Zoroaster's Legacy: Part 1, Bloodlines (PG-13)

[imloco2]

I've been working on this fic for a looong time now and it's still not completely finished. But I'm close enough to finishing that I'm sure I will. *g* So, I thought I'd go ahead and post the first part of the story.  I don’t think the second half will be this long, but I once thought this whole thing would be about 40 pages, so…

Besides being long, this is sort of an experiment for me on several different levels. One is original characters. Not that I made them all up mind you, but the bulk of the story is about people not seen in the original show. At least not except as babies.   Original characters can be very hard to do when you're used to writing for characters that have already been formed by the writers and actors of the show. So that you are fully informed, John and Aeryn do make an appearance at the beginning of this and at the end of Part 2.

Also, I'm using artwork and photo shop to add pictures to the story. I don't know if they'll be intrusive while reading the story, or add to the experience. I’m just hoping it won't suck. *g*  I would like to encourage writers to try this themselves or get with an artist on the board and see what kinds of cools ideas you can come up with. I love the idea of melding art work with stories.  I guess I'm a table top book person at heart.   I would hope there is enough interest on both sides to spur some creativity.

These original pictures were drawn by Catluckey, and it was my great good fortune to catch her when she had time to actually do fan art. Unfortunately, she is now so busy she no longer has time to spare for this. So, no beating down her door unless she comes back and let's us know she's ready. But I loved the process of her finding who the characters were and me seeing my creations, such as they are, come to life. It really made the whole experience something special. Thank you so much!  {{Catluckey}}  And Lobby was kind enough to take some of the pics and put a banner together that I absolutely love. We are lucky to have her and I am lucky she’s so very talented and best of all…nice!  {{{LOBBY}}}

As for betas: aeryncrichton is my beta and I'm blessed to have her. Besides grammar and word suggestions she's my sounding board and most enthusiastic supporter. Couldn't do it without you woman!  And to The_Scribe, aka the hubby. There's lots of action in this thing. Plot too.  Which being the talking head kind of writer that I am couldn't have been done without mucho help from action man.  {{DollFace}} *g*

So, I'll shut up now and go away and 


Rating: PG-13
Set: 25 cycles into the future.
Cast: Crichton's family and a few misc. people thrown in.
Summary: This is the story of Farscape: The Next Generation
Disclaimer:  Farscape is the property of Henson.

 

PROLOGUE

Night had fallen long ago and it was past time for bed, but still he kept watch at the window.  There was no moon to illuminate the scene, but the daskest lamps outside the house served the same purpose. He watched as a faint mist crept in from the nearby lake. It always unnerved him, that mist, reminding him of a foggy night in London town. He half-expected Jack the Ripper to be lurking in the shadows. He shook his head at the fanciful thoughts. Fifteen years they had lived here in relative peace and quiet and still he expected something to go wrong.

 It was quiet and still at this time of night.  No doubt all his neighbors were tucked safely away in their beds.  ‘While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.’  The sound of the old Christmas poem chimed in his head, using his mother’s voice. Which was odd. He hadn’t thought of his mother for a long time. He felt a pang deep inside. How bad was he that he had left his old life so far behind that he never thought of her? They had been so close, he and she. And suddenly he missed her so much he ached with it.  What he wouldn’t give to have her here right now.  She would listen and understand and tell him everything would be all right. And he’d believe her.

Here, now, he had to be strong. For Aeryn, for the girls. He blinked back the tears and fought the sudden inexplicable desire to not be strong.  To let someone comfort him. All he had to do was wake Aeryn up and explain and the comfort would be there. But for some reason he didn’t want to do that. Not tonight. Maybe it was the fact that he was getting older. They said that the older you got, the younger you acted. No wonder he needed his mommy.  He snorted derisively at himself.

It had been many years since he’d seen her last and mostly he pushed her to the back of his mind, but he still missed her. And he could have used her advice right now.  How had she stood it all those years? First his dad, then him. The dangerous missions, the anxious moments, them being gone so long at a time? But then, she was the strong one in the family. Always had been. She would have understood how he felt and helped him deal with it. But, like so much he’d lived through, he was going to have to deal with this himself.  At least for tonight.

Sighing, he looked outside where he could just see the outlines of the houses in the distance, the soft lights of the daskests with their graceful spires winking off and on in the mist, making the outside world resemble a fairy land in the half-light of Ilerad. If only life were like a fairy tale. Of course with his luck it would be more like the Brothers Grimm than Walt Disney.  No, he’d take what he had.

He turned his head to look across the room at the king-sized bed holding his sleeping wife.  The years had been kind to her although he supposed it was her Sebacean heritage that kept Father Time at bay.  True she had a distinctive gray streak in that midnight dark hair he loved so much, but her face was unlined, unlike his own, and she was still as nimble as ever. He, on the other hand, was feeling the passing of the years more urgently.  At 60 he was in pretty good shape and still had all his hair even if the gray was threatening to take over for good. He smiled to himself and turned back to gaze out of the window.  No Grecian Formula out here. No, here they’d just give him a brand new head of hair. No damn way he was doin’ that. He’d keep the hair he’d been born with, thank you very much.

But the hair and the wrinkles didn’t bother him that much. She didn’t care about that so neither did he. He sighed and gave up the fairytale view, closing the curtains and walking back to the bed to stare down at her. She was so beautiful to him. Always would be. And they had both come so far from those long ago days when they first met. But he could feel time moving faster and faster. “Too damn fast, baby,” he whispered to her.  He wasn’t going to have enough time with her. But then, if he lived two lifetimes it wouldn’t be enough.   

No, it wasn’t the youthful face he mourned.  It was the aches and pains of old age that told him life was not infinite. Oh, he could still run and fly and fight, just not as far, as fast or as well. And sex was a once-a- week treat that was threatening to become less than that. 

He was getting old.

And hell yeah, that bothered him sometimes. He moved to the other side of the bed and sat down carefully so as not to wake her, but he didn’t lie down. He sat there, lost in thought.

He knew he shouldn’t complain, even in his thoughts. Fate had grown kinder and life had finally been good to them these past years. They had finally found the peace that they had fought so hard achieve. They’d found a place to live that had given them the anonymity they had needed to raise their family.  They had two beautiful, bright daughters that he loved so much he thought sometimes his heart would burst with it. 

And somewhere in the universe…he had a son.

It had been over two cycles since he’d seen D’Argo and six monens since he’d heard his voice. It felt like a lot longer than that. What was he doing now? Still fighting with the resistance?  Still madly in love? Was he even alive?

No, he wouldn’t go there. He thrust those thoughts down deep and thought of D the last time he’d heard from him. He’d just come from the Samatri system and had told them a little bit about what it was like on one of their ice planets.  About the fight to free a Nebari resistance fighter who’d been captured there, he had said nothing at all. They’d had to find out about that elsewhere.  Sometimes, John admitted to himself, he envied his son those adventures. Others times he just wanted to cry.  He had wanted so much for D’Argo. Had dreamed of his children living a life of peace and happiness and above all, no war.

And he’d almost done it. There had been over 25 cycles of peace now, not counting the occasional slip up by both sides. But the Eidelons were still doing their thing and the Scarrans and Peacekeepers still honored the peace treaty even if it was touch and go at times. Scorpy was seeing to that perched on his self-made throne on Paradon. What mad twist of fate had determined that Scorpius would be the arbitrator of the peace between the Scarrans and the Peacekeepers he’d never know. Or that he’d stick with it all these years.  He found it hard to believe his old nemesis was content to be Grand Arbitrator.  Scorpy had always been more of a Dr. No kind of guy. Especially now that he'd hooked back up with Sikozu.  Figured he would end up with his very own Bond girl. Of course there were those pesky rumors that he was involved in something shady, but then it wouldn’t have been Scorpy if there weren't. At least he didn’t have to worry about him anymore.

Sparky, the little toad, had finally, finally! regained his throne.  His majesty was sitting pretty now, swimming in as much power, food and sex as his little Hynerian body could stand. God, he didn’t want to think about that!

And as for them...John Crichton and Aeryn Sun had disappeared into legend. 

But apparently fate had had something else in mind for their eldest besides a peaceful, happy life because it had thrown a woman in his path. And there was nothing like a woman to turn your life upside down. He ought to know. And what kind of irony was it that the woman D’Argo fell for was Chiana’s niece? Even he had to appreciate that masterstroke of fate.

It had been four years now since D’Argo had gotten involved with Nerri’s daughter and in turn with the new Nebari resistance movement.  John felt the familiar pang of fear and pride when he thought of his son and what he was doing. D’Argo had been too much like his old man to stay out of trouble. Too much like his mother to back down. Too much like the man he was named after to let go.  He was a fighter and he wanted to help make things better and to make his own way in the universe. John thought back to his college history course and decided Zoroaster would have been proud to see that the fight for good against evil was still alive and well.

And if he looked past the fear for his son, he knew that what D was doing was the right thing. It was the message John had received today from Chiana that had fear ratcheting up a notch. Or three. That’s why he couldn’t sleep.  He hadn’t shown it to Aeryn yet.  Tomorrow.  He would show it to her tomorrow. No need for her to lose sleep over something they could do nothing about. 

Life was funny though. Who would have thought all those years ago when Chiana was begging Nerri to let her help him, that one day she would be chosen the new resistance leader?  He bet she made a damn fine one too. He still loved the little tralk and they had never lost touch over the cycles.  She still liked to keep him informed of what was happening.  Especially now with D’Argo in the mix. 

Aeryn had been out when the courier had handed him the message this afternoon. The coded script confirmed last week’s news that the Nebari were on the verge of something big. Could be the contagion, could be something else. But what frightened him was her statement at the end. ‘We can’t afford to wait.  We have to act now.’

It was hard to think of war again. Especially here in his little corner of the universe. He had tried to build a good life, a safe life for his family.  Had he done wrong to try and shield his children from the unholy mess outside of Ilerad? Perhaps. Perhaps not.  In the end it hadn’t mattered.  His beautiful Ellie could outfly Aeryn and dreamed of joining her brother in the new resistance.  Zanne was preparing to leave for tutoring in advanced physics on Gre-la, and D’Argo…?  He was out there somewhere, fighting for a cause, trying to make his mark and… outrun the shadow of his father.

Hell, he, of all people, should know about the resentment that came from having a famous father. He’d hoped to avoid it, but it was unavoidable really. He’d watched as history repeated itself. Both he and D’Argo had had some harsh words to say to each other. But again, they had managed to come to terms with all that. Or he hoped they had.  And now he could only pray that wherever D’Argo was, he was safe.

He felt a hand at his back rubbing up and down and producing small tingles at the touch. He looked around to see Aeryn, her eyes still drowsy from sleep, watching him. She smiled. “What are you doing up? Come to bed.” She lifted the covers and he slid in. She scooted close to him and laid her head on his shoulder as he smoothed her hair back with one hand.

They stayed that way for long microts, each content just to enjoy the feel of the other.

“I miss him too.” She snuggled closer and ran a hand through the hair on his chest and slowly followed the line of hair south.

“I know,” he said.

She knew him so well.  She…

“Aeryn?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you said you were tired?”

“I was.”

“So...I guess you’re not tired anymore, huh?”

“What makes you say that?”

“That would be your hand on my…”

Her lips cut him off and he had to grin.  So much for the once a week treat. Too old? He felt his heart speed up as she moved over him.

Nah.

Җ

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Command Carrier: Ranar Quadrant

Ensign Sourn handed the Lieutenant standing next to her the data chip containing the daily system reports with a small baffled sigh.  There was something about the man that confused her.  Other than noting he was Grand Chancellor’s Grayza’s son and that she’d have to be careful not to frell anything up, she had barely noticed him when he had first entered Command. That wasn’t true now.

She felt the heat from his body through the layers of her uniform as he stood next to her and she caught a whiff of something, light, musky and sweet.  She had never heard of an Officer wearing scent before though. Strange.

“Ensign, have you checked the relays on the Crystheria system yet?”

“Yes sir. All relays are functioning at optimum levels, Lieutenant.”

“Very good.”

The Ensign sighed again as she watched Lieutenant Juran Maryk walk towards the control panels, her eyes following him almost involuntarily.  His uniform fit him like a glove and she felt a shiver go up her spine as she watched the Karnet-like grace in those sleek muscles before he stopped.  She felt a bead of sweat run down her neck. They were at the heart of the Command Carrier and the temperature was a steady level 5. So why did it feel warmer than usual?

She went back to monitoring the ship's weapons system, but she knew when he glanced her way.  Was he interested?  Surely not. But just the thought that he might be was enough to send her heart into overdrive. What was the matter with her? 

She darted a glance over his way once again. He was preoccupied checking a monitor so she could look with impunity. Well, as long as the other crew members didn’t notice. She looked around her, but her fellows seemed busy enough.  She pretended a great interest in her own monitor and still managed to look her fill at the newest and most prominent member of their Company.  With Captain Dorn called away unexpectedly, Juran was also the ranking officer and currently in charge of the Command Carrier. Unheard of for one so young. He couldn’t be more than 25 cycles.

His hair was black and a bit longer than regulations allowed for a new Lieutenant, but then, who was going to tell Grand Chancellor Grayza’s only son to get a haircut?  Rumor had it that even his old trainers had had enough sense to let certain things slide with this one. Not that they didn’t push him hard. She had heard that he'd broken more than one body part during training. The fact that the trainers had only been sent to live on some far-off planet as a result was thought to be more due to Juran’s intervention than any actual benevolence on the Grand Chancellor’s part.

He was a strange one, Juran was. They said he had tested the highest of anyone to go through the Academy. So he was intelligent enough to have gained his current position legitimately even without family connections, but there was something… different about him.   She watched him bend to look at a reading on a monitor and a shock of black hair fell to his forehead. With his tall, athletic physique, pale, slightly-shaded skin and the sharpest blue eyes she’d ever seen, he was by any standards a tark.  Not that it concerned her. She didn’t care what he looked liked.  But she’d also heard it whispered that no woman could resist him.  That he had some kind of power over them.  That was crazy of course. Look at her. She wasn’t acting any differently. 

He walked back her way and she felt the ship's temperature rise a few more degrees. It was a bit scary, although she wouldn’t have admitted it.  Where was all that heat coming from? She ran a finger around the collar of her shirt trying to let a little air in. Maybe she should contact Maintenance.

He nodded as he came to stand beside her. “Ensign.” He glanced around as if to see whether anyone was looking.

“Can I help you, Lieutenant?”  She was a little surprised to be able to get the words out.

“Yes, well, Ensign…Sourn I believe? I see that you’re off duty soon.”

Suddenly she saw that the impossible had a chance of happening. Was he really going to ask her to recreate with him? She felt her heart give a nervous flutter.  She had to remind herself to slow down. She shouldn’t get ahead of herself. Or him.

He was looking at her. “I thought you might like to…”

“Yes.” The word slipped out before she could take it back. Oh frell, too eager.  Juran sent her a look that was hard to decipher.  Pleased and a little disappointed at the same time. But that made no sense.

“Yes? Don’t you even want to know what I was going to suggest?”

“I just thought you wanted to re…” She swallowed with difficulty. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, Lieutenant.”

He looked away from her. “No, you were quite right. I was, in fact, hoping you’d like to come to my quarters after duty to…relax.”

They both knew what relaxation meant. She was a little surprised that he was trying to be subtle about it. Quite unlike the propositions she usually received.

He turned back to her and smiled. “Only if you’d like.”

It was a heart-stopping grin. A little cocky and a little sweet and all of a sudden it was all she could do to stop herself from pushing him down on the floor then and there. That surge of exhilaration flowing through her was quite unlike her usual detachment in these matters, but she dismissed the thought. She drew closer to him.  “I’d be happy to, Lieutenant.”

Juran cleared his throat. “Very good. My quarters in an arn then.”

They were interrupted by Sub-Officer Saeig. “Lieutenant, we have a communication from Grand Chancellor Grayza.  She is nearing Ranar quadrant and will be aboard in less than an arn. She is requesting your presence in her quarters immediately upon her arrival.”

She watched as Juran closed his eyes for a microt. When he opened them all emotion had been wiped clean.

“Welcome her aboard with all courtesies and tell her I will be happy to join her.” He paused a microt. “In two arns.” 

He gave the Ensign a meaningful glance before he turned abruptly, leaving the Command Center in a rush. 

Well, well. This was a first. Grand Chancellor Grayza just didn’t visit other Carriers even if her son was stationed there.  Ordinarily Sourn would have been nervous, but even the Grand Chancellor’s arrival couldn’t dim her good mood. She had to fight not to laugh and let everyone on the bridge know about her good fortune. She wasn’t even sure why she was so happy. Recreation wasn’t usually something that excited her very much. It was a pleasant pastime to be sure; after all fluid levels had to be reduced somehow, but the shivers of excitement running through her now were entirely new.   Just thinking of recreating with the Lieutenant was making moisture pool down low. She squirmed a bit trying to ease the ache between her legs. Odd.

Perhaps she was so excited because of what could happen if things went well. It could only be a good thing to be associated with the Grand Chancellor’s family. There was no telling what tonight could mean. She might eventually get a position as Sub-Officer or perhaps a transfer to a quadrant closer to her home planet. 

No, those things were nice, but they weren’t causing her heart to beat faster. Perhaps the rumors were right. Perhaps no woman could resist him. She surprised herself with an uncharacteristic giggle. She wasn’t out to prove them wrong. In fact she couldn’t wait to prove them right. She looked at the time on the console.  In one arn.

Җ

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“Frell!” Juran panted over the woman’s body as he thrust in and out in long smooth strokes. He could barely remember her name now, but it was no matter. All that mattered was the tight sensation of a warm soft sheath closed around him, wiping away every thought but one. His body tightened as he felt the climax coming. He was almost there. Almost… He hissed as he felt fingers slip down his back and over his buttocks until they teased sensitive flesh. That was all it took to start the spasms that sent his fluid shooting into the woman beneath him. Her inner muscles continued to squeeze him as he let the tremors of release flow through his body.  All too soon it was over and with a groan, he collapsed on top of her until the little aftershocks of his orgasm had stilled. It took a few microts for his breath to calm and his heart to resume its regular beat.

Now he could notice that he was crushing the woman beneath him with his weight. He rolled off her and lay on his back for a few microts, breathing in the raw scent of sex and trying to enjoy the after-effects of a good frell.

Trying to.  How strange.

While his body was sated, there was none of the mental peace that he was used to after recreating. And he didn’t think it was all because of his approaching meeting with his mother, although that would be enough to disrupt anyone. Come to think of it, he hadn’t felt really good after a frell in a long time.

He had been pleasured, to be sure. In fact, thanks to that little trick she had done with her fingers, he’d come so hard he’d thought his mivonks would explode. Just the thought of it had his member bobbing a bit in sympathy. He was fairly certain that she had enjoyed herself too. So what was the problem?       

He turned his head to look at the woman who was now dozing next to him. Ensign…Sanlee? No, Saurn. Ensign Saurn. He didn’t even know her first name. Which wasn’t all that surprising, but for some reason it suddenly seemed wrong.  He should at least know her name before recreating. Shouldn’t he?  Perhaps he was just getting tired of the same routine time after time. 

As an officer, of course, he had no trouble attracting partners. But then his special ability made being of rank quite unnecessary didn’t it?  He had never had to seduce or cajole a woman to his bed.  All he had to do was stand too close and they started bowing and scraping with that hungry look in their eyes.  Young women. Old women. It didn’t matter.  It was all about the oil he had inherited from his mother.

He could only thank Cholak that there had been no hint of it when he was young.  No one had expected that on reaching sexual maturity his body would suddenly start to produce the frelling oil.  He had gone through test after test with his personal physician Healer Leck’to.  The Healer had explained to Juran that while he hadn’t inherited the heppel gland from his mother, as a fetus his endocrine system had learned to copy the heppel protein matrix. As a result some of his glands now produced a weaker version of the oil in addition to seeing to their original functions.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it, but sometimes it made his skin crawl.

It made him too much like her.

As far as he knew he was the only male to ever produce the oil.  And in spite of the tests, no one knew exactly how it was supposed to work or what effect it would have on him.  They knew the effect it had on females though. Unlike his mother, it didn’t require direct skin-to-skin contact. It was transmitted through smell apparently. And while it supposedly left the person free will, he’d never had any woman refuse him either.

He had never intentionally tried to use it like his mother did, simple recreating not withstanding, but sometimes…just sometimes, he would like to know what it was like to attract a partner without it.  To have to fight for a woman’s attention. To know that she wanted to recreate with him because she wanted to, not because he frelling smelled good.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t satisfied now. He wanted someone different.

Frell.  What was he thinking?  He’d never met a woman like that and never would.  He looked over at the woman next to him.  This was the best it was going to get so he should just enjoy it. 

And speaking of women…  Juran stared back up at the ceiling watching the symmetrical lines of the bio vent and thought about the coming meeting with his mother.  It wasn’t something that he looked forward to.  It had been a while since he’d last seen her and he wondered what could have gotten her off her personal Carrier and brought her here.  He thought of some of his recent activities and hoped to frell that wasn’t what had brought her.  Whatever it was, he was willing to bet he wouldn’t like it.     

But now... he needed to get going. It was past time to pay a visit to the Grand Chancellor and she hated to be kept waiting. No doubt he’d pay for being late.

He touched the girl gently and shook her until her sleepy eyes opened.

“You can go now, Sub-Officer Saurn.”

He watched as her eyes grew wider. She was a fine partner and he couldn’t explain it, but he knew he wouldn’t be recreating with her again. A promotion was the least he could do.

Җ

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“I love you, Valerie. You be careful out there, okay?”

“Yes, Mom. I will. I love you too.” Valerie’s hand hovered over the comm until she gave up and tapped it off. It was hard to hang up on that voice. It had been a year since she’d been transferred to the Moon base. A year since she’d last seen Olivia Carrelli, aka Mom.  The phone calls just weren’t a good substitute for the hot meals and warm hugs she was used to.

She stood up and absently straightened her uniform, tucking a lock of golden blond hair into the regulation bun on the back of her neck, and started for the door deep in thought.

Who would have thought she’d have gotten used to hugs and hot meals in the first place? The memories of the cold, dark days before the Carrellis had never completely left her. She still remembered being that little girl, hungry and alone in a house with the woman who used to be Momma, but was now just a lump under the covers who never moved, never spoke. She had never forgotten the strangers coming to take her away. She still carried the scars of being passed from family to family though the system, enduring one separation after another, one abuse after another, until she had learned to trust no one.

At twelve there was no telling what would have happened to her if Olivia and Joe hadn’t taken her in and decided to adopt her. She hadn’t exactly been the poster child for adoption either, with her sullen glances and temper tantrums. It had taken time, but Mom and Dad had never given up on her, even when she was at her wildest.  She wouldn’t let them down now. Especially Mom.

She walked the endless corridors in search of the briefing room. The transparent windows on either side gave the brief illusion of taking a stroll though space. It was the latest in modern design and she never got tired of it. In fact, she loved everything about out here. The newest Moon outpost was named Challenger Station and Valerie had been damned lucky to get assigned here.  She had suspicions it was due to her Crichton connections, but she kept mum about that on the off-chance that it was.  No need to rock that boat. And she had more than earned her way into the Argosy project.

Val spied her destination up ahead and sped up. She walked into the briefing room just as Colonel Johnson entered from the other side. She ignored his frown. Today’s testing promised to be the most exciting yet. At least they’d be flying. She sat down at the conference table between the two other test pilots and listened as the Colonel started the briefing.

“Today, as you know, we are testing the new drive modifications that have been installed in the modules known as Argosy I, II and III.” He shot a glance Val’s way. “Major Carelli, you will be flying Argosy I. And, by the way, your request to have your module serial number changed to NCC-1701F has been denied.”

“Yes, sir.” 

The two pilots on either side of her snickered and she gave them her death stare before turning her attention back to the briefing.

“Major Thompson, you will have Argosy II, and Captain Jiminju, you will have Argosy III.  As I’m sure you are aware, while there is no longer a wormhole connecting Earth to the Universe that John Crichton discovered, we can still use the technology he left behind to help us advance our defense system and improve our deep space travel.  For today’s mission you will each take your module...” Johnson handed each of them their flight plans and test instructions. “…and using these coordinates you will fly to your respective sectors to carry out today’s experiments. You should be familiar with…”

Valerie listened as he continued to give them the specifics of the mission. It was based on experiments her Uncle John had done almost 30 years ago. Of course others had done similar experiments, but today’s tests were designed to find out if the new Hawking drive would allow them flight speeds fast enough to make travel to other parts of the galaxy possible. And they never completely ruled out another wormhole of course. Grandpa Jack had told them that his son had closed the wormhole to Earth permanently, but nobody was willing to take the risk that there wouldn’t be another someday.  The entire population of the Earth had been gearing up to battle alien invaders since the day they had found the schematics and instructions left by John Crichton on the moon so many years ago.  It had taken them a while, but they were finally getting the hang of some of the things he had left for them.   

This base was one of the results.  It was only 5 years old but already they had progressed by leaps and bounds. Right now, though, she was getting itchy. She couldn’t wait to get out into space. She had trained for so long and so hard to be here, carrying on the family tradition.  It didn’t matter if she was blood kin or not. Grandpa Jack was gone now, but he had always said she reminded him of his son John. Although she was never quite sure why.  She only wished she could have done half the things her illustrious Uncle had done. Right now though, this would have to be enough.

Җ

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“You back-stabbing dren-sucking cormats!” D’Argo paced back and forth in front of the table as he rattled off the same phrase in three different languages. He knew they understood him, but he hoped it would get the point across better. Finally, he came to a stop and pulled out a chair to sit down.

“Are you trying to crank me off?”  He watched as the four armed mercenaries across the table decided whether to take offense or not.  Since D’Argo now had his modified pulse pistol under the table and pointed at the leader's guts he figured it would be less messy if Quaan decided ‘not.’

The leader of the mercenaries took a breath and let it out slowly. “It wasn’t my fault Crichton. They had the guards doubled and a Yerrnia bloodhound to boot. We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll get the Lexium for you. On my honor.”

“Honor? You wouldn’t know honor if it hauled off and kicked you in the mivonks!”  D’Argo stood up. “We’ll find out tomorrow how much your honor’s worth.  That’s when I’ll be back to collect the Lexium.” 

Tomorrow.  That was good enough. His ship needed the fuel, but the need wasn’t desperate. Yet. Wouldn’t do to let Quaan know that though.

He leaned over and put his face close to Quaan’s, trying not to breath in the odor emanating from him. He was going to need a complete body cleansing after this.  “If  I find out that you are playing me for a sucker there won’t be a place in the universe where you can hide. Capisce?"

The mercenary nodded his head quickly, not completely understanding the words, but definitely understanding the meaning.  Sweat dripped down his scarred and dirty face.  “Yes, yes. I promise. Tomorrow.”

He would have liked to think that Quaan was acting like a toad-eating Horngat because he was afraid of him personally, but while D’Argo had done his share of intimidation, he knew only the Crichton name would have put the fear of the Goddess into Quaan like that. Sometimes it didn’t hurt to have a God-like alien for a father.  Of course he knew that his dad wasn’t anything like that, but no one in the family tried to set the record straight.  That rumor had kept them all alive for cycles.  He straightened and backed away. Whatever worked.  Now it was time to get the hez out of here.

When he walked out of the building the suns were just starting to set, leaving the city in a kind of murky blue glow.  The tall rectangular buildings were casting shadows which reminded him of the boogie men his dad used to read to him about.  Well, he’d gotten over being afraid of shadows a long time ago, unless you counted the one his dad cast over him. But that was an old hurt he didn’t want to think about. 

He looked left and right and up.  Something was off here. Species of every kind mingled on Gireda and the city was usually crowded with them.  Not so many now though. In fact it was almost deserted. Two Luxans hurriedly passed by him as he stood there in the street. They didn’t even glance his way. Strange. 

They were avoiding him.

His well-developed sense of self-preservation had the hair on his neck standing on end.  He couldn’t see them, but he could feel someone watching him. He moved slowly along the street, past the first alley and then the second. Surely whoever it was wouldn’t think he was so stupid that he would let himself be caught by someone hiding in an…

The thought was cut off abruptly by someone slamming into him from behind. He felt limbs like crytanium crushers close about him, pinning his arms to his sides as they started to squeeze. If he wasn’t careful and quick he would have some cracked ribs in a matter of microts.  A second man came from the alley in front of him and pulled out a pulse pistol, aiming it low enough that the thought of cracked ribs really didn’t seem so bad anymore. 

With one foot D’Argo managed to push his body up and kick at the man’s arm. He felt the residual sting in his nerves as the pulse blast just missed his thigh…on the inside. Holy freakin’ Cholak.  That was not good. Another kick and the front man was down with his nose driven back into his face by D’Argo’s boot heel.  That left him with the small problem of being slowly crushed to death. He tried to knock out his opponent with a reverse head-butt, and almost blacked out for his troubles. Whoever it was had a head like a rock. Apparently his father had been wrong when he had told him he had one too.  Frell, that hurt!

Okay, it was time to really start worrying now.  He was having trouble getting enough air and he was starting to black out when he heard the sound of another pulse blast. He waited for the burning and the darkness that would come when the blast hit him. The only thing that happened was the arms around him loosened enough for him to pull free. He gulped air and swung around.

Frell me dead! He thought.   It was a Kracken Miner! He had never seen one up close, but their strength was legendary. Used in the mines as laborers, they were over three motras tall and they had arms that could dig a hole through solid rock. It was unclear what species they belonged to. Or even if they were sentient. Right now, though, there was a hole the size of a fist in this one's chest. The fact he still seemed to be alive was amazing. And if he did say so, damned scary!

D’Argo watched as the Miner tried to mumble something and gave up, finally crashing to the street like a fallen tree.

It was then that he noticed the Nebari girl holding a pulse pistol, and it was trained on him. She was only a few motras away and she couldn’t miss at this distance.

 “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot your mivonks off?” she said.

Ah, oh. She sounded pretty pissed. Now what had he done?

“Darlin, I have it on good authority that you are pretty fond of my mivonks.” His grin died as her eyes widened.

“Duck!”

He went down just in time to feel the blast go over his head and hear the thud as the second man went down.

The girl, dressed in a full-length gray overcoat, put her pistol away as she sauntered over to him. She watched him pick himself up and dust himself off and damned if she didn’t have a smirk on those pretty gray lips of hers.

“What?” he asked.  He was slightly ticked that she hadn’t given him a hand up.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just good to see you humbled every now and then.” 

“I’ll show you humble, you little witch.” She squealed as he dragged her into the alley and proceeded to pick her up and swing her around, hugging her tight.  The coat parted to show her light gray grav suit. It was skin tight, as usual and showed off her considerable assets.  But, before he could get a good look, she jumped to wrap slender thighs around his waist. He loved the feel of her body against his. Always had.  His mouth came down on hers.  The warm velvet of her mouth and sensuous stroking of her tongue against his had him hard in a microt.  Frell, it had been too long since he’d seen her. They played the kissing game, nibbling, sucking, stroking, for as long as he could stand it and then he raised his head.

“When did you get here?” He sucked in a breath.

“Last night.”

“It took you this long to find me?” He was talking about more than just the time since she’d landed and she knew it.

She cocked her head. “Well, you’re not that easy to find these days.”

“Damn! I’m sorry Veela. I…”

She shushed him with another long slow kiss. “It’s okay. I know how it is.” She pulled back to stare into his eyes. “I’ve always known.”

Yes. She’d always known because she lived that way, too.  Or had until she had infiltrated Nebari Prime.  She knew that he had to keep on the move. Had to stay hidden. Couldn’t keep close friends. Besides the supplies and arms he ran for the resistance, just the fact that he was a Crichton dictated he had to be careful. Hell, he didn’t know which was more dangerous, her being involved with him or him being involved with her.  Whichever it was he probably should leave her alone.  And he would… if she would stop tracking him down. Yeah, right. And gramits could fly. From the first day Aunt Chi had brought her newly-discovered niece to meet his dad he had known she was the one. And apparently she thought he was the one for her too. Go figure.

He had known it would be tough. His mom and dad hadn’t exactly been overjoyed with his decision to get involved with Veela, mostly because of the path his life took after meeting her. His dad had eventually come around, but he knew that his mom was not a happy camper.  He wasn’t sure what a camper was, but he knew she wasn’t happy.  Aunt Chi, though,  would get this dreamy look in her eyes when she saw them together so he knew she was okay with it.  But he had never had any doubts.  It had always been there. That connection between him and Veela. She fascinated him. She made him feel things he’d never felt before. A strange combination of tenderness and lust and a sense of belonging. Hell, he just wanted her too damn much.  But now it wasn’t safe for either of them.

Sometimes the burden of what he did made him think his mom and dad were right. Maybe he should just settle down and enjoy life on Ilerad.  Find a wife, give them grandchildren. 

He looked at Vee, the cap of white hair and dark wistful eyes making his heart speed up. If he took a wife it would be her and the chances of grandchildren would be slim. Nobody really knew if half Human/half Sebaceans and Nebaris were genetically compatible or not, and he was too afraid to do the taste test his folks had told him about. He’d rather not know if the answer was no.  And it didn’t matter. If they did have kids great, if they didn’t…he still had her. That’s all that really counted.

No, he couldn’t go back to his old life.  Sometimes he didn’t know whether to curse her or thank her for that.  From the first moment he met her she had made him see that being safe wasn’t what he wanted. Living a life of peace and tranquility was driving him mad. He wanted more than to just settle down on Ilerad and raise a family. He wanted to make a difference in the universe. He wanted to matter. To be more than just John Crichton’s son.  And because of her, he did. Or he tried to.

It was hard to go so long not seeing her, but her work with the Nebari underground and her cover as a liaison for the Establishment meant it was hard to get away safely.  She had taken an awful risk to see him here like this. They didn’t let her out of the cage that often. He wondered what could be so important.

“How did you get away? I know the Establishment is always suspicious.” He moved her legs back down to the ground and she slid down against him slowly. He sucked in a breath as she rubbed against a certain part of his anatomy.

“They think I’m doing reconnaissance to see if this world is worth bringing in the contagion.”

He snorted. “The contagion?”  The Nebari still thought they were going to conquer the universe with that piece of dren?  Surely they had learned by now that the Peacekeepers had found an antidote.

“But that’s not why I had to see you.”

He reached out and pulled her back against him tight; sliding his hands to her hips and pressing his erection against her to let her know what she did to him. It had been too frelling long. They were in an alley with two dead bodies just motras away, but he couldn’t make himself stop.  He moved her back and forth, giving them both a taste of what was in store as soon as they got to someplace safe.

“Is this why you had to come?” He grinned as he rocked again and his whole body shivered at the contact.

“Well, no. Actually, I have something to tell you.”  She moved against him when he stopped moving. “Although that’s certainly a plus.”

D’Argo pulled away and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

She shook her head, suddenly serious, and looked around. “Not here.”

He had to agree. You never knew when the walls had ears. “Okay. My ship.”

She nodded.

When they stepped back onto the street he saw the sweepers had already been by and silently collected the bodies. So much for searching them and trying to find out why they attacked him.  They might have been with Quaan or they might belong to one of the jobs he’d done over the years. Somebody was always unhappy when he left.

He grabbed Veela’s hand and tugged. “This way.”

[imloco2]

Җ

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“Hello, Mother. And how is the Grand Chancellor today?” Juran swept into the room and stopped before the woman sitting in the chair. The picture on the wall behind her had caught her at the peace treaty signing 26 cycles ago and it showed how much she had aged since then. Juran was surprised she left it up. Her hair was still short and inky black, but only through the judicious use of talmil coloring.  The lines in her face had deepened and it was beginning to resemble one of those mining maps he had in his quarters.  Her suit was her usual black, but now it covered her from head to toe. That was a relief.  You could never be sure what she’d be wearing in her quarters or how much would be covered. And some things were better hidden.  He leaned over to get the obligatory kiss over with and steeled himself not to shudder as she stroked the hair back from his face.

“So like your father.” She smiled as she said it. It always surprised him when she did that. She had never had kind things to say of the previous Grand Chancellor even though he was the father of her child. Juran couldn’t understand her pleasure at the resemblance.  In fact...

“Actually, I’ve seen pictures of my father and I don’t really see the resemblance.” He thought he’d have to pay for that bit of insolence, but she just smiled again. She must be in a good mood.

“We never see what is in front of our eyes. Take my word for it.”

“Of course.” He took a seat beside her and hoped the interview would go quickly.  He was never comfortable with her, no matter how much she doted on him. Or perhaps because she did. As far as he knew he was the only person his mother held in any regard, a fact that didn’t make him feel special so much as trapped.

“So what brings you out to this sector, Mother?” He really wanted to know. The last he had heard she was at Central Command personally overseeing the overhaul and refitting of her personal Command Carrier.

“I thought it was time to tell you about a project I’ve been working on. It is of vital importance to our people.”

She licked her lips almost nervously and Juran was aware of a prickle of unease at the uncharacteristic gesture.

She got up and started pacing in front of him. “I want you to know that I’ve given this a great deal of thought.” She slowed down. “The fools back at Central Command seem to think that our main threat is still from the Scarran Empire.” She stopped and pinned him with that gaze that never failed to make him squirm. He’d just gotten better at concealing it.

“And you don’t think so?”

“No. I do not.” She walked closer and sat down facing him. “It’s true, the Scarran truce is still tenuous, but I believe that they are not in a position to, nor do they wish to, start another war. They still remember…” Her voice trailed off and he knew she was thinking back to the last great war.  It wasn’t something she talked about much. She took Juran’s hand and held it tightly. “I believe that the real threat is now from the Nebari sector.”

“The Nebari?” This was news. With the advent of the contagion antidote the Peacekeepers had thought themselves to be safe from Nebari machinations. Apparently not.

“Yes! I have heard reports of increased activity on Nebari Prime.”

“What kind of activity?” Juran asked.

“The exact nature I cannot reveal now, but trust me when I say that in some ways the Nebari are worse than the Scarrans.  However, I have been studying the problem and I believe I have found a way to keep the peace and avoid the inevitable destruction war would bring.”

She smiled at him again and he felt a cold chill creep down his spine.

“My son.” She put a cool pale hand out to touch his cheek and again he resisted the urge to pull away. “My beautiful son.” She shook her head and dropped her hand. “I will be traveling to the Nebari Sector for negotiations. I need you with me to serve as my First in Command of the Marauder fleet.   

He raised his eyebrows. “Negotiations? With the Nebari?”   What was she up to? And more importantly did the Council know about it?  “And you’re taking a Marauder fleet? Are you expecting a fight? You of all people should know we don’t have the capability of taking on the Nebari in a fight. Unless you know something…” Juran’s voice trailed off.

“Yes. Negotiations.  And, no, I am not planning on a fight.” She gave him a sly look “Although we have come up with some weapons that High Command believes might prove useful against the Nebari. However, for this mission we are only taking them as a precaution. I don’t expect to have to use them. But I need you with me for this.”

Frell! “Of course, ma’am.” What else could he say?

The voice of the Watch Officer came from her comms. 

“Grand Chancellor, you are receiving an urgent communication from Central Command.”

“Inform them that I am busy and will contact them as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Now where were we…?” Grayza said. “Ah, yes, you shall accompany me to…”

“I’m sorry Ma’am. Chancellor Sunderal is most insistent he speak with you now.”

“Fool!” She sighed. “Very well. I’ll take the transmission here.” She turned to Juran. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be avoided. Wait for me in the other room and I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Of course….Mother.”

Җ

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“You are on internal power…please stand by,” Stanley Babbish said

Valerie squirmed slightly trying to distribute her weight in her seat.  She reached out to toggle a switch.  “Roger that Argosy Control.  Standing by,” she answered the flight controller. She was glad she had her own team controlling the test flight as did the other two pilots. Her team hadn’t been together that long, but they were already close.

The Argosy module sat perched atop its solid rocket booster, looking for all the world like a very big arrowhead on a very slender arrow.  The Argosy itself was little different from its precursors, the Farscape series.  It was somewhat bigger, owing to its bigger engines, and a little sleeker…but it was still the same sort of ship that had taken her legendary Uncle John into La-La land.  The solid rocket booster was ridiculously small.  Back on Earth, it wouldn’t have lifted a payload like Argosy two feet.  The moon, however, was a different kettle of fish.

“Commencing countdown.  Have a good flight Major, and don’t forget to write!” said the controller’s voice.  “18…17…16…15…”

“I’ll drop you a post card every day, Stan.  Now light this thing before I die of old age out here.”

“Always the impatient one, Carrelli.  10…9…8…  You’re never gonna win at poker with that attitude.  5…4……”  Stan shot back.

Valerie flinched at the thought of the last poker game on base.  She was a good player.  Or she thought she was…until Stan Babbish had cleaned her out.  “Wait a minute are you…..?

“2…1...”

There was a gentle shove from behind as she sank softly into her seat.  The g-forces on a lunar launch only amounted to a little less than one Earth gravity, unlike the brutal crushing seven G’s of an Earth-side launch.  It was about like riding in a fast express elevator.  God bless the moon and its one-sixth of a G grav field.

Valerie’s eyes swept her instrumentation.  Everything appeared nominal.  A moment later flight control confirmed that.

“Everything looks good Major.  You’re in the pipe with a normal burn.”

Valerie snorted.  “Stan, when I get back down there, I’m having the MP’s strip-search you for that ace you beat me with in the last hand.”  She noted her flight time.  The solid rocket booster was only a short duration kick in the pants.  She fed a trickle of power to her engines, warming them up.

“I don’t need to cheat, I have skill.”  He noticed the readouts and saw her engines begin to warm.  “Easy there, Major.  You and that SRB need to part company before you can take off into the deep black.”  He checked the clock.  “SRB separation in 5…4…3…

Valerie already had her hand on the switch.  “2…1…Go”  She kicked the switch and felt the muffled thud as the explosive bolts broke the booster loose and the shield that covered her engine outlets followed it.  There was a moment of silence that she savored at the height of her ballistic trajectory. 

“Anytime, Major,” prompted Control.  “It’s your bird now.”

Valerie grinned.  “Okay, then, I’m outta here.”  She edged her throttles forward and the trickle ramped up to a torrent, the acceleration building towards three G’s.  The ship was handling beautifully.  She felt fully alive at last as the vibration of the engines made her bones hum in sympathy.  “Power at forty percent and holding.”

Colonel Johnson came on the comm.  “How’s Argosy behaving, Major?”

“Everything is smooth and green, Colonel.  She flies like she’s on rails.”  She glanced at her flight clock.  “I’m going ahead with the programmed throttle up.  Increasing power by ten percent, relative.”  She nudged her throttles open further and felt the corresponding pressure. A fierce, wondering exaltation filled her heart.  It was the same every time that she flew in space.  The god-like sense of power.  Not for the first time she wondered if it had been like this for Grandpa Jack when he’d gone on his missions. Or Crichton…. 

Җ

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Juran slipped quickly into the connecting room that was serving as his Mother’s bedchambers. They had already set up her accommodations with her things and as always it was arranged to her standard specifications.  He walked deliberately to her desk, which was always with her.  It stood in the far corner of the room, and he walked over calmly and sat down. He remained motionless for a few microts before he began looking through her desk.  It was a habit he’d grown up with. You couldn’t know too much about what Grand Chancellor Grayza was up to, whether she was your mother or not. Especially if she was your mother. 

He rifled quickly through the items on the top of the desk. There were the typical reports and disciplinary actions. He dismissed most of it immediately.   He didn’t have much time so he might as well go straight to the source.  He pushed a series of tiles in the mosaic pattern of the desk and heard the slight click before the small chamber on the left swung open.

Just as he thought. Vid chips. She had always hidden them here. He had watched once when he was a boy. He had been playing a game with some of the other children and hidden in her room. He had been so petrified when she came back unexpectedly that he hadn’t made a sound. He had watched her from his hiding place on the other side of the bed. Seen her press the tiles and watched as the compartment slid out. She had never known he knew of her hiding place so she had continued to use the secret compartment to store the things she didn’t want anyone else to see. He had learned a great deal about his mother through the cycles – all of it useful. None of it good.

He took one of the chips now and inserted it into the slot. A hologram of an interrogation sprang up. Some poor Nebari was on the floor, dark blue blood seeping from his mouth. He looked straight at the camera, his dark eyes fierce and defiant.  Juran felt an unaccustomed sympathy for the prisoner and quickly removed the chip. No doubt that was how she got her Nebari information. Who was he to resent her methods if they worked?

He put the second chip in, hoping that her conversation with Chancellor Sunderal would take some time. The next chip was a vid of what looked like a research center. There was laboratory equipment in the background and a diagnosian doing some kind of experiments. What could his mother be up to now? Did this have something to do with the contagion?

A face suddenly appeared on screen. Gray, scraggled hair, pock-marked face and rotting teeth made a grotesque picture and Juran couldn’t help the involuntary jump. The man started speaking.

“I reckon you’ll be wanting a report on the little miss, seein’ as you requested it. Right you are. Well, the report is…there’s been no change since the last report. Of course since she’s in cryogenic sleep there wouldn’t be now would there?”

The man laughed heartily. 

It was no doubt some other poor Nebari who had been captured and Juran didn’t care to see anymore.  He had just lifted his hand to pull the chip when the picture zoomed in to the cryo chamber behind the man and focused on its occupant. Through the transparent opening of the chamber the cold fog dissipated long enough to show a girl. No Nebari this one. And yet… her coloring was just slightly off. Like his own, really. The long, black hair and smooth pale features of a young girl about his age wavered in the center of the hologram.  She looked so familiar Juran thought he must know her, but he couldn’t remember how. And he was sure he wouldn’t have forgotten that face.  He dropped his hand and let the vid play.

The man came back into view. 

“It’s been a pleasure takin' care of your and Crichton’s little one all these cycles.  I owed Crichton, I did, for leaving me on that planet. But it’s not been exactly what I’d call hugely profitable, being out here in the middle of nowhere, if you know what I mean. I was goin’ to ask for a small raise, but seein’ as how you won’t be needin’ me anymore, what with you taking the lass with you and all... well, I don’t think a bonus for all the fine care I’ve given her would be amiss.”

What in the frell was this madman talking about? His mother and…Crichton had a child? That was just fahrbot! Was he talking about the girl in the vid? He must be.

The man leaned in until his bloated face filled the picture and he talked in a low, hushed voice.

“Never told a soul she was here all these cycles have I? And that son of yours still don’t know about his sister, does he now?”

Sister?   He felt a wave of unease run though him.

“And Crichton still has no idea he’s had a couple of little mites growin’ up without him does he?”

The man shook his head and his voice grew louder.

“I think that deserves a little extra compensation.  I mean what would you have to offer the Nebari if I hadn’t found you a diagonsian who could freeze the property and who could keep a secret?”

 The man smiled his grotesque smile again.

Juran sat stunned. No. It wasn’t possible. It was true she looked familiar, but…  Was it possible? ‘Crichton still has no idea he’s had a couple of little mites growin’ up without him does he?’  The words echoed in his head. 

What had his mother done?

But, the man in the vid wasn’t finished.

“I was thinkin’ that a thousand units of quillons would be just the thing. After all I’ve got to pay the Doc, not to mention take care of the fekk..I mean the lovely young miss, when she wakes up.  Surely you remember how much trouble she was before we put her to sleep.  I’m lucky to still have my eye.”  He rubbed at the scar over his right eye, remembering. “But that’s neither here nor there. You give me the bonus and we’ll call it even.”  He stopped abruptly. “Me and the Doc will just be here on Ne-Sa Ren, waiting.”

The picture went dead.

Juran didn’t move. Couldn’t.  His life, as he’d known it, was falling down around him and he didn’t know if he’d survive it.  Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.

“Grunchlk. A disgusting little toad, but he’s been very useful down through the cycles. Pity he won’t be around for any more.” Grayza stood in the doorway. “Well, pity really doesn’t come into it, now does it?”

It was telling that he never questioned the vid. He had no doubt at all that it was true. And the look on his mother’s face would have told him if he’d had any doubts.  She was waiting for him to say something. What was he going to say?  He could barely think, but he had to try. It didn’t do to let down his guard around Grand Chancellor Grayza, even if she was his mother. Especially since she was his mother. But… the room whirled and he drew a deep breath. Think, frell it. Think. 

He knew that he had been a twin, that his mother had given birth to a girl, but all his life he had been told she had died just microts before he had entered the world.

‘…I don’t know why you insist on asking questions about your sister, Juran. I’ll have to speak to Kenayla about spreading tales about the family. You sister has been dead for cycles. She’s entirely unimportant. And she would just come between us. It’s no doubt for the best that she’s not here now…’

Her voice from so long ago was suddenly crystal clear in his mind and he abruptly remembered that he had never seen Kenayla again.

Lies. It was all lies. Cycle after cycle he had lived and fought and felt so alone…And cycle after cycle he’d had a sister. Whose father -- no, their father -- was John Crichton. Crichton! The man everyone knew of as the madman, the genius. The legend.  The man who had single-handedly ended the war.  The man his mother despised. 

Crichton.

“What have you done, Mother?” he whispered the words.

Grayza walked slowly into the room, never taking her eyes off of him. “I did...what I had to do.”

“What you had to do?!” Feeling was starting to return and with it came the pain and a curious other feeling he couldn’t quite explain. Something sweet exploding in his chest that told him that this might not be the end of his life, but a beginning, once he got past the pain. First though… “But, how? How could you fool everyone into thinking I was Maryk’s son?  How did you and Crichton…? There are tests…” He was starting to babble and made himself stop.

“That was the easiest part of all, my love.” She ran a hand from her neck down between her breasts, her finger glistening with the oil. “As long as the technicians were male there was no problem. Of course I saw to it that they all were. And Heck’to has been the only one allowed to examine you since.

“As far as Crichton goes, it was no problem to get…samples of his DNA. In fact, it was quite--enjoyable.” Her eyes lit in unholy remembrance and Juran thought he would choke. Surely she didn’t mean…

But she did.  He felt sick.

“Why? What could you hope to gain from having Crichton’s children? Maryk I can understand, but the human?”

“Maryk was a fool. Powerful, yes. But still a fool. He would have delivered us into the hands of the Scarrans and we’d all be digging in trillium mines if it had been up to him. I needed his name and connections, yes. But, offspring?  Never!”

“And, Crichton?”

“Crichton was obviously inferior in certain aspects; however he had a brilliant mind. Mad, but brilliant. And I confess he had certain other… attractions. I knew he could give me beautiful sons.” She smiled at him. “And he did.”

Juran barked a laugh. There had to be more to it than that. “Please, Mother, this is me, tell me the truth.”

“That is the truth.”

Her face was impassive, but he knew her well enough to know there was more that she wasn’t telling. But what did he expect? The truth? The truth was, he was drowning in a sea of lies, and truth was as non-existent as his mother’s heart.  But there were still things he needed to know. 

“He said my s..sister is being wakened. She is…alive?”

“She caused some trouble about 5 cycles ago so she’s been kept in cryo freeze since then to cut down on maintenance. I’m sure you appreciate she couldn’t be allowed to escape. The cryo f…”

“Is she alive?” he uttered harshly.

His mother took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Why? Why would anyone do that to their own daughter?” The question reverberated in his skull.

“Why? Because she was a nuisance. A female child that couldn’t carry on Maryk’s name.   I made sure I had one of each of course. A girl because Maryk would have doted on a daughter. I never could understand why. But with him gone I had no need of one. She had…other uses.”

“Other uses?” Juran spit out.

She got up suddenly.  “You think badly of me…” She moved closer to him. “But I did it for you. For me. For all of us.” She was standing in front of him now, her mouth in a tight line. “She is the key to wormhole weapons and I wanted it. Needed it!”

Juran ran a hand through his dark hair, confusion and anger pouring through him.  “She was just a baby! How the frell did you expect to get technological information from a…” He suddenly realized the only possible way it could be done and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. If she could do that there was nothing she wasn’t capable of. She was a monster.

She saw the comprehension on his face.

“Unfortunately, our level of technology has not advanced quite enough to be able to extract information at the biomolecular level. The Nebari seem to think they can do better. No doubt they are right.”

“So that’s why they are reviving her? So you can turn her over to the Nebari? Are you mad?!”

“No! Not mad. This is for our people. Her life for the lives of untold billions who will fall when the Nebari arrive.” She grabbed his arm. “What the Counsel doesn’t want anyone to know is that the antidote that we pride ourselves on is only sixty percent effective. Nebari technology far surpasses our own and for all we know, they could have improved the contagion. It might already be too late. Should we wait until they attack as we did with the Scarrans? Perhaps we should cry surrender now and let them perform their mental cleansing on us voluntarily.” Her grip tightened. “Or perhaps you think your father, the great John Crichton, would use the weapon again?”

Juran shook her off and retreated a step. This was the woman he had grown up with? Had called Mother?  Why hadn’t he noticed she was insane?

“The Nebari are willing to negotiate a peace treaty with the Peacekeepers that will exempt us from the contagion and put a stop to all mind-cleansing plans in our territory. And all they want in return is one small insignificant little half-breed to help them travel faster and farther. They might think that they can eventually replicate the wormhole weapon, but I have my doubts.  Of course, with any luck, they won’t be able to extract the information either. And the beauty is that they won’t even kill her. She’ll have a nice mind-cleansed life in the heart of the Nebari system. You should be thanking me.”

She walked to him. She had a look of determination that he had seen only a few times. Before he could move she lifted her hands and held his face between them. “I know this is a shock my darling, but you will accept this. You will come with me in one weeken's time and we will negotiate the best possible treaty so that our people will live out their obscure little lives in peace. 

“You cannot leave the ship.” She smiled, almost sadly. “After all, where would you go?  Remember, I will always find you.” She dropped her hands.  “And don’t think you can turn to John Crichton for help. Do you really think your father would want you?” Her laugh was one more cut. “After I tortured him? Raped him? Gorged myself on his body over and over again.  Do you imagine he would want to see your face?” She touched her hand to his cheek to wipe away the wetness there. “Still…such a beautiful face,” she whispered, then shook her head.  “No, here is where you belong. With me.” She turned and walked to the doorway. Stopping, she turned around. “Don’t be a fool and try to leave, my love. Your father did that and it cost him dearly. It will cost you too. No...you will never leave me.”

He watched as the door closed behind her.  Leave her?  He thought about what he’d been doing in the years since he’d seen her last. Oh, yes, he would leave.

And he knew just how to do it.

Җ

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The inscrutable being known to John Crichton as Einstein sat on the iceberg that its mind had conjured.  How odd that it should return to this metaphor of Crichton’s, time and time again.  It contemplated reality, or rather, realities.  The universe that John Crichton called home had become the baseline reality against which the Ancients measured all others.  This owed itself to their personal affection for Crichton.  As with any good baseline, stability was a treasured attribute. 
 
That stability was now under threat.  Chance and history were becoming increasingly out of balance, because evil was meddling again.  Crichton had taught them about evil.  Before him they’d understood it as an intellectual concept.  The issue was no longer a distant thought exercise for them.  It was real, and it needed to be curbed.
 
Einstein studied the problem as its consciousness roamed several realities seeking a solution to the imbalance it saw growing like a cancer on the prime timeline.  It sighed and cast its eyes towards Crichton’s birth world, and froze.  Its mouth tilted with wry humor.  “Sometimes you find what you’re looking for, right in your own backyard,” it thought.  Reaching out it tweaked space-time, causing a knot of forces to draw together.  All that was needed now was for the ship, which it could see in its mind’s eye, to fly into his parlor…so to speak.  He hoped that John would understand.

“He will…eventually.”

Einstein regarded his companion dolefully.  “He was combative enough the last time that we spoke.”

“Can you blame him?”

 “I cannot.”  Einstein said grimly.  “And will he understand about the female?”

“I am hopeful.”

“Care must be taken. Is the child well?”

“You should know as well as me, better than me, in fact.”

Einstein raised a hand in negation.  “That is the problem.  I cannot see. The now and future are becoming confused. Fragments only of what could be. In this time I can see only the past for her. I am not you.”

His companion chuckled with wry humor. “I can see why John found you confusing.” He glanced away into the void and his eyes glazed for a moment as he reached out through time and space for his ward. A moment only, and he turned back to Einstein. “She is well enough.  Her inner strength has been tested and held true.  She is her father’s daughter after all.  She may die, but she will not turn to evil.”

Einstein’s dark eyes were stormy. “She may.”

“Time will tell. Now, answer me one question,” asked his companion. 

“Ask it.”

His companion waved at the iceberg.  “Why this construct?”

Einstein regarded his companion solemnly.  “We had to meet somewhere.”

“True, but that still doesn’t explain…”

Then Einstein did something truly terrifying.  He grinned.  “Call me sentimental.”

Җ

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Stan Babbish studied his readouts with growing amazement and horror.  Like all space-rated personnel, he’d studied the data logs of John Crichton’s fateful trip.  Deep down he had a hard time believing in wormholes, but he did believe what his telemetry was telling him.  Out in space, on the programmed trajectory that the Argosy I was following, something terrible and invisible was growing.

“Colonel!  Come quick!” he shouted across the room. 

Johnson arrived at a dead run.  He skidded to a halt next to Babbish’s shoulder.  “What?  What is it?”

“Sir,” he squeaked, then Babbish pointed silently at his console’s gravimetric readouts.  It took a second, but Johnson saw the pattern developing and cursed.

Johnson hit the all-hands circuit.  “This is a Top Kick Alert.  Current data indicates a gravitational anomaly forming in the vicinity of Argosy I.”  A moaning intake of breath went through the flight staff.  They all knew what might happen.  Switching to the ship's comm and addressing himself to Major Carelli, he barked orders.  “Major cut your thrust to minimum and vector thirty degrees off your assigned flight path.”

In the cockpit, Valerie blinked. What?  It sounded like they thought something was up here sharing this patch of space with her…when she was supposed to be totally alone. She looked out the window of her ship.  There was no sign of anything. She checked her instruments again.  Her collision alarm was negative.  Still, she knew how to obey orders.

“Yes, sir.”  She cut her thrust and used her attitude jets to slew the Argosy off course.  The problem was it didn’t want to slew.  She tried again, but it continued on course and began to accelerate.  Her training kicked in as her hand slapped the real-time data feed button.  Every bit of data her instruments generated was now being dumped back to Challenger Base.  It was a rule of thumb in space training.  Always let the next guy to follow you know what it was that killed you. That done, she keyed her comm, “Negative control Argosy Base, I say again, controls not responding.” 

On the ground Colonel Johnson was as close to panic as anyone had ever seen him.  “Do we have any other assets in the area?  Can we get visual?”

“No sir, nothing.  We’re….”  Stan’s voice trailed off.  “Oh God, it’s happening.”  He watched as his readouts spiked into multiple tens of gravities…and a beautiful and deadly flower blossomed in front of the blip that was the Argosy I.

Valerie stared at what was opening up in front of her and did several things at once.  She began immediate throttle-up.  If she was going for a ride, she was going under her own steam.  She keyed the comm open and spoke. "I’m going comm open until the last possible minute Control.” 

“Major Carrelli, throttle back your engines,” came Johnson’s shrill command.

“No can do, Colonel.  It wouldn’t make any difference if I did….except to me.  I want some sort of control of the situation.”

Stan’s voice came over comm. “Don’t do this, Val; I can’t put the kids through college without you at the poker table.”

“It’s not something I’m doing, it’s something that’s being done to me, Stan.  I’m just going with the flow.” 

She was close now, and accelerating. Her heart was pounding with fear and just a touch of excitement.

“Tell my mom I love her, and I’ll see you all again…..”

Her words trailed off as the wormhole swallowed the Argosy whole, and closed behind her.  “Like Jonah and the whale,” she whispered. She knew if she had been back on base looking at the reading, Valerie Carrelli had just disappeared.

But she was still here. She just happened to be going very, very fast. Oh shit!

Inside the swirling blue wormhole Valerie nursed her controls ever so slightly as she tried to keep the craft on the straight and narrow. Somehow her hand was steady while her heart pounded so hard it felt like it would beat its way out of her chest. “Was this what John Crichton saw all those years ago?” she wondered aloud.  Had he felt the pump of adrenaline mixed with fear as he’d been sucked into the swirling mass? Damn!  It was like riding a three-dimensional bobsled!  She grinned.  At least she had one up on him because she had been studying wormholes almost her entire life. He had gone in blind. 

A red light flashed overhead and her grin slipped as she noticed her port engine beginning to overheat.  “Well, damn it…”

She felt the ship start to shake at the same time she saw an opening in the blue vortex.  It was now or never, she thought. She punched through the opening just as sparks flew from the ceiling of the module and then everything went silent. 

She was floating dead in space. No power and only emergency life support. God only knew where she had come out of the wormhole. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t as fun as she’d thought.

“Think Val,” she said to herself.  “What would Crichton do?”   Whatever it was, she hoped she thought of it soon.  She could  only hope her luck ran as good as her Uncle’s had.

Җ

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“Sir,” spoke a detection tech.

Sub-Officer Kaar strode over to the tech’s station and stood beside him.  “Report.”

“There’s been a gravity spike in quadrant five.  It’s gone now, but there seems to be an artifact drifting in space.”

Kaar frowned at the previous readings.  Quadrant five.  That was right in front of them.  Wait a microt. That looked like...  He stared at the readings until the tech looked at him curiously. He keyed his comm.  “Security control.  Divert two of our patrol Prowlers to investigate an artifact drifting in space in quadrant five.  The exact coordinates will be fed to you momentarily.”  He looked at the quad five stats again and smiled grimly. He knew his history.  He switched channels on his comm. to private mode and spoke.  “Lieutenant Juran…this is Sub-Officer Kaar.”

“Yes, Kaar. What is it?”

“I’m not sure, sir. But I think you better get down to security deck 12 right away.”

Җ

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D’Argo pulled on the hand in his and led Veela up the steps of his ship. It had been parked outside of town and in stealth mode, hiding it from any curious passersby. When they were safely inside he commanded, “Stealth resume. Security level 5.” He felt the familiar hum of the shield and breathed a sigh of relief as they were once more hidden from sight. Not for the first time, he silently thanked his Uncle Jothee for the gift of this ship. The Nostromo had been his traveling home for the last couple of cycles and had saved his butt more than once.

They took a seat in the passenger cabin, facing each other, their eyes drinking each other in.  But as much as he would love to drag her back to his private quarters, he had to know what she had found out. He’d had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach since she’d told him they needed to talk.  That was never a good sign.

He took her hands in his and squeezed. “So, what was so important you had to track me down?”

Veela nodded and wet her lips nervously. “I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first.  There was lots of static so I thought maybe I’d heard it wrong. Then I didn’t know who to contact, but I thought you would probably want to know before, before...”

“Veela!”

She stuttered to a halt.

“Take a deep breath,” D’Argo said. “Now, slow down and start from the beginning.”

Veela took another breath and closed her eyes, trying to focus. “I was trying to tap into the Nebari Intelligence Directorate and I accidentally stumbled onto a conversation.” She opened her eyes to look at D’Argo. “It was between Reelix, the chief of the Directorate and a mole they had planted deep into Peacekeeper territory. Apparently he was altered to appear Sebacean and operates a trading house where he gathers information. He is going by the name Beelb.”

“Okay, so they were pretty high up muckaty mucks, huh?”

She gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“And…?”

“And I brought a copy of the aud chip with me. I thought you should hear it yourself.” She laughed shakily. “You probably wouldn’t believe me without it.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I’d believe you. What is so all-fired important about this conversation? Are they getting ready to attack? Don’t worry. You’ll be okay.”

“No. No, you don’t understand.” She stood up and reached down in her boot to grab the chip. She handed it to D’Argo. “Here.”

He stood with her holding the chip as though it would explode at any moment. He was getting the feeling that he didn’t want to hear what it had to say, but he couldn’t think of a way out of it.

He leaned over and put the chip in the audio slot.

“The sound on the line was poor. I had to send it through the aural enhancers to make the conversation intelligible,” Veela said.

D’Argo nodded, but was silent, waiting. She was right, the sound was scratchy, but it was plain enough.

Reelix:  Have you located the merchandise?

Beelb: Yes sir, the daughter of Crichton is on Ne-Sa Ren, in the medical colony there, as I first suggested.

Reelix:  You understand that the Council is resisting making any sort of deal with the Peacekeepers?  They are tired of having to mind-cleanse any emissaries that we expose to the Sebacean,  Grayza, and her stinking whore’s gland.  And more to the point, we all know what Crichton did the last time that someone threatened those that he was attached to.  We can’t take any chances with him.  The last time he stopped his ultimate weapon. But he has been proven to be unstable. It is impossible to predict what he might do. I need to know who this girl is, and how they got their hands on her.

The transmission hissed and crackled.

Beelb:  The girl is half-Sebacean.  Her mother was…(breaking up)…not his by any natural process.  He is in complete ignorance of her existence.

Reelix:  Ah!  An invitro?

Beelb:  No, a live birth, sir.

Reelix:  I want you to forward hard data on Ne-Sa Ren.  What, if any, military presence there is, and how often do any Peacekeeper ships pass through the area?

Beelb: That could prove difficult.  My trading ships are already in the area as often as they dare to be without attracting undue attention.

Reelix: Just get the information.  My brother-in-law was the last diplomat that came back from a meeting with Grayza.  He begged me to kill him rather than let the cleansers have him.  For my sister’s sake I had to turn him down.  We are NOT going to give that Sebacean bitch the benefit of our great plan.  We don’t have to trade for what we can steal outright.

Beelb: Yes, sir, the first brief should be in your hands in a standard weeken.

There was more static as the communications tap was lost, but D’Argo didn’t hear it. He was still hearing the words – “Yes sir, the daughter of Crichton is on Ne-Sa Ren.”

Daughter of Crichton. That would make this girl his…sister.

In the blink of an eye it seemed everything was changed. He'd thought for a microt that the voice on the chip had meant Ellie or Zanne, but that obviously wasn't the case. He needed a lot more information, but if the Nebari were right, this was going to be a mess of unholy proportions.  He couldn’t believe that his Dad had been with another woman besides his Mom.  They were a couple that blended so seamlessly that they almost seemed one entity, sometimes.  It was inconceivable that the man he had grown up with had broken that bond.  But how else to explain this...this girl?

Veela turned off the message and reached out a hand to curl her fingers around his. Now he knew why she’d been so nervous.  She had to know how this would affect him.  His dad, his friend, his…hero had suddenly developed feet of clay and it was going to take some time for it to sink in. But, whatever had happened surely his dad didn’t know. Or his mother.  Oh, frell. He was going to have to tell them.  A conversation he’d give anything not to have to have.  He didn’t even want to think about what his mother would say. Or do. Aeryn Sun Crichton wasn’t someone you wanted to piss off. Even if you were related to her.

But it had to be done. It seemed he might have another sister and she was in trouble. So first things first.

He looked up at Veela and squeezed her hand and asked the most important question.

“Which way to Ne-Sa Ren?”

[imloco2]

Җ

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The room swam in a dizzying rush as she cracked her eyes open.  As the room slowed and the fog cleared from her eyes she saw two male faces peering down at her. There wasn’t a whole lot of sympathy in their expressions, but they looked plenty worried. Memory returned with a snap and she realized suddenly where she was and who had hold of her arms.

The first man on her left opened his mouth, but instead of words coming out it was a series of sharp sounds and clicks that made no sense at all. Feeling more and more like she was in an episode of the Twilight Zone, she allowed them to hoist her to her feet. Damn, she must have passed out before they got her out of the Argosy.

With a few more sounds one of the men gripped her arm tighter and pulled on it, indicating that she should come with them.  She twisted a little and tried to yank her arm away, but she was still too groggy to put up much of a fight.  But not so out of it she couldn’t talk.

“Get your hands off me you pencil-dick son of a bitch!” Valerie tried a kick, but the other man gave a sharp yank that landed her on her ass. Damn the floor was hard. She’d obviously have to wait a few minutes to get her bearings. Then she’d show them what for.

Two more guards came out of nowhere and joined her captors in lifting her off the floor. She went more quietly this time, trying to steady herself and gain more information about where she was and what they wanted from her.  Her head was clearing and she was feeling better by the second as they walked her through seemingly endless miles of corridors.  They didn’t meet anyone on the journey and the silent sealed rooms they passed scared the bejesus out of her. 

Where were they taking her? And why?  Other than a few well-laced insults she hadn’t really tried to speak to them.  She thought too late that maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut from the beginning. Did these bozos understand English?   Pieces from  How to Survive the UT’s, by J.R. Humphries, flashed through her mind and she remembered something about translator microbes. Obviously she didn’t have them. According to the book all of these jerks did. So they knew what she was saying and she didn’t have a clue what they said.  How unfair was that?

But the thought of having hundreds, even thousands of those little bitty microbes running around in her body made her shudder.  So why hadn’t they shot her up yet? What did they think she could tell them if they couldn’t communicate? And even if they could she had doubts that the standard Geneva Convention name, rank and serial number was going to cut it.  Oh, she was in such deep shit.

She was trying really hard to hang on to the bravado that had seen her through the tough times all of her life, but right now she seemed to have misplaced it.  In spite of her best efforts, she was just plain scared.
 
She was pretty sure she knew who these people were. She’d grown up studying the ships and symbols left behind by John Crichton and his crew.  The months they had been on Earth had taught everyone a lot about the Uncharted Territories. It had been required reading in University. She had found it all fascinating and would have even if she hadn’t been sort of related to one of the principle players.  She’d just never figured she would be experiencing it first-hand. All things considered she’d just as soon pass.  Not that she had a choice here.

She had no idea what they were going to do with her, but it couldn’t be anything good.  Pictures from the stories of evil Peacekeepers and brain-sucking Aurora chairs ran through her mind like a kaleidoscope.   She could only hope that they didn’t know where she was from or how she’d gotten there. No way could she let them know there was another route to Earth.

She’d die first.

Which, she admitted, was a very good possibility. She had no idea where she was and no way to get off this ship even if she could figure out a way to escape. Her tiny craft, the Argosy I, had popped out of the wormhole and for all intents and purposes had been dead on arrival. One minute she’d been bombarded with noise and sensation and the next… well, she’d never experienced anything like the quiet that surrounded her.  She’d sat there silent and dazed, afraid to draw a breath even. The thought had crossed her mind that it was all a dream. When she’d seen the huge planet like ship to her left she’d prayed that it was.

And things had gone downhill after that.

The smaller ships had come and her small craft had groaned and shuddered as they had used some kind of tractor beam to tow it to the Mother Ship.

Since then she’d been beat up, banged around, chirped at and dragged down corridor after corridor.  She watched as they came to a stop in front of one of the closed doors.  But if they thought that she was just walking meekly into that room they had another think coming!

One of the guards waved a hand and the door slid open. He chirped at her and motioned for her to go in.

“Oh, no.  If you think I’m going in there you’re out of your fucking space-Nazi mind!” She jerked back. She was not going into that room, and was definitely not going to have her brain squeezed like a grape!

Acting with equal parts desperation, fear, and anger, Val whipped her elbow up and back in an attempt to catch her jailor in the throat.  It was a straightforward dirty fighting technique. The only thing that saved the PK trooper from a crushed windpipe was his faster-than-lightening reflexes.  His chin snapped downward, protecting his throat, but he ended up taking the sharp point of Valerie’s elbow right between the eyes. 

Val knew at once that she hadn’t hit what she was aiming for, but damn it, she’d hit ‘something’.  Her captor’s grip weakened for a moment, which was all that she needed to step in and under his arm, twisting as she did so.  The result had her standing behind him in a split second.  Blessing her parents for putting her through three years of gymnastics during high school, and her friend Marie Gallant for dragging her to Savate classes during her NATO exchange tour in France, Valerie made a standing jump that let her plant both feet on the stunned Sebacean’s shoulder blades.  The resulting dropkick propelled the PK into the doorjamb with a dull “thonk”,   putting him down for the count.

Her victory was short-lived however.  She’d barely regained her footing, prepared to run full out, even with no idea of where to go, when it happened.  Valerie only managed three steps before her legs were knocked out from under her by a low sweep from the leading Peacekeeper, who slid into her feet like a baseball player sliding into home plate.  Valerie went down hard, and stayed down as the second PK, a female, landed on her back, planting a hard knee above her tailbone and twisting her arm behind her back, almost to the point of dislocation.  Gasping with pain Valerie tried to twist away under her assailant, but the trooper was ready for that. She gripped a handful of Val’s hair and bounced her head off the deck, once, twice, three times.  Hard.

That was gonna leave a mark.

Valerie’s resistance was over, and her jailors dragged her into the room. She landed on the floor with a thud and looked back just in time to see her jailers disappear behind the shutting door. She shook her head trying to clear it and looked around, afraid of what she might see.

It was an austere room. No pictures or plaques to break the monotony of the bare gray walls. A table, a few ordinary looking chairs. Nothing that remotely resembled the dreaded Aurora machine, but no way in or out except the door she’d just come through. Certainly there was no way they wouldn’t have a guard posted outside, even if she could figure out how to open the door. But alone meant she was safe, at least for the moment.  She breathed a little quivery sigh of relief and dragged herself up to sit in one of the chairs. Then she did the only thing she could do.

Wait.

Җ

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Juran looked up from the console in his private quarters as Sub-Officer Kaar entered the room and he quickly ran his hands over the sensors activating the frequency destabilizer. He slipped an audio chip into a slot as he watched Kaar come to stand in front of him.

“Sir.”

Juran held up a hand. “Relax Sarval. The block is on and they are now listening to us discuss my mother’s upcoming reception.” He grinned. “It’s just us. Sit.”

Sarval Kaar eased his now-relaxed body down into a chair next to Juran and ran his hand over his short brown hair. The thin but intricate tattoo that ran down the left side of his face was the only thing marking him as not completely Sebacean. All the Kelrid were born with the markings, a true form of identification, as no two were ever alike. He was slightly shorter than Juran and he had obviously been in enough battles to leave some scars, inside and out.  Unlike most soldiers who had the opportunity, he’d never availed himself of the dermitol procedure that would erase all signs of any battle wounds. He was proud of what he’d been able to survive and wore his scars like badges of honor.

But while Sarval’s body might have relaxed, Juran could see from the frown on his friend’s face that something was wrong.

“What’s the matter?” Juran asked.

“Just a little disagreement with our newest guest.” Sarval looked up with a wry grin. “It’s a good thing I managed to turn the view sensors off. She didn’t want to go into the interrogation room.”

“She? So, it’s a female,” Juran murmured to himself, before looking back at his oldest, perhaps only friend. “I told you to let me know as soon as the pilot was aboard.”

“And I would have. She was just a little more trouble than we were expecting. I wanted to get it under control before you saw her.”

“And did you?” Juran’s eyes narrowed. “Did you hurt her? I gave express orders.…”

Sarval barked a laugh and held up a hand. “Hurt her? She almost took out four of my best guards. I think you should be more worried about her hurting you.” He stood up and flicked an imaginary thread off his coat. “She’s fine, Juran. Scared, perhaps. Angry, definitely. I don’t envy you trying to make peace with her.” Now he laid a hand on Juran’s shoulder. “But that’s what you do best, isn’t it? Make peace?” 

He was talking old history now. At the academy, when Juran was the only thing between the small scared new recruit and a beating. Perhaps even termination.  Juran had never regretted the discipline he had received in Sarval’s place.  Or his silent intervention many times over the cycles when Sarval’s Kelrid blood would have made his progress through the ranks impossible. 

His friendship with Sarval had been the one good thing he could remember growing up and it had led to his involvement with the current movement gaining strength in the ranks.  They had both learned early on that it was better if they weren’t seen too much together and that was true now more than ever. Only a handful of people knew of Juran’s membership in the Guardians. And even those few made him nervous.  If his Mother ever found out…. He shook off the thought. He didn’t have time for that. Now he had to concentrate on getting off the Command Carrier with the female. He’d need all the help he could get.

“I try.” He stood and put a hand on Sarval’s shoulder. “Thank you once again.”

“You know you can count on me, Juran,” Sarval said.

“I know.” Juran swallowed a sudden lump in his throat at the thought of leaving everything and everyone he knew behind. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Try not to get into too much trouble,” Sarval said. “I won’t be around to get you out of it.”

They both laughed softly, knowing it worked both ways.

Juran nodded towards the console. “Ready?”

At Sarval’s nod, he ran his hands over the console to turn off the destabilizer and removed the audio chip. He nodded silently to his friend.

Now… he mouthed. 

“Yes, Sir.  Everything will be ready for the Grand Chancellor’s reception in the Officer’s Lounge right after second watch.” Sarval couldn’t help the slight twitch of his lips.

“Excellent.”

They gave each other a brief grin and started for the door. Juran knew his mother would expect a reception so there was no reason she should be suspicious of his plans. And the guards that had brought the woman in had been fellow Guardians. Sworn to secrecy on pain of death. Literally. But he knew from experience that nothing could be kept a secret from his mother for long and she didn’t need a reason to be paranoid.  What he had found out today guaranteed that she would be extra vigilant where he was concerned.

He and Sarval split up and went in separate directions, he towards the woman waiting in the interrogation room.  He felt a niggle of worry.  It didn’t include the Aurora Chair, but it was not meant for anyone’s comfort.  He hoped she wasn’t too uncomfortable and that the guards hadn’t roughed her up too much. He wanted her to talk to him without interrogation.

Juran walked down the corridor, hurrying while trying not to appear to do so.  “If Sarval was right,” he thought, “if the prisoner was human and my mother finds out, she will peel her like a ripe khing-fruit and toss what’s left in the recyclers.”  Assuming, of course, that she left anything to toss.  His mother hated Earth and its inhabitants with a passion…even if she was obsessed with one Earthman in particular.


He spared a moment to wonder what the woman would think of his world.  Probably not much if all she’d seen were the back corridors of the Command Carrier and the interrogation room.  Less, if all she knew was from the only human who knew anything about Peacekeepers. John Crichton. Juran spared a moment to wonder what her planet had been told about his world. Nothing good, he was sure. Well, he wasn’t real happy with it either so he guessed they’d have something in common.  Besides the fact that his father was hu…

He couldn’t even think the term. It would take him more than just one solar day to become accustomed to the idea of John Crichton being more than someone he had studied at the academy. 

But, he reminded himself, it really didn’t matter. One whiff and she’d be asking him the way to the nearest sleep quarters. He didn’t really expect any trouble. His lip curled as he slowed to stop in front of the door to the holding cell.  There were no guards. The less attention that was drawn to this area the better.  He activated the security panel as he reached into his belt pouch for the pressure injector that was standard issue for all Peacekeeper officers. He hesitated a microt, drew a deep breath and lifted his hand…

Җ

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The doors opened with a swoosh and Val looked up to see the strangest man she’d ever seen. Strange in a good way, was her first thought. A sexy way. But definitely not what she’d been expecting. So far everyone she had seen around here had looked completely normal. If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought they were human.  This man…well he looked like a man. Only…not.  His face was finely-chiseled perfection, but it had slight shadings on it that looked like an artist had used his brush to highlight the planes and angles of his face. And she didn’t get the impression that these guys wore makeup.  His hair was coal black with the top shorter than the rest, falling over his brow. The longer, shoulder-length hair was tied back and the dark brows above brilliant blue eyes just made him even more distinctive, if that were possible.

But right now she couldn’t afford to let her guard down just because an alien pretty boy had walked into the room.  She sighed a little with regret. He was so very pretty.

He said something in that strange language of theirs and stood there waiting for her to respond.

“Sorry Boy’o. No, comprendi.” Val said flippantly.

He gave her a strange look and shook his head.

Val sighed. “I mean, I don’t understand you.” Her eyes narrowed. “But you understand me just fine don’t you?”

He gave a little grin and she watched cautiously as he walked to where she sat, debating whether she could afford to take him down. She might enjoy ogling him, but he was still an alien. And a Peacekeeper alien to boot. She couldn’t afford to forget that. She’d read the books, heard the stories. She had to find a way out of here. She hadn’t seen anyone else when the doors opened, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there. Of course, even if she cold-cocked this mother, then what would she do?

The man had stopped in front of her and was watching her with a smug grin, almost as if he were expecting her to be happy to see him.  A notion she’d be happy to disabuse him of if she could just move.  She could feel little currents of energy running between them and his eyes…  Oh God, his eyes alone could do things to her.  The thought popped into her mind that she’d seen that exact shade of blue before, but she couldn’t quite place it and then the idea was gone.

She knew she should move, but she couldn’t seem to make herself. The tension increased between the two of them as they looked at each other. She seemed rooted to the spot, just waiting to see what he would do.  Finally, he brought his hand up and gently took hold of her arm to draw her closer to him.

Oh, man, what in the hell was he doing? No, what the hell was she doing? This was not standard operating procedure.  In fact, it seemed like she’d thrown the whole SOP right out the airlock.  She really needed to do something before this got out of hand. Well, anymore out of hand.  Suddenly his other arm reached around and jabbed her in the ass, leaving a burning sensation behind. She looked down to see that he had been carrying what looked like an injector in his hand.

“Dammit! What did you do to me?” she yelled, although she was very much afraid she knew.  She scuttled backwards away from him and rubbed her butt as the burning increased for a moment and then seemed ease up.

The man started talking again. The chirps and clicks actually sounded reassuring this time, until…. “…es nort eeegek lor…for any discomfort in the way you were brought on board. I told them to treat you with care, but it was extremely important to get you here as fast and as quietly as possible.”

Okay. She could still hear the clicks and the chirps, but now they were completely understandable. “Son of a bitch! You did it didn’t you? You put those freaky little bug things inside me and now they’re crawling around in my brain and… didn’t your mother teach you that it’s not polite to inject people with your alien crap without their permission?”

He had already back-pedaled out of her reach, but her words seemed to sting.  “No, she didn’t.  She taught me….other things.  Count yourself lucky I’m not going to discuss any of them with you.  Now, will you shut up and listen?  We don’t have much time. I have to get you off of this ship, now!” 

He ducked as she launched a flying spin kick at him. “Stop it!” he hissed. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Why should I?” Valerie snarled as she began stalking him around the room.   Now she was pissed off.  “I suppose you have my best interests at heart, right?”  Her skin was crawling at the thought of the alien organisms that were settling into her brain stem.  It reminded her of when she was a kid. Powerless, helpless...not to mention it felt like she had…cooties.  Cooties under her skin.  Alien cooties under her skin!  She swung at him again.

The man caught her wrist and threw her with a body twisting move that left her flat on her back.  Before she could get her breath back he was straddling her chest, pinning her down with his hands on her wrists.

“Look,” he said, “as stimulating as this is, it has to end.  You needed the microbes to have a chance of surviving. Without them you might as well turn yourself in now and get ready for the Aurora Chair.”  His knees were on either side of her face and Val looked up at him knowing he could crush her windpipe or a dozen other deadly places with one blow. She nodded her acceptance. What choice did she have?

He continued, “I know the Commander of this carrier very well, and at present she doesn’t know who or what you are, or that you’re even here. But it’s only a matter of time before she finds out. And once she does, she’ll be around for a very in-depth interview.  If she gets her hands on you, nothing will save you….certainly not me.  I have other matters to attend to.”

Valerie’s glare amped down a notch as she watched him speculatively.  Pretty boy could be trying to trick her. But then again…maybe not.   Crap. She had to make a major decision without all the facts. And she hated that. But she could ask, “Why are you bothering? With me?”

Juran looked at her for a long moment.  “Because….” He hesitated and she saw a strange look come over his face, but she couldn’t decipher it.   “Because…” He stopped again. “You don’t need to know why. You just need to do as I say.”

“As if.” Apparently those bugs weren’t all they were cracked up to be because he suddenly tilted his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What?” Val asked.

“Say that again.”

“Say what again?” Okay, this was getting weird. “You’re nuts, you know that? Just…get off me!”

“When I say ‘you must do as I tell you’, you say…”

“I say screw you.” Now he was looking almost disappointed. Definitely a major nut job. “I don’t care how pretty you are, I’m not…” she stopped as his expression changed. “What now?” she asked again.

“You really don’t feel the need to do anything I say?”

“Uh, that would be a negative. In fact, not just no, but hell no!”

Valerie couldn’t quite figure out what part of that exchange made a grin come over his face just then. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

“Be that as it may, I’d like to strongly suggest we get off this Command Carrier before the Grand Chancellor finds out you’re here. I can guarantee you won’t like it if she does.” His lip curled as he said the name.

Valerie frowned.  “You sound like you really hate her.”  The man straddling her frowned, and she saw a flash of something unpleasant and violent in his eyes.

He took a deep breath and seemed to get himself under control.  “Yes.”

“Why?”

He flinched and scrambled to his feet, pulling Valerie to hers.  “That’s a subject that we don’t have time to go into.  Time is running short.  The report of your capture is no doubt working its way through the intelligence system as we speak.  It will reach her soon.  We had little time to start with, most of which I’ve wasted with you.  Now we have less.  What will it be, do you go willingly?”

“Or?”

“Or do I carry you out, and we both risk getting caught?”

Valerie considered her options and realized that she had none, had really had none since the wormhole had taken her.

“I have an idea.” Val said.

He cocked his head at her.

“Let’s get out of here.” 

He nodded, pulling out a compact communicator and swapped its power unit for an innocuous-looking one from his belt pouch.  It would power the unit, but it also modified the unit to broadcast in code outside standard command frequencies.  Tapping out an eight digit sequence of numbers, he triggered a dormant circuit in the now modified unit.  A half-dozen men around the ship would be getting a signal to report in and Juran’s unit was the key. Nothing would work without it.

He spoke into the unit. “This is Guardian One.  We have an E-class emergency.  I need to exit the ship quickly and quietly with an unidentified female.  We’ll be heading toward the flight deck via the central service corridor.  I need someone to deal with Security, and someone to prep a Marauder for immediate launch.  Acknowledge.”

Val watched him, her mouth gaping, and he grinned. “We’ll see if this works. I’ve never actually tried it before.” A moment later an anonymous voice answered.  “Guardian Three, acknowledging.  Central service sensors and cameras will be offline in a few microts.”  A second voice followed.  “Guardian Four, Marauder E473U has just completed its maintenance cycle.  I have it fueled and was about to run a test flight.  It will be ready in maintenance bay 5.”

He smiled wolfishly.  “Guardian One, acknowledging.”

Okay, this was like something out of one of those cheesy CGI flicks. Maybe she was dreaming after all. Some weird kind of 'Jedi Academy meets Manchurian Candidate III' dream and she’d wake up any minute now....  She felt the bruise on her leg where she’d fallen throb.  If only…

“What the hell was that about?” Valerie asked.

He glanced at her as he walked to the door, palmed it open, and checked the corridor. He moved back into the room, the door closing behind him.  “It…” he started, then stopped suddenly. “What is your name?”

She hesitated, but… what the hell. “Valerie Carelli, Lieutenant, Uni...” She had the sudden thought that it was possible he didn’t know where she was from -- so she should just shut the hell up.

He nodded.  “Honored to meet you Valerie Carelli of… Earth?” He lifted a brow as she remained silent. But in this case silence said it all. “Good. No point in denying it. We have the reading from the wormhole and your craft, while damaged, is safely on board the Command Carrier. There is no doubt.” He moved until he stood in front of her. “My name is Juran Mar..” he stopped. “No, just Juran.”  He ignored Valerie’s snort.  “You’re one of only a handful of people that know that I’m a part of this. I’ve been a Guardian for cycles, but I never really thought I would use those codes.” 

“And what’s a Guardian?” Valerie asked.

“A Guardian...?  It is hard to explain.”  He hesitated. “I don’t know if you know anything about our history.  It has mostly been a bloody quest to rule the galaxy for as long as anyone can remember, but… there was a time when we were so much more than that. When we lived up to our name, Peacekeepers.” He laughed bitterly. “Can you believe it? We actually kept the peace.”

He met her eyes. “The ones in power refuse to see that this is the natural order of things. They have gotten used to their power and they will hang on to it with their last breath.”  Juran’s lip curled. “And this we do not accept.  The Guardians would return the Peacekeepers to the purpose we were created for. There are scores of us scattered around the fleet. Our goal is to find ways to do the job we were meant to do, to tell others about our purpose.  And we have people stationed onboard vessels like this to provide aid when it is needed. Like now. We’ll talk more about this later.  For now, we have to go.” 

With that he took her hand and pulled her towards the door. Checking it again, he led Val out and turned left.  A short distance away he popped open a waist high service panel and crawled inside, then turned and extended his hand.  When Valerie hesitated he sighed and said, “Decide.”

It was now or never.  Valerie grasped his hand and allowed him to help her into the maintenance access bay.   It led into an access-way that was narrow and cramped, bordering on claustrophobic.  It barely had room for Juran to stand up straight.   The access-way was lined with pipes, ductwork, and cables that stretched on seemingly to infinity.

Juran immediately set off down the narrow corridor with Valerie following. His voice was low when he spoke again. “This is part of the maintenance network that the techs use to service the ship.  During combat it also serves as an emergency travel route in case battle damage takes out the main personnel corridors.  It’s a poor way to get around, but it will do.  By now the camera and motion sensors are offline.  We have to move fast because there’s no way to know how long they’ll be able to keep it that way."   

Trailing Juran, Valerie had no choice but to go where he led.  Of course, she thought, watching him walk just ahead of her; she did get to admire the view. “I can’t believe you are part of the underground.” she whispered. “That is so click.”

Juran paused a moment to listen for any movements ahead, then turned around, frowning.  “Underground?  As in under the soil?”

Valerie chuckled softly.  “Not exactly.”

Juran gave a small grunt and shook his head.  “You are a strange one.” 

“Me?!” Valerie hissed, trying to be quiet and yell at the same time.  “Mister, have you looked in the mirror lately?”

Juran started to raise a hand to his face and with some disgust put it back down and sighed.  “We don’t have time for your foolishness.  Let’s keep moving.”

They walked in silence for a few microts.

“So, you’ve been with the, what did you call them? Guardians?  Val whispered. “I guess you’ve been with them a long time, huh? This stuff is probably old hat to you?”

Juran sighed. “There are no hats in the Guardians. I have been involved for about 4 cycles now and I have never worn a hat. Of course, there weren’t so many of us at first, but we grow stronger every day.”   He stopped and raised his hand.  “Hold!” he hissed.

Ahead of them came a squealing noise followed by the sound of rushing liquid.  Juran shook his head and started forward again.  “A faulty hydraulic valve.  Some tech will be disciplined for failing to replace it.” 

They passed the now quietly hissing valve and moved on as Juran picked up the pace.  “There’s a personnel lift shaft somewhere ahead.  We’ll have to get across it before we can go on.  Are you bothered by heights, Valerie Carelli?”

Valerie chuckled.  “Are you kidding? I free-climbed El Capitan on my last vacation.”

Making a puzzled noise, Juran asked, “Which means what?”

Valerie smiled at his broad back.  “That would be a, 'no'.”

“Good,” Juran said, “because we’re here.”  There was a shaft opening up in front of them that went on out of sight, in both directions, up and down.

“How do we get across?” Valerie asked. She made the mistake of looking down and re-thought her position on heights.  Juran’s answer was lost in a hissing rumble as a personnel lift swept by them, going down. 

Juran pointed at the deep grooves around the perimeter of the shaft at the same level as the floor of the maintenance corridor, and the matching handrail that was just above waist height.  “We can use those to hold onto. You go left, and I’ll go right and we’ll meet on the other side.” Juran looked at Val. “Are you okay with that?”

Val’s nod wasn’t quite as confident as she’d like. At least with El Capitan she’d had a rope.

“But whatever we do, it must be quickly,” Juran said. “We just have to hope that no one gets the urge to use the lift while we do so.  A passing lift will leave us smeared on the shaft walls like squashed web crawlers.  Normally, techs would shut down a lift shaft before entering it.  We can’t afford to advertise our presence like that.”  Another lift came through, on its way up this time.

Valerie shuddered at the image provided.  “I’ll say one thing for you, Juran, you aren’t a boring first date.”

Juran gave her a puzzled look again.  “First date?”

Valerie smirked.  “Tell you later.  Shall we go?”

Juran grinned.  “It sounds intriguing. I look forward to it.” His brows lowered as he concentrated on what they had to do. “We wait until the next lift passes, then we go.”

Val nodded and took a deep breath. She could do this.

The lift roared by.  “Go!” Juran hissed. 

And they went.

Җ

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Grand Chancellor Grayza’s Suite…..



The alarm chimed, indicating that someone was seeking entrance.   Grand Chancellor Grayza sighed as she fingered the remote access key that would open the door.  This was her relaxation period, during which she was not to be disturbed for anything short of an act of war. 

This was when she climbed out of her proper Grand Chancellor uniform and into clothing that she considered more appropriate…that is to say, more erotic and revealing.  The chief drawback to her elevation to Grand Chancellor so many cycles ago had been the need to present a prim and disciplined image in public.  The alarm chimed again and she snorted with irritation.  Whoever the fool was, it had better be important, or he’d spend the next 30 cycles outside scrapping space debris off the hull.  She thumbed the remote and spoke.  “Enter.”

The door slid open to reveal her aide, Captain Hillet, who came to stand at attention in front of her. 

“What is it, Captain?” she snapped.

“Grand Chancellor, I have received a report that a female prisoner has been taken,” Hillet began.

“Out here?” Grayza queried, cutting him off.  “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Chancellor, the ship was detected….”

“Captain, you interrupted my relaxation period for this?” Grayza said, smiling dangerously.  “This far out, it has to be a smuggler running contraband from the Nebari.  We can’t afford to offend them at the moment, so just place her in holding.  I’ll look into the matter in a few arns, after my reception.”

“But Grand Chancellor….” Hillet tried to start again.

“I said later, Captain!” Grayza snarled.  Today she needed relaxation more than she had in a long time, and this obsequious little Trill was stealing it from her.  Hillet looked like he was about to try again when Grayza’s eyes developed a predatory glint.  “Captain, one more word, and you’re going to be leading the hull maintenance team.”

Hillet shuddered.  “Yes, Grand Chancellor.”  He placed a data crystal on a table next to the door as he retreated.  “I’ll just be on the officer’s deck.”  The last time he’d tested her this way, he’d ended up in her bed.  The memory still made his skin crawl, though he’d hidden it well at the time.  In its own way, hull duty was the lighter sentence, but still one to be avoided. 

He paused outside the door and took a deep breath.  Being the old harridan’s aide had its perks, like rapid advancement.  But it came with certain disadvantages.  Like the fact that she was borderline insane.  Which made her hazardous to work for, and caused buffering her command from her madness a big part of his job.   Hillet shook himself and straightened his uniform before striding away.  One day he’d get away from her and have his own command; until then he’d simply have to be fast on his feet.

[imloco2]

Җ

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Valerie was about five feet from home plate when an ominous rumble indicated a lift module approaching. 

“Oh, shit!” she said between clenched teeth.

She focused rigidly on the wall in front of her nose, not checking on Juran, and certainly not looking to see how close the lift was or where it was coming from. If she saw any of that she’d freeze up, she just knew it. She had to keep going. It wasn’t far now. She made her arms and legs move automatically, one step, a second longer step.  Her hand was groping for the edge of the opening into the maintenance tunnel, the rumble of the lift module drowning the pounding of her heart in her ears, when a long masculine arm reached around the corner and yanked her the final few feet into the shaft. 

The force of her fall landed them both on the ground, her on top of the hard body of Juran.  The displaced air from the passing lift, going down, only inches away, caused her hair to stir as she looked down into his face.   She saw that strange uncertain look cross his face again. The look that inexplicably made her body shiver while at the same time she wanted to tell him everything would be okay. The next moment the look was gone and she had to wonder if she had just imagined it. He lifted her off of him and got to his feet. 

“Not bad at all, Valerie Carelli.  You’ll have to explain to me exactly what an ‘El Capitan’ is when we have time.  For now we have to move faster.”  With that he stepped past her, and true to his word, set off rapidly up the tunnel.

Valerie was struggling to keep up without tripping over, bumping into, or cracking her head on the numerous pipes, cables, and conduits that protruded into the tunnel.  It felt a little like being in a carnival funhouse, minus any loud noises or flashing lights, thank God. That’s all she needed. 

“How much further?” she asked.

“We’ll be there in a few microts if you can stand the pace,” he responded.

“Never mind the pace, Flash Gordon, I can handle anything that you can dish out,” she snapped.  “Flight crews get serious physical training before they ever climb into a ship.”

Juran smiled to himself.  “Perhaps you can,” he muttered softly.   

It wasn’t long before they came to a halt in front of a bulkhead that had a hatch inset into it.

“A dead end?” Valerie panted.  “You brought me to a dead end?!”

“A dead end?” Juran echoed back.  “A colorful phrase, but inaccurate.  We are at the outskirts of the launch bay.”  He paused to listen as a distant background rumble rose to a muted shriek, and faded away.  “That was a Prowler launching, I think.  If we want off of this Command Carrier quickly, this is where we’ll have to get our wings.”

Valerie nodded.  “Okay, let's quit horsing around and boost a ship, or whatever it is that you do out here.”

“Horsing around?”  Juran shook his head, and wondered, not for the first time, if his father talked like this. “Never mind. Through that hatch is the underbelly of the launch bay refueling complex.”  He pulled a small electronic key out of his pocket and turned to Valerie.  “When I use this it will unlock the hatch and deactivate the door sensors by convincing them that they have an electronic fault, for a little less than a 10 microts.  We have to be through that hatch, and have it closed behind us before the door sensors complete a diagnostic and come back online. If the tech on the bridge sees it on the panel we’re frelled.  Ready?”
   
Valerie nodded.  She didn’t have to guess what frelled meant. “It’s not like I have a lot of choice.  Let’s do it.”

Juran waved the key over the palm reader on the hatch and was rewarded by a low hum followed by the sharp clack of the bolts retracting.  He heaved the hatch open as he hissed, “Go!”  Valerie was moving before the hatch finished opening, and Juran was right behind her, tugging on the massive door, trying to get it closed.  Valerie leaned in. Grabbing the handle on the hatch, and planting one foot on the frame, she heaved with all her might. Between Juran’s muscle and her desperation, the hatch seated itself with a soft thud as the hum died, and the bolts re-engaged with another loud clack.

“Okay, now what?” she said, as she turned to survey where they were.  If anything there was even less head room here. 

Juran pointed.  “The maintenance section is that way.  At this time of the ship’s day, they’ll be on stand-down.”  He set off in the direction that he’d indicated.  “There will be a maintenance access there, next to the fueling station for that section, in bay five.  Once we get there, I’ll contact the Guardians again, to let them know that we’re in position.”

“You trust these people?” Valerie queried.

Juran gave a tight grin.  “Association with the Guardians carries a fleet wide death sentence.  Yes, I trust them. As much as I trust anybody.”

That wasn’t the most comforting statement she’d ever heard. She spared a thought to wonder what had made him so cynical. Out here there was no telling.

A short time later found them at the fueling station, having exited the tunnel behind one of the main pump housings, where Juran produced his communicator and keyed the Guardian frequency.  “This is Guardian One, I’m in position.” 

There was a hiss.  “Guardian Three here. Internal security shows no activity and no alarms.  You haven’t been detected.”  The next voice cut in. 

“This is Guardian Four. In about half a microt I’ll be walking by the fueling station.  The maintenance bay visual circuits are getting a looped recording from three weeks ago at this time, so you won’t be recorded as having been here.  I’ll be in the red jacket.  Step out and join me as I pass." 

It didn’t take long before a middle-aged man in red came walking by, apparently without a care in the universe, and he never turned a hair when Juran and Valerie stepped out to join him. 

The maintenance tech had a deep scar creasing his weathered face…and he was likely the oldest member of the Guardians in the fleet.  “Let’s not waste time.  I’m Kranar.”  He glanced at Juran. “Since you’re about to throw your life away, I assume that you’ll want to leave that uniform behind.  Follow me.”

“What does he mean, throw your life away?” Valerie whispered, as they moved towards a small chamber in the rear of the bay

“Later,” Juran hissed.

Kranar pawed through what looked like a pile of old rags to come up with a ragged pair of tech coveralls.  They were dirty, and they smelled rank.  He tossed them at Juran.  “This should do. No one would expect a Lieutenant, especially you, would stoop to wearing those.”  He regarded Valerie with a skeptical eye.  “I realize I shouldn’t ask, the Guardian code being what it is, but -- why are you tossing your career away, not to mention your usefulness as a Guardian, to smuggle her out?”

Juran wrinkled his nose at the coveralls, but didn’t argue.  He began stripping out of his uniform, saving only his equipment belt and weapons. Only peripherally aware of Valerie’s eyes getting bigger as he stripped, he debated for a moment before deciding it didn’t matter if Kranar knew. They would find out eventually and at least this way they would know the stakes.

“She’s human,” Juran said.

Kranar’s eyes shot up, as did Valerie’s.  “From Earth?  One of Crichton’s people?  The Crichton?”

Valerie couldn’t fail to notice the implied capital letters in “The” Crichton.  So, they knew about her Uncle John did they?  A hundred questions whipped through her head, but she knew this wasn’t the time to ask them. But she and Juran were having a long conversation when they got off of this barge. And dammit, she wanted off this ship, now!

Kranar apparently seconded that. “You’ve got to get her off of this ship.” His composure was seriously rattled.  He indicated his scar and added, “Before I got this and got seconded to maintenance, I flew pursuit ships from one end of the Territories to the other.  I was flying a Prowler in the last battle of the Scarran War, and I saw what that freak pulled off.  Speaking for myself, I don’t want him to have any reason to come looking for a ship that I’m on.”  He regarded Valerie.  “And he will come looking if your mother gets her hands on her.  It will leak out.  People talk.  When it comes to Crichton, they talk more than usual.”  He gave Valerie a strange look.  “Nothing against your kind, but people tend to get dead around him.  Whole planets tend to get dead.”

Valerie was on quivering alert now as she stared at Kranar. Uncle John, the planet killer? And… She turned to look at Juran.  “Your MOTHER?”

Juran shrugged as he tested the fit of his 'new' clothing.  When they got wherever they were going, he would have to bathe for a monen.  “Yes, the Commander of this carrier is my mother, Cholak help me.  We can discuss it later.”  With that he walked over and stuffed his uniform into the recycler, then looked at Kranar.

“You’ve been around the Territories for quite a while, haven’t you?”

Kranar nodded.  “Longer than most. Why?”

Juran frowned.  “I need a name.  Someone on the fuel Depot, Panex.  The girl isn’t my only business, and I’ll need help -- men, information.” He looked down at himself. “A change of clothes.”   

Kranar nodded immediately.  “I know Panex. Flagot is the man you want.  Rotten to the core, but he knows how to keep a contract.  We have used him in the past.”

Juran nodded and started buckling on his weapons and equipment belt. 

“Hold it,” Kranar said, and tossed him a tech’s tool pouch.  “Throw the pistol in the pouch. If anyone sees you leaving here, you’ll be just another tech going on shift.  This place is nearly deserted right now, but there’s no point in taking chances.”  He rummaged in a drawer and came up with a small cylinder and tossed it to Juran.  “That’s your override.  Jack it into the nav system as soon as you board.  It’ll block any Peacekeeper ship from overriding your controls, and it’ll shut off your navigational beacon, so you can’t be tracked on long-range sensors.”

Juran nodded again.  “You’ve been quite helpful. I’d like to say you’ll be rewarded, however…” He looked around to make sure there was no one nearby and then looked at Kranar.    “Are you ready?” Juran asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Kranar said. 

Without a word Juran drew his pulse pistol from the tool pouch and fired a stun blast, dropping Kranar where he stood.

“What the hell did you do that for?!” Valerie hissed angrily.

“He knew it was coming,” Juran said as he grabbed Valerie’s arm and dragged her out into the bay, headed towards the waiting Marauder.  Valerie managed to straighten up and walk beside him.  “It had to look like he’d been taken by surprise, or my mother would have him in the Aurora Chair before we made planetfall.”

Valerie grimaced.  “God, you people play rough.  I mean, I studied the reports on Peacekeepers, but I never realized how rough.”

Juran shrugged as he scrambled up into the cockpit of the Marauder, then turned to hold out his hand to her.  “It’s a rough universe, Valerie Carelli.  Fate doesn’t play favorites out here.  You survive by being smarter, tougher, and always ready to fight.”  He wiggled his fingers for emphasis.  “Coming?”

The override worked flawlessly as Juran faked his way past traffic control to get a priority launch.  In five microts they were clear of the Carrier.  In ten they were in free space and accelerating into the unknown   Only then did Valerie begin to relax.

“Okay Flash, now we need to talk.”
Juran closed his eyes with a deep sigh, and engaged the auto-navigation.  “All right. Talk.”

“Not me! You. I have questions…” Her voice trailed off.  Juran was sitting close enough to her that she was getting whiffs of that delicious smell of his even through the rank clothing Kranar had given him. Unfortunately, it was making it hard to think of anything, much less questions to ask. Just then he cocked an eyebrow at her and the smirk on his face wiped the pleasant haze she’d been tumbling into right out of her mind. 

“Okay, I’ll start. First of all, Carelli is my family name.  I don’t know if you people have family names, ‘Just Juran,’ but that’s mine. And we usually just go by first names. My close friends call me Val.” She waited a beat. “You can call me Valerie.”

Juran sighed. He should have been more careful with his wishes. He’d wanted a woman who would be immune to his scent. It seemed he gotten his wish -- and it was a frelling nuisance. The Earth woman was very difficult. “Very well…Valerie.”

“So, spill,” she said.

“Spill what?” he looked around the cockpit.

“Don’t play games, Juran.”

“What do you want to know?”

Valerie stared out the cockpit window for a moment to try and collect her thoughts.  A sudden sense of loneliness nagged at her.  The stars were lovely, but she didn’t recognize any of them.  They weren’t hers.  She was a long way from home.

“Okay,” she began, “John Crichton.  Apparently he has a name out here.  From what we know he was being hounded all over your part of space by you Peacekeepers, and the, what do you call ’ems…the Scarrans. What happened?”

Juran chuckled.  She didn’t want to know much. “You’re right. You need to know.” He turned in his chair to face her. “Part of what I know comes from the same rumors and histories everyone has been told about.  Part of it is more personal. Of course, standard teachings have it that Crichton is a mad man, who has held this corner of the Universe in the grip of his lunacy for the last twenty-five cycles.

“What I know is that twenty-five cycles ago, the Peacekeepers and the Scarrans had finally broken their uneasy peace to start an all-out war.  The one thing they had in common was that they both wanted what was in John Crichton’s head. Wormhole Weapon knowledge.” He spat out the words as a blasphemy. “They both wanted to use him or compel him to use his knowledge to build wormhole weapons for their respective empires.  The war had just started and they had already killed millions. In the end he was left to choose whether to die or give them the weapons.  My people and the Scarrans presented him with impossible choices.”

He stopped his narrative, running a hand through his hair and leaving it tousled. But she was too engrossed in the story to notice that. Much.

“And?” she urged. “What happened?”

“He chose a third way.”

Valerie, prodded.  “A third way?”

“Yes, a third way.  He introduced another player into the equation.  One big enough to devour all parties involved; himself and his friends included.  He created the grandsire of all wormholes, a gravitational singularity that just kept growing.  It was on the verge of devouring the entire Peacekeeper and Scarran war fleets.  It would have kept on until it devoured the universe, they say.” He paused again to let the enormity of that sink in. “On the brink of total annihilation, both the Peacekeepers and the Scarrans were so terrified of what was happening, they agreed to back down and, with the Eidelons, make peace. Once they agreed, he closed the wormhole. It was later, during negotiations, that both sides agreed to leave him in peace also.”

There was silence in the cockpit. Then …

“So did they?” Val asked.

“Did who what?” Juran answered.

“Did they leave him alone?”

“At first. I think he had problems with some not honoring the treaty. But as far as the Peacekeepers are concerned, he has been ‘hands off’ ever since. In fact, I don’t know if he’s even still alive. He apparently…”

“What?! He apparently what?!” Val exclaimed.

“He seems to have disappeared,” Juran said.  “He’d already been talked about as a legend before that day; afterwards, well, people saw him as some kind of mythic figure in the Territories.  Half-hero, half-monster.” 

Juran was taken by surprise as Valerie laughed softly.  “He played a game of chicken,” she said.

“Chicken?”

“It’s a game. A very serious game, that’s just a little crazy and self-destructive, but under the right circumstances it can be the ultimate act of bravery,” she answered.  “In its simplest terms two people are put in the position of being able to kill each other.  The one that pulls back loses, and they both live.  If neither pulls back, they both die.  Very few people play it willingly.”

Juran nodded as much to himself as to Valerie.  “I can see why.”

Valerie smiled.  “Grampa Jack would have been so proud of him. After he kicked his butt for doing something so stupid, that is.”

“Grampa Jack?”

Valerie didn’t know if she should admit to being related to the ‘half-hero, half-monster’ or not, but she’d come this far. And… oh, boy. She was beginning to trust this man. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. “Jack Crichton.  My grandfather.  And John Crichton’s father. Which makes John Crichton my Uncle.”

Juran had thought he couldn’t be surprised more than he had already been, but that had just been proven wrong. She was related to Crichton?!  “You are related to the Crichton who came here? From Earth?” Maybe he had heard wrong. He wanted to be wrong.

Valerie eyed him nervously.  “Well, yeah. Why? Is that a good thing? Or…?”

Juran tried to wrap his mind around this new development. More family. While he had grown up knowing his own mother and at least thinking he knew who his father was, he knew that the men and women in the ranks had no such privileges. A privilege he would have traded them many times through the cycles, if it meant being away from his own mother. But regardless, by having a system that utilized breeders and that raised their children in crèches, he understood that no one ever knew who their parents were or if they had siblings or other relatives. 

It was a system he’d grown up in and given little thought to. Finding out earlier that he had a sister had seemed important to him for some reason. But even now she was more of an abstract problem to solve than an actual person. But the woman beside him was here, now -- flesh and blood. His blood. It was a strange feeling.

“No, there’s nothing wrong. It was a close call, that’s all.  My mother hates Crichton. Obsessively so. For more reasons than one.” He turned the chair to look out at the stars. “For one, she was there… when he used the wormhole weapon. She was in charge of the Peacekeeper fleet. He made her look like a fool. Not something she forgives easily.” He shook his head. “If she finds out who you are, not just of Earth, but of John Crichton, she will not rest until she finds you. And me.” He smiled grimly. “She’s insane, you know.”

“Really?”

Juran nodded his head. “Really.”

“Well, that just…sucks.  I don’t know what to say,” Valerie spoke carefully.  “I wondered why… I mean… I’ve heard of children rebelling against their parents, but helping me escape was a little over the top.”

“Have I mentioned yet, how much I like your turns of phrase?  The translator microbes render them exactly, but the flavor is often lost.  The result is often hilarious.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time.

Valerie knew misdirection when she saw it.  “Juran?” she said gently.  “You can talk to me, you know.”

Juran suddenly felt trapped even though the ship wasn’t that small. But with nowhere to go he didn’t have many options. And stunning her, while somewhat appealing, seemed like it would bring more trouble later on than he was willing pay. Against his will, long buried emotions began to emerge.  “If you really want to know, my mother is a tralk, in the literal sense.  She has an implanted gland here,” he pointed to his chest. “… the secretions of which make her irresistible to men.  More than irresistible. She takes away their free will. She used that as a tool to gain her present position of power.  She can have any man she wants, any way she wants, as many times as she wants, and he will enjoy it.  He won’t be able to help himself…until afterwards.  Many men end up addicted, and subservient to her. A few have been known to kill themselves rather than remain in her power.”

“Okaaay…” Valerie said slowly, feeling like she’d stepped off into deep water.

Juran continued.  “Back before the last battle, before Crichton played his game of chicken, my mother had him in her hands for a time.”

Valerie gulped, suddenly nauseous.  “She had Uncle John? And she…?”

“Yes,” Juran snapped.

“What happened?”

Juran laughed bitterly.  “I just found about it myself so I’m not sure of the details. He escaped, obviously. No doubt that’s why she’s been obsessed with him ever since.  She would not have forgotten or forgiven such a thing.”  He looked over at her. “It’s a very good thing you didn’t meet her.”

Valerie thought that was probably the understatement of the century. “Can’t say I’m disagreeing with you on that one.”

The silence grew again and she noticed Juran trying not to look at her. Something else was bothering him.

“Is that it?”

“What?

“Is there anything else you want to tell me? I’m getting that vibe again.”

“I don’t have a ‘vibe’, ” Juran said.

“Oh yes, you do. There’s still something you’re not telling me. I can feel it. You might as well you know. I’ll just keep nagging and nagging and….”

“Yes! Okay.” The Aurora chair didn’t have anything on Valerie Carelli. “There is one thing.  She did get something she wanted when she had him at her mercy.  His DNA.”

Valerie felt suddenly icy. This was going from bad to worse.  “His DNA? As in…?”

“As in his sperm. As in she used it to have a child.”

Oh, my god. “She had a child? Uncle John’s ch….”  She paused, unwilling to continue.

Juran’s bitterness reached full flower.  “No. She had children. Plural.  I didn’t know it growing up, but I’ve had a sister all this time.  I was enough for Mother, I suppose.  A surrogate for my long departed father, the only man who had ever escaped her.  She didn’t want her female child. Not as a daughter, anyway. She had other uses for her.  I have some details, but most are sketchy.  I only recently discovered that my mother has been keeping her alive, but sequestered, on an outpost planet.  That is where we are headed. I’m going to get her out of there.”  He paused.  “Taking you out of my mother’s grasp was good fortune and a good beginning, but it’s still only the beginning.”

Valerie blinked. It was more than she could take in. Cousin?  Her family grew before her eyes.  Sort of.  Maybe, kissin' cousins. She stuck out her hand. “Well, hello…cuz.”

He stared at her hand and then slowly reached out his own. Her hand felt warm in his and he squeezed it lightly before letting her go. He turned back to take the Marauder off auto-nav.   “Try to get some rest,” Juran said in a weary tone.  “We’ll be approaching Panex in a couple of arns, and I need to fake a convincing flight log.”

The cockpit was silent for the rest of the trip. Both occupants had a lot to think about. 

Җ

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On Approach to Panex System…


“Frell!”

Valerie jolted awake.  Considering that she was on an alien spaceship with said alien sitting right next to her, she couldn’t believe that she’d fallen asleep.  There was silence, then more cursing.  “What’s the matter?” she asked sleepily.

She turned her head to find him staring at her. “What?” She suddenly realized her hair was a mess and the rest of her, well, she wasn’t winning any beauty contests today. “Don’t worry, I clean up better than this,” she said apologetically.

“You are not required to clean, Valerie.”

He said it with such earnestness that she couldn’t even laugh at the mistake. God, he looked good. Tired, maybe, and even paler than usual, but…good. She felt her body starting to get that prickly feeling and quickly looked away. Now was not the time to start something she wasn’t sure either one of them could finish. Did aliens even have the same… Don’t go there Val, she told herself. Remember where you are.

“So, what’s the matter?” she asked again.

Juran sighed.  “I should have set my pulse pistol to kill before I shot Kranar. If I had known this back on the Command Carrier, I would have.”

Valerie frowned, unsure if he was joking or not. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“He neglected to tell me that this piece of dren Marauder needs its sensor system overhauled,” he growled, sounding both tired and irritable.  “I can only read what’s right in front of us, which won’t do a pleebing thing for us if we’re being pursued.  There could be a Command Carrier in our wake, and I wouldn’t know it until their weapons fire announced its presence.” 

He fiddled with the sensor controls, trying to reconfigure them so that the few circuits that were still working would carry the load for the whole array.  “You worthless hazmot,” he muttered as his temper frayed further.  The lights cleared for a moment and he smiled.  Then the whole panel flickered twice, and went dark, except for a single light in the upper right corner.  The overload light.  He tried resetting the sensors, to no avail.  “Frell!”

“Okay, I know what that word means,” Valerie said.  “And it isn’t good.  How not good is it?”

Juran grunted with self-disgust.    “The whole array has blown. We are blind as a barkan.”

“I guess now wouldn’t be a good time to bring up any questions about the quality of Peacekeeper techs, would it?” Valerie asked with a smirk.

“Not unless you want to space walk the rest of the way to Panex,” Juran growled. 

“The thing will land, won’t it?”

Juran kept his fingers flying over the controls as he shrugged.  “Well, we’ll find out when I try to land.  I was going to try and have its hull reworked to get rid of its identity numbers, but that’s out of the question now.  We’ll have to hope that Kranar knows his mercenaries better than he knows his ships, because we’ll need one that has his own ship.  Preferably a ship that’s better armed than this one is.”

“You haven’t told me about Panex,” she said, trying to get his mind off their problems. Or maybe to distract herself.

Juran shrugged slightly.  “It’s a fueling stop.  That’s about it.  Some commerce, some light manufacturing, some agriculture and a few colonists; but mostly it’s just a fuel depot.”

“Any shopping there?  Because seriously, I gotta tell you, that outfit of yours stinks.”

Juran sighed.  “If you think that it’s bad from over there, you should try wearing it.”  He looked at their navigational readouts.  “According to my calculations, we should be turning onto an approach vector right about…”  he made a few adjustments and changed their vector  “….now.”  A planet swam into their view port.  “And there it is.  I…” 

He was cut off by Valerie’s yell. “Holy crap!”

Something big and fast flashed by them as a muted clang sounded through the Marauder’s hull.  Reflexively, Juran worked at the controls, though it did little good.  He could only sent his best regards after the pilot of the rapidly receding ship that they’d just brushed.  “Frelling dranick!  Where’d you learn to pilot?  Nebari Prime?”

Җ

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Onboard the Nostromo ….



“The pleebing magra-fahrbot!  Couldn’t he see us?  Was the stupid son of a hazmot blind?  Did you see him, Vee?  He never even wiggled, not even after I hailed the sorry bastard!  He’s deaf, too!”

“Shhh…Blez out,” Veela said.  “What does your father say?  A miss is as good as a mile?  What exactly is a mile anyway?”

D’Argo knew she was trying to distract him, but he didn’t want to be distracted.  He wanted to kill someone.  He fingered his weapons console.  “The stupid drannick broke off my high gain antenna.  Now I’m going to have to cough up more credits dirtside to replace it.  I ought to take it out of his hide!”

“Dar, this isn’t the time or the place to attract attention.  That was a PK Marauder.  They take a dim view of people that shoot up their ships.”

D’Argo sighed, and took a deep breath as he kept them on their landing approach.  “You’re right, but if I ever get my hands on the sorry son of a tralk, he’ll regret the day he was born!”

Җ

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Fifty microts later……

The Marauder hovered above a shallow ravine, then settled slowly onto its landing pads, listing only slightly before it came to a stop.  Its engines were running muffled to avoid alerting anyone to their presence there.  They were within half an arn’s walk of the port, which meant that unmuffled engines would have been heard clearly there.  Once the ship was down, the engines died and its occupants emerged.

“So, what now, hot shot?”

Juran threw her a dirty look, but ignored the comment. He was learning. “First, help me cover this piece of dren with some brush.  I don’t want anyone seeing it from the air.”

“Will do.”

An arn later they were approaching the outskirts of Panex port on foot when she stopped him with a hand to his arm.  “So, you gonna tell me now what we’re supposed to do when we get to this Depot place?”

“Our first priority is to find Flagot, find a mercenary or mercenaries with a ship, and get the Hezmana off of this planet.”

“Nope,” she shook her head as she wrinkled her nose in disgust.  “Those are not our top priorities.”

“And what is that supposed mean?” he answered.

“Clothes.  We have to get you out of those stinking rags, or no one is going to be able to hold a conversation with you without gagging.”

Juran sighed.  “All right then, clothes.”

Valerie nodded.  “Then we find Flagot.”

“Are all Earth women as pushy as you?”

She chuckled wryly.  “Nope, most are much pushier than I am.  It comes from being smarter than the men are.  Come on, stinky, let’s find the local outlet mall.”

Juran released another long-suffering sigh and wondered what had happened to the respected Peacekeeper Lieutenant women couldn’t say no to. “I know I’m going to regret this, but what’s an outlet mall?”

   

Җ

[/b][/size]

 

Juran sat at the table with Val next to him. He fingered the collar of his new vest and squirmed a bit at the tight leather pants he’d purchased from the clothing vendor.  The clothes were courtesy of his human companion, of course. He would never have bought them on his own, but she had insisted and somehow she had gotten her way.

He looked around the common room of the ramshackle commerce center they had here on Panex. It looked like what it was: a place where everyday travelers mingled with the lowest of the low. It had pretensions of respectability, but underneath the surface it was dirty and unkempt, with a vaguely sour smell from one too many stomachs heaving. Across from them sat a Rimbara male known only as Flagot.  Kranar had been right, Flagot was not a very nice man, however, right now, he was just what Juran needed. Apparently, anything that went on here went through Flagot, for a fee.  He was the distributor of information and men, if that was what was needed. And right now Juran needed manpower badly.

It galled him to admit it, but he wasn’t going to be able to get his sister off  Ne-Sa Ren by himself.  His companion might be a good fighter, and he’d managed before he’d left to get the coordinates and schematics of the planet and compound where his sister was being held, but even with Valerie’s help, he couldn’t disable alarms, fight off the guards and find out if his sister was in any shape to travel before he got them out of there.  He’d need one, maybe two more reliable fighters, and preferably not the dimmest light sticks in the universe.

Which was why he was talking to Flagot.
“My people told me you’d be able to find me help if I needed it.” Juran pulled out a small bag full of credits and jiggled it a little before opening it and taking one out to toss to Flagot. While the man examined it, Juran picked up the cup of raslak and took a drink, then sat it back down. “I need it. One, maybe two mercenaries. Fighters I can trust not to go running to the Peacekeepers the microt my back is turned.”

Flagot, like all Rimbarians, was short and stocky with red hair and sallow skin. And, like all Rimbarians, the little man had the longest facial hair Juran had ever seen. His mustache was combed neatly, but his braided beard must have reached down to his waist. Not very practical in a fight, but then, Flagot didn’t do the fighting. He made sure others did.

Now he was stroking the mustache, up and down, as he eyed the bag of credits greedily. “Yes, yes, ordinarily it wouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately, business has been booming in this quadrant lately. Right now anyone who could help you has been called away on other jobs. I’m so sorry.” From the look in his eyes as he eyed the pouch Juran could believe he meant it.  But that was farhbot.

“All of them?” Juran said incredulously.

“Yes, all of them, I’m afraid,” Flagot said. “Most unusual, but there you are.”

 “You mean to tell me there’s not one miserable criminal left on the whole frelling planet?” He was shouting now.

“Sshhh! What the frell are you trying to do? Get us all arrested?” Flagot gazed around at the people who were suddenly looking at them until they busied themselves quickly. “And, yes,” he hissed, “there are plenty of miserable criminals here on the depot, there just aren’t any good ones. If you want someone who will cut and run at the first sign of trouble, I can accommodate you.”

“Juran, calm down.” Valerie gave him disgusted look. To Flagot she said, “Excuse us just a moment.” Taking Juran’s hand she stood and tugged at him until he stood up too. She moved them both a short distance from the table.

 “What are you doing?” Val asked in a low voice.

“I’m trying to get us some help.” Juran said.

“Well, from where I’m sitting it looks like you’re going to screw it up.”  They were standing front to front and as she leaned closer to him he could feel the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest.  His breathing hitched, but that was nothing compared to when she put her lips to his ear. “Let me handle this,” she whispered. “I’ve run across his type before. Trust me.”  The feel of her breath against his ear made his whole body come to attention. He was still trying to form a coherent thought when Val straightened and moved back to table, only this time to sit closer to Flagot.  He had no choice but to follow her.

She moved one of Flagot’s hands that was stroking his mustache and took over the task of sliding her hand up and down the braided hair.  From the expression on the little man’s face he was finding it quite pleasurable. Juran guessed he didn’t get that kind of female attention very often. And wouldn’t again, if Juran had any say in it. Did she have any idea what she was doing? But, then, why would she?

“Valerie, I don’t think you want to…” he started. 

Val turned her head toward him. “Please. Just give me minute. I’m negotiating.” 

If Juran hadn’t been so disturbed to see her hands on the man, he might have been more amused.  Even so, his lips twitched.

“Mr. Flagot.” Her hand continued to stoke. “Forgive my friend there. It’s just…it’s really very important that we find someone to help us. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do, but…” Flagot closed his eyes for a microt.

“I’m sure you know everything that goes on here. I bet nothing gets by you,” she continued.

“No, nothing,” he squeaked.

“I knew you were an important man the moment I saw you. Which means you’re the only one who can get us the help we need.”

Flagot beamed at her, breathing unevenly. “Oh, yes. I’m the only one to come to when you want something done. Nobody better than me.”

“I didn’t think so,” said Val.  “But you see, we are in a bit of a hurry and we really need some help now. We can’t afford to wait until the others return. And we have all these credits just waiting for you.” She reached over and plucked the money pouch from the table and jingled it again.  She leaned in closer. “Isn’t there anyone, anyone at all, who might fit the bill?”

Flagot’s eyes were starting to glaze over and he suddenly gave a little gasp. Valerie’s hand stopped stroking. She looked over at Juran, who was looking completely disgusted. Flagot shook his head and cleared his throat, turning her attention back to him. “Ah, yes. Help you say. In a hurry. Well, it’s true that all of our regular fighters are gone, however…”

“However?” Juran prompted.

“There is one person who just arrived today that might be able to help you. If he’ll take the job. He is a bit particular about who he hires out to.”

“Particular, is he? Well, I guess it can’t hurt to ask,” Juran said. “Where would we find this particular mercenary?”

“Ah, that’s the beauty of it.” Flagot said. “He and his young lady are right over there in the corner.” He motioned to a Sebacean man and Nebari woman sitting at another table across the room, before grabbing the bag of credits and putting him in his pocket. He turned to Val. “And I’d like to think you, my dear, for the most enjoyable recreation I’ve had in a long time.”

Valerie looked puzzled. “Recreation?”

Flagot gave a wide grin. “Oh, yes. You didn’t know? My people have erogenous zones in the hair. It’s quite the sensation. I usually have to pay for that service. Most enjoyable.” He tittered and stood up just as Juran did.

“That’s enough,” Juran growled. He might have known what was happening, but that didn’t mean he had liked it.

“I must be going. I am all finished here.” Flagot stood up as he winked at Val.

“Eeewww.” Val rubbed her hand on her pants leg.

“Wait a microt,” Juran said, as Flagot turned to leave. “You didn’t tell us the name of this particular man. Who are we trying to hire?”

“Oh, dear,” said Flagot. “Did I forget to tell you. Must have been preoccupied,” he smirked at Val.  “His name is Crichton. And I’d advise you to be careful. Don’t want to get on the bad side of that one. His daddy might suck you into a black hole.” Flagot hurried away.

Juran stood unmoving. He didn’t notice that Flagot had gone or that Val had moved closer. He was staring at the man across the room who was talking earnestly to his Nebari companion. A man who looked to be about his own age.

A Crichton.

A brother.

[imloco2]

Җ

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D’Argo clenched his teeth and tried to keep from snapping at Veela. It wasn’t her fault he didn’t know how the hez he was going to get the girl, uh, his sister, off the goddess forsaken planet she was being held prisoner on.  He’d pulled a few strings here on Panex and had gotten hold of some high altitude surveillance maps of the planet. He’d even talked to a few old warmongers and had a general idea of what to expect when he got to Ne-Sa Ren. But a few maps and vague ideas wouldn’t get you anything but dead.  He needed specific Peacekeeper information and Veela’s contacts weren’t being much help, either.

He supposed he could wait till his father and mother got there. His dad's last words were ‘Just hold on, we’re coming’. Yep. John Crichton to the rescue.  D’Argo snorted softly.  Of course he shouldn’t have expected anything else. What else was his dad going to do after he’d heard the news that he had a kid he didn’t know about?  His mother’s reaction had surprised him a little, though. Okay, a lot. Aeryn Sun Crichton was known for a lot of things, but restraint wasn’t one of them. He’d thought for sure that she would blow up like a pufflin and go Rambo on his dad, but instead she’d just taken a deep breath and said they’d talk about it when they got here.

Frell.  He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but it was obvious that he was missing some vital piece of information here. In the back of his mind he had assumed that his dad at least would deny the possibility and tell him it was all a mistake, but that hadn’t happened. They had been shocked when he’d told them about Grayza supposedly having a child by John Crichton. And yet… somehow they weren’t. It was just frelling odd, that’s all.  And now he was reduced to sitting here waiting for the cavalry while a girl who shared the same blood as he did was sold off like so much space drek.

Frell that!

“D’Argo? You’re not still tinked about that pilot, are you?”

The voice beside him brought him out of his reverie. Veela. Thank the Goddess she was here. He didn’t want to think what he’d do without her. And she had given him the perfect distraction. That damned idiot pilot.  He ground his teeth a little harder.

“No, I’m fine. Although if I catch up to the son of a tralk…” He let the words die out as Veela’s fingers covered his lips.

“Yeah, I know. You’ll make him sorry he was ever born. But right now we have to figure out how we’re going to get your sister out of that place.”

D’Argo lifted his cup of raslak and suddenly paused. We?  “With all this going on, I didn’t think. Prime is surely missing you by now. You have to get back.”

Veela was already shaking her head, no. “I’m not going anywhere until you’ve got her out of there. Don’t even think about it.”

“But you’ll be compromised. I can’t let you…”

“So I’ll be compromised.” She turned her dark eyes on him and he was lost. “You need me,” she said. 

His eyes darkened as he looked at her. They were both dedicated to stopping the Nebari, but there was a part of him that sighed with relief that she wouldn’t be going back. She was right. He needed her.

“Always.” He leaned towards her to land a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat to the right of him.

D’Argo leaned back and brought up his pulse pistol where it could be seen. It was pointing straight at the couple now standing by their table. They could have passed for a Sebacean couple, except for the fact that the man had some counter shading on his face that reminded D’Argo of the Nebari, though not as defined as a Nebari, and much lighter. The girl was beautiful, with medium-length golden hair and deep brown eyes. And she was looking at him like she knew him. Which wasn’t possible. He’d have remembered her.

Who the frell were these people? And better yet, why were they here at his table?

“Do I know you?” D’Argo asked, looking up at both of the newcomers.

“No. We were told…” the man started.

“No? Then go away. You’re not invited.” He sensed their rejection of his demand and tensed. Frell, he didn’t want to get in a fight here, but then again maybe a good fight was just what he needed to alleviate some of his frustration. And the big fellow looked like he might be worth the trouble it would cause.

“Now see here, you arrogant---"

D’Argo stood up quickly, unsure of the man’s intentions. He thought the guy was going to bust a vein the way he was puffing up. 

The strange woman squeezed her companion’s arm and cut the man off as she spoke. She turned to Veela and held out her hand.  “Hi! I’m Valerie.”  Veela hesitated slightly before grasping it with her own.  D’Argo sucked in a breath as every nerve came to life. English. She had spoken frelling English!  That was the first time since he’d left home that he’d heard the familiar human language. He could speak both English and Sebacean, of course, but he used Sebacean the most.  In the UT’s that was common enough.  And the ‘handshake’ wasn’t a custom here in the Uncharted Territories either.  The last thing you wanted was to show a possible enemy that your hand didn’t have a weapon in it.  The only reason he knew about it was because of his dad and his attempts to drill ‘manners’ into his children. So why was this woman speaking his dad’s language and using Earth customs?  Surely she wasn’t…

D’Argo had been prepared to get rid of the strangers quickly, but that course of action changed abruptly. He had to find out what was going on. Not to mention that Veela was already motioning them to sit in the empty chairs at their table. He knew better than to tell Vee she couldn’t do what she wanted to do. If she wanted them to join them, there was only one thing to do.  He sat down.

If these people knew who he was, they also knew he was human. Well, half.  What D’Argo needed to do was find out if they had learned Earth customs somehow to gain his acceptance, or if there was another, more outlandish reason. Whatever it was, nothing was going to stop him from going to Ne-Sa Ren. Nothing.

The strangers took a seat and the man took the lead again.  “You’ve met Valerie.  My name is Juran. We were told by,” he hesitated, “…someone, that you hire out. We need a mercenary with his own ship, preferably armed, for a rescue operation and we need to leave immediately.”

D’Argo cut him off.  “Not interested,” he said brusquely.

Juran took a deep breath and started again.  “I can pay and pay well. I was told that you were particular about who you hired on with, but I assure you that you’ll find this job worthwhile. It’s a family matter.”

D’Argo cut him off again.  “What part of ‘not interested’ did you fail to understand?  I don’t care if you want to rescue your own mother from a Pruthian slaver’s compound, I have my own family issues to deal with right now, and they outweigh yours."

He saw the two girls looking at each other and rolling their eyes as the two men sparred.

Juran’s face had darkened at D’Argo’s remark. “Listen, you stupid hingemot, if you weren’t such a gutless trankass, you would stop running your mouth and listen.  You don’t know what I want until I tell you.  What have you got planned, anyway?  Another smuggling run?” 

He stopped as Valerie slid her hands gently across the table in a placating manner, touching each man’s hand on the table top. “Now, boys,” she began, before grabbing two fingers on each of their hands in a firm grip and bending them back sharply while pressing their hands firmly to the table.  Neither man could wrench his hand free without causing himself some serious pain.

“What the frell?!”  D’Argo looked at Veela, who was standing to the side, her lips twitching. “Vee! You just gonna stand there?”

“Uh, huh,” Veela nodded.

“Valerie,” Juran began.

“Hush. Let’s just dispense with all the male posturing, shall we?” Valerie said with mock sweetness.  “That will only lead to the two of you beating the crap out of each other while we girls watch and snicker about it, and in the end, once everyone’s cards are on the table, you’ll both be embarrassed as hell.  Besides, while a little testosterone in the air can be sexy, too much gives me hives.” 

Veela arched an eyebrow and smiled approvingly as Valerie spoke and D’Argo could tell Vee liked this girl a lot.  In his current state, that wasn’t something he was really pleased about, but he was beginning to respect this newcomer too. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. He’d about had his fill of life-altering surprises for the cycle and somehow he knew this was going to be another one of them.

He sighed as Valerie let their fingers go and flexed his hand to get the feeling back. 

Valerie looked at D’Argo.  “Now, first of all I’d like to say, hi cuz.  Your dad and my mother share the same parents, so that makes us family.”

Yep. This was definitely one of those surprises.

She nodded at a tightlipped Juran while keeping her eyes on D’Argo and added, “Second, you and he share the same father, so that makes you family too.”

“Wait just a frelling microt!” D’Argo shouted, as he jumped up.

“Shut up and sit down. I’m not finished,” Valerie said.

His blood was pumping hard and his head was pounding, but he sat. What was she, some kind of witch?

She began again. “We are on a mission to spring his twin sister,” she glared at D’Argo, “that would be your sister too, from some shit hole planet out here.  We need transport and weapons.   We were looking for just any old mercenary, but here you are. The fact that you just sort of fell into our lap is simple serendipity at work, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  Seems to me we’re all on the same side here, so how about you both stop behaving like boys, and start acting like grown men?  Hmmm?”

“You know, I’m half-inclined to shoot you just on general principles,” D'Argo began, waving  Veela silent as she started to argue with him.  “But this is just too strange a story not to be true.  It certainly fits with the Crichton luck. We need to talk, but not here. Do you have any objections to continuing this discussion aboard my ship?” He stood and drained his drink as he waved the others to their feet.  “I still may kick your frelling eema from here to Tortured Space, but I’ll talk first, and I promise not to shoot the both of you.” He looked at Juran. “Well, maybe you.”

Valerie grinned.  “Atta boy, Buck.  Grampa Jack would be proud of you.”

D’Argo reddened and growled under his breath.  Thanks to his father, he recognized the Earth reference.  “I am not Buck Rogers!”  Then he spun on his heel stalked away, leaving the others to follow him out of the building.

Җ

[/b][/size]



A few microts later they were walking silently across the tarmac towards the Nostromo, with its shiny new high gain antenna sticking out from the more worn hull.

Juran recognized the ship as the one that he had bumped earlier and grinned to himself as they neared it. “Nice ship.”

D’Argo growled incoherently.

Juran was silent a moment, then added, “Is that a new high gain antenna?”

D’Argo’s shoulder tightened visibly.  You could almost hear the enamel flaking off of his grinding teeth.

“Hey, watch it!” Juran murmured as Valerie kicked him in the shin, and quelled him with a glance. The woman did not share his sense of humor.

Valerie leaned up close to him as they walked, keeping her voice low. “Please try not to antagonize your brother the pilot. At least not until ‘after’ we have your sister.”

Juran felt the current leap between them and his voice turned husky as he whispered back. “For you, I shall try to refrain.”

He saw D’Argo glance at him and Valerie with a frown, though he didn’t know why he was looking at them like that. Almost, disapprovingly.  Perhaps he could feel the growing heat between them and was jealous. Of course he had the Nebari girl, but Valerie was special.  The thought that his ‘brother’ might be interested in Valerie wiped all traces of amusement away instantly.   She would have much more in common with a half-human raised by a human than she would with him.  He found he didn’t like that idea at all.

They reached the ship and D’Argo flung one arm out. “Welcome aboard the Nostromo.”

Valerie stopped and looked up at the ship.  “You do know what you’ve named your ship after, right?”

D’Argo grinned.  “Dad has a lot of Earth artifacts.  Alien was my favorite movie growing up.”

Valerie nodded.  “Just so you remember what happened to the crew.  Ellen Ripley, I’m not.  Let’s get aboard and talk.” 

Juran, not having understood anything they had just said, could only frown and follow up the stairs. It was going to be a long flight.



To be continued...