pacts for the moment? I’ve done some maneuvering, but the damn thing’s focal antenna must be enormous, because the power decline is steady. We’re down one half percent now. I’m going to lay for this system’s asteroid belt. Maybe, just maybe, if I can find a rock with a lot of heavy metal in it, I can take shelter in it, and make a run for it once the power has rebuilt enough.”

Juran checked his own console, but he knew that it was a forlorn hope at best. The Tracker would have the ship dead in space before then. He wished now that they’d picked up his Marauder when they left Panex. Apart from the look on his brother’s face when he recognized it, he could have used it now. Tracker class Sentinels were persistent, but they were usually limited to focusing on one ship at a time. Even with the condition it had been in, his Marauder would have been more than adequate for the job of double-teaming the Sentinel.

Now all they could do was stretch things out as long as possible.

Several arns later they were down to ten percent of their previous acceleration, despite diverting power from life-support in other parts of the ship, and they were well short of the inner edge of the asteroid belt.  The Sentinel was perhaps 250 metras behind them. Practically in their laps, as deep space flight went. D’Argo and Juran had taken to spelling each other as they used manual controls to fly the ship, shutting off the automatics to save power. Veela was keeping an eye on Cera who was dozing with the aid of some mild tranqs from the med-kit, while Valerie sat at the detection console. When Juran wasn’t flying the ship, he spent his time teaching her something about the technology behind it. It gave them both something to do to take their minds off of their situation, and it let Valerie feel useful when Juran wasn’t with her.

The command deck had been quiet for quite a while when the communication array beeped quietly for attention. Someone wanted to talk to them.

“Well?” said Juran.

“D’Argo shrugged. “It’s coming from our wake. The only thing back there is the Sentinel. Someone is using it as a relay…and you know who that will be.”

“Leave it,” Juran said. “I’ve had enough of her threats to last me a lifetime. I’d rather not let her clutter my remaining time with her madness.”

The communication array beeped again, and kept beeping.

“The bitch really doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, does she,” Valerie said. “I’ll take it if you want. Mom and Dad always let me answer the phone, because I had a knack for handling unwelcome callers.”

Juran checked the time. It was time for him to let D’Argo drive again. He shook his head at Valerie as he swapped seats with D’Argo and spoke over the annoying beep. “No, I don’t want her to know…”

Suddenly there was a flare of actinic light from aft of the Nostromo and the instruments reacted as the ship surged forward. The light overrode the cockpit flare shielding throwing everything into sharp relief for just an instant.

D’Argo slapped the engine controls, throttling his power back. “Holy hell! We’ve got power again. That means that…”

And the communications console was still beeping.

Valerie didn’t wait for an invitation. She opened the link. “This is the Nostromo.”

An irate male voice filled the command deck. “Veela? Didn’t Chiana teach you to answer the phone?”

“And who would this be?” Valerie asked… in English.

There was a pause. “This is John Crichton. Who is this, and where is my son?”

Juran watched Valerie’s face light up and felt his own heart start to race. It was his father.

“He’s right here… Uncle John.”

“Uncle? Who is this?” Crichton demanded.

Val glanced over at Juran nervously. “It’s kind of hard to explain. I’m Olivia’s daughter, my full name is Valerie Marie Carrelli. Like you, I was flying for the IASA when this mess started, and let’s just say that a bad tempered wormhole can still turn an routine test flight into a real thrill ride.”

There was a long silence before John spoke again. “You have no idea how sorry I am that you had to find that out. Your mom will probably find a way to blame me for it. We’ll talk later, for now I need to talk to my son.”

“Here he is.”

D’Argo cringed. “Dad?” He gestured to Veela to keep flying like a bat out of hell, knowing his parents would keep pace.

“You couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Dad, I…”

A new voice cut in, female this time. “When we checked Panex, and you weren’t there, we got worried.”

“Mom?”

“It’s a good thing that I know the signature of Nostromo’s ion trail so well. We picked up your drive wake leaving orbit, and then we found the Tracker’s wake overlapping yours. That’s when we knew that you were in trouble,” his mother explained, not a hint of sympathy in her voice.

“Mom, I can ex…”

His father overrode him without missing a beat. “What did we teach you about knowing what you’re getting into out here? You had to know better than this son, I know you do. I told you to wait for us. This was just showing off, and I know Veela is too smart to let you do something stupid like this just to try and impress her.” He paused a minute. “Is it Valerie? Were you trying to impress your cousin?”

D’Argo had had enough. “I wasn’t showing off for Veela, and Valerie had nothing to do with this,” he shot back hotly. “The mission was already in the final planning stages when she and….when she showed up.”

Juran listened to the exchange with a combination of glee and sympathy. It was good to see the overly cocky D’Argo being taken to task by his parents. On the other hand it couldn’t be pleasant to be treated as a child.

There was a long silence at the other end of the comm-link.

“Son, let me talk to Valerie please.”

“Dad, I don’t think…”

“This will only take a moment. And Veela, you keep on flying!”

Valerie didn’t wait for D’Argo, but cut herself into the link from where she was sitting. “I’m here, Uncle.”

“Call me John. Calling me ‘uncle’ makes me feel old.” He paused. “Valerie, when I came through the wormhole the first time I landed in the middle of a mess that I didn’t create. All the same, if Moya hadn’t been where she was, I probably would have been in even deeper trouble. Which begs the question, what happened to you, and how did you come to find my son?”

Valerie chuckled. “It was pure dumb luck on all counts. Sometimes it’s good being a Crichton, even by adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“Yeah, mom and dad adopted me when I was almost thirteen.  It’s a long story. Anyway, I popped out of the wormhole almost under the nose of a Peacekeeper Command Carrier. Before I knew what was happening I was sitting in a detention cell, waiting for a fate worse than death. Then a big Peacekeeper stud gave me a dose of translator microbes in the ass, followed by a jail break.” She flashed Juran a big smile as she recited the facts.

D’Argo’s mother cut in. “A Peacekeeper helped you escape?”

“That’s right. I couldn’t have made it without him.”

“And where is he now?” Aeryn Sun Crichton asked.

 “Uh, he’s here.”

Valerie looked at D’Argo, who looked at Juran and back to Val. By unspoken agreement D’Argo drew the short straw and was elected to be the one to tell the rest of the story to his father. Juran could only be grateful he wasn’t standing face to face with the man when he found out. Or his wife.

“Dad,” D’Argo started.

“D’Argo? What’s going on? What’s the matter?”

“Dad. Mom. There’s no easy way to say this.” He paused and took a deep breath and then plunged in. “Remember I told you about the girl who…who was your daughter by, uh, that other person?”

“I’m not likely to forget that, am I?” said Crichton. “Go on.”

“Well, it seems that your, um, that is, Cera, wasn’t an only child.”

“What!”

D’Argo and Juran both flinched at the simultaneous yell of both parents.

There was another long pause before Crichton came back. Even Juran could tell he was shaken.

“So, just how many little Crichtons do I have running around the universe?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“Not that many. Just…two. Others I mean. Besides Me, Zanne and… ” he stopped, realizing he was babbling. “They were twins,” he added. “And, actually, he’s not that little.”

There was a pause. “I’m not laughing,” Crichton said.

No, Juran supposed he wasn’t. He wondered vaguely just how upset Crichton and his wife were to find out he had more offspring that he had originally thought.

“Anyway, he’s the Peacekeeper who helped Valerie escape.” D’Argo said.

“And you…trust this man?” his mother asked.

D’Argo looked over at Juran and they held each other’s gaze, assessing.

D’Argo let out a sigh. “Yeah. I do.”

 Everyone was silent for a very long time as both ships, now nearly side by side, continued to race outwards towards the periphery of the Ne-Sa Ren solar system.

Juran felt the need to break the silence, but the unusual flutterings in his stomach almost held him back. But, no, he had to say something. “John Crichton?”

There was another moment of awkward silence. “Yes. Is…is that….?”

“Yes, that would be me. Juran Maryk. Although technically Maryk is no longer appropriate. But I don’t think Juran Crichton would be very welcome either.” The silence that filled the cabin told the truth of that statement. He felt a moment’s discomfort, but he wouldn’t let that hurt him. If his mother couldn’t do it, neither would his father. But he wasn’t finished. “I need to tell you that I seek no obligation from you. I am not entitled to call you my father, despite what my mother did. Or rather, because of what she did.”

A new voice cut across the comms-link. “How very noble of you, Juran. I thought that I’d had that particular character flaw trained out of you by now. Apparently, I was wrong about your training. Wrong about a lot of thing where you were concerned. Your lack of loyalty certainly isn’t what your training was designed to produce.”

D’Argo whirled around to study the console. “Frell! Sensors are picking up a Command Carrier just coming into range. Tracking multiple fighters closing on our vector.”

“I’m loyal enough…mother,” Juran said, nearly gagging on the word, “to those who’ve earned it, something you never did.”

“But there are so many things I’ve never done for you son,” she hissed softly. “I’ll have to change that now.”

“Hey, Joan Crawford, back off! I’m the custodial parent in this situation. The kids want nothing to do with you.” Crichton’s voice over the comms broke the paralysis that had seemed to envelop everyone listening.

“John Crichton.” she cooed, “I thought it was too much to hope for that you would be here too. I’ve stood by my word after at the end of the last war, and left you alone, but really, this is presuming too much. I’m simply here to reclaim three pieces of lost property. Get in my way and our truce will no longer be valid.”

“Listen up, ‘Queen of the Damned,’ when you feel like you have the right to call members of my family property, there is no truce. And you can kiss my ass!”

Juran didn’t understand everything the man said, but he understood enough. He felt an involuntary smile form on his lips. No one talked that way to his mother. Except, it seemed, John Crichton. No wonder she hated him so much.

“Grayza,” D’Argo’s mother spoke. “Don’t do this. You can’t win. And even if you win, you still lose. You’ll never have what you want.”

“Yes, but win or lose, you’ll still be dead.” The icy tone of Grayza’s voice promised death and Juran knew that she’d do whatever she had to, to keep that promise. 

A near miss explosion suddenly rocked the ship, fire from the blast lighting up the interior only briefly.

Crichton's voice was terse. “Hey, guys. That last signal didn’t come from the carrier. Damn it, Grayza’s in one of the fighters. She’s coming up on our ass fast and has a squadron with her. Pedal to the metal son. Your mom and I will try to buy you some time. At least the Command Carrier is still too far away to fire.”

Another blast hit nearby and the ship rolled.

“D’Argo?! Are you all right?” his mother’s worried voice cut in.

“No problem,” he answered.  “I’m trying evasive maneuvers, but there are too many of them. And we can’t outrun them,” D’Argo announced. He was doing some pretty impressive flying, but it was only going to buy them a little more time.

No! Juran thought. He couldn’t let someone else suffer the revenge of his mother. It was him she was really after. Him and Cera.

He glanced over to his sister to see her staring off into space, almost as if in a trance. It was good that she didn’t seem to know what was going on. His teeth clenched, but he managed to speak.

“No, wait. She’ll kill you both and still take us. Perhaps if I… surrender, she’ll be satisfied….” He didn’t finish his sentence. Not so much because he couldn’t, as because he was distracted by the feeling that something was happening. There was an itchy crawling sensation dancing along his spine. He glanced up as D’Argo shifted in his seat and he could see in his eyes that he was feeling it too.

Another blast, this time close enough to test the ship's shields. “Frell!” growled D’Argo as the power system surged and sputtered. “Ordinarily, the shields would hold, but with the power drain they aren’t up to full capacity. The next blast….” He left the words unspoken.
 
“You and I both know she won’t be satisfied until we’re all dead,” Crichton said.

“But we…” Juran started, but broke off as he heard a moan. Everyone looked over to where Cera sat, with the same vacant look, but with a sense of barely restrained power surrounding her. It seemed to bounce off the walls and thicken the air in their lungs. She had wrapped her arms around herself and was chanting softly. “Not going back. Not going back. Not going back.”

Juran saw Valerie look at him with a question plainly written in her eyes, and all he could do was shake his head. He knew a lot about a lot of things, but this wasn’t one of them. Whatever was happening to Cera was beyond his experience.

Unaware of what was happening in the Nostromo, Crichton called, “What we need is a damn wormhole. That’d get us away from Cruella in a hurry.”

“Wormhole?” Juran asked. He knew of them of course, since it was his mother’s obsession to control them, but he had never come face to face with one. Could John Crichton really make a wormhole as rumor suggested?

“Yeah,” D’Argo replied. “Dad happens to be the expert wormhole wrangler in these parts. What about it Dad? Can you rustle up a wormhole?”

“Son, if it was that easy I’d have been here yesterday. I have to go to the wormhole, it doesn’t come to me. You know that.”

The power in the cabin seemed to surge as Cera commenced rocking back and forth. As her chanting speeded, the words began to blend together. “Not going back, not going back…notgoingbacknotgoingbackno….” Suddenly her eyes changed. They were no longer vacant, but they were no longer fully human either. They had gone black. No pupils, no irises, no whites, just featureless obsidian black.

Juran caught a movement from the corner of his eye and he tore his gaze away from Cera long enough to look out of the window. He watched as the star field in front of them changed. A wave of discontinuity swept across it from a central point, like a pond into which a stone has been dropped. Before he could shout a warning, and with Valerie howling something about the gravitational sensors going nuts, space rippled, curdled, and then fell in on itself….and suddenly there was a wormhole.

“Holy shit! Where did that come from?!” Crichton’s voice from the comms echoed through the cabin.

D’Argo and Juran didn’t answer, they just stared at each other, and then they both glanced back at Cera, who was back from wherever she’d been lost. She was shaking in reaction, but she was aware. Her eyes were back to normal too. She and D’Argo and Juran looked at each other and a special awareness flowed between them. They knew what she had done, could feel it in their bones, perhaps like no one else in the universe could have.

D’Argo’s eyes never left Cera as he finally answered the question. “Um, it’s kind of hard to explain, Dad. Maybe later.”

“How do I know I’m really not going to be happy when I hear those words?” Crichton replied. "All right, everybody in!"

“I know exactly nothing about navigating a wormhole,” Juran grated out. “How about you?”

D’Argo gave a rueful grin. “Well, I had a good teacher, but in practical experience I have just enough knowledge to get us killed.”

“Lucky for you your old man has plenty of practical experience,” Crichton said, as Aeryn accelerated their ship past the Nostromo to take the lead. “Okay, I’m taking the wheel. Stay behind me, but give me some room to maneuver.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” D’Argo said and they shifted backwards in their chairs as the Nostromo accelerated her speed and they followed after his father's ship.   

Juran didn’t know which was worse. To be traveling into a massive blue vortex or facing down his mother.

No, facing his mother won hands down. But he couldn’t believe that it would be this easy to get away from her. Just then they entered the wormhole and immediately the movement of the ship changed. It shuddered beneath him as well as pitched and rolled, diving through blue tunnels that seemed to reach out to grab them.

Maybe easy wasn’t exactly the right word.

Җ

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Grayza tried to steady the fighter as it made its way through the wormhole after her quarry. The useless troops that had been accompanying her had veered off at the last microt, leaving her to enter the wormhole alone. But, no matter. She was determined now. There was no way her offspring were going to get away from her. She had too many cycles invested in them both to let them go. Too many plans that would be ruined.

They thought she couldn’t follow them through the wormhole, but they were wrong. What they didn’t know was that she had learned the secret of phase shielding cycles ago and could pursue them through the wormhole without fear of being reduced to a bloody red goo. She felt anticipation at the thought of outwitting them all once again, including Crichton and his traitorous mate. In her mind’s eye she could see the delicious surprise on their faces when they discovered they hadn’t escaped after all. She only wished she could be there in person to see it.

She caught the tail end of the second ship disappearing into one of the dips in the swirling blue construct, and she couldn’t resist the opportunity to fire a few shots in hopes one would catch the ship in front of her. It must have missed though because she couldn’t see them anymore. She tried to coax a little more speed out of her own craft. It wouldn’t do to lose them. A sudden movement ahead convinced her that that was the path they had taken... and suddenly she was out of the wormhole.

And into cold, dark space. At first glance she thought she was alone, but her instrument readings indicated otherwise. She turned her ship and saw the Command Carrier just ahead.

“No. I don’t believe this!” she exclaimed, her voice shaking with rage.

She had had them in her sights; she couldn’t have traveled the wormhole in a circle to end up where she’d started! Fate wouldn’t be that cruel. But there was no sign of another ship, much less two, anywhere within a thousand metras. So once again a Crichton had gotten away from her. No. Two! The first time had been bad enough, but she had been compensated. This time there would be no consolation prize. It was not a humiliation she would take lightly. She made a vow to herself then and there that she would hunt them down and destroy them all if it was the last thing she ever did.

She moved the ship towards the Command Carrier and began entry. Finally enough of her rage cleared that she noticed something was not quite right. She keyed her comms.

“Command Carrier, this is Grand Chancellor Grayza on landing approach. Why aren’t the landing bay tracking beams activated?” Almost as soon as she said the words the tracking beams were activated and she continued her decent.

“Captain Hillet,” she said.

A moments pause and then “Ma’am?” The good Captain sounded a bit different than usual. She hoped he was not going to be difficult, although it could prove to be interesting whipping him back into shape. She hadn’t forgotten her resolve to teach him a lesson. Good help was so hard to find these days, but she didn’t have time for petty annoyances. She had plenty of big ones. “Meet me in my quarters. We have fugitives to catch and not much time to do it.”

“Ma’am,” he said again.

She took that as an affirmative and made a mental note to make sure he remembered who was in charge. That could wait, however. Finding out where those frelling Crichtons had gone was a bigger issue.

The ship landed with a slight thud and the stairs leading down to the hanger slowly opened. She was almost to the bottom when she noticed that there were guards lined up around her ship, their weapons pointed straight at her.

“It’s just me. Stand down!”

They didn’t move and she had a moment of panic before spying Captain Hillet making his way to her.

“Captain Hillet! What is the meaning of this? Tell them to stand down at once!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Ma’am,” Hillet said.

“On whose authority are….”

“My authority.”

The booming voice came from the back of the room. A figure moved towards her and for once she was shocked into silence. It was a Scarran, standing a head and a half taller than any of her men and by ornate dress, he could be no less than the Emperor himself.

“You!” She breathed. “What are you doing on my ship?” she demanded. “What do you have to do with my own men pointing weapons at me?” She looked around her at the Peacekeeper troops. “Have you all gone mad?! He is a Scarran! You obey me not him!”

“That’s where you are wrong Commandant Grayza. They obey me!” The Emperor came to stand in front of her. “We have been searching for you a very long time indeed. It was truly my good fortune that you came to me instead.”

She saw then the other Scarrans scattered throughout the landing bay, seemingly standing guard over the guards.

“What are you talking about? How did you get aboard my ship? Surely even the Scarrans aren’t stupid enough to break the peace treaty. Did you learn nothing twenty-five cycles ago?”

“We learned much twenty-five cycles ago. The most important being that Sebaceans, especially Peacekeepers, are a much weaker species,” he growled.

“But Crichton…” Grayza started.

“Crichton what?! Crichton did nothing. All that talk and then…nothing. You should remember, Commandant. You were there.”

“Yes. Yes, I was there. And he made the wormhole weapon. We made peace. Why this sudden change?”

“The only thing that has changed is that you have foolishly returned. I commend you for your ability to hide from us all these cycles. It will be interesting to find out where you’ve been…and why you came back.”

He motioned to the guards, who grouped and formed a circle around her. “Take her to my quarters for now. There will be plenty of time for the usual--interrogation--later.”

“I demand that you release me at once!” Grayza tried to move around one of the guards and found her arms being held in a rough grip. She looked around at the Peacekeeper guards. Her guards. “I don’t know what games you are playing, any of you, but you cannot hope to get away with it.” They forced her forward. “I’ll see all of you executed unless you let me go immediately!”

Her words had no effect as she was moved through the crowded room and she came to the realization that whatever was happening wasn’t going to go away by shouting and acting afraid. She had been in tighter scrapes than this one, she told herself. She still didn’t understand what was going on, but she would find out. And when she did she would find a way to turn it to her advantage. If it was the last thing she ever did she would make sure that everyone in this room died. Slowly and agonizingly, denches at a time. She was almost to the door when she caught Hillet’s stare and she felt her first flicker of true fear as she saw the look in his eyes. The one thing she could not stand.

Pity.

[imloco2]

Җ

[/b][/size]

On the Iceberg, the two entities stood together studying the insane topology of the wormhole. The more corporeal of the two couldn’t see as much as his associate, so when he saw Grayza’s ship vanish into the unhappy dimension that would be her home forever more, he spoke.

“Nice touch.”

“What?” Einstein responded.

“Sending Grayza to the Scarrans,” Jack answered.

Einstein shrugged. “That wasn’t me.”

“It wasn’t?” said Jack, as his eyebrows rose.

“No, it wasn’t. I hate to meddle unnecessarily. And it wasn’t necessary. She did it to herself when she used her weapons in the wormhole. Sometimes fate can be fair, given sufficient provocation. Call it… cosmic justice.”

Jack grinned where Einstein hadn’t. One thing that his time in a human shell had given him was the ability to appreciate his friend’s ironic form of humor, even when Einstein could not.

“Speaking of meddling,” he began.

“No,” said Einstein.

“How hard would it be?” Jack said sharply.

“Not hard at all,” Einstein answered, “but it isn’t necessary. They will emerge, we’ll do what we have to do, and that will be that. Crisis averted.”

“They aren’t going to be happy with us to begin with,” Jack argued. “We set all this in motion. The humans have a phrase. They call it ‘playing God’. If we must play God with them, then we can at least be merciful about it.”

Einstein gave a long suffering sigh. “As you wish.” He waved a hand and the terminus of the wormhole shifted from its projected exit on the far side of the Uncharted Territories. “Done." He looked at his companion. "Curious. This human perspective of yours is becoming annoying.”

Jack had won his argument, but he wasn’t all that happy about it. He knew what he had to do, and he didn’t relish it, however necessary it was. “If you think it’s annoying from your side of things, you should try it from mine.” Then he vanished.

Җ

[/b][/size]


Juran and the others lurched forward as the Nostromo whipped out of the wormhole and slowed to a grinding halt. Close behind them the wormhole continued its gyrations and just ahead Juran could barely make out a planet. From this distance it looked to be a swirling mass of blue and gold, three moons surrounding it, small pale orbs of white against the darkness. And they all spun there quite alone in this section of space. But at least it didn’t have Grayza anywhere around. Juran felt a moment of unfettered joy. They had escaped her. They were free!

He became conscious of the stillness of the ship. So…why weren’t they moving away from the wormhole? It didn’t take long for the rush of freedom to fade.

“D’Argo, we’re dead in the water here,” Crichton’s voice told them. “How you guys doin’?”

“We’re fine, Dad,” D’Argo reassured his father. “But we’ve lost power too. Trying to switch to auxiliary power, but…”

“But it’s no good,” father and son said together. Crichton added, “Same here.”

D’Argo’s mother spoke. “Did you try re-routing secondary power through the primary power coil?”

“Yes,” D’Argo said as he continued to punch at the controls, “and that didn’t work either.”

“All right.” There was a pause. “Try resetting the phase switches on the secondary power coils. It may give you some maneuvering power,” she said, obviously flipping switches of her own.

“Good idea,” Veela said.

The ship wasn’t very familiar to Juran or he would have offered to help. As it was he could only watch as D’Argo and Veela struggled to do as requested. Finally they had made the necessary connections.

D’Argo took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothin’” He touched the controls and the ship lurched slightly and….stayed where she was. They hadn’t moved more than a few denches.

D’Argo’s mother came back on, “It didn’t work for us either. I’m running out of options for us to try.”

“Okay, so we’re stuck here, for the time being. Where is here?” Valerie asked the question Juran had been asking himself.

D’Argo looked out and then down at his reading in evident surprise. “Holy frell, we’re at Ilerad. We’re…home. Dad? How did you…?”

Crichton’s voice came over the comms. “I didn’t. It was the damnedest thing. One microt I was trying to find an exit I recognized and not having any luck and the next… there was home. One coincidence could be just dumb luck, two coincidences and maybe fate is frelling with me. Three and I’m beginning to think it’s something else.”

Juran glanced over at D’Argo questioningly, but only received a shrug in return. He, apparently, didn’t have any more idea of what his father was talking about than Juran did.

“Hold on, your mother thinks she might have an idea. We’ll get back to you,” Crichton said.

There was a lull as they waited and tried to think of a reason they were stuck in the mouth of a wormhole. Juran looked around and saw Cera, forgotten, in the corner, shivering. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was a little afraid of this girl that shared his blood. After all, she was the one who had created the wormhole that had them trapped.

He watched her for a moment, wondering if she even knew what she had done.  He didn’t know what was going to happen to her, to any of them, but, regardless of what she had done or what kind of power she wielded, the thought of her feeling frightened and alone did something strange to him. He had never been one to see weakness as a positive thing, but he couldn’t fault her for any weakness she had. She had never had the chance to be more, and considering how she had grown up, he decided he was frelling proud she had made it this far.

Another shiver wracked her body and Juran stood up and moved to sit next to her. She shrank back in the seat as though she expected him to hurt her. He cursed Grunchlik and his mother again. If the bastard wasn’t dead already, Juran would have to go back to kill him. Slowly.

“Cera,” he said gently. “It’s just me. I know you’re scared.” He glanced deliberately over at D’Argo. “And considering who’s flying this thing, I can’t say I blame you.” He caught his brother’s dirty look, but continued. “But, everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

“I...I did that,” Cera whispered. “The Blue Storm. I wanted to leave, get away from my…mother, and something happened. I could feel it… in me, all around me.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Cera.” He watched as she opened eyes that were swimming in tears, and hesitantly he held out his hand to her. She considered it for a long time before she slowly reached out a hand to grasp his. She had a surprisingly tight grip for one so fragile. “You are not alone now, you know. You have me.” He heard a throat clearing from the front. “Okay, us. You have us.” They sat like that for a microt and he looked up to find Valerie watching them, a strange look on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

Suddenly, the ship bucked as though it were riding a wave of some kind and the Nostromo’s alarms sounded.

“What’s the matter now?” Juran asked.

“Sensors are picking up a strange energy signature behind us,” Veela told them, and looked up. “Coming from the wormhole.”

Crichton’s voice rang out. “I see it too. Shit!” he cursed. “This is startin’ to look really familiar. But what the frell could the Ancients want with me this time?!” He paused for a moment. “Listen up guys, if I’m…”

Communication with the other ship was suddenly lost and before they could worry about that, a bright light filled the cabin of the Nostromo. Juran and D’Argo had their weapons out and ready when the light faded as quickly as it had come.

There in the middle of the cabin stood a man. Tall and slender, white hair meticulously combed to the side, he ran his gaze across the occupants of the ship.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all at last,” the stranger said.

“Who the frell are you?!” Juran demanded, keeping his pistol trained on the intruder.

He looked around at the others and was disconcerted to see they all had the same stunned expression on their faces.

“If I didn’t know better,” Valerie said slowly. “I’d say it was my Grandpa-Jack.”

“And mine,” said D’Argo. “Although I only remember him from pictures.”

The stranger ignored their weapons and turned to Cera. “You remember, don’t you little one?” He gave her a sad smile and then turned to look at the others. “In fact, of all of you, she is the only one who really knows me.”

They all turned to look at her and she shook her head in denial.

“It will become clear Cera’Na. Patience,” the stranger continued, looking around the cabin. “You are a very interesting group. We have been following your exploits for cycles now.” He gave another smile. “I have to say John Crichton has done well, even considering his limited involvement with several of you.”

Juran had the sudden urge to ram his fist in the man’s face. “And I repeat, who the frell are you?!”

“And how did you get onboard my ship?!” demanded D’Argo.

“I have to apologize for my sudden arrival. As a rule we don’t drop in for casual visits, but this is an extraordinary case. And it will be simpler for everyone if you call me Jack.”

“Jack?” D’Argo frowned. “My folks used to tell us stories about an alien who called himself Jack. An alien that looked just like…his….father.” His voice trailed off. “But he said he was dead. You can’t be him.”

“Well, it is true that I died on Dam-Ba-Da. However, one of the perks of my conversion into this lifeform allows for re-formation if necessary. Certainly, I wouldn’t have turned my back on Furlow otherwise. At the time, it was necessary.”

“So, why are you back now? What do you want with my father?” D’Argo asked.

“I’m not here about your father, son,” Jack said.

Valerie finally found her voice. “So, why are you here?”

Jack hesitated and Juran saw something like uncertainty cross his face.

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

The words came from Cera, sitting next to him.

Juran moved closer to his sister, protectively, and D’Argo left his seat to move closer to Jack from the other side. No way were they letting him hurt Cera.

Slowly Jack nodded. “I wish there was another way.”

“But why Cera? What could you want with her?” Juran asked.

“Because of the wormhole,” Veela said suddenly. She was still at the controls, but she swiveled around to face them. “Her father is famous for them. Her mother was obsessed with them. And Cera just made one.”

Juran felt a ripple of unease dance up his spine. It was out in the open then. The thing they had all been trying to ignore. Cera had made a wormhole. With nothing but her mind. It was impossible, but they had seen it happen. If anyone ever found out, there wouldn’t be any place she would be safe.

“I have tried to guide Cera and help her as much as possible while she was growing up, but I was limited in what I could do for her from so far away. As a result she grew up not knowing of the power she could wield. Or how to control it.” Jack pointed out the window. “You can see the results.”

“But she was frightened. We were in danger…” Juran started.

“And what about the next time,” Jack said. “The next time she becomes frightened or angry. She must control the power, not let it control her. We are responsible for the genetic alterations that led to this; we must fix it. Surely it is obvious that it is too dangerous for her to live among humans.”

“If you touch her I’ll shoot you where you stand.” D’Argo moved closer, his gun never wavering at its target. “I might not know her very well. Okay, at all. But she’s still my sister. And nobody is killing my sister.”

“I never said I was going to kill her,” Jack said.

“Then what the hell are you talking about,” Valerie said.

“I’m talking about learning. Teaching. With me. Your father can tell you, we can re-create a very convincing Earth habitat. She will want for nothing.”

“And live with just you? Cut off from all contact with her own species? Forget it. I’m sure Cera can learn everything she needs to know right here at Ilerad,” D’Argo said. “My father will help her.”

“Old One.” Cera’s voice seemed stronger now and they all turned to look at her. “You are not dead.” It was a statement, but her face was alight with wonder.

“No, child. I am here.”

They watched as she rose from the chair and on unsteady feet made her way to stand in front of Jack. She studied him and then put out a hand to touch his face. At the first contact she drew away as though burned and studied her hand wonderingly.

“Real. You’re…real.”

“I am here Cera’Na,” Jack said. “Finally.”

They watched stunned as she suddenly threw herself into Jack’s arms, which came around to circle her. Her body shook as she cried, and he made soothing noises that somehow seemed more out of place than anything that had gone on before.

Juran wasn’t too sure, but this didn’t seem to be the way it was supposed to go. His sister was supposed to be with him. He was supposed to be taking care of her, not this…this….strange species that looked like a dead relative. And how did Cera know him?

Finally the crying stopped, and Jack pushed Cera away, just far enough to look at her. “Cera’Na. I know this is going to be hard, but it is necessary. I need you to come with me. I understand your yearning for family and these people are your family. But it isn’t safe. Not for you. Not for them.”

Cera sniffed and looked around uncertainly at Juran.

Juran gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m not sure what the future will bring Cera, but know that no matter what this man says, you don’t have to go. You can stay with me. Us.” He glanced at D’Argo, who nodded. “All of us. You are of my blood. I will protect you with my life.”

“But who would protect you?” Cera walked to Juran and motioned for D’Argo to come closer. She waited until he drew near to talk in a low voice. “I know this man. I have known him all my life. I thought he came to me only in dreams, but it was all real. I…trust him. If he says I must go, I must go.” She looked at them, each in turn, and tears slowly traced a path down her cheeks. “I do not know you, brothers. Yet…somehow I do. You are good men. Mother Sun shines on me to give me the blessing of brothers such as you.” She looked over at Jack and back again. “I would have liked to stay. Learn about…family.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her hands, then seemed to stand a little straighter. “But he is right. I do not belong here. At least…not yet. Perhaps…someday.”

She turned to Valerie.

“And you…I thank you for my life.”

Valerie’s mouth moved like she wanted to say something and then she gave up, and rose to give Cera a huge hug. It seemed to startle her at first, but soon she returned it until Valerie started turning red in the face. They let go and smiled at each other.

Slowly, Cera moved to stand next to Jack.

He looked at her fondly. “I think it’s time for us to open communications with your father.”

She looked startled. “Father?”

“If these boys are your brothers, the John Crichton in the other ship is your father. Do you not want to speak to him?”

“It’s a little late now isn’t it?” D’Argo said. “Why did you cut communications?”

“I can only handle one problem at a time,” Jack said.

A wave of his hand and communications were restored.

“John Crichton.” Jack ventured.

“Who the hell is that?! D’Argo? Are you all right?!” John’s frantic voice came suddenly. “What the hell is going on? Your mom and I are suited up. We can be there in 30 microts, just say the word.”

“Dad! It’s okay. It’s okay.” D’Argo tried to calm his father down. “Everybody here is fine. It’s just that…”

“It’s just that what?” said his mother.

“There’s a man here and he… calls himself…” D’Argo stuttered to a stop.

“He calls himself what?” his father again.

“He says his name is…Jack.” D”Argo replied.

“Jack? What are you talking about? Your Grandfather is… Wait a microt. You’re not talking about your Grandfather are you? Jack?” The pitch of his voice rose. “Jaaaaack?!!! You’re supposed to be dead!”

“It’s good to hear your voice again, John Crichton,” Jack grinned. “As you can hear, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. And after all, as you put it so well back on Dam-Ba-Da, I am a God-like alien. Your sons can explain, later.”

“Dam-Ba-Da, huh? Riiiight….” There was a pause while he talked to his wife just out of comms range.

What was going on? Juran looked over at D’Argo who seemed just as puzzled as the rest of them.

Crichton came back. “So…it’s really you Jack? You didn’t die when the Charrid shot you on Dam-Ba-Da?”

“Absolutely not,” Jack answered. “And it was Furlow who shot me, John. You know that.”

“Okay, fine. So, now maybe you can tell me what the hell are you doing over there on my son’s ship? And why cut off communications? Unless… you didn’t want me to hear what was going on. What didn’t you want me to hear Jack?”

“It’s strange how complicated human lives can be, isn’t it John?”

“Complicated my ass. Tell me!”

“I’m going to have to take Cera’Na back with me, John.”

“No. This can’t be happening again,” Crichton said his voice so low they almost didn’t catch his words.

Juran wondered again what he was talking about. There was obviously a lot he didn’t know about the man who had sired him.

“No. No, no, no, no!” Crichton’s voice was harsh now. “I might not have known she existed before, but I do now and you are not taking my daughter away.”

“Be reasonable, John. I have good reasons to take her with me. You saw what she did back there. You of all people should appreciate that she can’t stay here with that kind of power. They would never stop hunting her.”

“What are you…Are you trying to tell me that the girl is capable of… that she made a…” he stopped as the enormity of the idea sank in. “That’s impossible. What are you and your ancients up to now?”

“We’re not up to anything, John. I’m telling you the truth,” Jack said.

“Well, little girls don’t make wormholes, Jack. Maybe…maybe the wormhole was already there and we missed it somehow. Maybe a random weapon shot managed to unzip the space-time continuum, I don’t know!”

“No. It was I.” Cera spoke her first words to her father in a surprisingly steady voice.

There was a pause. “Cera? You’re…Cera?” Crichton said softly.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you.”

“No…Cera. Don’t apologize to me. I have the feeling I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

Even Juran could tell that the man was upset.

“It’s just…I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” Crichton’s voice broke.

D’Argo shifted slightly as though uncomfortable at this display of emotion from his father.

“Your sons explained it to me. You could not have known.”

“I should have known,” Crichton said harshly. “I thought I knew what Grayza was. What she was capable of. I just never thought she would do something like this.”

“I am safe now,” Cera said. “You don’t have to worry about me.

“Well, I’ve discovered over the cycles that being a father means worrying. It’s what we do.”

Cera’Na had been doing a good job at holding back her emotions, but at those words her lips trembled slightly. Her voice was tight with unshed tears. “For many cycles I would have given anything for someone to care for me like that. I thank you for the gift now.”

“Cera.” Crichton’s voice was very gentle. “You don’t have to leave. Come stay with us.”

“Yes, stay.” Crichton’s wife broke in and said softly. “We want you to.”

Crichton continued. “I realize that we don’t know each other, but we could learn. I could keep you safe here on Ilerad. No one knows we’re here. Just say the word…”

The tears in Cera’s eyes spilled over and even Valerie was sniffing.

“You honor me greatly, but I cannot,” Cera whispered. “I can feel the power growing in me every day. It is not safe. I will go with the Old One and he will teach me so that I will do no harm. I…I am sorry I will not see your face. It would have been nice to have that as a memory.”

“Cera, listen to me…” Crichton started.

“Goodbye…Father.”

“Wait!” Crichton yelled.

Jack waved his hand and communications were shut off once more.

“It’s time for us to leave,” Jack told them. “Before I go I have something for John Crichton.” He held out a vid chip to Juran. “Will you make sure Crichton gets this?”

Juran looked at Jack and then D’Argo wondering why it was being given to him to give to Crichton. D’Argo shrugged and Juran held out his hand. “I will make sure he gets it,” Juran said.

“Thank you.” Jack looked at Cera and reached out a hand. “Come.”

She went to him then and wrapped her arms around him once more. Only the slight smile on her face kept Juran from rushing over to yank her back and keep her there with them.
Jack looked around the room at them all. “Yes, he has done very well, indeed.”

The blinding white flash lasted a bit longer than the first one, but disappeared just as rapidly.

Jack and Cera were gone.

Suddenly the ship gave a violent lurch and everyone was tossed to the floor. D’Argo scrambled for the pilot’s seat next to Veela.

“We have power back,” D’Argo shouted as he and Vee tried to get the ship under control again.

“Same here.” This time it was D’Argo's mother and she didn’t sound any happier than Crichton had. “It looks like the wormhole has closed and we are free of any interference,” she continued. “We’ll meet you back on Ilerad.”

The ship settled. “On course for Ilerad,” Veela said.

There was a sudden silence as they tried to take in everything that had happened in the last day. Frell, the last few microts.

Valerie sniffed one last time and suddenly stood up. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry. And I haven’t had a bath since I got here,” she said.

Now it was Juran’s turn to sniff. “Yes, I can tell,” he said, waiting…

Valerie’s punch to his arm actually managed to sting a little, but he exaggerated his response, rubbing the area with his left hand. “Oww, what was that for?” he asked. As though he didn’t know.

Her watery smile told him he had said just the right thing for once and he had to wonder what he wouldn’t do for this strange Earth woman sitting next to him.

He caught D’Argo’s smile too and thought that, just maybe, things were going to be all right. Of course, there was still Crichton to meet, but even that didn’t seem quite as impossible as it had at one time.

“Valerie’s right,” D’Argo said. “We have things to do. Let’s go home.” He threw Juran another glance. “Brother.”

Җ

[/b][/size]


He was getting old. Funny, he had had that very thought less than a monen ago, but now, sitting here, looking out the window, he felt it like he hadn’t then. He looked down at the vid chip in his hand and slowly reached out to slide it into the slot.

The hologram of the little girl came up quickly, her black hair flying around her face as the wind lifted and blew it this way and that. She flipped it over her shoulder and bent over to solemnly study the insect perched on the flower. Her nostrils quivered slightly and he could almost smell the heady fragrance of the Polynai blossom. ‘Hey girl, time to get back to the compound.’ A voice off screen broke into the moment and the look of resignation and fear on the little girl's face made it hard for him to swallow.

The scene changed suddenly to the top of a building. The young girl came wandering out, slowly, carefully, looking around as if to make sure no one watched her. Someone did of course, but she remained blissful in her supposed moment of freedom. The black hair was pulled back in a braid this time, but still a few tendrils managed to find their way free. She paid them no mind, instead concentrating on the scene in front of her. The thick forest rose majestically just a few motras away. The bright green moss looked like it covered the entire world. Suddenly a large flying creature of some kind swooped into view. Her eyes following it until it flew out of sight. The yearning in the girl’s eyes made the ache in his chest burn deeper. She had wanted to be free. She had been so close. If only…

Jack better take care of her…

“John.”

Aeryn was beside him, taking the chip out of the viewer before he could protest. “You can have it back later. Now, dinner is almost ready. Narren says we’re having all your favorites tonight.” She leaned over to kiss him softly and then moved out of the room, the precious vid chip in her hand.

Damn.

Okay, so he was getting a little obsessive about watching it. He knew that. He just couldn’t stop looking at the daughter he had never seen. Who reminded him that he had another daughter that he would never see.

Frell!

Aeryn was right. Enough with the self pity, for now, anyway. He got up slowly from the chair and went to look out the window. The sun hadn’t gone down completely yet, so there was still natural light. He could make out Juran and Valerie in the distance, down by the lake. It looked like she was teaching him to skip stones. He smiled slightly.

Valerie.

He couldn’t believe his sister’s daughter had found her way here to the Uncharted Territories. Or that she’d managed to hook up with his...with, Juran. He had given ‘that’ a lot of thought. Considering Jack’s reappearance, no way was everything that had happened just one big frelling coincidence. In fact, he was beginning to wonder about his own arrival in the UT’s. But he could draw up all the hypotheses he wanted to and it wouldn’t change the fact that it had happened. And in spite of everything, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He had D’Argo home and the knot in the pit of his stomach was just starting to loosen up. Chiana was on her way here to pick up Veela. He didn’t know how long those two would be able to stay apart, but they were making up for the upcoming separation with a vengeance. He hardly saw either of them these days and when he did the loopy smiles on their faces said it all. But they were happy, and he couldn’t begrudge them that.

And speaking of happy… It was good to know Olivia had finally married. It sounded like a good marriage too, which is all that really counted. If anyone deserved to be happy it was Olivia Crichton. Olivia Carrelli, he corrected himself. He wondered vaguely if her husband was in the Mafia. Did they still have the Mafia now days? If so, there was probably a hit out on him. She would probably blame him for Valerie’s disappearance. And who’s to say she’d be wrong?

He was going to have to try and get Valerie home though. Her mother deserved to know what had happened to her daughter. To have her back so she could hold her and love her. Like…like his dad had deserved to know. His dad. God, it was so strange knowing that his father was dead. Oh, he had known that he probably was. John was getting to be an old man, so it stood to reason that Jack probably wouldn’t have lasted this long. But to know, for certain. It was strange, that’s all. And it…hurt.

He saw Juran draw an arm back and let a stone fly. It landed in the water with a hard thunk. He could hear Valerie’s peal of laughter even from here, and see the disgust at the failure in the set of…Juran’s shoulders.

And when was he going to get over this problem of calling Juran his…son. He hadn’t been able to do it yet. If only he didn’t look so much like… her. It had been twenty-six cycles and he still could remember the helplessness and the anger and, yes, the desire, from those hellish days. That they had produced two human beings, well half anyway, still astounded him. He couldn’t have imagined that she would do something like that. Could he? Was he in some way responsible for bringing two new lives into the world? Well, obviously. But could he have stopped it? Did he wish he had?

That was a point he was unclear on.

Juran and Valerie were walking now and John watched as she slipped her hand into Juran’s. She was good for him, John thought. She was teaching him to relax and open up. A Herculean task considering his upbringing, but he could see the effects on Juran increase day by day. He was glad of that. He just wasn’t sure he wanted his niece, even if she was adopted, to be getting into a relationship with his…with his…son. There, maybe if he said it more often, even in his own mind, he’d be able to say it out loud one day.

He’d seen the unconscious yearning in the boy’s eyes and it hurt not to be able to give him what he wanted. What he needed. It would have been easier with Cera. He replayed the vid chip in his head. He knew it was sexist, but being a girl did make a difference. She had been more vulnerable, grown up with fewer chances. She was his daughter. That was easy to think. To say. Why was it so hard with…Juran?

Maybe it was the gland.

D’Argo had taken him aside and told him about the side effects that Juran had inherited from Grayza. So it didn’t work in exactly the same way, it was still unnatural and the effect that it had on the women was unsettling. Fortunately, for Juran, it still left a person free will or he’d have been kicked out on his backside that first day. It was bad enough that Aeryn and Veela were insatiable these days. He had to find a way to get the boy out of the house. He was too old for this.
 
Okay, he didn’t think he’d ever be too old to enjoy the dance, but he was dancing slower than he used to. Of course, there was more to life than sex. Some of the best moments of his life hadn’t been about that at all. But they had all been with Aeryn. He could only thank God he had her and that she continued to put up with him. There weren’t many women who could have taken this whole situation so well. She’d even been spending quite a bit of time getting to know Juran and Valerie.

A movement down by the lake got his attention again. Holy frell! What were they doing now? They were getting mighty friendly out there. Livvy will kill him for sure if her daughter ended up married and pregnant before he got her home. Or worse, just pregnant. Yeah, they were kissing all right. He turned around to head for the door intending break them up when he called them in for supper, but he stopped.

Slowly he turned around and just watched the scene outside. As the light started to fade and the mist rolled in, it became harder and harder to see the two of them. No, he thought, I’ll just leave them be. He wasn’t sure how, but he was going to get Valerie home. With any luck, if he played his cards right, a certain someone would be going with her. He’d bet anything Livvy wouldn’t have a problem with Juran. She would make him feel welcome and possibly even loved someday. He wouldn’t deny Juran the opportunity.

And anyway, Juran would probably be a big hit back on Earth. Before he knew it, they’d be collecting his sweat in vials and selling it on the internet. Make a fortune.

The Daskest lamps started to glow outside and he turned away from the window.

It was the least he could do.

For his son.



The End.