Space

Yes, I know you're all going...Space... the final frontier. Don't feel bad I did it too and I WROTE the darn thing.

I have to admit the thought intriegued me. What was going through everyone's mind that first night on Moya. I figure Zhaan was praying. Rygel was snurching and D'Argo was plotting or brooding or building up to a hyper rage.

John and Aeryn were a bit more difficult but I figure everyone was trying to settle in in thier own way.

And I thought who would have had the hardest time? First thought would be John. After all he was the stranger in the strange land. But I kinda think he was still in shock. After he finished up his message to dad he probably curled up in a ball and went to sleep from pure exhaustion. It had been a long day.

But Aeryn (and yes ya'll know she is my POV character) Aeryn I think would have had it worst of all. Cut off from everything she knew. Condemned to a fate worse than death, surounded by three creatures she despised and one she didn't understand. And she's in this mess cause she couldn't keep her mouth shut. A soldier used to being one of the pack in nice neat little boxes suddenly forced in to being an individual and surrounded by all that space.

Had to be terrifying.

So here's what I thought might be going through the future Mrs. Crichton's head when she first met her intended. ... Lordy if only she knew.
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Title: Space
Rating: G
Time Frame: During the Premiere

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She wasn't used to so much space. She had always lived her life within lines. Dormitories, classrooms, regiments, regulations. They kept her boxed in, confined. They kept her safe.

Even among the stars there were the limitations of the cockpit. The squawk and noise of the communications. The hum of engines. Marking the stars as she flew past. All named and numbered and calculated. She was never alone. Not even then.

But here in this place, with these people... There was too much space.

She sat on the bed and took her boots off and placed them neatly at the foot. Six denches in from either side and two out from the end. She had no locker... but the dimensions were about right. In any case, they would have to do.

She took off her weapon and started dismantle it for cleaning and then remembered she had no kit. But she sat there holding it for the amount of time it would have taken to clean it if she could because what else was she to do? What was there other than rules and regulations and the thrill of flight and fight? What was...she ... if she didn't have those things?

Irreversibly contaminated. Diseased. Dead. Exiled to...

Space.

She did not know why she had taken the human with her when they'd gotten out of the cell. She did not know why she'd spoken up for him with Crais. She did not know why she hadn't killed him to begin with when he'd first offered his hand and told her his name.

After all that's what she'd been trained to do. It's what she was, from birth. A soldier, a pilot, a Pliesar commando. One of the best, the Elite and because of him now it was all over. And here she was with all this space.

She placed the weapon under her pillow and placed the holster neatly on the back of the single chair. It was followed by her jacket and her pants. Folded tight in regulation squares and ready to be slipped on at a moments notice. And that was that. The routine was finished. By all accounts now she should lie down and sleep.

But she couldn't. Not even if she'd wanted to. The silence was too loud and the smells weren't right. No Chakan oil, no leather. No unwashed bodies, no stench of stale sex. She should be able to feel Henta above her. See her hand flopped over the side of the bunk like it always was. She should be able to hear Penax snoring over to her right. She should have another mission scheduled in neat letters on the duty roster. She should be home where things made sense.

But because of an impulse she was here instead.

She sat on the bed, then lay down, then got up again finally opting to pull herself into the corner where it met the wall and pull her knees to her chest. It felt better now that her back was protected. Funny, how she'd always complained before about having to always be part of a unit. A team. How in order to survive you had to stand out. Be more, do more.

And now all she wanted was to be back among the faceless hoards. A number. One among many.

She leaned her head back against the leviathan's smooth hard wall and wondered if she closed her eyes would it sound like the engines of a command carrier. If she listened hard enough would she hear the whispered conversations and assorted body movements that always preceded her descent into sleep. Would it clear her mind of thoughts that had no place in her world, of things she had no right to feel. Would it clear her mind of...

Him.

They didn't scare her, the prisoners. Not the Delvian or the Hynerian slug. Not even the Luxan caused her undue concern. She'd killed her share of them at the battle of Termian Sug. They didn't scare her, but she did scare them a little despite their bravado and that's just as she liked it, just as it should be until she figured a way out of this mess.

But the human. Now he was something different.

She could still feel him. Chest heaving between her thighs, still feel his hands grasping distractedly at hers before she'd left him to contact Crais on that commerce planet. Still see those blue eyes that looked at her with a mixture of confusion and awe and some other thing she had no name for. But not fear. At least not of her. Of this place maybe, of not finding his precious "Erp." But even after she'd beaten him down he'd reacted only with indignation...not fear.

And he should be afraid of her. Weak, backward species that he was.

"My name is John," he'd said. As though he were her equal. As though he had a right to talk to her like he did.

"My name is John," he'd said as though he were a new recruit to her unit. As though he knew her already.

And what scared her was... she felt like he did.

He looked like her. That had to be the explanation for why she'd aligned herself with him so quickly. He looked like her when the others didn't and as much as she hated to admit it he wasn't completely useless. He'd hidden the eating utensil and managed to fool the guards when they'd been captured. He'd been a good enough tech to get them away from Crais guns.

He'd told her she could be more.

She opened her eyes again because all she could see with hers closed were his and there were places she saw in them that she did not want to go. There was something more to him as well. She could smell it beneath the sweat and confusion and the musk that was male. And she wondered again if she shouldn't have just killed him and been done with it.

She looked around. It was dark. The Leviathan had lowered the lights for night cycle. But the dark didn't hide the emptiness so she couldn't sleep yet. But that was just as well because she had work to do. She had to figure a way out of this mess. There had to be a way. To redeem herself. To get back what she'd lost in an instants bad judgment.

And she'd start with the human. After all it was all his fault. He'd gotten her into this. She'd see to it he fixed it. Or she would fix him.

His name was John.