Cloths Of Heaven (G)

[KernilCrash]

Cloths Of Heaven

Sequels:  ‘Heaven's Gate’ and ‘Cholak's Demon’

Word 6.0 Printable Version


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First posted:  May 7, 2002.

Rating:  G. 
Disclaimer:  The characters and vision of Farscape belong to Henson Co., so if I made a profit off this, I’d send them a check.  Didn’t, won’t.
Category:  Alternate Universe. 
Spoilers:  This contains substantial spoilers for “Dog With Two Bones” (Ep 3.22).  If you haven’t seen it, please save yourself and go away. 

Acknowledgements:  Thank you’s still need to go to three people:  SniperGrl78 for beta-reading this venture and providing a very much needed kick in the pants to keep writing; a coworker, known here only as Rocket, for giving me some much needed insight into the ‘male perspective’, primarily concerning love and betrayal; and to JohnsKeedvaBBQ for the ongoing support for my writing and for the unhesitating constructive criticism when I deserve it most. 

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Note To The Reader:  Please keep in mind that this was written last spring after ‘Dog With Two Bones’ aired, in an attempt to temporarily resolve the cliffhanger at the end of Season 3.  This was originally posted on the Dominion Board prior to the beginning of Season 4, so any apparent prescience on my part needs to be attributed to the compelling vision created by the writers and cast of Farscape.     

Hope you still enjoy it.

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PART 1

She strolled into the maintenance facility and was aware of the heads turning to watch her.  The crash and hum of machinery faded slowly as she made her way to the raised central station where the foreman was monitoring the progress of the various repairs, the scream of an engine on a test platform at the far end slicing into the growing silence.  She glanced at a few of the gawking faces, but for the most part she ignored the stares and the quiet whispers of speculation.

It took time for her to reach the foreman’s station, which was located almost two thirds of the way down the enormous building.  This was one of the largest repair centers in the quadrant, and they boasted of being able to handle anything short of a Command Carrier.  She saw the bulk of a cruiser through an open hangar door, and wondered how they had gotten it down to the planet.  The clangs and shouts resumed behind her as she continued, carrying silence alongside her like a wave. 

She drew to a halt by the raised island of consoles and looked up at the tall Sebacean who was running the operation.  He was filthy, covered head to foot in grime and grease.  She considered it a good sign when the supervision was willing to get as far into the work as the laborers, perhaps this place deserved its reputation for being one of the best.  He wiped sweat off his forehead with an equally dirty sleeve and glanced at her enquiringly. 

“I’m looking for someone,” she stated flatly.
 
He handed a wad of schematics to a technician and vaulted over the consoles to land next to her with a light thump.  “Gallenn’s the name.  Will I do?”  She looked him over and shook her head.  His impudence and brash grin were inviting though, and she couldn’t prevent a small smile from creeping on to her face. 

“I was told you have a technician named Latgah working here.  I’d like to talk to him.”  She stared into his eyes without wavering and saw the indecision forming there.  His expression sobered, and he suddenly seemed more cautious.  “I know he works for you, I only want to talk with him, nothing more.”   

He broke away from the gaze and looked over his shoulder at a sleek courier ship.  It was equipped with the new Rhotarri Drive engines.  The best information she had been able to obtain indicated that the new drive system somehow used folded space theory to put ‘there’ next to ‘here’ and then jumped through the boundary.  The military and criminal potential was staggering as there was no way to trace it, and no way for anyone except the pilot to know where a ship was headed when it disappeared.  There was also a quiet rumor that this facility owned a share in the new technology.     

Gallenn seemed to make up his mind, pointing to a platform under one of the courier ship’s engines, “He’s working up in there.”  She was impressed.  Anyone qualified to work on the new system was a specialist of the highest caliber.  She hadn’t heard of another facility that accepted the new ships for maintenance.   

It took only microts for her to cross the remaining distance and run up the ladder to the work platform, but when she swung onto the decking there was no one in sight.  She approached the engine and saw a pair of tan colored boots swinging, the attached legs disappearing into the cowling where the tech was working.  She could hear him humming, occasionally accompanied by the echoing clatter of a tool.  She wasn’t quite sure how to get his attention, wasn’t even sure this was the man she was looking for. 

“I’m looking for someone named Latgah,” she finally called into the opening.  The swinging and the humming both stopped.  There was a clang and a tool bounced off the inside of the cowling, landing beneath the disembodied feet.  She waited, and he finally slid out of the workspace and ducked clear of the door.  He straightened up and her stomach did a double flip.  Relief.  Sweeping relief that she had finally found him.  She’d almost begun to believe the rumors that he was dead.

“Hello, John.”  She wanted to hug him, wanted to touch him, but he was standing rigidly, his posture shouting that he wouldn’t let that happen.       

He finished wiping his hands on a rag, not looking at her directly.  “Hello, Aeryn.” 

He was thinner and his hair had turned silvery gray, similar to Jack’s.  Aeryn assumed the trait had been inherited from his father, but it had been less than two cycles since she had seen him last and she had to fight to hide her surprise.  There was a new scar under one eye, but those were the only changes she could see.  John still wouldn’t look at her.  He carefully examined his already clean hands and worked at them again with the rag. 

“I’m glad to see you.”  She tried a slow approach, matching his reserve. 

“Been a while.”  He looked down the length of the building, apparently searching for something.  “You here by yourself?” 

“Yes.  Did you expect someone to be with me?”  This wasn’t going quite as she had imagined.  It had taken her so long to be ready for this, and then it had taken an entire cycle to find him.  She had spent the time thinking of how much he had loved her, how happy he would be to see her.  She knew now that a joyous greeting had been too much to expect. 

“I don’t know.  Someone told me you had a son or daughter.”  He picked up the tool, wiped that clean as well, and then finally looked her in the eye. 

“I …”  This was definitely not what she expected.  He couldn’t have known about that.  She hadn’t told anyone.  “I lost … I never had a child.”  His gaze broke away and he nodded, looking down at the rag that was still polishing the clean tool. 

“What can I do for you, Aeryn?”  This she had expected.  The stubborn reserve, the unwillingness to let go of what had happened in the past.  This was the John Crichton she had come to miss.  She sighed in relief, and moved to lean against a railing. 

“I’d like to talk.”  She waited for a reaction, but he wasn’t opening up.  She knew it would take more than a few arns to undo the damage she had caused, but she was ready to spend cycles, if necessary, proving to him that it was worth forgiving her.  “Can you get your employer to let you go for a little while?” 

He looked over his shoulder at the gaping opening in the skin of the ship, then looked across at the Sebacean standing in the center of the raised island.  Gallenn was leaning on one of his consoles, staring up at them.  John pointed at him and when he got a similar response he gave a series of hand signals, rapid and complex.  A fast exchange fired back and forth, a sharp two-handed system of gestures. 

Aeryn was familiar with a number of hand-signed battle languages, but this one looked like nothing she’d ever seen.  It made sense to use visual signals in an area as noisy as this.  Even noise canceling headsets would not cope well with the variety of shrieks and explosions that occasionally drowned out the steady din of machinery noises and ringing tools.  This hand system was intricate, she hadn’t detected a pattern or noticed any repetitions. 

John finished the silent conversation and shook his head.  “This one needs to go out this afternoon.  It’s top priority.”  He scratched his head and looked up at the ship.  “I can have it finished in three or four arns.  Why don’t you wait somewhere in the cantonment?  I can take off when I’m done with this.” 

She nodded and moved to the top of the ladder.  When she looked back he was already ducking back inside the engine.  “John?” she called.  He squatted down and looked at her without speaking.  “I’ve missed you.”  He nodded and boosted himself out of sight. 

‘Fluffy pink slippers,’ she remembered.  She’d done the same thing to him a long time ago.  Nothing he’d said had been able to goad her into talking.  She hadn’t been able to answer him then, hadn’t been able to talk to him for fear that all the tightly restrained emotions would come bursting out of her in an uncontrolled flood.  That had been different though.  She had been forced to watch him die.  She looked at the boots hanging out of ship, and hesitated, wondering if she should try again. 

She hadn’t meant to say ‘missed’, but when the moment came to say ‘I love you’, the words seemed to get stuck.  She had rehearsed the words for the better part of a cycle, and wanted to say them, but not until they were alone.  She wanted to be held and melt into that strong embrace, and to have him watching over her again just as she would watch out for him.  There wasn’t anything she wanted as much as to be annoyed at his untranslatable humanisms.  She looked back at the boots and continued her debate. 

Aeryn decided to wait until later, when she had his undivided attention.  She slid down the ladder, slowing her descent as she neared the bottom and pushing away to land lightly.  She moved back through the building at a pace just short of a jog, oblivious to the stares this time.  Her thoughts were focused entirely on the conversation she would have in several arns, the news she had of Moya and Pilot, and of the others.  She had located every person from the crew, and they were all eager to see John if she found him.  She’d been disturbed to discover that they all thought he was dead, but no one had been willing to explain the reason behind their assumption, not until they were sure he was alive. 

She left the repair facility and began to look for some place to purchase a meal.  She would eat and rest, and be ready to spend as much time as necessary explaining things to him.  She practiced the words in her mind as she walked -- “I love you.”  She didn’t need any practice feeling the emotion, it was only the words that got stuck.   

   * * * * *

John watched from inside the ship as the scaffolding shook and then bounced slightly.  When it was still again, he eased out of his enclosure and watched Aeryn walk down the center of the hangar.  Her aggressive stride was as athletic as ever, her figure just as slim and muscular.  Her physical appearance had changed very little.  The sight of her left him feeling weak and light-headed.  He had given up on the thought of ever seeing her again a long time ago. 

A flicker caught his eye and he looked at Gallenn, returned the pointing gesture that meant he was paying attention.  They had developed the system together, resolving a problem with transmitting information that had plagued the business since it had begun the expansion to its current success. 

“She’s gorgeous.  Do you want to go after her now?”  The signal didn’t actually mean gorgeous, it referred to the sleek lines of an interstellar racing yacht, but it was about as close as their hand language could get. 

“Not necessary.”  The signal for ‘No Priority’ was close enough, he decided.  “I’ll get to it later,” John sent back. 

“You’re nuts.”  That one actually did exist, they’d had to add it because they’d wanted to send it too often.  “How about I get to it first?” Gallenn suggested.  John laughed, looking at the grease smeared figure. 

“Take the …” he forgot the right signal and broke off.  Across the hangar, Gallenn shrugged, waiting for the end of the message.  “Take the hazard,” he substituted, wanting the word  ‘risk’ but not being able to remember the signal.  “Danger, danger, danger,” he repeated the warning.  Gallenn waved him away in good humor and John looked back toward the open doors at the end of the building. 

Aeryn was just walking out into the sunlight.  He watched as her figure was illuminated in the bright light of the planet’s double suns.  Her braid was longer, it hung to below her waist now, and her arms were more heavily muscled.  Her vest had been replaced by an armored tunic, worn over a skin-tight shirt with long sleeves.  The ever-present pulse pistol had been replaced with a larger but sleeker energy weapon, and he had noticed a knife handle showing at the top of her right boot. 

She had become ‘more’ in the time she’d been away, and that’s where the changes lay.  She was more confident, more beautiful, more lethal.  He watched the workers turning their attention back to their tasks.  He wasn’t surprised to see everyone watching her passage.  Aeryn was like the outdated Prowler now -- sleek, elegant, a weapon of destruction.  He ached for the emotionally unpredictable woman he had once known.  This one seemed totally in command of herself, locked down and secure.  He shook his head at his own reaction and pulled himself back into the cavity inside the courier ship’s engine.

He sat inside doing nothing for a long time, thinking about how he was going to handle this.  The past one and a half cycles had been a trial for him.  The ordeal had been physical at first, surviving when he was inadvertently abandoned.  Then the mental challenges had begun, outsmarting the vengeful Peacekeepers who had pursued him relentlessly for his role in destroying the Command Carrier.  There had been an entire half-cycle of running and hiding, finally abandoning the module because it was too distinctive, becoming someone else in his dress and manner to avoid recognition.

He’d bounced from one short term job to another, trading his mechanical skills for food and survival, but he’d always been recognized and forced to move on.  Being alone had made it even harder.  He’d never been able to find out what had happened to Moya or the others, and the constant pressure of being hunted and harried left him with no time to track anyone down.  When he’d dragged himself into this operation he’d been exhausted in all respects, ready to give up.  Gallenn had welcomed him without question, and had provided a new identity.  The running had stopped. 

John remembered the day when the Sebacean had offered refuge in all the senses of that word.  Gallenn had guided his staggering progress to his own home, fed him, given him a bed, and left him to sleep in peace.  He’d spent about ten microts wondering if it was a trap, and then decided he was too tired of running to even care.  He’d slept for almost an entire solar day, then put on the offered coveralls and accompanied Gallenn to his rat-trap repair operation to see what his host did for a living.

The place was failing, dying for lack of experienced workers.  He’d pitched in that first day, finishing a long overdue repair and watched as the delighted customer had promised more business in the future.  His offer to stay for a while was eagerly accepted and he’d settled down into a routine existence at last.   

That was when his emotional baggage had caught up with him, arriving in planeloads and trainloads.  He’d been willing to give Aeryn all the time in the universe, any place in the universe, and that hadn’t been enough for her.  He’d given up one dream in order to keep her, and she’d left him standing stripped to his soul and alone.  She’d left without telling him the entire truth, and that betrayal ran even deeper.  He’d understood her pain, but he’d thought he could at least trust her to be honest. 

Gallenn was no genius, but the Sebacean had seen how badly he was suffering and had buried him under a staggering amount of work.  Every time he managed to get caught up, Gallenn would drop a new theoretical project on him until another wreck arrived at the hangar for him to rebuild.  Gallenn’s business had boomed, creating a new set of challenges, and by the time they had reached their current level of profitability, the pain had been buried so deeply he no longer noticed it.         

John picked up the rag and wiped off the connection he was repairing.  He started working again, trying to focus on the motion of his hands instead of on the turmoil that was trying to heave the capstone off the tomb where he’d buried his heart.  There hadn’t been a single whisper that anyone knew the real identity of the mechanic Latgah.  How the frell had she found him? 

He threw down his tools in frustration and slid out of the work space.  He sat on the deck of the scaffolding and put his head on his knees, waiting for the tight feeling in his chest to go away.  “I’ve missed you.”  Those words didn’t begin to touch what he’d been through since Aeryn had left.  The pain of seeing her again was so intense, it was almost physical.  Why had she come back?  This disciplined, emotionally controlled woman had stood before him and wanted to ‘talk’, when all he wanted was to grab her and hold her, and feel her heart beating against his chest.  That would be the only way he would know that she had really come back. 

Gallenn watched his friend sit huddled beneath the engine.  He debated climbing up there to talk to him, but John had never opened up to him about the wounds he carried inside.  He knew that now was not the time to try and overturn that precedent. 

He looked at the request for an overhaul on a Rhotarri equipped currency freighter that he had received.  Currency traders were one of the few private ventures who could afford the new system, and they were very demanding about getting their ships done on time.  Gallenn watched as Crichton climbed wearily to his feet, then transmitted an acceptance notification for the new job.  He started looking through work orders to see what else he could find for Crichton to do.  He suspected that the business was about to experience another burst of productivity.     

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Aeryn squinted into the setting suns as she walked back toward the hangar.  She’d sent a message letting John know where she was waiting, but he hadn’t shown up to meet her, and the disappointment hung heavy in her chest.  The small food servicing establishment had been understanding about letting her sit for an extra two arns, but she’d finally been forced to admit that he wasn’t coming.  She had left a few credits to offset their loss of the seating and headed back to find him.  It was possible he had been held up at work, but she was annoyed that he hadn’t at least sent word. 

She felt the irritation crawling up her back, and somehow welcomed the feeling.  If this was what it took to be with him, it was better than the emptiness that had filled her for the last one and a half cycles.  Aeryn moved a little faster, looking forward to the argument she was certain was going to take place.  He had every right to be angry about how they had parted, and she was going to see if she could provoke him into lashing out.  At least that way he’d start talking. 

She looked down at the data chip in her hand as she walked.  It held messages to John from all of the others.  Their responses had ranged from Jool’s shrieking excitement to Pilot’s quietly ecstatic invitation to come back aboard Moya.  It was another tool she could use to break through to him, if she needed it.  She was willing to take up a wandering life aboard Moya again, if that was what he wanted.  Wherever he wanted to go, she would follow him this time. 

Gallenn was jogging toward the facility, his long twin shadows nearly touching her as he approached from the direction of the nearby housing.  He spotted her and altered his direction to meet her.  He looked anxious about something as he approached at the half run, but she wanted to get him to agree to let John out of work before anything else occupied his attention. 

“Is he coming back soon?” Gallenn called before she could make the request.  He slowed and fell in beside her as she continued toward the building. 

“Who?  John?”  She was confused by his question. 

“By the Gods!”  Gallenn’s hair flopped across his forehead as he scanned rapidly but thoroughly in every direction.  “Be CAREFUL when you use that name.  I was referring to Latgah.”  His reminder was a shock.  She didn’t realize John’s identity was that much of a threat to his safety.  Everywhere she had gone the rumors said that John Crichton, bane of the Peacekeepers, was dead.  It seemed inconceivable that he was still being pursued.  She shook herself out of her reverie as Gallenn continued talking. 

“I was looking for him.  We have a major repair coming in tomorrow, and he’s the only one who can take care of it.”  He increased his pace, his long legs forcing Aeryn almost into a jog in order to continue side by side toward the hangar. 

“He’s not with me.  He never showed up, so I assumed he was still here.”  Aeryn followed him into the building with the intention of double checking inside.  “I was going to ask you to let him leave so I could talk to him for a while.” 

It was Gallenn’s turn to look confused.  “LET him leave?  I don’t control when he comes or goes.” 

“He works for you.  Don’t you want to know when he’s going to be here?”  This conversation was getting very strange, she thought, every exchange creating another question or more confusion.  She just wanted to find John and get the whole thing over with.  The pending confrontation wasn’t something she felt confident about handling well.  It was going to call on skills she hadn’t practiced since they’d parted. 

“Work for me?  Did he tell you that?”  Gallenn moved quickly past the scattered work areas, barely noticing the work going on around each ship.  Aeryn tried to think about the earlier meeting and watch for John at the same time.  It took her several microts to realize that John hadn’t said anything about who he worked for, she had made that assumption on her own.  Gallenn stepped into the ring of monitors and began looking around, running a fast, practiced scan over the displays and scattered schematics. 

“He doesn’t work for me, he’s my partner.  I ran a drannit sized operation until he wandered in.  He was broke and on the run.  I was broke and running out of business.  He’s a frelling mechanical genius, and I know how to hide someone who needs to stay hidden.”  He glanced  around carefully to see if anyone was nearby, then lowered his voice.  “I have GOT to find him.  He’s the only one who can repair that ship.  It’s one of the Rhotarri jobs.” 

“Tell them to take it some other place.  I need to talk to him.  It’s important.”  Aeryn was starting to get angry.  Something so simple as finding the time to talk with John shouldn’t have turned into such a large problem.   

“Some other place?  There IS no other place.”  They stared at each other silently for several moments and then he went on in a tone of disbelief.  “Who do you think invented that frelling drive?  He’s the only person who understands how those arcane things work!  I sure as dren can’t work on it.”  Aeryn was suddenly faced with the fact that John had moved on without her, bringing a new set of friends into his life, making new allegiances and commitments. 

“What the frell is this?”  Gallenn picked something up and looked at it, brow furrowing.  Aeryn stepped into the center of the station and looked at the Peacekeeper data chip in his hand.  “We don’t use Peacekeeper issue chips,” he mused.  “Where did this come from?”  He jammed it harshly into the slot of an imager, and John’s voice blared out, but without an accompanying image.   

“Aeryn.  I think you’ll probably get this message all right.  Gallenn will make sure you hear it.  I’ve left it on the data chip with the legal codes that give him my half of the business.“  Aeryn leaned against the side of the console, pressing her hand to her stomach as his words left her feeling suddenly nauseous. 

“Aeryn …”  His voice paused and there was the sound of a deep sigh.  “I once told you something like ‘you leave and you come back, and I can’t take the in-between’.  This time I barely survived the in-between and now it’s the coming back that I can’t take.  I finally learned how to live without you, but it was more difficult than I can ever describe.  I got over the pain, and today I turn around and you’re standing there, and it started all over again.  I can’t do this another time.”

“I thought I …”  The voice broke off and started over.  “I thought you had a son or daughter who might need someone just like their father to be around some day, so I stayed.  I don’t need to worry about that anymore.  My heart is in one piece now, and I can’t find any way of taking a chance of it breaking again.”  He paused, and she could hear him sigh.  “I don’t know what you came to tell me, but there’s only one thing that could make me stay, and I know for certain now that I’ll never hear it.  Maybe I should do this in person, but I don’t think I’d have the strength to leave afterward.”  The recording went silent for a few microts.  “Goodbye, Aeryn.” 

“Oh no,” groaned Gallenn.  “The courier ship.  He finished that courier ship in record time this afternoon.” 

He spun toward the communications panel, calling up the channel for the planetary control center, but Aeryn felt an itch developing in the bones behind her ear, an all-over tightening of her scalp.  She’d felt it only once or twice before, but she knew what it was, and it meant that they were too late.  There was a high pitched shriek and a bang from the landing area outside, and the sensation disappeared all at once.  Aeryn knew it meant that a Rhotarri equipped ship had just made a jump. 

Aeryn sank slowly to sit on the one step leading out of Gallenn’s station, feeling total defeat for the first time in her life.  No portion of her training had ever prepared her for this complete sense of loss.  She’d been deprived of even making the attempt at winning him back, every prepared argument and tactic rendered useless in a split-microt.  Aeryn took the data chip carrying the messages from their friends out of her pocket and looked at it for a long time, then she dropped it to the floor and ground it under her heel.  There was no way of knowing where that ship had been headed.  John was gone.

   * * * * *

[KernilCrash]

PART 2

Aeryn continued to stare at the smashed data chip, the shock of what had just happened making her oblivious to everything going on around her.  She had spent so much time trying to find John, convinced that everything would be all right once she did, but she had never envisioned this possibility.  She felt beyond empty.  John had always been the one who fervently believed that they belonged together, she hadn’t expected the tables to be turned in this manner. 

She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, but when she finally stirred and looked around, her eyes were dry and itching.  She rubbed them for a moment, then looked at the chaos that had continued around her, the constant racket unheard while she had hovered in her daze.  She tried to envision what lay before her now, attempting to decide what to do next, but her mind didn’t want to consider her future.  Returning to Moya and living in a cell so close to John’s empty one didn’t seem like an option to her, and Aeryn had no idea how she was going to explain this to the others. 

She got to her feet and wandered around the outside of the station, frustration and anger growing inside her with each step, replacing the emptiness caused by his departure.  She found her way blocked by a cart covered with engine parts and kicked it over, the contents smashing and rattling to the floor.  She stepped into the scattered items and began kicking each one across the hangar, venting her fury.  It took almost a hundred microts of violence against the inanimate objects before she slowed down and took a deep breath. 

John was gone, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.  He had the knowledge to figure out where Earth was, but even if she could get her hands on both the data and a Rhotarri ship, she couldn’t be sure that was where he was headed.  The last time they’d stood together on Moya, he’d told her that he didn’t belong there anymore.  Another engine component was sent sailing across the hangar, smashing violently into a wall and sending fragments skittering in several new directions.  Work stopped all around her, the techs watching warily as she continued to stalk around the central station.   

The expanding silence broke into her private world of anger, finally bringing her to a stop.  She glanced around the building, her gaze passing over the mechanics who became suddenly busy with their work again.  The noise level returned to its normal din as she turned and shook her head, silently apologizing to Gallenn.  He nodded an acknowledgement but continued to watch her carefully, as if he were standing in close proximity to a dangerous animal.  “I’m sorry,” she said in a controlled tone, and he began to relax as he returned to monitoring the displays around him. 

“This is odd,” he mumbled, watching a message scroll across a screen. 

Aeryn didn’t think it was really any of her business, but his short observation seemed to invite a response.  “What is it?” 

“I just received acknowledgement that we’ve …” he paused and corrected himself, “that I’ve been paid for the servicing on the courier ship.” 

Aeryn had to think it though.  “Then …”

“They picked it up themselves.” 

“Then …”  She couldn’t seem to make her mind work through it.  She knew this was important, but the pieces were refusing to make sense.  She looked up at Gallenn as the bits finally slid into place.  “Then John didn’t leave on that ship.”  He nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face. 

“What other ships have left?” she stepped back into the island to watch what he was doing. 

His grin widened.  “None.  He’s still here on the planet somewhere.”   

“What about his module?” 

Gallenn turned away from the displays to look at her, his smile weakening.  “His what?”     

“His module, his own ship.  We have to stop him before he leaves.” 

“John doesn’t have a ship.”  He looked puzzled at her suggestion. 

Aeryn felt an odd tightening in her stomach, something that made it harder to breathe for a microt.  John had fought so hard for so long to keep the little pod intact in hopes of someday going home, it seemed inconceivable that he no longer had it.  She wondered when he had become separated from it and how it had happened. 

“How did he get here?” she asked, still trying to understand the life that John had been leading since they had separated on Moya. 

“He pulled in here on a piece of garbage tramp freighter.  He’d traded repairs for passage and had spent about the entire trip keeping the thing from falling apart in space.  He jumped ship and it disintegrated the next time it engaged its Hetch Drive.  He’s been here ever since.” 

Aeryn thought about the message on the data chip.  John had made it clear that he wasn’t going to be around for them to get back together.  She ran through the message in her mind and realized he never said he was leaving, he had only said goodbye. 

“Oh no,” she gasped.  “He wouldn’t do that.  John would never do that.”   

“Do what?”  Gallenn looked alarmed at her tone. 

“He said goodbye.  He wouldn’t … wouldn’t kill himself.”  She looked at the person who now knew John Crichton better than she did, her expression pleading for confirmation.  “Would he?”  The same wave of nausea that had hit her when she’d heard John’s message rolled over her again.  John had always been so strong, been able to cope with so much, she couldn’t envision him giving up in such an intrinsic manner. 

“Is there some place he goes when he wants to be alone?”  She latched on to a new sense of purpose, diverting her focus from her own sense of failure.  She was responsible for setting off John’s reaction, now she had to find him before he did anything. 

Gallenn thought about it for a while, then shook his head.  “When he first got here the only place he ever went besides here and his home was the bar to get drunk.  That stopped about a half cycle ago, and since then …” he was still thinking, rubbing his lower lip. 

Aeryn staggered mentally.  This was another image she would never have associated with John Crichton.  She felt as if too many surprises were being piled on her at once.  She took a deep breath and returned her attention to the most important task.  She thought about the types of things John missed most about his home on Earth.  “Some place outdoors?” 

Gallenn clicked his tongue.  “Got it!  He hasn’t gone there in over a cycle either.  Come to think of it, he stopped visiting there right about the same time he stopped drinking.  Come on, I’ll show you.” 

   * * * * *

It was night by the time Gallenn drew to a halt, but there was just enough starlight for Aeryn to make out a hulking piece of wreckage that had been left on the far edge of the compound surrounding the repair depot.  It looked like a useless mass of twisted metal, but Aeryn heard a scrabbling noise beside her, and Gallenn turned on a handheld spotlight and played it over the enormous chunk of salvage. 

It was an entire section of a Command Carrier.  The exterior was shaggy with torn wiring, cables and conduits, and there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of rooms open to the weather.  She craned her neck to stare up at the highest reaches, but they disappeared into the dark well above the halo cast by the handlight.  She wondered for a microt if this had come from the Command Carrier they had destroyed, but this planet was far from where that had happened, and it was unlikely that the wreckage had made it out here from that location. 

“Come on, I’ll show you the way.”  Gallenn started toward a ground level opening that led into the remains of a main corridor.   

“You think he’s in here?”  Aeryn asked.  She couldn’t believe that John Crichton would ever seek refuge in any portion of a Peacekeeper ship. 

“If he isn’t, then I have no idea where else to look for him.  I’m willing to bet he’s in here though.  Come on, I’ll show you.”  Gallenn moved confidently into the corridor and began winding through the empty passageways.  Aeryn could see nests and other signs that indigenous animals had taken up residence here.  The spotlight illuminated a layer of dirt and dust that had blown in and coated every surface, minute particles reflecting the light in glittering patterns as they passed through one junction after another.   

Once she got away from the twisted destruction along the outer edges of the section, Aeryn quickly got her bearings and knew where she was within the carrier.  They were headed for one of the sections containing living quarters for the ship’s officers.  She grabbed Gallenn’s arm and stopped him.  “I know where I am now.  Where did he used to go?  Do you know the designation?” 

Gallenn’s  face was half illuminated by the light in his hand, turning it into a monochrome mask of shadows and disbelief.  “You recognize where you are?  How can you do that?” 

“I was born and raised on a Command Carrier.  I can find my way around one of these blindfolded.”  She suppressed a wave of irritation and repeated her question.  “What is the designation of the room?” 

“Level ten, corridor five, lurg seven,” he said, skepticism plain in his voice.   

“I’ll go the rest of the way on my own.”  She squinted as he turned the light in her direction, felt the slow rise of irritation as he hesitated. 

“But I only have one light.”  He started to move forward again, but she caught his arm and pulled him back.

“I told you, I can do this blindfolded.  I don’t need a light.”  She waved him away, then waited through his indecision.  “If John is in there, I think I should talk to him alone.  If he isn’t, I can find my own way out.” 

Gallenn looked up and down the corridor, considering her assurances, then finally started back the way they had come.  “Nuts.  He’s nuts, she’s nuts, they’re all nuts.”  He made a hand signal, began repeating it as he disappeared into the dark, still chanting.  “Nuts.  They’re nuts.  Don’t understand them, don’t want to cuz they’re nuts.” 

Aeryn smiled as the irreverent voice faded into the dark, and understood, at least in part, why John had chosen to become partners with the Sebacean.  She turned and began the careful journey to the quarters Gallenn had listed.  He hadn’t warned her about any hazards inside the ship, so she hoped there weren’t any gaping holes in the floor or missing walls. 

As she approached the specified corridor Aeryn could see a faint light spilling out of a doorway.  She slowed, listening carefully, then stepped quietly through the forever open door.  John was sitting on the bed in quarters that would have been assigned to a basic officer, someone like a pilot.  He was turned sideways to the open door, staring at the empty wall.  Aeryn examined the abandoned quarters thoroughly and couldn’t see a weapon anywhere.  She relaxed slightly.

John turned to look at her as she stepped out of the tunnel-like connector between the two rooms and moved into the circle of light being cast by a portable lamp sitting on the floor.  He didn’t say anything and turned away from her to continue staring at the wall.  Aeryn moved forward to stand at the foot of the bed.  The quarters been stripped of personal possessions long ago, and the mattress was cracked and covered with the ever present dust and grit. 

“May I sit down?”  He didn’t answer.  Aeryn hesitated, uncertain how to proceed with the silent person in front of her and distracted by her concern for him.  He had something in his hand, holding it hanging between his knees.  “Is that Wynona?” 

He looked down with something like amusement on his face for the first time.  He lifted a bottle, half full of what was almost certainly some type of alcohol, and drank almost a third of what remained.  If he intended to kill himself, he appeared to be trying to drink himself to death.  John lowered the bottle, coughed slightly, and offered it to her.  He swayed a bit, and Aeryn realized that he was already drunk.  “No, thank you.  I don’t drink anymore.”  It wasn’t the statement she thought would break the wall, but somehow it did.

“Pardon me.  The disciplined Peacekeeper, always in control.  Not like the messy little Erp-man who does things in an erratic unpredictable manner.  Excuse me for offering.”  John took another long drink and looked at the almost empty bottle.  “Forgot how this feels.  Used to know exactly how to handle this.  I’m out of practice.”  He looked at her squarely, “Like my digs?  Come into my pad and I’ll show you my etchings.”  He began to laugh, but Aeryn didn’t understand the source of his humor. 

“What are you doing here, John?”  Aeryn was trying to see if he had some sort of weapon on the bed behind him, his goodbye message echoing in her mind. 

“Used to like to come here.  It made me feel closer to someone I missed.  Stupid really.  There’s more chance this place was used by Captain Bailar Crais than anyone I ever cared about.”  He swayed again, righting himself with some difficulty. 

Aeryn didn’t know how to handle this level of bitterness.  Not only was he drunk and acting increasingly irrational, he was getting angry.  She was becoming concerned for both her safety and his.  “John, do you have Wynona with you?”  She tried to keep her voice calm and even. 

“Nope!  Lost my baby about the same time I ditched the module.  You should have been there for that.  Never would have imagined the white death pod would burn so well.  Flying fire trap all these cycles, and not a fire extinguisher in sight.”

Aeryn only understood a portion of his last sentence, but felt more at home as he slid into his untranslatable human phrases.  It was the first familiar thing she had encountered aside from his stubbornness.  “I’m sorry you lost the module.”  She felt more regret than she had expected.  She had always hated that ship, hated that it stood for John’s desire to go back to Earth, hated that it had no weapons, hated that it could get him killed.  Now she felt his loss and hated it for being gone. 

John mumbled something too quietly for her to hear. 

“What did you say?” she asked, moving to sit down on the foot of the bed. 

“I said BULLSHIT!” he yelled and she backed away from him.  He continued more quietly, but no less angrily.  “Aeryn, go away and leave me alone.  I don’t want you here.  Need proof?  Here …”  He pulled something out of his pocket and she saw that it was a lock of dark hair.  She’d never seen it before, but she knew it was her own hair.  He had lost the module, Wynona, every possession he’d acquired since coming to the Uncharted Territories, but he still had that.  John was fumbling in another pocket for something else. 

John tossed the lock of hair on the floor, poured the last of the alcohol over it and tossed an igniter into the puddle.  The entire thing went up in a flash, the hair sparking and melting for a single microt and then it was gone.  Aeryn moved back another step, shocked by his action in a way that words never could have accomplished. 

“Go away, Aeryn.  Get back in what ever ship you arrived in, and go away.” 

Aeryn reached into a pocket in her tunic and pulled out the data chip with his message on it, tossed it onto the bed next to him, and turned to leave.  She’d learned a lot about dealing with people over the past cycle, but this was beyond her capacity to cope.  Something occurred to her and she paused before stepping through the opening from the sleeping area into the living space. 

“Why didn’t you leave?”  She looked back and he just shook his head.  “At least tell me that before I leave.  You said goodbye, John, why didn’t you go?  Gallenn seemed to think you could have taken that courier ship, why didn’t you?” 

He just shook his head again and turned away from her to stare at the wall.  Aeryn sat down facing him, trying to understand what was happening, what had happened during the last several arns.  She tried to mesh everything she’d seen and heard since finding him with the expectations she’d built up over the last cycle.  She’d come so far to find him, and she couldn’t find a route across the last small gap. 

“All right, Crichton.”  He flinched when she used his family name.  Aeryn could have kicked herself, it was so simple once she figured it out.  She should have seen it sooner, much sooner.  She’d made her mistake the first microts she’d found him.  The microt he’d straightened up outside the courier ship was when she’d missed her opportunity.     

“John, I’ve been looking for you for an entire cycle.  I only came here to tell you one thing.”  He turned his head a little and watched her out of the corner of his eye.  “I love you, John Crichton.  I love you and I want to be with you.  You pick the planet, the universe, and I’ll go with you.” 

He turned the rest of the way around to look at her directly, his face expressionless, slowly looking her over as she sat in the tunnel-like opening.  “Just like that?” he asked quietly, the words coming out slowly as if each one were an effort.  “You love John Crichton and you’ll stay with him forever?”

“Yes.”

Crichton looked at the empty bottle in his hand and finally tossed it with a clatter into a corner.  “Then go find him, Aeryn, because he’s not on this planet.  He disappeared a cycle and a half ago, and there’s only some tech named Latgah here now.  That guy …” he swallowed hard and turned away from her.  “That guy would have …”  He stopped again and just shook his head.  “Go away, Aeryn.  I can handle you leaving now, it’s what I do best.”  He turned his back on her, and fell silent. 
   
Aeryn got to her feet and started to step through the connector to the living area, looking back one last time at the rigidly immobile figure facing the wall.  She stared at him, willing him to turn around and give her any small sign that there was someway to break through the wall he had put up, but he didn’t move.  She stood with one foot in the tunnel, one foot on the floor, and tried to think of something else she could use to convince him, but there didn’t seem to be anything left to say. 

“Goodbye, John.”  The words came out in a whisper because she couldn’t find the strength to make them any louder, they weren’t the words she had come here to say.  John still didn’t turn, so she finally ducked through the opening and left him alone. 

Aeryn was less than half way out of the maze when she was filled with the same frustrated rage that had overtaken her in the hangar when she thought John had left the planet.  She gave into it the same way she had earlier, kicking at the unseen walls and pounding a fist against the overhead panels until one of them smashed loose, clattering to the floor in the dark.  “Frell you, Crichton!  Frell you for ever coming into my life!”  She turned and hurried back through the dark.  Before she left, she was going to at least tell him what she thought of all this.

As she approached the dimly illuminated doorway, Aeryn became aware of an odd noise drifting through the deserted corridor, something so quiet it was almost a touch rather than a sound.  She froze in the dark, listening carefully to locate its source, then moving forward silently when she determined that it was coming from John’s dark haven.  She eased past the edge of the door, then squatted outside the entrance, obscured in the dark of the corridor but able to see the bed.  John was crying.  He was sitting where she had left him, his head in his hands, the quiet sounds of his misery finding their way out into the stillness of the wrecked vessel. 

In the three cycles they’d lived together on Moya, she had never seen this happen, not even during the worst of times.  Aeryn’s first reaction was to go to him, but something held her back, an internal voice telling her to consider the proud, stubborn man who wouldn’t want her to see him like this.  She remained where she was, watching and thinking of how far she had traveled to find him.  Aeryn stood up slowly, took one more look at the huddled figure and slid quietly away into the dark.

   * * * * * 

[KernilCrash]

PART 3

Gallenn slammed his fist into the communications panel, frustration winning out over logic as he was forced to turn away another repair request, this time for a Rhotarri equipped cruiser.  He leaned on the console and rubbed a grimy hand against his forehead, unconsciously smearing the dirt across his face.  It had been almost two days since he had led Aeryn Sun to John’s hiding place, and his friend still had not reappeared.  He debated going into the wreckage to see if he was all right, but once again concluded that John needed to work things out for himself. 

There was a drop in the noise level behind him, and he turned to see what was causing the techs to stop their activities.  He sighed with relief as a very bedraggled looking Crichton made his way toward the station.  Gallenn forced a grin onto his face, and leaned nonchalantly against one of the consoles.  “Since you’re not an owner any more, I’m going to have to dock your pay for being late,” he called. 

John tried to produce a smile, but it faded after only two or three microts.  He stepped into the interior of the station and eased himself down onto a seat.  “Since I never got paid anything to start with, that shouldn’t hurt too bad,” he responded, trying for some humor.  He looked at Gallenn for several microts, a flow of expressions passing quickly over his face until something that looked like indecision finally reigned.  “Do you know where she is?” he asked. 

“I think she’s gone,” Gallenn answered.  “She was around yesterday morning, asking some questions, but I haven’t seen her since.”  He watched tension flow out of Crichton’s body, his shoulders dropping inside the dusty coveralls. 

John ran his hand through his hair a few times, then rubbed his fingers together, feeling the gritty layer of dirt that had been transferred onto his hand.  He smiled, but it was still lacking mirth.  “I need a shower and a change of clothes.”  He looked around the hangar, assessing the work in progress.  “Anything top priority that needs to be completed?” 

“No, but I had to turn a couple of jobs away.  They were both Rhotarri systems though, so I can get them back any time you’re ready.”  He crossed his arms and leaned his hips against the consoles.  “Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll come buy you a meal in a couple of arns … since you’re no longer employed.”

That finally produced a genuine smile on John’s face, and he nodded.  “Could we renegotiate that situation?  I might have jumped the gun on that minor detail,” he wheedled. 

“Minor detail?” Gallenn scoffed.  “Too late partner, the business is all mine!” The Sebacean’s wide smile suggested that his position wasn’t as unyielding as his response. 

“I feel like a guy who went out looking for a snake-oil salesman to give him my last buck.  I wasn’t taken to the cleaners, I gave everything to them willingly.”  John pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the open doors at the end of the building.  Gallenn watched him leave, still trying to decipher his last comments. 

   * * * * *

John stepped into the bedroom toweling himself dry, and looked around the subsistence level quarters that he had been leasing for the last cycle.  The room wasn’t much bigger than his converted cell aboard Moya, except for the small extension that held the cooking arrangements and a table with two chairs.  Even after an entire cycle living here, he occasionally found the complete silence jarring.  He had become so accustomed to Moya’s rhythmic noises and constant motion, it had taken almost a quarter cycle to adjust to a room that didn’t rumble or shift under his feet.   

He pulled on a clean one-piece coverall and sat at the table to lace his boots, looking at the chess set there as his fingers finished their task without direction.  “That was a good move, Gallenn,” he muttered as he looked at his friend’s latest adjustment.  “Another cycle or two and you’re going to be ready for Bobby Fischer.”  He started to reach for a rook, and hesitated, debating his opponent’s strategy.  It was the first time since he’d taught him the game that Gallenn had managed to completely out maneuver him.  He dropped his hand without making a move, deciding to give it more thought. 

His examination of the chess board was interrupted by a pounding against the wall of the corridor outside, a rumble that approached his quarters, arriving at the same time that the door slid open.  “Are you ready yet?” Gallenn yelled as he entered, “I’m so hungry …” he broke off abruptly.  “Drannit Dren!”  The exclamation came out in a rush as he looked at John’s hair.  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?  If she found you, there’s no telling who else might show up looking for you.” 

John stepped to a mirror and combed his brown hair flat with his fingers.  “It’s been a full cycle, I’d say it’s safe now.  I never liked the De-Grecian Formula look anyway.”  He wasn’t willing to admit that it had been a constant reminder of the life on Earth that had been torn away from him, and that every time he’d looked in the mirror, the dyed hair had left him with a pang of guilt for the grief his father must have suffered ever since he disappeared.  It had been an interesting glimpse at how he might appear in the future, but keeping it that color had become an intolerable nuisance. 

“You haven’t moved,” Gallenn objected, looking at the chess set. 

“I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet,” John responded, watching the tall figure move around the table, exuding energy.  Gallenn rarely stood still for very long anyway, but tonight he seemed more energetic than usual.

“That’s a load of trelkez dren.  I’ve got you this time, and you just don’t want to admit it.”  The Sebacean turned his back on the chess set without any further gloating, and headed out the door.  “Let’s get something to eat.”  John swept a handful of credit wafers off a shelf and followed him, moving quickly to catch up. 

   * * * * *

Gallenn watched as John pushed away a still laden plate of food and picked up his glass instead.  He was concerned about Crichton’s behavior.  He’d thought this moodiness was all well behind them, and didn’t want to see him slide back into the pattern of nightly stupors.  John hadn’t been willing to talk about his visitor during their meal, and had rebuffed every one of his attempts to obtain the slightest amount of information.  Gallenn assumed that Aeryn Sun was the woman John had occasionally referred to when he had first come to the planet, but he also knew John had been desperately in love with her then and didn’t know what had changed to make him drive her away.   

He tried to approach the subject from several directions, dredging up every detail from their earliest conversations in an attempt to drive some sort of wedge into John’s reticence, but it was all in vain.  It had originally taken John close to a quarter cycle to trust him enough to describe some of his life since leaving his home on the Leviathan, but when he had opened up it was usually under the weight of a significant amount of alcohol, and had therefore been somewhat incoherent.  Gallenn was encountering the stubborn reserve this evening, and it was undiminished by time.   

“You never told me why you left the Leviathan and your friends.  Did Aeryn Sun have something to do with it?”  It seemed like a pretty blatant approach, but he held his breath and waited to see if John would respond. 

“No … not really.  And I didn’t leave the ship, I got abandoned.”  Crichton looked at his friend’s shocked expression and made a sideward motion with his head, forgiving his old friends in a single gesture.  “It wasn’t their fault.  The roto-rooter man opened the drain right under them, and I got left standing there like the kid who’s five minutes late for the school bus.”

Gallenn shook his head, totally baffled by the explanation.  “Would you care to try that one again?”   

John leaned on his elbows and stared down at his drink, thinking about the cycle he had spent working with Gallenn.  They had become good friends, but they had never explored or compared their pasts.  Their history began the day Gallenn had found him standing in stunned incredulity at the spaceport, watching the fragments of the freighter burn up as they fell into the planet’s atmosphere.  He’d known that the ship was falling apart at the seams, and had tried to warn the captain and crew, but he’d still felt guilty when it had disintegrated into just so much space debris.  He’d been wallowing in his own sense of responsibility when Gallenn had approached him that day. 

He’d told him a few selected tales about what had happened to him over the last three cycles, but had deliberately avoided every story involving wormholes.  It was nearly impossible to fill in the gaps now without violating that constraint.  Leaving out wormholes left out any discussion of life on Earth, how he’d gotten here, or why he’d been on a Command Carrier that had imploded.  He trusted Gallenn, but his enduring silence about wormholes had been paid for with Co-Kura’s screams in the Aurora Chair, and that was a sacrifice he wasn’t willing to betray.

He glanced up at Gallenn again and thought about all the things he would have told him if it hadn’t been for wormholes.  He would have told him what it was like to leave his father and home and never return, to live and love and fight with a group of strangers who became family only to have everything jeopardized by his own obsession.  He could have told him about the Aurora Chair and the woman who rescued him from the Gammak Base, the woman he had loved. 

Ultimately, he couldn’t even tell Gallenn about how he had lost her to another John Crichton, not without explaining why that man had died, or how she had stood beside him but not really with him when they went to destroy the technology that threatened this part of the universe.  Gallenn could never learn of the sacrifice he’d been willing to make in order to keep her, because he’d have to explain about finally having the secret to return home.  Telling him about those things would have been the only way to make him understand what it felt like to stand in Moya’s hangar and watch her leave, when she was the only thing in this universe that gave him direction. 

It would have been futile to try and explain how he’d survived being stranded in space without letting him know how Harvey had reduced his metabolism to make the limited oxygen last until he found a planet that would sustain him.  Tell him about Harvey and it was a quick trip back to Scorpius and wormholes again, so he’d never shared that part of his life either. 

So Gallenn had never understood his deep depression after he almost been killed by stepping on a live power cable in the repair facility.  His friend had always assumed it was the result of his injuries, but it was the loss of the clone that had driven him into his last and most severe bout of drinking.  Harvey had been his single remaining tie to his previous life, and when the personality disappeared in an uncontrolled surge of energy, it was as if he had been abandoned in the emptiness of space once again.  At least with the clone around, he could occasionally reminisce about his life on Moya, discuss the small moments, the good and the bad, and the way fate had brought him to this new life.  A careless step had taken that away from him as well.

He’d never told Gallenn why the Peacekeepers wanted to get their hands on him so badly, never told him about what would happen if a young, crippled Leviathan with a finally selfless captain in command chose to starburst inside the hangar of a Command Carrier, or what their sacrifice had purchased.  John looked at the expectant face across the table, reflecting on all the other things that had remained secreted in his heart.   

Since Gallenn didn’t know why the Peacekeepers were so highly motivated to find and execute John Crichton, Destroyer of Gammak Bases and Command Carriers, he had never told him about his first, desperate days away from Moya.  He’d never described finding a suitable planet to land on, only to make his final descent right over a Peacekeeper outpost.  They’d recognized the white module immediately, and he’d spent an entire solar day being chased by patrols keen on the promotions that would accompany his capture. 
 
His only way off the planet had been to infiltrate the outpost in order to find a charged fuel cell for the module.  He’d almost gotten away with it, but on his way out of the encampment had run into a young soldier standing sentry who had seen past his black leather clothing and recognized an intruder.  His mouth had opened wide to sound an alarm that would have meant John’s capture and death, and he couldn’t allow that, so John had done the only thing possible and stabbed him with the soldier’s own blade. 

Crichton looked down at the hands that cradled his drink, the hands that had designed and helped build the Farscape, had brushed back Aeryn’s hair and touched her face, had learned to pull the trigger on a pulse pistol without hesitation, and had been stained with the warm blood of a young Sebacean who had looked surprised to discover he was dying.  He still heard the quiet, desperate voice some nights, betraying all of his Peacekeeper training by promising silence in return for life if he -- John Crichton, Astronaut -- would only spare him.  But he had pulled the knife out and sunk it in a second time to ensure his own survival, and had somehow destroyed himself instead. 

Gallenn was still waiting for an explanation of his last statement, but that would have led to wormholes as well, so he took another sip of his drink and turned to stare out the door, watching the stars slowly appear in the darkening night sky.   

“Do you still love her?”  Gallenn prodded again. 

John muttered a reply, almost too quietly to be heard. 

“Beyond what?” Gallenn asked, catching only half of the answer. 

John shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  Too much has happened since then.  I’m not the same person I was then, and she’s obviously not the same woman either.  I did some things to survive that I never thought I was capable of doing.  I don’t want to go back to any life that might demand I ever do that again.”  He turned around and gave Gallenn a twisted, humorous smile.  “The fat lady sang a long time ago.  It’s time to drop the curtain on this play and move on to the next production.” 

Crichton shoved his half-empty glass away, clapped the puzzled Sebacean on the shoulder, and sauntered out of the building.  He paused outside the door to look up at the sky.  He could pick out two of the stars he had renamed.  Dewey and Louie were hanging just above the horizon, faint in the distance but visible.  Somewhere out there were Hewey and the other bright pinpoint he had named, but they were never visible from this point on the planet.  When he’d first decided to remain here, he’d considered relocating to a different settlement, somewhere in the southern hemisphere where he could see them, but he’d finally decided it would be better if he never looked at them again.  They weren’t his guide posts anymore.  His way was set by the rise and fall of a binary star, and by the needs of customers.  He had remade his life that way, and it would have to be enough. 

   * * * * *

[KernilCrash]

PART 4

Crichton heaved again on the wrench, trying to break the fastener loose, but nothing budged.  “Frelling piece of dren,” he muttered.  He looked around the interior of the maintenance space and then shook his head.  The filthy conditions didn’t bother him, it was his own feeling of disgust that was causing the problem.  Other people’s messes hadn’t affected him for as long as he’d been working here.  If he could get in, do the repairs, and get out again without contracting anything chronic or lethal, he’d never cared about the working conditions before.  The squalor was bothering him today, and that, in turn, bothered him more.

“Problem?” came a call from below.  Two of the ship’s crew were working on the level below him. 

“Nothing Mr. Goodwrench can’t handle,” he yelled back.  He rapped himself lightly against the head, chastising himself for sliding into an Earth-based reference.  Part of his success in staying hidden here were Gallenn’s constant reminders to avoid such peculiar phrases.  His introspection the night before seemed to have set his memories free again. 

“John!”  Gallenn’s anxious voice rang through the almost deserted engine compartments.  Crichton’s head snapped around, surprised at the use of his name.  Gallenn NEVER made that mistake, he thought.  He looked down the shaft, but the two crewmen below didn’t seem to have noticed anything unusual. 

“What are you doing?” he accused as Gallenn appeared in the access tunnel.  “Are you trying to get me killed?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I call you now, or who knows about it.  A Peacekeeper Fast Attack Cruiser is about to enter orbit, and they’re asking about you.  They’ve already sent down images to the cantonment officials, John.  They called to warn us, but it’s only a matter of time before someone tells them you’re here.  You’ve got to get the frell off this planet.” 

“SHIT!”  He threw the wrench down and banged his fist against the interior bulkhead.  “How did they find me after a full cycle?  This is unbelievable.  I can NOT believe they are still looking for me after all this time.”  It was starting all over again, he thought.  The pain of seeing Aeryn, the running, the loss of any friends, the loneliness.  The emotions swooped down and threatened to shred him.  The sense of foreboding was overwhelming, he felt like a mouse that had just seen the shadow of a hawk pass over its hiding place.   

“Stop worrying about that now.  You’ve got to move fast, they’ll be in orbit in less than an arn.”  Gallenn grabbed him and shoved him into the access tunnel, urging him to hurry.  “I already stopped by your place and grabbed everything I could carry, and I used my account to transcribe your earnings into credits to take with you.”  He shoved Crichton again.  “Will you hurry up?” 

John came to a halt as they dropped out of the cargo ship.  “What difference does it make?  I’m not Richard Kimble, and I don’t have some mysterious one armed man out there who can set me free from the goose stepping psychopaths that want me dead.”  He stopped walking and looked around at the scenery that had somehow become home.  “This is never going to end, and I don’t want to run again.  Screw it, let them come and try to take me.  At least it’ll be over.” 

Gallenn pushed him forward roughly, and when he swung around to argue some more, the Sebacean made a hand signal. 

“Darn right I’m nuts.  You’d be mentally deranged too if you tried this life … or lack of one.”  Crichton allowed himself to be herded toward the landing field.  “I felt as though my life ended when I got separated from Moya, but I rebuilt one here.  I’m not going to start over.” 

“You did it once, you can do it again, Crichton.  Would you please move a little faster?”  Gallennn tossed two large carrying bags at him, and picked up another.  He grabbed something out of the bag and held it out to John. 

“Pulse pistol.”  Crichton took the weapon and looked at it, coming to a stop again.  “I haven’t worn one of those in a long time, I don’t feel like starting again.” 

Gallenn knew his former partner was stubborn, but he had never realized that John could be this mulishly obstinate.  “Shut up!” he yelled.  “Look, if nothing else, you can make like a startled flibisk for a while and then circle back here.  I’m not going anywhere.”   

“What do you suggest I use for a ship?”  Crichton stowed the pulse pistol in one of the bags and began walking a little more quickly toward the rows of parked spacecraft.  “I don’t recall having a loaner sitting around the lot.” 

“You can take the prototype.  I arranged to have the fuel cells charged, and its got the single cabin so you can live on it for a while.  I checked it over before I came to get you, and the Rhotarri Drive is in great shape.” 

Crichton swerved to head toward the far end of the field.  The ship they had used to test the original Rhotarri system was a converted long distance transport ship.  He’d kept the navigation systems upgraded, if only to continue making experimental flights as he gained more experience with the quirks of folded space travel, and they had added some amenities after he had gotten himself lost and been stuck in the ship for almost four solar days. 

They approached the ship almost at a run, and once again Crichton felt his life spinning out of control.  His cycles here had been uneventful, almost boring, but he didn’t want to leave this way, shoveling everything in the door and blasting out of here without a thought.  He tossed the duffels in through the hatch and turned to look at his friend.  Gallenn looked concerned, but there was almost an eagerness to his expression, and John hesitated for a microt.  A cycle-old habit of suspicion tumbled out of storage, and he wondered about the Sebacean’s loyalties and motivation. 

Then he remembered all the times Gallenn had hauled him out of the bar, dragged his drunken, weaving body back to his room and dumped him on his bed.  Gallenn had badgered and challenged him until he had produced the new drive system, had financed the prototype, made him a partner in the business, and had supported what could have been a highly questionable decision to sell the plans for pure profit.  He’d stood by him through all his ups and downs, and John was ashamed that he had questioned his loyalty, even if only momentarily.

He put out his hand, and his friend looked at it blankly.  “It’s called a handshake.”  Gallenn put his hand out and John took it firmly.  “You’re a good friend, Gallenn.  I owe you more than I can ever tell you.” 

Gallenn pulled free after a moment.  “Get out of here.  Come back if you ever get a chance … but make sure you don’t have any frelling Peacekeepers right on your butt, okay?” 

John looked at him for one more moment, fixing the face in his memory, then pulled himself into the ship.  Gallenn jogged out of range of the thrusters, turning and shading his eyes from the blowing grit as the ship lifted.  It rose smoothly out of its self-manufactured cloud of dust, dwindling in size as it arced into the sky.  It seemed to hang for a moment, and the skin tightening whine developed.  Gallenn plugged his ears just as the snapping boom sounded, and the ship was gone. 

“You owe me all right, John.  I just wish you could come back some day and tell me how much.”  He looked up at the empty sky, and missed his friend already. 

   * * * * *

The first jump had been a short one, just clear of the solar system.  As the ship came out  into normal space, John immediately scanned to make sure he hadn’t jumped right into the arms of the approaching cruiser.  The sensors were clear of input, and he let the ship coast on imparted momentum as he tried to decide where to go next.  Every world that came to mind was well within the reach of the Peacekeepers, and was therefore out of consideration. 

He punched in the coordinates of Earth and stared at the nav system readout.  It was a long jump, one that required maximum exertion of the folded space phenomenon.  He wondered if he could ever fit in there again.  He sat in the silence of the cockpit and tried to imagine himself walking into the house, sleeping in a bed with sheets, and eating cornflakes for breakfast.  He didn’t belong there now, any more than he belonged there a cycle and a half ago.  It wasn’t his home anymore.

“Robinson Frelling Crusoe, adrift without an island.”  His voice bounced around the quiet cockpit, and he fell silent.     

John stared out into the blackness of space that was not illuminated by a nearby sun.  There wasn’t any sort of light source to compete with the thick carpet of stars, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark of interstellar emptiness, more and more pinpoints of light became visible.  It was like coming home, except there was no one to welcome him.  He nudged the controls, and the ship pitched downward until the two stars he hadn’t seen for a cycle came into view.  Hewey fell into line with his two brothers, and the fourth and brightest star eased itself onto the transport’s view screen as he brought the ship to a stop.     

He let go of the controls and sat back, staring at the familiar view.  The ship was almost completely silent, only the slightest creaking coming from the hull as it cooled, and he waved a hand over the controls to dim the last of the displays.  He sat staring for almost a quarter of an arn, finding himself enormously happy to be in space again at the same time that he grieved for another life lost.  He was elated and depressed at the same time, and he floated in the dark caught between the two emotions. 

His reverie was disturbed when the door to the cockpit opened behind him with a clang.  He jumped at the unexpected noise, cursing himself silently for not putting on the pulse pistol.  He whirled around, the adrenalin starting to pump as he prepared for a fight … and froze half out of his seat while his mind struggled to cope with what his eyes were seeing.

“Hello, John.”   

“Gallenn! That frelling bastard arranged this.”  John sank back into his seat, all thoughts of a physical battle fleeing before his shock.  He turned back to face the view screen, staring at the blackness outside and seeing something entirely different than he had five microts earlier.  A moment ago he’d been depressed, now he was angry, and if it had made any sense, he would have said he was scared.   

Aeryn walked the short distance between them, approaching him slowly, and eased into the second seat.  “Gallenn agreed to help me, but reluctantly.  It took some persuasion, but we had a long talk yesterday, and he even thought up this part of the plan.” 

John shook his head, recognizing that he had been brilliantly set up.  “Was there even a Peacekeeper Cruiser?” he asked.  When she didn’t answer he looked at her, expecting a smirk, but Aeryn was looking at him grimly, no amusement on her face. 

“No, there wasn’t.  We thought it was the only thing that would move you off the planet though.”  She was staring at his hair, but when he looked across at her she broke away, focusing on the nav display instead.  Her brow furrowed as she worked out the coordinates and the trajectory.  “Is that the course for Earth?”  When he nodded, she continued.  “Take me there, show it to me.” 

“Can’t.”  He reached forward and cleared out the entry.  She started to argue and he cut her off.  “It’s too dangerous.” 

“We don’t have to stay long.  We could get in and out without getting into trouble.” 

The impulse flickered through his mind to point out that nothing they had ever done had been accomplished without getting into trouble, but chose a more straight forward explanation, striving to keep those memories from surfacing.  “That’s not what I mean.  The drive system is flawed.  Gallenn and I sold the plans to it because we knew it would never last.” 

She looked puzzled so he explained, gesticulating to demonstrate the concepts he was trying to describe.  “It relies on folding space, but space isn’t flat or even.  If you fold space where there’s a wrinkle or a bend, your results are unpredictable.  The longer the jump, the worse the outcome.  I got lost the third time I tested it.  If I try to get to Earth, there’s no knowing where I’ll come out.  The jump is too far and I don’t have any reference points in between to make smaller jumps.” 

“And you built it and sold it anyway?”  The disbelief was plain in her voice, and for some reason it pleased him.   

“Caveat emptor,” he said.  Aeryn gave him the look she had always reserved for when he slid into his untranslatable Earth terms, and he felt a twisting sensation in his stomach.  It was as if the memories of every time he had ever seen that expression flashed through his mind in a single instant.  He concentrated on what he was saying, trying to ignore the feeling.  “We needed money, it gave us money.  I knew it was screwed before we ever started selling them, that’s why I called it the Rotary Engine.”  John could see that she didn’t understand that statement either and again found satisfaction in her discomfort.  He didn’t like the way he was acting, but he couldn’t get himself to stop.   

“What if someone gets lost and can’t get back to their home using that drive system?” 

“Then they’ll know exactly how I felt.”

“You’ve turned into a cold bastard, John.  You never would have done something like that in the past.”   

“Sometimes you have to change to survive.”  He punched up some coordinates on the nav system.  “Some place I can drop you before I head back?  I can do smaller jumps without too much trouble, and I know the Uncharted Territories well enough that I can plot out a series of shorter hops to make up a longer distance.” 

The longer he sat next to Aeryn, the more he felt the need to say things to shock her or make her angry.  She was close enough that he could smell the light scent of her, and it left him with a raw burning feeling in his chest.  It was uncomfortable, and nothing seemed to ease it except the rising wave of undirected anger.

“I want to talk first.”  She unlatched the swivel base of the padded seat and spun to face him.

“I DON’T, Aeryn.”  The uncomfortable sensation was building up in his chest, and he thumped himself in the sternum as though the blow would ease it.  “I don’t want to go over this ground again.  I’ve spent too much of the last cycle reviewing it alone, I don’t need a study group now.”  He ran his hand along the series of circuits to bring the engines up to power, flicking them in a quick motion, but nothing happened.  The display board was still functioning, the fuel cells were showing a full charge, but the drive system wasn’t receiving any power.

“You are going to at least listen to me, John.”  He looked over and Aeryn was holding the four relays that shunted power from the fuel cells to the engines.

For a split microt he felt like grinning, admiring her resourcefulness despite the voice inside him that was screaming to end the conversation immediately.  “What are you going to tell me?  How your life was transformed when you realized you couldn’t live without me?”   

“It wasn’t that easy, John, and you know it.  But if my choice is watching you die again, or living the rest of my life without you at all, I’ll take the first one.  Never knowing what you were doing, whether you were all right … it was worse than worrying about you getting killed.”  She started to reach toward his hand, but he pulled away. 

“So I’m still second best, the runner up prize.  You’ve come back because you couldn’t stand what you had, not because you want to be with me.”  He took a breath against the growing ache in his heart.  “Look at yourself, Aeryn.  You’re more of a Peacekeeper now than ever before.  You made your decision last time based on those values, and now you want me to believe that you won’t make the same choice next time.”  He saw her draw back and almost reached for her, but caught himself before he moved. 

“I’ve had time to think about this, time to think about a lot of things,” Aeryn tried again.  “I won’t change my mind this time.  I’ve spent almost an entire cycle looking for you, John, that should tell you something.” 

“You’ve come looking for someone you once knew.  I keep trying to tell you that he’s gone, and you’re not listening to me any more now than you did then.”  He watched as she purposefully placed the four relays along the top of the console in front of her, well out of his reach.  The slow, exact motions as she set them down one by one stirred up the anger that had been resting along his spine, waiting for its next turn.

“I did listen then.  I listened to you say that you believed we were meant to be together.” 

Hearing his own words used against him increased the ache inside.  “Different guy.”   

“Tell me.  Tell me what has changed so much that we can’t be together now.” 

He saw what she was doing, knew that she was trying to draw him out, and found it easy to remain silent.  There was no inclination to share even the smallest detail as his memory dragged him back to the Peacekeeper encampment.  The cockpit seemed to disappear, and for two microts he was standing again with the body of the sentry sagging against him as he thrust the long knife into the dying soldier a second time.  He could feel the blood flowing warm over his hands, smell the metallic tang on the air, felt the desperate hands plucking at him as the boy died in his grasp. 

It had been necessary, absolutely imperative in order for him to continuing living, and Crichton felt the same anguish based rage building inside him that he had felt that day.  He’d been forced to do something then that he would have sworn he was incapable of, and he blamed her for everything that had led to that moment.  If she hadn’t left, hadn’t lied to him, had taken him with her … ANYTHING but what she had done, perhaps it wouldn’t have happened.  Maybe he wouldn’t have had to do it.  His anger grew until it was almost out of control. 

“One more time.  Just give it the old college try?  Ra Ra Sis Boom Ba, and if it doesn’t work, oh well, at least we tried.  Frell that, Aeryn.  I gave up everything I ever was or ever wanted in the hangar that day in the single hope that we could be together, and you lied to me and left anyway.” 

“I didn’t lie to you.  Everything I told you was the truth.” 

“That’s another LIE!” he yelled.  “‘Everything I told you.’  What a load of crap!  A lie of omission is still a lie.  That child would have been MINE in every single way that mattered, Aeryn.  You took that away from me, and you made a choice that would have taken me away from that child, which is even WORSE.  You accused me time and again of making decisions for the rest of the crew that I didn’t have any right to make, but that time you turned around and did it yourself.”  He broke off to catch his breath, fighting to get his anger back under control. 

Aeryn sat in stunned silence.  She knew he was at least partly right, and the shock of the realization coupled with his hostility left her disarmed.  She started to argue, but John launched in again, his voice loud in the close confines of the small cockpit. 

“You want to pick up like nothing happened, but I don’t have anything left.”  He strode to the cargo bags and dumped all three out on the floor.  “There it is.  The life of John Crichton.”  He rubbed the heels of his hands against his forehead and then looked into her eyes for the first time since she entered the cockpit.  “Aeryn, I would have laid the cloths of heaven at your feet if I had owned them, but I did the only other thing I could instead.  I laid my hopes and dreams before you, and you walked across them, got in the Prowler and left.” 

He took a deep breath, trying to control something inside him that was threatening to take over, threatening to replace the fury with a sensation that was far more painful.  “I don’t have even those dreams left now.  The module’s gone, Wynona’s gone, Earth is gone, Moya and the others are gone, even Harvey is gone.  I’m just barely hanging on to someone who used to be me, and you wander in here and want a piece of that.”  The first tears slid down his cheeks and he wiped them roughly away, used the last of his anger to stop the rest before they could get loose. 

Crichton kicked the pile of clothes into a corner, noticing for the first time that his chess set and all of his possessions were there, packed for him by Gallenn.  He turned to face Aeryn, putting his back to the wall as if to protect himself from an attack.  He looked down at the mess scattered across the floor, picked up the pulse pistol, and tossed it to her.  “If I give up what’s left of me and you leave again, you might as well just put a pulse blast through me right now because there won’t be any difference.” 

Time seemed to stop for a microt, and he could hear his last words hanging in the silence of the cockpit.  He heard the hurt and the fear in his own voice, coming out just as raw as when the wound had been inflicted over a cycle ago.  But louder than that, he heard his own voice telling her that she was still all that mattered in his life. 

He hadn’t meant it to come out like that, it had been the pain and loss speaking as he tried to push her away.  Somehow it had turned into something entirely different.  He slid to the floor, resting his head in his hands, feeling the same desolation he had felt the night he had sent her away in the Command Carrier wreckage.  That night it had been generated by his renewed sense of loss.  This time it was because he knew that he had just lost his own internal struggle to save himself. 

He didn’t look up as the footsteps approached slow and quiet.  Aeryn slid down to sit next to him, and leaned her shoulder against his.  He jumped slightly at the touch, but continued staring at his feet.  She slid closer until they touched from shoulder to hip and placed three of the power relays on the floor next to his boots.  She leaned away from him a little bit, then reached up to tug gently at a tuft of his hair, but she still didn’t say anything.  John felt something cold and painful that had been residing inside his chest for a very long time melt and flow into his stomach.  It flooded through him warmly and left him weak and shaking. 

Aeryn held the fourth relay out in front of him.  “Why didn’t you leave after you said goodbye two days ago?  Why didn’t you take that courier ship or this one and just leave?” 

He felt his throat close up, making it impossible for him to tell her why he had stayed.  Hope and fear, desire and grief, anger and … love.  He could barely let himself think the word when she was sitting this close to him, with all of the emotions churning inside his chest.  He’d stayed because of hope, but even now, with her beside him, he couldn’t let himself believe that it would pay off, that it would work out this time. 

“I don’t have anything to offer you except my promise, John.  I was honest about one thing that day on Moya.  You asked me if I loved John Crichton, and I told you I did.  That hasn’t changed.  I … love … John … Crichton.”  Silence fell over the cockpit for several microts.  “I came looking for you because I want to share a dream that I thought you still carried within you.”  She picked up all four relays and got to her feet. 

“I’ll put these back in place, and then, if you’re still willing, maybe you’d drop me off at Moya.  She’s waiting with all of the others on board because they wanted to know if I’d found you.  They’re all waiting because they want to you to come back.”  Aeryn unlatched the hatch to the rear of the ship and prepared to step through.  “I punched in her coordinates on the navigation system.  How long will it take to get there?” 

Crichton stood up as her footsteps faded toward the rear of the craft and moved shakily to the console.  He lowered himself carefully into the pilot’s seat, feeling detached from his own body, and looked at the course she had laid out.  If he used the Rotary Engines they could be there in less than a solar day without pushing the limits of safety.  He listened to the nearly inaudible sounds of Aeryn moving about in the back of the ship, familiar sounds even after almost two cycles apart. 

“Beyond hope,” he said to himself quietly.  He heard her footsteps coming back toward the cockpit, the quick shuffle as she eased past the door to the single set of living quarters that he and Gallenn had added to the ship.  He flicked the power circuits into their active settings and saw the indicators light up in sequence, showing full power to the engines. 

“How long will it take to get to Moya?” she asked again, sliding into the co-pilot’s seat. 

“This thing will only do Hetch Seven, so … twenty solar days.  Will that be soon enough?”  He watched out of the corner of his eyes, and she seemed to be smiling the slightest bit. 

“That should be enough,” she answered quietly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

'He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven'

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

(William Butler Yeats - 1899)

   * * * * *

Thanks for reading,

Kernil Crash

Purveyor of Hallucinations