UFO 

Author: Red a.k.a. the Right Brain -- spooky@wdsection.com

Rating: R- Mostly due to language, violence and the like.

Disclaimer: Farscape does not belong to the Right Brain. Farscape and all 
related characters and elements belong to The Jim Henson Company.

Summary: Crichton makes it home and finds some rather unpleasant realities. This 
takes place roughly a cycle after the end of season 3 (Dog With Two Bones). I 
started this well before season 4 and I had no idea TPTB were taking Crichton 
home as well. So this is the A-ist of AUs, an unrealized reality and Torture!Fic 
(meaning, I write torturously slow.)

Spoilers: Anything through Dog with Two Bones.

Feedback: Please drop me a line, if you're so inclined.

All parts to date ... most recent update July 3, 2004

>>>><<<<

1.

"No."

"John, be reasonable."

"No frelling way. This is not happening at all."

D'Argo stared at his friend for a long moment, peering intently at him as if 
sheer force of will could get the obstinate human to behave in a reasonable 
manner.  The Luxan had never been overly optimistic and he wondered why he was 
starting now. With a final frustrated growl he turned to another of their 
crewmates. 

"Aeryn, you try." Hating the pleading tone that had crept into his voice, D'Argo 
shot a very dark look at John. See what you have reduced a Luxan warrior to, you 
frelling ä frellnik? Growling, he moved to stand, arms crossed, against a 
bulkhead, letting Aeryn take her turn.

Aeryn ground her teeth in irritation and narrowed her eyes at both men. If she 
had learned nothing else in the four interminable cycles she'd been on Moya, she 
had at least learned that just below the hard exterior of any male warrior was 
an infuriatingly stubborn child. It didn't even seem to matter what species they 
were, all men were children. 

She took a deep breath, "John . . ."

John threw up a hand and turned his head away from her. "No way, Aeryn, don't 
even try it."

"These are your people, John." The words came out a little more forcefully than 
she had intended but he was being even more foolish than usual and she was most 
certainly not gifted with limitless patience.

John turned back around to face his friends and Aeryn felt her stomach lurch at 
the light of madness that touched his eyes. She stepped viciously on her fear 
and gazed back at him evenly. 

"They are not my people," his voice climbed to a yell. 

"Is that or is that not, Earth?" D'Argo yelled back, jabbing one long finger at 
the blue planet on the viewscreen.

Aeryn shook her head and looked away. "That's not helping, D'Argo."

D'Argo ignored her and pushed away from the bulkhead, advancing on the smaller 
man. "Four frelling cycles," he snarled. "Four frelling cycles of your mindless 
jabber and ridiculous stories of your homeworld and now that we are finally here 
you're not going to do anything about it?"

John refused to look at his towering friend, suddenly finding instead that the 
console in front of him was one of the most fascinating things he'd ever seen. 

Aeryn pinched the bridge of her nose and when D'Argo started yelling again she 
wondered how covertly she could comm Jool to come up and bring her big bag of 
heavy sedatives. 

D'Argo stepped up to John, growling menacingly as he did, "You won't do 
anything? Fine. I will do something. I will strap you to that damn module of 
yours and send you down there."

John looked up at that and the fevered look in his eyes had turned into 
something much colder. "You and what army?"

D'Argo shook his head, tentacles flailing, and barked a short, loud laugh. "I 
would never need an army to deal with you."

Aeryn noted with some alarm that John was caressing the butt of his pistol 
almost fondly, it was certainly more than his usual, almost absent awareness of 
the weapon. "D'Argo, I need to speak with Crichton. Alone. Why don't you go help 
Chiana fix whatever it is she's supposed to be fixing?" 

D'Argo opened his mouth to argue but at Aeryn's icy glare he shut it with a 
click and turned on his heel, stomping noisily out of command.

In the following calm, Aeryn hooked one of her thumbs on her belt and leaned her 
hip against the nearest console, watching John closely for a time. Not long 
after they had defeated Scorpius the crew had gone their separate ways. They had 
fought John's battle and when that was done each of them left, searching out 
their own peace and resolutions to their disparate issues. As things went, 
though, whatever they had been looking for in the great åout there' either had 
little meaning when they were on their own, or perhaps they realized there were 
some things they could no longer deal with alone. One by one they had drifted 
back to Moya, the bonds formed over their long association proving themselves 
nearly impossible to break. They came back to a haven of family, trust, and 
loyalty. 

John was there waiting, welcoming, and by all accounts quite happy to see his 
friends but he was also somewhat distant, quieter. D'Argo had been the first to 
return to Moya, his sense of honor and friendship driving him to return and seek 
out his comrade, requesting his companionship on his quest to avenge his wife's 
murder. Chiana had been next when the Nebari resistance needed a transport, no 
questions asked, and then she rather surprisingly decided to stay on after the 
rebels disembarked. They were followed by Stark, whose search for Zhann's spirit 
had apparently met with success and he was now the bearer of a supposedly sacred 
message for them all, though he unhelpfully refused to share it. 

Aeryn was the last to return -- a little less than half a cycle ago -- and her 
relationship with the lost astronaut had been strained at best. Their natural 
partnership had endured, though, and recently they had regained some of that 
comfortable friendship Aeryn was surprised to realize she treasured. His odd 
distance remained, however, and far too often she woke to reports from Pilot 
that the human was plagued again by nightmares and she watched his sleepless 
nights turn into endless nocturnal ramblings. As always it seemed Crichton's 
mental health was in a precarious state. It had been her hope that Scorpius' 
defeat might have eased his wounded mind, but it was becoming clearer and 
clearer that this was not the case. 

She looked across command to where he was standing against a console, looking 
everywhere but at her and at the blue and white globe that hung in the blackness 
outside. Gazing at him critically she decided he was at least looking slightly 
better these days.  She remembered vividly the day of her return and her first 
sight of him lounging on a storage crate, watching her climb down from her 
Prowler, not saying a word. She'd eyed him warily as she approached, his 
uncharacteristic silence was unnerving and she noted some fairly worrying 
changes in his appearance. His hair was longer than she ever remembered it being 
before and it stood up wildly on his head, his cheeks were dark with the 
beginnings of a beard and as she got closer she noticed he stank of sweat and 
raslak. 

"Guess I ticked the big guy off, huh?" 

Crichton's voice pulled Aeryn out of her memories and she looked up at his face. 
He was still resolutely refusing to meet her eyes but there was a small smile 
tugging at the corners of his lips.

"He's just confused, John," she told him. "He doesn't understand why you're not 
happy to be home. I think we're all puzzled by that."

He shrugged uncomfortably and chanced a glance at the viewscreen. When they'd 
come across the system John had been adamant that they not enter Earth orbit, 
directing them instead to the fourth planet. As thoroughly uninteresting a 
planet as Aeryn had ever seen and what little John told her about it confirmed 
her initial assessment. Red, round, dead. Pilot had been more than happy to 
oblige her request to display Earth instead.

John looked away from Earth and Aeryn watched him curl his shaking hand into a 
tight fist. "It's not home."

"And your family? Your friends? Don't you want to see them?"

"My family and friends are here," he mumbled.

"You know what I mean," she told him sharply.

John's face broke into a grin and he finally met her gaze. "I do. I just . . ." 
He stopped and sighed. "I don't know, Aeryn. It doesn't feel right."

Aeryn raised an eyebrow at his last statement. She doubted very much that that 
planet out there was anything other than Earth. Aeryn was in no mood to be 
frelled with, nor was she in any mood to watch some unknown entity toy with John 
again. She had Pilot run every scan he could, compare the stars with every chart 
in Moya's databanks, and they had even listened in on planetary transmissions, 
loud and confusing as they were. She was absolutely certain that the world 
outside was John's home, but she was curious as to exactly what it was that 
didn't feel right to him. "You think it's a trap?"

"No," he said, dragging out the word slowly. "I . . . I don't feel right, 
Aeryn."

Aeryn closed her eyes and ran a hand over her face, she wasn't sure she had the 
strength to fight the ghosts in John's head. She had her own. Though the pain 
was receding in favor of better memories, the specter of the other John still 
lingered, making it sometimes difficult to deal with the man in front of her 
now. 

"And if we starburst away from here right now, back to that wormhole nexus, what 
then?" She asked him pointedly. Her words sank in and his fist tightened, the 
knuckles turning white. "How long will you hate yourself if you leave Earth 
now?"

He looked up at her again, his blue eyes piercing and pleading with her to 
understand. "I can't go back there," he whispered harshly.

Aeryn's jaw clenched with irritation, more at herself than Crichton. She refused 
to allow him to do this to himself and she refused to allow herself to give in 
to his self-pity. "Yes, you can," she told him firmly, her voice rising as he 
wildly shook his head back and forth. "Crichton," she snapped. His entire body 
went rigid at the bite in her voice and he looked away from her. She took a deep 
breath and tried again, moderating her tone more carefully. "You're scared, but 
you're not alone and this isn't a false Earth. I promise you that, John. I swear 
it."

John scrubbed his hand through his hair. Not long after Aeryn returned to Moya 
he'd returned to his habit of keeping it clipped short, though she doubted it 
had anything to do with her. More likely he was simply tired of the endless 
teasing he got from Chiana about it. Either way, Aeryn realized she'd just spent 
entirely too long thinking about his hair. Now was not a good time to allow 
herself to get distracted by such a little thing. 

"You're right, you're right. I know you're right," he ran his hands through his 
hair again, then down over his face, his thumb nervously trailing along his lip. 
"I don't know what to do, Aeryn. I don't trust them. I don't trust Earth."

Aeryn gave him a wry smile. "Do we ever trust anybody?"

John accepted her humor with a tight nod. "Good point."

"So, we go at this like we go at everything else."

"Pissed and armed to the teeth?"

Aeryn frowned. "I thought you told me your people would take it badly if we went 
down armed?"

John shook his head slowly. "Musta been the other guy," he mumbled unhappily.

Aeryn resolutely ignored the icy stab of grief in her chest. "You know, I 
remember the Ancient's Earth. Everybody was armed there. I don't understand what 
the problem is."

"It's a cultural thing, Aeryn. It's ä complicated." John waved his hand 
nebulously. 

Aeryn pinned him with her gaze. "This is your planet, John, un-complicate it. 
Last time they dictated the terms, this time you do it."

Aeryn watched in satisfaction as the fear and uncertainty faded from John's 
face. She knew if she could just get him to think of this as any of their other 
campaigns, get that flexible and tattered mind focused on a plan, he had a good 
chance of overcoming his misgivings. They had faced darker things than John's 
home.

"Our terms, huh?" He asked with a ghost of a smile.

"We're very good at bad odds."

John flashed Aeryn a wide, albeit brief grin, then turned his gaze back to the 
view screen. He chewed thoughtfully on his lip and wandered around the console, 
trailing his hand along the edge of it. "I need to think about this for a little 
while."

Aeryn pushed herself away from the console and stepped up behind him. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"I need for you to understand something."

John tore his eyes from Earth, his forehead creased in concern. "What's up?"

"This isn't just for you. There are things I need to do on Earth."

Understanding flashed across John's features and his intense eyes turned 
momentarily dark. "Just tell me what you need," he told her, his voice tight.

"John . . ."

He cut her off quickly. "It's fine, Aeryn. I get it."

Aeryn narrowed her eyes and stared at him silently. John studiously ignored her 
glare, his attention back on Earth, instead. After a long, uncomfortable moment, 
Aeryn strode briskly to the door. When she reached the opening her steps 
faltered and she looked over her shoulder at her crewmate. "I would do the same 
for you," she growled at him, irritated and hurt, before continuing out of 
command.

John turned quickly and took a few steps in her direction. "Aeryn," he called 
desperately. She froze in place, her spine stiffening, but she didn't turn 
around. "I really do understand, Aeryn," he told her gently. "I'm sorry. I am so 
damn sorry."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly and her head dropped back as she looked up at the 
ceiling. "Thank you. I'll be working on my prowler if you need anything."

She left as quickly as she could, her heart heavy and weary in her chest. It was 
tiresome, this endless pain and it fed off of itself. In her own agony she would 
hurt him and in his pain he would hurt her, and back again and back again. They 
could go whole days without a twinge, there would be smiles, incomprehensible 
human jokes, arguments over everyday things, but then a memory, a word, a look 
and everything would go dark. They were scorched, scarred, battered, and cut 
time after time but however much it hurt they held fast. To let go would surely 
kill them.

Earth. Earth would be her hope. Maybe there they would find some balm, something 
that would sooth the raw and jagged wound between them. Maybe they would find 
that ever elusive peace and maybe, just maybe, Aeryn could fulfil her final 
obligations to him and lay their ghosts to rest. 

>>>><<<<

2.

John Crichton stared at his homeworld for a very long time. The familiar globe 
and everything it held, so tantalizingly, teasingly, torturously close. Why did 
they have to find Earth now? Three cycles ago he would have welcomed this day, 
overjoyed -- god knew he dreamed about it often enough -- but the sight felt 
almost poisonous to him now and what he truly wanted most was to call out an 
order to Pilot to starburst them away from here. 

His heart thrashed against his ribcage and he fought back the bile burning in 
his throat. Cursing himself for a coward he tried to strike the bleakness from 
his mind. He had to do this. He had to do it for Aeryn, for D'Argo, for Chiana, 
for all their hopes for him.

"That's a lovely planet, John. So full of promise. It's good to be home."

John didn't turn his head but his eyes shifted to the figure standing next to 
him. The bright orange IASA flight suit was a nice touch, he thought. 

Not bothering to reply, he let his gaze fall back on Earth. How many guys were 
lucky enough to have a clone of their worst nightmare stuck in their head? One 
more reason he just wasn't prepared to face Earth. They've got special places 
for people who hear voices. 

"Where are we going first? You'll want to see your father right away, I imagine. 
But I'd like to put in a request for some new music. I'm bored with the 
selection we have now."

"Harvey, in honor of being home, fuck off," John said wearily.

The Scorpius clone blinked and turned his hideous, black-clad head in John's 
direction. "Now, now, John, no need to be nasty. I'm perfectly aware of your 
qualms regarding our situation. I would simply like to point out that there 
could be a number of benefits to a trip down to Earth. For both of us."

John frowned uncertainly. "You really want to go down there?"

"All I have are your memories, John. I'm champing at the bit to see the place 
first hand," he said brightly.

"What happened to Earth being too primitive and innocuous for you?"

Harvey nodded and leaned back against the console next to John. "Yes. At first 
that was true. You must admit that on the surface your culture is all gaudy 
lights and obnoxious sound. But as I dug deeper I gained a greater appreciation 
for humans. You're a delightfully brutal people. Easily as much so as the 
Sebaceans, and you outstrip them handily in terms of art and music. I love a 
good paradox, John, and the mix of beauty and violence is breathtaking."

"Great. Somehow I liked åmostly harmless' better."

The clone tutted, "Don't be so superior. You know it's the truth. It's all right 
here in your mind." Harvey punched John's arm lightly. "Why, you're the perfect 
example. Out here only a fool would mistake you for anything less than extremely 
dangerous. But that wasn't always the case was it? Your people play at being 
ingenuous very well, but you adapt remarkably quickly and once you do you're the 
match for anyone. Strength, John. I admire strength and cleverness and I look 
forward to a further investigation of your people."

John glanced over at Harvey, watching his animated discourse on humans. This was 
the part of his association with the clone the others hated most; their 
conversations. They might trust John Crichton, but they harbored deep 
reservations about the thing in his head and its influence over him. Over the 
past couple of cycles, though, Crichton had almost come to rely on the ghastly 
wraith's knowledge and as a sounding board for his own plans. As disturbing as 
it was, the Scorpius clone knew how John's mind worked, knew the fears and 
doubts that plagued him, and at least partially understood John's homeworld and 
its influence on who and what he was, all in a depth and complexity none of his 
friends could truly match.

"Well you better make every second count," John sighed. 

A pair of slender arms twining around his neck, pulled Crichton from his 
conversation and Harvey faded back into his mind. "Hey, old man."

A small smile pulled at Crichton's lips and he slipped his arm around Chiana's 
waist. "Hey, Pip. You get that regulator fixed?"

"Yeah, but jobs like that really make me miss Rygel. That access shaft was a 
little smaller than I liked." The young Nebari giggled softly. 

"The little toad had his uses," John agreed fondly.

Chiana turned in John's arms and leaned back against his chest, looking out at 
Earth. "So that's home, huh?"

"Looks like it."

"You're not happy about it?"

John pulled back from Chiana a bit and looked down at her face. "Did D'Argo send 
you up?"

"No," she sniffed indignantly. "He just mentioned you were being a pain in the 
eema about it and I wanted to see what was up, you know?"

John moved her to one side and stepped away. He appreciated their concern but 
sometimes the boat was just a little too small. When every move he made in a 
situation that already made him tense was scrutinized and open for discussion by 
the entire crew it was more than enough to make him unreasonably agitated. 
"Nothing's up, Chiana," he told her firmly. "I'm just being cautious."

"D'Argo said you didn't want to go down at all. I thought you'd want to see your 
family," she said, cocking her head to one side with a puzzled frown.

John threw his arms wide. "Yes, Chiana, and for anybody else who hasn't had the 
chance to ask yet, I do want to see my family," he yelled into the room. "What I 
do not want to do is end up in containment for the rest of my life watching my 
friends being dissected. Can you understand that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," Chiana held up her hands, trying to calm John. "I 
was just wondering. You know I'll stick by whatever you want to do."

John let out a wordless howl of frustration and ground the heels of his hands 
into his eyes. "Look at me, Chiana. I'm a goddamned mess." He dropped his hands 
down to meet Chiana's worried gaze and barked a slightly hysterical laugh. "Just 
wait åtill the folks back home get a load of me." 

"Is that what's got you so scared? Don't look at me like that," she chastised 
when he narrowed his eyes skeptically. "I know you, old man."

John nodded, acknowledging the truth of that statement. "Seeing Earth, well, 
I've got this whole reminiscing thing going and considering where I've been to 
get here . . ." He sighed and leaned back against the bulkhead. "I don't even 
recognize myself anymore."

Chiana crossed the deck to John and slid down the bulkhead next to him, sitting 
comfortably at his feet. She had long ago recognized the uniqueness of her 
relationship with the astronaut and she felt a little smug knowing he let her 
see parts of himself nobody else got to. The bond between them was undemanding, 
not necessarily uncomplicated, but definitely the most comfortable place she had 
ever been. There was none of that treacherous emotional baggage he had with 
Aeryn, or that male warrior dren he and D'Argo tossed at each other. They were 
simply what they were. And she loved him for it. He trusted her when nobody else 
did, had faith in her when she wasn't sure she was worth it, protected her even 
when she didn't need it, and he was her shelter when things got too real. And 
since he never asked for anything in return, she was free to give all that to 
him, too. 

"Well, you're always telling me that people change," she told him. "Why do you 
think that's not the same for you?"

"I remember the day I left Earth, Chi. I remember my first few arns on Moya. I 
remember that guy and I can't find him inside me anymore," he said, his voice 
thick with melancholy.

Chiana reached up for his hand and gently tugged him down to sit next to her so 
she could lean her head against his shoulder. "Okay, so I wasn't there at the 
beginning, but I remember the guy who talked me into staying on Moya when I 
didn't want anything else but to jump ship at the nearest commerce planet. And 
he's still here. So your head's been a little frelled with‚"

"A little?" John interrupted with a snort.

"A lot frelled with," she corrected with a smile. "You're still John Crichton. 
Why do you think we all came back to Moya? It sure as fek wasn't for the food 
cubes. You were our friend then and you're still our friend. Maybe you don't 
trust yourself so trust us. åCause if you weren't acting like yourself I'm sure 
we'd all let you know about it."

John dropped his head back against the bulkhead and laughed. "Yeah, there's 
nothing this crew loves more than telling me when I've got my head up my ass."

Chiana snickered and sat up on her knees to face John. "So, what's the plan?"

"You're not going to let up are you?" He asked dolefully.

"Nope."

"Alright," he said slowly, trying to firm up his thoughts. "Well I'm not going 
to make the mistake of trying to go down to Earth right away again. We need to 
make sure they can't make us disappear." John fell quiet for a moment, as the 
beginnings of a plan tickled at the edge of his brain. "Hey, Pilot?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"How're we doing with planetary communications? You think maybe you can tap into 
them, transmit through them?"

"They are rather primitive, but I'm fairly certain that won't be a problem."

"Are there any craft in orbit?"

"There are a great number of objects in orbit," Pilot observed. "Though I am 
detecting only one that could comfortably house beings. A very small structure, 
I am not entirely certain what it is."

"That's probably the space station," John noted and then let out a snort of 
laughter. "The pathetic, human version of a space station. Couple tin cans duct-
taped together." He chewed on the pad of his thumb for another long moment and 
then climbed to his feet. "Okay, Pilot, we're gonna make a long distance call 
before we get anywhere near that planet. When we do go in, keep the space 
station between us and Earth."

"Yes, Commander."

Chiana bounced up off the floor and gazed speculatively at the blue planet. 
"They can't hurt Moya, can they?"

John shrugged. "I don't think so, Pip, but no reason taking any chances. I don't 
think Moya'd like an ICBM in the teeth. Better check the weather before we 
invade, though."

A jolt of realization went through Chiana and she felt a moment of fear. This 
was his homeworld, she wasn't sure what to expect and she wasn't sure what was 
going to happen next. She hadn't actually ever thought too much about it, it was 
always just one of those things that might someday happen. Maybe. But now they 
were here, and as she gazed at Crichton's intense face, her fear faded but 
turned into something a little more ambiguous. What did all this mean for John? 
"You're not gonna stay, are you?" It was more a statement than a question but 
her voice conveyed her own uncertainty about the situation.

John gave her a joyless smile. "No. I don't plan on hangin' round Earth too 
long. Nothing good's coming down that road."

>>>><<<<

3.

Sifting through the news for the better part of the day, John knew that he was 
only scratching the surface. Granted his perception of what was true news had 
changed markedly over the cycles, most of the stuff he had to slog through now 
was one political scandal or another that everybody would forget a week later. 
The translator microbes did their part in lifting language barriers, but after 
that first blush of "damn, that's cool" wore off again he decided to stick to 
news from the States. That's where he'd try to go down, if he ever did, so it 
was more important to see what the climate was like there. After a few arns of 
that his main thought became, what in hell did they need a dozen cable news 
networks for? Christ, what was wrong with just CNN? He was almost certain there 
weren't that many when he left. Maybe two. Or was it three? Whatever. Still too 
frelling many channels.

Aeryn had returned to command a couple of arns earlier, joining John in 
listening in on his planet and watching him mutter and shake his head, his 
expression ranging from an occasional smile touching his lips to a strangled 
oath and a weary sigh. She remained silent at his side, staring at the chaotic 
jumble of images, a million questions on the tip of her tongue but she decided 
to let him process what he was seeing before she started interrogating him on 
the puzzling nuances of the ånews'. 

She wasn't surprised to recognize certain things, though; war was easy enough to 
pick out. Something about that thought disturbed her but she couldn't say why. 
John had told her often enough that Earth could be an unpleasant place, but even 
then he always talked about home with such longing, such fondness, she somehow 
expected that it should remain immune from the uglier aspects of the universe. 
Seeing that it wasn't filled her with an almost infinite sadness. 

"Son of a bitch!"

The pure angry venom in John's voice startled Aeryn. In all the cycles she'd 
known him, she'd only heard that tone a bare handful of times and the fiery rage 
that flashed in his icy blue eyes scared her. She looked over his shoulder, 
trying to find the source of his fury, but the scenes were flickering by too 
quickly and she didn't know enough about what she was seeing to pick out 
anything upsetting. She glanced up at his face again and saw that the fury had 
banked, leaving a glassy horror behind. 

Tentatively, she reached out a hand, laying it gently on his tense shoulder. 
"John?"

She slid her hand down his arm, intending to take his hand, but his grip on the 
console was fierce. Cold shock went through her when she noticed a trickle of 
blood oozing between his fingers. In the grip of whatever agony this was, he was 
oblivious to the damage he was doing to his own hand. 

"John," she whispered in his ear and tugged at his arm, trying to carefully pull 
him from his distress. "Tell me what's wrong."

He took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to relax his strained muscles. "It's 
alright, Aeryn," he whispered harshly. "Just some stuff you . . . you never 
expect,  never dream you'll see. Not even in nightmares." Shaking his head, he 
blinked a few times and tried to get his mind back on track. "Guess that answers 
that question, though."

He released his death grip on the console and was raising his hand to rub at his 
eyes when Aeryn caught his wrist. He glanced over at her, eyebrow raised in 
question. Wordlessly she turned his hand over and showed him the deep gash 
scored across his palm. Blood had dripped down his fingers and continued to 
slowly seep down his wrist and arm. He'd never even felt the wound. 

He looked up, rather sheepishly, at Aeryn and met her level gaze with a small 
smile. She wasn't so easily placated but instead of saying anything she settled 
for narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips before dropping his wrist and 
turning to find the medical kit they kept on command. She cleaned and bound the 
wound swiftly while he stood patiently, gazing back at the images of Earth 
again.

When she was finished he reclaimed his hand and continued his earlier aborted 
gesture to rub at his eyes. There was so much to take in, he knew he'd never be 
able to catch up in the short time they had. The best he could do was 
acknowledge that things were more or less as they had always been, if a little 
angrier and exponentially more paranoid, but these were politics he understood, 
motives and borders he knew, and at least a vague idea about the reasons why 
things were the way they were. That was a huge advantage he seldom had in the 
Uncharted Territories.

John let out a long slow breath. "I think I know what I need to know."

"What are you going to do?" Aeryn asked, her whole demeanor much more subdued 
since his outburst.

He shot her a cocky grin. "Phone home."

When it wasn't extremely annoying, his bizarre humor could be almost infectious 
and Aeryn couldn't help but grudgingly return the grin.

"Pilot," John called. "You ready with that comm channel?"

Pilot's projected image appeared on the clamshell next to them. "Yes, 
Commander."

"Dial åer up than," John told him with a firm nod.

John's almost irrepressible confidence didn't fool Aeryn. She saw him nervously 
lick his lips and he fingered the bandage on his right hand anxiously, twitching 
the hand, and drumming it along the console. He was wound so tightly he jerked 
spasmodically when an odd buzzing tone came over the comm. She was just about to 
ask if there was something wrong with the channel when a click sounded.

"Crichton," a sleep-drugged voice croaked.

John opened his mouth to speak, but closed it an instant later, swallowing 
convulsively.

"Hello?" The voice asked again, more alert this time and more annoyed.

Shaking his head slightly, as if clearing it, John braced himself comfortably 
against the console. "Rise and shine, Jenny darlin'."

"Who is this?"

"Somebody with a very fine story to tell."

The channel was silent for a moment, but Aeryn thought she could hear breathing 
on the other end. "You've got ten seconds to tell me something pretty damn good 
or I'm having this call traced and I'm gonna send the biggest, meanest bastard 
in my unit over to beat the ever loving shit out of you."

Aeryn brought her fist to her mouth to smother a laugh, not even home and he was 
already irritating the locals. John glanced over at her and shook his head 
before he continued speaking to åJenny'. "What a mouth. Mom was right, you 
should have been a sailor."

There was a pained hiss and a long moment of silence followed by an angry 
whisper, "Who is this?"

"Funny thing about the universe, Jenny, it's a damn big place and nothing's ever 
what you think it's gonna be," John told her gently. 

"Johnny?"

John leaned over the console, bracing his arms and lowering his head. "I know 
this isn't what you were expecting but do me a favor and don't hang up yet."

"No, no, no this is not . . . this is not real. This can't . . . I mean it 
really . . . Johnny?"

"Yeah, kid," John whispered. "I'm back and I need your help."

"How is this possible? You're lost; presumed dead. I went to your damn funeral. 
I go to your grave every year on your birthday with Dad. I swear to god, John, 
if that's really you and you made me go through all of that . . ."

John started laughing, a real laugh Aeryn noted, not the strained, harsh 
snickers she was too used to. 

"I'm sorry, Jenny. I'll make it up to you," he promised with another round of 
chuckles.

"Okay, let me get this straight, it is three a.m. and my brother, my dead 
brother, my dead for five years brother is calling me. From where?"

John bit his lip. "Mars."

"Fuck you," Jenny spat.

"Listen to me, Jen, I'm on a ship and we're orbiting Mars."

"I am hanging up."

"NO! Jenny! Hold up. It's me, I swear," he pleaded. He didn't think he'd have 
the strength to try this call again. It was a one-shot deal. All or nothing and 
if she hung up on him he didn't know how in hell he was going to be able to deal 
with Earth.

The line was silent but for a faint crackle of static. John chewed his lip 
nervously.

"Prove it," she said finally, angry, defiant.

"Oh god," John scrubbed his hands through his hair. "I should warn you my 
brain's got a hell of a lot of holes in it. There's . . . uh, there's stuff 
missing."

"Like what?"

"Well, hell, I don't know. It's missing," he yelled, exasperated.

"Oh, nice excuse. Way to cover your ass."

"Try me."

"Fourth grade--"

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine. I wouldn't remember yours, would I? Winter break. Where'd we go?"

John tapped his thumb against his lips, his mind straining for the memory. "Uh . 
. ."

"Clock's ticking."

"Give me a minute," he growled. "Scotland. To see mom's cousins."

"Anybody could have known that," she dismissed after a heartbeat or two.

"Oh please. Come on, Jenny."

"No, you come on," she shouted. "I wake up to a weird phone call in the middle 
of the night from my dead brother who says he's orbiting Mars. Tell me what is 
wrong with that picture?"

"Alright, alright," John sighed. "Hit me again."

"Oh, okay, I've got one. After I graduated from high school, right before I went 
to the academy you and I did something together. What was it? And give an 
example," she directed firmly.

"Road trip. Massachusetts to California," John muttered half to himself. "An 
example? Huh. Okay. Okay, I remember Salina, Kansas. You got drunk and started 
hitting on that bible-thumping farmer's son. I thought I was going to have to 
deck the guy and carry you out of there." John started chuckling again and this 
time his laughter was met by the sound of similar humor.

"Right, like I'd ever let you carry me anywhere, he-man."

"You believe me, kid?" John asked her softly.

"I don't know what to believe. This is too strange," she muttered. "But, I 
guess, lacking anything better, believing my big brother's still alive will have 
to do."

"Well, that's something, huh? Guess that's better than having some Air Force 
thug come beat the shit out of me, though. He'd have to get in line anyway. 
That'd probably take the fight out of him."

"How'd this happen, Johnny?" She asked solemnly, ignoring his rambling 
commentary.

John sighed and pushed away from the console, moving closer to the viewscreen, 
staring down at Earth. "Fate decided one day that she wanted to kick John 
Crichton's ass but good. I went through a wormhole and ended up . . . 
elsewhere."

"Elsewhere," she repeated blandly.

"Far, far, away elsewhere."

"And now you're back."

"And I need your help. I want to see you again. I want to let Earth know what's 
out here. But there is no way in hell I am coming down to that planet until my 
freedom is assured. And my friends'," he amended quickly, watching Aeryn watch 
him. "Call me paranoid but I've been frelled with a few too many times to take 
too many stupid chances."

"Your friends," she mumbled. "What do you need from me?"

"Are you still in Space Command?"

"Yeah."

"Well, we'll be entering Earth orbit in a few arns . . . hours. I suppose that's 
gonna freak a lot of people out."

"They're not going to believe me if I tell them it's you, you know," she warned. 
"Hell, I don't even believe me."

"Yeah, I didn't figure they would. But I want somebody on the inside, a contact, 
and that, my darlin', is you. And I kind of wanted to give you a heads up. I'm 
not in the mood to play nice, I don't trust the monkeys down there."

"On behalf of all the monkeys down here, HEY. Have you called Dad?"

"No. I, uh, I think he might take it better from you than if I just called him 
up. How is . . . how is everybody down there," John asked tentatively, almost 
fearfully.

"Good, John, we're all doing fine. It'd be better if, you know, we hadn't buried 
you."

"Jenny, I swear I don't need any guilt, okay?" he told her sharply. "I've got 
more than enough. Anymore and I'm probably just gonna eat my gun."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Honest, though, we're all okay."

"Tell me something," he rasped.

"Um, Joey's still teaching at Ithaca and you have a new niece, DK's an uber geek 
at JPL now, Dad's doing the lecture thing and some consulting, and I'm still at 
Spacecom. You want aunts, uncles and cousins or will that do for now?"

"Jenny, just . . . just don't push me, okay," he said raggedly. 

Aeryn had been happy enough to stand aside while John conversed with Jenny, and 
for a time the conversation had gone much better than she'd expected but now, as 
it went on, he was becoming tense. She hated to interrupt his first contact with 
his home but she was damned if she'd let him spiral down again. Stepping up next 
to him, she put her hand firmly on his shoulder, "John. We have plans to make."

"Sorry," he whispered. Taking a deep breath he stood up straight and gave Aeryn 
a smile he hoped was at least a little reassuring. He wasn't sure it worked, 
though, Aeryn's hand never moved from his shoulder. "Jenny, here's what's going 
to happen--"

"Wait, wait, wait," Jenny interrupted. "What was that?"

"That is the reason I'm still even a little bit sane." John glanced at Aeryn 
with a fond smile that faded quickly when she looked away. "Jenny this is Aeryn 
Sun. Aeryn, my sister Jenny," John introduced tonelessly.

"Hello," Aeryn said politely.

"Um, hello. Wait, that was English. It wasn't English before. Is she human? How 
would another human get out there? I'm sorry, are you human? Or an alien? John, 
did you teach her? Or is that some groovy translator thingy?"

John ignored his sister's rapid-fire questions and stared at Aeryn in shock; she 
just shrugged uncomfortably and nodded back to the comm. "Uh, looks like at 
least one of them speaks English," he mumbled, distracted. 

"A little," Aeryn corrected quietly. 

"She is an alien, right?" Jenny asked again.

"Yeah," John said quickly, still unable to take his eyes off of Aeryn. "Not so's 
you'd notice, though." He shook himself, that obviously wasn't a place either of 
them were prepared to go just yet. "Look, Jenny, here's what's going to happen--
"

"Aliens."

John laughed quietly. "Keep up with me here, darlin'. Okay, we're going to enter 
Earth orbit in a few hours. We're going to park right behind the ISS and 
initiate contact with them. That'll give you time to call Dad and anybody else 
you need to, tell them what's up. They'll probably think you're nuts but when we 
show up that'll give some confirmation."

"What if I am nuts and I'm just hallucinating this?"

"Not unusual for a Crichton," John muttered darkly. Aeryn nudged him pointedly 
and he cleared his throat. "I can only promise you I'm really here. I need 
another big favor here, Jenny."

"What kind of big favor?" Jenny asked with dread.

"I don't want you to do it, it'll probably tank your career, have Dad or DK do 
it. When we enter orbit, alert the media. I'll try to cut into communications, 
TV, radio whatever, but I don't want our arrival covered up. I guess this'll 
probably get pretty, um, chaotic, but, well hell, that's how we work best. Quiet 
isn't exactly our style."

John glanced over at Aeryn who snorted with wry amusement.

Jenny sighed heavily at the other end of the connection. "Jesus, John, you never 
do things small do you?"

Aeryn laughed again, louder this time. "Never. I don't think he knows how."

"What did she say?"

John scowled. "Never mind. Can you do that, Jenny?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it but if I end up in a little padded room, I'm gonna be so 
pissed."

"Hey, don't knock little padded rooms."

The comm fell silent again, for so long in fact John was afraid they'd lost the 
connection. "Jenny? You still with me?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she said quietly. "Johnny, promise me something."

"Anything, sweetheart."

"Don't let me wake up and have this be a dream. Please." Her voice broke on the 
last word and John bowed his head again and closed his eyes. 

"I promise," he swore ardently. "Get out of bed, jump in the shower, put on your 
nice, shiny uniform, grab some coffee and hold tight for just a couple of hours. 
I'll be home soon, kiddo."

"This is too weird to be anything but a dream. I know it. I'm gonna wake up," 
she persisted.

"You remember what I told you about the universe when you were a kid?" He asked 
patiently.

Comm static crackled faintly while she thought. "Nothing's impossible in 
infinity," she recited dutifully.

"Get out of bed now. Call Dad."

"He won't believe me."

His stomach clinched painfully at the vulnerability in his sister's voice. "Well 
than call him and tell him about this really strange dream you had, and how 
maybe it's not a dream and maybe you should pay close attention to any chatter 
coming from ISS for the next few hours. Trust me."

"Alright. How long?"

"Just a couple of hours," he repeated gently.

"Okay."

"I'll see you soon."

"Johnny, I love you, you know."

"I know Jenny, now get a move on. Busy day."

John closed the comm and slumped heavily against the console, resting his head 
on his crossed forearms. Aeryn stood quietly nearby, waiting for his reaction.

"That was harder than I thought," he said, his voice muffled and tired.

"You did well," Aeryn replied simply.

John rolled his head to one side, not lifting it up, and glanced at her. 
"Thanks. I don't think she really believed me, though. And she knows me. It's 
going to be a damn sight harder when we contact the ISS."

"Maybe not. You don't have anything to prove to them."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've said your planet hasn't made any contact outside your own system. 
We're going to show up and they're going to have to accept certain things -- 
among them, the fact of your survival. First contacts are notoriously difficult, 
and of everything that comes of it, your reappearance will be the easiest thing 
for them to believe."

John propped his chin on his arms and looked out at Earth. "Unless they think 
I'm an imposter."

Aeryn shrugged. "It doesn't change the fact of our arrival."

"I guess not." John finally straightened again with a chuckle. "You know, I 
better hear some good conspiracy theories about all this."

"Why a couple of arns?"

John stared at her, confused, for a few long moments before he finally 
understood. "Oh, uh, yeah, I need it to . . . think. Focus. And to give Jenny 
time to contact some people," he added.

Aeryn nodded sagely. She'd seen what a quarter-of-an-arn conversation nearly did 
to him; she wasn't particularly looking forward to watching him try to keep hold 
of himself for the extended periods of time first contact would require. "Go get 
some rest than. I'll keep watch." 

>>>><<<<

4.

Major Jennifer Crichton was annoyed; she had definite thoughts about where this 
week should have gone and being called insane by a pair of family members had 
not been in the plans. However, like her father and long-lost older brother, she 
was a test pilot and if there was one thing she knew how to do it was improvise. 
If indeed her brother had returned from the inky depths of space, her new plans 
for the week involved cheerfully strangling him the moment she saw him.

She zipped up her flight suit and reached out to close the locker when she was 
hit by a pang of . . . what was that? Guilt? Shame? Blind stinking terror? She'd 
called DK and her sister Joey before she left the house for the airfield. The 
huge error had been in saving her father for last, because by the time she got 
through Joey's insistence that she seek some sort of professional help, she'd 
lost the nerve. Now she could almost sense her cell phone sitting in the bottom 
of her bag, mocking her cowardice. Sighing she glanced down at her watch; forty-
five minutes until . . . something. Or nothing. If John truly was back, their 
father deserved to know immediately, but how devastating would it be if she'd 
somehow let herself fall into a cruel hoax? 

Almost of their own volition, her hands snatched the bag out of the locker and 
dug the phone out. She stared at it and chewed nervously on her thumbnail for a 
few minutes before swearing loudly, "Oh for fuck's sake. You're a goddamned 
military pilot, Crichton. You fear no man or beast. You can call your damn 
father!" That little self pep talk over with, she resolutely punched the buttons 
on the phone and waited impatiently for her father to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad, it's Jenny."

"Well hi, sweetheart," Jack Crichton happily greeted his daughter.

"How, uh, how're things?" Jenny stumbled, her nerve leaving her again.

"Things are just fine. It's a little early to be calling, isn't it? Is 
everything okay?"

God, how did she say this? It was easy enough to just lay the facts out to DK 
and Joey, sure they'd each lost a best friend and brother but she wasn't afraid 
to tell them exactly where they could go stick their skepticism, but this was 
her father. A man she'd never really had the easiest time talking to and a man 
who'd lost his only son. She didn't want to hurt him but mentioning John's name 
was always a sore spot. 

"Jennifer?"

"Uh, things are interesting here, Dad. I got a strange phone call about an hour 
and a half ago."

"What kind of phone call?"

"Well it was kind of, er, long distance. Better not have been collect or I'm 
going to . . ."

"Jennifer, what is going on?" Jack asked firmly.

"It was about John. Well no," she corrected herself quickly "it wasn't about 
John, it was John." She held her breath while she listened to the silence on the 
other end of the line. 

"I'm sorry, did you say it was John?"

Jenny winced. "Yeah."

"Sweetheart," she could almost hear the patient smile in his voice. "You had a 
dream. Right? It was a good dream. John comes back. I've had that dream myself a 
hundred times. And sometimes it's so real that when I . . . when I wake up I 
think for a minute it's the truth. But sweetie --"

"Dad," she interrupted, "if it was a dream, I haven't woken up yet. Johnny . . . 
he told me to get up and call you. He swore it wasn't a dream."

She heard the long, pained sigh, and felt the acid churning in her stomach. 
"Jenny, I know you want it to be real."

"I know how this sounds, believe me. How do you think I felt when I got the 
call? I don't know, maybe it's not him. Maybe it was a dream or somebody's sick 
idea of a joke, but in," she glanced down at her watch again, "thirty-two 
minutes we'll know for sure."

"Why?"

"Dad, will you just do me one favor? Just one," she pleaded desperately. "Go in 
to Kennedy now and try to listen in to the chatter from the ISS. If it was real, 
if it wasn't a dream, he said he'd contact them first. Please, Dad? I know you 
don't . . . I mean, I don't even want to get my hopes up, but it's me, Dad, if I 
thought that this really couldn't possibly be real, would I call you? Jesus fu‚, 
er, I know this is insane. Just, uh, just go listen. Please."

"Jennifer."

"Dad, please," she snapped, than instantly regretted her tone. Oh hell, she'd 
make it up to him later, this was important.

"Alright. I don't know that I can make it to Kennedy in thirty-two minutes, but 
I'll try. Okay?"

He was just humoring her, she knew that, but she also knew he'd do it, and that 
was all she wanted. "Thanks, Dad. Whatever happens I'll call back later today."

"I'd appreciate that, sweetheart. If I'm going to get there I need to go now."

"I love you, Dad," she said impulsively. Twice in one day, good lord she was 
turning into a sap.

"I love you, too."

Jenny ended the call and let her forehead bounce noisily against the locker's 
metal door. Several times. This was insane. She was insane. She bit her lip and 
quickly considered her options. Her original intention had been to get up in the 
air for a little while, away from everything, to try to clear her head, but she 
was running out of time. Of course the option where she paced around impatiently 
for half an hour wasn't appealing at all. She briefly wondered how much trouble 
she'd get into if she åborrowed' a jet to fly to either Houston or Canaveral. 
The idea was discarded quickly, it would have been fun but the red tape was 
terrifying. 

Not bothering to strip out of her flight suit, she opened her locker again, 
grabbed her bag and strode briskly out of the locker room. As soon as something 
appeared in orbit all hell was going to break loose, and everything would go on 
high alert, especially the 21st Space Wing. Somehow in all that she was going to 
have to swing some leave, or a temporary reassignment, so that if this really 
was John, she could get herself in a position to be his contact. And she had 
less than thirty minutes to figure this all out.

Jenny sat in her car for a few long, precious minutes, tapping her finger 
thoughtfully on the steering wheel. Why did these things always have to happen 
really freaking early in the morning?  Short on time and lacking anything even 
remotely resembling a plan she put the car in gear, deciding to simply head 
straight to the engineering lab housing her project. If she had any actual luck 
at all, Lieutenant Evans would be there. Joshua Evans was a geek, pure and 
simple, but more importantly this morning, he also had a geek brother who worked 
at Johnson Space Center. She needed ears there and she didn't have time to beg, 
cajole, or threaten her way into any of the areas on base that were watching the 
sky. 

It was a short drive to the lab but the clock was ticking. She sprinted into the 
building, past the very surprised night guard, and after brief but vicious 
battle with her key card, burst into her lab. The large room's only occupant was 
seated in front of a bank of computer monitors and he spun around in his chair, 
surprised by Jenny's fairly dramatic entrance.

"Evans!" Jenny barked gleefully when she spotted her favorite engineer. 

The Lieutenant struggled to overcome his shock and climb to his feet to greet 
his superior but Jenny waived him back down. "Are you here late or early?" She 
asked. 

"Ma'am?"

"Never mind." The answer didn't really matter anyway; the guy lived at the lab. 
She should probably just get him a comfortable cot. At the very least that would 
cut down on the drool stains on the engineering specs. "It's, what, just about 
quarter to six in Houston? Would your brother be at work yet?"

Evans blinked owlishly at her. Major Crichton's mind worked in mysterious ways. 
She was a brilliant physicist, pretty damn good at down and dirty engineering 
and she was an absolute goddess in the air, but she scared the holy hell out of 
him. "Ma'am?"

"Evans, if you can get that uberbrain of yours working right now and get me what 
I want I'll buy you Starbucks for a month. Focus. Your brother, he works at 
Johnson, would he be at work now?"

The promise of free, hot, caffeinated life's blood did the trick and the young 
Lieutenant's mind snapped to attention. "No, ma'am. I don't think he gets in 
until about eight."

Jenny raised her eyebrow. "Huh. I kind of thought he'd be like you. I don't 
think I could blast you out of here."

Evans didn't know what to say to a comment like that so he settled for a simple, 
"Yes, Ma'am."

Jenny sat down heavily in a chair next to him. "I've got a tight time table 
here, Evans. I need a contact at Johnson, preferably ISS mission control. Well, 
what I really need at this exact moment in time is a patch through to ISS 
communications. I want to hear their traffic with control. Do you think you can 
get me that in the next fifteen minutes?"

"Fifteen minutes is pretty tight," he agreed with a small frown. "Let me call my 
brother, Ma'am, and see if he can at least get me a name and number."

"Good." She slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes. The sun hadn't even 
risen yet and she'd already had one hell of a long day. And if things went as 
she hoped they would the day would not only be insanely long, but quiet possibly 
hellish. How charmingly ironic, she snorted wryly to herself.

"Major?"

Her eyes snapped open and she glanced at her engineer, he had his hand over the 
phone's mouthpiece. "Yeah?"

"Dan was already on his way in when I called. He says if we can wait a half hour 
or so he can patch us through."

Jenny shook her head. "Not good enough. I need it by six, Houston time."

"May I ask why, Ma'am?"

"No. Who does he know that can get us that?"

Evans talked to his brother for a few more minutes, writing down a number, then 
with a quick glance at the clock, ended the call and turned back to Jenny. "He 
says his team leader will probably do it for us. I think he's right, Major. I 
met her last summer, she's pretty cool."

"Excellent. Get back on the horn, Lieutenant, and get me that connection."

The last dozen minutes went by like lightening but shortly after five a.m. 
Mountain Time the lab had a direct connection to ISS mission control's 
communications with their station. The team leader had been reluctant to 
authorize the patch through over the phone but Lieutenant Evans wove an 
impressive tale for her about researching the stability of ground to space 
communications for consideration during the latter stages of a highly, 
extremely, incredibly top secret counterspace warfighting project. Duly 
impressed, the woman ditched the bureaucracy and set about working out the 
details of routing comm traffic to the lab. Working almost frantically, she and 
Lieutenant Evans managed to get things up and running a small handful of minutes 
past Jenny's deadline. 

"Well done, Evans," Jenny told him enthusiastically. She knew her demand had 
been nearly impossible to satisfy when she'd come into the lab, but she was damn 
well going to try, and now she practically beamed at her Lieutenant. The guy 
didn't even need a kick in the ass to get going, just a minor bribe. She was 
most definitely impressed. 

He blushed slightly. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Let's sit back and enjoy the show, shall we?" She saw his puzzled frown and 
grinned at him. "It'll be worth it, Lieutenant." I hope, she added silently.

So they sat and waited and listened and not a thing happened. It was still early 
morning station time and all they got was a brief status report and some minor 
chatter about some wiring repairs, but nothing about a giant space ship. Ten 
minutes stretched into thirty minutes and now almost an hour later Jenny was 
getting nervous. What if she was wrong? Oh, god, she didn't think she could take 
that. She'd give him one more hour and if he still didn't show she was putting 
in a request for a very, very long vacation. 

_Houston, we have a situation. _

Jenny heard the suppressed panic in the man's voice and sitting up straighter, 
she cocked her head and listened intently.

_What kind of situation, Commander? _

_We have . . . there's something in orbit with us. _

_Can you get us a visual? _

_Christ, it's huge. _

_Commander, we need a visual. _

_Yeah, we're working on it. _

_Can you tell what it is? Does it look familiar? _

_ It could swallow the station and not even burp. I have no idea what it is. _

_Does it look like a ship? Could it be from Earth? _

_Negative. _

_Are you receiving any transmissions from it? _

_Negative. Hold on, we've got a picture for you. _

_Oh my fucking god. _

_Yeah, that's our assessment, too, Houston. Got anything better for us? _

_We're trying to get a fix on it from the ground. Hold tight, ISS. _

_Hold tight? If this thing is hostile, we're sitting ducks here, Houston. I'm 
ordering prep for emergency evacuation. _

_I repeat, hold tight, ISS. We're looking up first contact procedures now. _

Jenny shot up out of her chair and started pacing, her mind working frantically. 
For the first time since that bizarre early morning phone conversation she could 
finally stop doubting her sanity. She couldn't keep the grin off of her face, 
nor could she calm the roiling in her stomach. Two thoughts warred and clashed 
in her mind, the first that her brother might be back from the dead and the 
second that there was an alien spacecraft orbiting her planet.

"Major, did you . . . how did you know?" Lieutenant Evans asked, stunned.

Jenny pursed her lips and stared thoughtfully at Evans for a few seconds. How in 
god's name did she explain this? "Do you know who my brother is, Lieutenant?"

Evans frowned at the apparent non sequitur but answered his Major's question 
without hesitation. "Yes, Ma'am. Commander John Crichton. He was lost, um, about 
five years ago?"

"That's right. That ship out there now? I think he's on it," she laughed almost 
giddily at the absurdity of that statement and the wild joy she felt in her 
chest.

"Wow."

"Yep. Wow."

>>>><<<<

5.

So what do you wear to a first contact? John stared at his vest, contemplating 
the image it conveyed. Did it say, åHi, I'm Han Solo, a scoundrel with a good 
heart'? Or did it say åHi, I'm the Dread Pirate Crichton and I've come to loot 
your planet and carry off your daughters'? He couldn't tell. However it was 
probably true that the unrelieved black of his general outfit might be 
intimidating and the pleasant rusty red of the vest could make him seem less 
like an outlaw biker and slightly more warm and fuzzy, or, of course, the red 
could always be seen in a more bloody, look I've skinned my enemies, kind of 
way. Or, most likely, he could be over thinking the entire thing, but since an 
errant thought made it an issue he couldn't not think it anymore and now he 
couldn't leave his damn quarters until he decided. It could very well be moot 
point since he would be wearing his pistol and that never looked friendly. But 
would the vest make him look less . . . 

Mercifully the opening of his cell door broke the endless inane thought loop. He 
grinned gratefully at the old woman as she entered the room. She always faintly 
reminded him of one of those funky haired troll dolls, only more wrinkly and 
right now she was a welcome distraction. "Hey there, Madge."

Her third eye blinked lazily and she cocked her head at him. "Why do you insist 
on calling me Madge?"

"You been on this boat for a cycle and I don't remember you ever telling me your 
real name."

"Oh, what's a name? I have a hundred names." She waved her hand in his face and 
John warily leaned back. 

"Yeah, well, like I've said before, I'm not gonna go around calling you åold 
woman' all the time, so go ahead and add Madge to your collection." He decided 
to take advantage of her intrusion and held up his vest for her inspection. 
"Does this say good guy or axe murderer?"

"What do you want it to say?" 

John frowned, why did everything have to turn into some bizarre prophecy-slash-
therapy session with her? "I want it to say scourge of the known universe, 
please shoot at me. What do you think?"

She paused and stared at the garment for a time while Crichton gave her a 
disbelieving glare. "Hmm, well, it really most clearly says that the next time 
you go down to a commerce planet you should look into some new attire."

"Great, thanks." He pulled on the vest and reached for his gun belt.

"That, however," she said, "is just a bit aggressive, don't you think? Nobody 
can hurt you on Moya, perhaps you'd be better served by leaving it here."

Ignoring her, John buckled the belt around his waist, adjusted the holster, and 
checked the pistol's chakan oil cartridge as he slid it home. The pistol was the 
one thing he had these days that left him even some sense of control and he felt 
naked and exposed without it. Not exactly how he wanted to be feeling as he 
contacted Earth. 

John looked up sharply when his door opened again and the mad Banik, Stark, 
skipped into the room chanting under his breath. He stopped cold at the sight of 
Madge standing with Crichton and a scowl touched his lips, his visible eye 
narrowing. 

"Crone," Stark greeted coldly.

"Banik," she returned just as frigidly. 

Stark edged around the room, trying to keep as far away from Madge as he could 
until he was able to reach out and grab Crichton by his shoulder. "I have 
something I need to tell you," he whispered in John's ear.

"So tell me."

"Make her leave first." Stark nodded towards the old woman. 

John rolled his eyes and shook off Stark's hand. Why did they always find him? 
Wasn't it bad enough that he had only a passing familiarity with sanity these 
days, did he have to be on the Noah's Arc of lunatics? "Ren, Stimpy, I do not 
have time to play guess the apocalypse. So either spit it out or save it." 
Neither of them answered him, preferring instead to glare at each other in their 
bizarre battle of wills over who could claim Crichton's attention. John's lip 
curled into a snarl and he shouldered his way past Madge and out into the 
hallway. The pair followed him, hissing at each other.

By the time he made it to command, the muscles in John's shoulders and neck were 
bunched and knotted and his head was starting to throb painfully. When he 
stepped into the room and saw the expectant faces of his friends and the view of 
Earth beyond them, his vision began to swim, another two paces and he found 
himself on his knees gasping for breath. He lowered his forehead to the cool 
deck, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to stop the wildly shaking 
world. Far off, in another world, he could hear voices, feel gentle hands on his 
body, feel strong arms shifting him, laying him back on the floor, but he was 
too desperately trying to hold onto the gossamer threads of reality to pay them 
much attention. 

A gale blew through his mind, swirling thoughts and bits of thoughts madly 
around his consciousness. He grasped franticly at the memories and flashes, 
trying to string them together into coherence. For a while it was only a chaotic 
jumble, but slowly, bit by bit, he struggled against the stresses and the places 
and people began to have meaning again. Finally the world came back to him in a 
rush and with a sudden violent explosion of air from his lungs he shot up off 
the floor, spinning around to his knees. He swayed unsteadily for a moment and 
only the firm hands on his shoulders kept him from toppling over again. After a 
few deep breaths he opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the bright light, but 
thankfully the room stayed steady. Sighing, he sat back slightly then dropped 
his forehead to the floor again.

"God I hate this," he muttered quietly. Though he often made light of his 
sanity, he would have given almost anything to feel good again, to feel right 
again. It had been so long he couldn't even remember what it felt like. Sure, 
some days were better than others but on those days when he hit the bottom, he 
wept and begged for some sort of oblivion. Today was one of those days and it 
was all he could do not to vomit. 

"That was incredibly unpleasant, John."

Crichton pried his eyes open again and watched Harvey heaving into a trashcan on 
an amusement park midway. Behind him a pair of rides spun crazily. He never 
understood those rides. Roller coasters, now those were rides, but good god 
almighty why would you want to get into something that much like a centrifuge? 
He shivered and sat up. The Gs were alright, but it was that going in a circle 
thing that had never really appealed to him. 

"Any clues as to what just happened?" Swallowing heavily, he tried to breathe 
through his mouth when his stomached protested at the smell of hot dogs and 
stale popcorn that drifted down the midway. 

"I have no idea. One minute I was anticipating your first contact, and the next 
I was being tossed about like a child's toy," Harvey complained bitterly. 

"Well, Jesus, Harvey, what the hell good are you? You live here, too, least you 
could do is try to help me figure it out," John spat at him.

"This is all you, John Crichton," Harvey pointed at him angrily. "What is there 
to figure out? You need to relax and embrace your fate. The more you fight 
against it the worse off we are," he snarled.

"Embrace my fate? Harvey if I could stand up right now, I'd kick your ass."

The clone bared his teeth menacingly and growled at Crichton, but the effect was 
ruined when the growl turned into a distressed burp and Harvey bent over the 
trashcan again. 

"John? John?"

John closed his eyes and when he slowly opened them again he was back on Moya's 
command deck. His head lolled heavily on his neck and he took in the concerned 
countenances surrounding him. Madge had her warm hand on his forehead in a 
gesture that was so soothing he forgot his earlier irritation with her. On his 
other side Aeryn sat, one hand on his arm, the other between his shoulder 
blades, propping him up. He hated the worry he saw in her eyes, he wished he 
were okay just so he'd never have to see that look on her face again. As if that 
wasn't enough, he nearly burst into tears when he saw Chiana crouched between 
his legs. She looked absolutely terrified and there were damp tracks running 
down her smooth gray cheeks. "Chi, s'alright," he said softly. She gave him a 
weak smile and squeezed his thigh gently. His gaze had just fallen on D'Argo's 
rigid form when Madge pressed a cup to his lips. He jerked his head away and 
glared at her suspiciously. 

"It's a mild sedative," Jool's voice came from somewhere behind him. He thought 
about looking around to find her but that was too much effort all of a sudden.

"No, I need my head clear." He started to laugh shakily when he realized the 
irony of that statement. "Need it as clear as it can be," he corrected.

"It's just enough to relax you," Jool told him. "It won't impair you in any 
way."

He chuckled. "So you're saying I can still operate heavy machinery?" 

"Drink it, John," Aeryn ordered him quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," he told her meekly. With a shaking hand he took the cup from Madge 
and quickly tossed down the bitter liquid. "Out of grape flavor, huh?" He 
coughed.

Aeryn ignored the comment. "Do you think you can stand up?"

He was still feeling pretty out of it, whatever had happened left him slightly 
doped up. "Uh, yeah, just give me a minute, okay?"

"Take all the time you need," she told him gently. 

"I can carry him, Aeryn," D'Argo spoke up for the first time. John glanced over 
at his friend and was puzzled by the guilty look on D'Argo's face.

"Let's see if he can walk first."

John sighed in irritation. "I'm right here, guys. Nobody is carrying me 
anywhere. Aeryn, help me up."

Aeryn frowned. "Are you sure--"

"Somebody help me up," he yelled. 

Aeryn grabbed his arm and pulled it up enough for her to duck her head under it, 
then she straightened slowly and drew him up with her. Crichton groaned as he 
stood again and resisted the urge to reach up to hold his head in place.

"How long was I out?" He asked curiously.

"Just a few microts," D'Argo rumbled at his side. 

John nodded and slowly pushed away from Aeryn towards a console he could brace 
himself against. She reluctantly let him go but not before she shot him a 
disapproving look. He didn't mind having to rely on Aeryn to hold him up, in 
fact he got a pretty cheap thrill out of being that close to her, but he wanted 
to make sure he was stable enough to do what he needed to do and for that he had 
to stand on his own. It certainly wasn't a pride issue anymore. Hell, when this 
was over if each one of them wanted to grab a limb and drag him down to his 
quarters that would be just fine with him. For right now, though, he had Earth 
to deal with and he'd put it off long enough.

"Pilot? How're we doing?"

"Commander," Pilot's image appeared on the clamshell. "We have been receiving 
transmissions from the station for the past half arn. Would you like to hear 
them?"

"They sent audio?" John asked, surprised.

"They've sent a variety of transmissions, but yes, some audio. They are general 
greetings and some music."

John nodded thoughtfully. "I bet that's the Voyager recording." That wasn't too 
big a surprise, most people didn't expect alien space ships to pop up in Earth 
orbit, those recordings were probably the best they could come up with on such 
short notice. All things considered it wasn't a bad introduction to Earth. 
"Nothing specific to our arrival though?"

"No, Commander. Not that I have been able to ascertain."

He took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay, Pilot, let's open a channel to the station 
and say hi."

"Channel open."

"This is the Leviathan Moya to the International Space Station. Please respond 
ISS."

The crew stood tensely on command, the unknown stretched dangerously before 
them. Their attention was divided, though. None of them knew just what to expect 
from the first reaction of John's homeworld to their arrival, and while they 
were waiting on that they were also busy trying to keep surreptitious watch on 
John for any further signs of stress. 

Crichton had to repeat the hail twice more before a burst of static and a 
tentative voice sounded through the comm. "Leviathan Moya, this is Commander 
Peter Tsang. Who . . . what are you intentions?"

"This is Commander John Crichton. Our intentions are peaceful, ISS."

"Leviathan Moya, say again?"

"I repeat, ISS, this is Commander John Crichton. Moya's just letting me swing by 
home for a quick visit."

"Crichton? John Crichton? Wait. You're dead," Tsang exclaimed, stunned.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Do I sound dead to you?"

"How are you not dead? 

"Long story, look, I--"

"But you're dead."

John sighed heavily. He was really tired of having this conversation. It wasn't 
his fault he survived. It wasn't his fault he got shot to the other side of the 
universe and picked up when by rights he should have been so much space debris, 
but he was alive damn it, couldn't people just accept that happily? "I get that 
a lot, but really I'm not. Look, we can patch through a video feed to you. Maybe 
that'll help you out."

"Uh, sure that'd be great, uh, Commander."

"Yeah. Hold on."

John cut the comm and scratched his forehead with a tired yawn. He rolled his 
shoulders, trying to shake out the tension there and ran a quick internal check 
and luckily he didn't seem to be on the verge of another breakdown. All systems 
stable. He turned to his friends. "Guys. I don't think Commander Tsang there is 
ready for the Mos Eisley review. Would you mind clearing the bridge while I talk 
to him?"

"I'm staying," Aeryn instantly insisted. "I can pass for human," she added when 
he looked about to argue.

The truth was he really didn't have the strength to argue and he doubted he'd 
get very far without her there to support him. "Fine. But for now, this'll 
probably be easier if the rest of you go."

D'Argo hesitated by the door after the rest of the crew filed quietly out. John 
frowned again at the abashed look on D'Argo's face. "D'Argo? You okay, man?"

"I'm . . ." he stopped and cleared his throat. "I'm fine, John. Are you 
alright?"

"Yeah, D, no problem."

D'Argo shot a guilty look at Aeryn then ducked his head. "I'm sorry John. I 
shouldn't have yelled at you about going to Earth. I just . . . I just thought 
you'd be happy."

"D'Argo, it's okay. You were right and I was being a jackass," John told him 
with a wry smile. 

"You were," Aeryn confirmed with a nod.

John groaned and rubbed at his eyes wearily. "Aeryn, don't help."

Aeryn merely shrugged and smiled at D'Argo. "We'll be okay here, D'Argo."

"Fine. But if you need me I'll be just outside," he told them firmly.

John nodded and gave him a small grin. "Thanks, man."

He waited until the door swung shut behind the Luxan before he turned his 
attention back to Aeryn and the task at hand. "I think we're going to have to do 
a face to face with these guys. You up for a trip to the station?"

"No."

John raised an eyebrow in surprise. "No?"

Aeryn crossed her arms and leaned against the console. "I am not going on that 
thing unless I absolutely have to. The quarters are too tight, it's too 
dangerous if we need to defend ourselves."

"They won't attack us," John shrugged.

"I thought you didn't trust them?" Aeryn reminded him.

Crichton sighed again. "No, I don't. I was just thinking it might be easier to 
go over there, but you're right. Damn, I seem to be saying that a lot today."

"You're a smart man," Aeryn smirked.

"Thanks, babe," he said sourly. "Alright, let's dial up our pal Peter again."

It took a few microts for Moya's systems to patch through the video feed to the 
station. John fidgeted anxiously, shifting his weight and bouncing lightly on 
the balls of his feet. This would be the first time he'd seen another human in 
four long cycles. They may look like Sebaceans but it's just wasn't ever the 
same. 

He was about to call out to Pilot to hurry it up when the view screen went black 
and an instant later the station commander's pale face came into view.

Commander Tsang's eyes widened comically at his first sight of the lost 
astronaut. "Holy god, you are alive!"

John looked over his shoulder and gave Aeryn a smug, slightly sarcastic grin. 
"See?"

Aeryn's jaw clinched in irritation -- she found no humor in the statement. The 
digs didn't come as often as they use to, but it still annoyed her to no end 
when he went out of his way to make the bitter point that he was the one still 
alive. She couldn't quite stop herself from raising her hand and slapping the 
back of his head and when he cursed under his breath and rubbed the spot 
gingerly, she found she didn't feel at all bad about it. 

"Commander Crichton, what . . . how . . .?" Tsang was still too awestruck by the 
appearance of Moya and the long lost IASA commander to pay too much attention to 
the interaction between John and Aeryn. 

"It's a very, very long story, Commander Tsang. Hey can I call you Peter?" John 
asked politely but continued without waiting for a reply. "So, Peter, it's kind 
of complicated to explain over the comms like this. How would you and some of 
your crew like a trip to a big ass alien space ship? Moya loves visitors," he 
said enticingly. 

Tsang was fighting a valiant battle against the undignified grin that was 
pulling at his lips but he finally gave in, and the broad smile nearly cracked 
his face in two. "Do you know how bizarre this is?" He laughed. "I'm talking to 
a goddamn alien ship with a human on it! Not just any human but John Freaking 
Crichton. I know I'm not drunk åcause the only people who managed to smuggle any 
good stuff up here are the Russians and they're pretty stingy with their vodka. 
Must have been tagged in the head." Peter stopped and noticed Aeryn for the 
first time. "Hey, who's that with you?"

"This is Officer Aeryn Sun. Ex-Peacekeeper, but that's a long story too," he 
told the other man vaguely. "So, how about it? You up for a field trip?"

Peter looked like he wanted to agree to it without hesitation but his sense of 
duty held him back. "Um, I'm going to have to clear any field trips with 
Houston. One thing, though. You have to know how strange this is."

"Oh believe me I know," John replied with a humorless smile. "Look, if we wanted 
to we could probably just pull the station into one of our cargo bays. But we 
haven't and we won't. It's just a nice polite invite and the chance of a 
lifetime for you guys. It's up to you, though. If you want to hear my story 
you've got to come over here."

"Alright, Commander."

"Call me John."

"Fine, John. I've got to call down to Houston first."

John snorted almost derisively but it was softened by the impish glint in his 
eyes. "Give them my love." 

>>>><<<<

6.

Houston had not been thrilled by Commander Tsang's request for a åfield trip'. 
The suits on the ground were scrambling to come up with some sort of protocol 
and they didn't like the idea of the ISS crew interacting with these 
extraterrestrial beings without their direction. They were also reluctant to 
believe that the man on the video was John Crichton, though they couldn't come 
up with any reasonable explanation as to why the aliens would try and trick them 
like this. 

Crichton used what leverage he had and insisted that if Earth wanted any contact 
with him or his ship, than Commander Tsang would be coming to Moya. From John's 
point of view, Peter Tsang had the benefit of being the poor schmuck who just 
happened to be on duty when contact came. He had no agenda other than to try and 
deal with one amazingly bizarre situation. No strings attached to that boy just 
yet.

It took almost four arns of arguing before curiosity finally got the better of 
one of the team leaders down at mission control and he authorized the visit. 
Another fight broke out almost immediately but it gave Peter the out he needed 
and when the station unexpectedly experienced comm failure, well what could he 
do but go ahead with his newest mission? 

John and Peter lamented the equipment problems and cursed the petty little 
demons of budget cuts companionably while they discussed their own protocols for 
what was going to happen next. It was finally decided that Aeryn would go to the 
station in a transport pod to pick up the Commander and two of his crewmates, 
one, a biologist and the second, in the interest of international goodwill, 
would be the commander of the Russian cargo rocket currently docked with the 
station. John's only stipulation to those arrangements had been that the Russian 
part with some of his vodka.

Now John was impatiently pacing the floor of the landing bay, his body 
alternately tensing and relaxing with his jumbled thoughts while he waited for 
Aeryn to return. Nearby, D'Argo leaned nonchalantly against the bulkhead and 
tried to pretend he wasn't almost as nervous as John was. He tried not to hover, 
there was nothing the human hated more these days, but he couldn't help but feel 
slightly guilty for pushing John so hard to go to Earth and he was sick over his 
subsequent collapse. D'Argo felt he should have known better. For the love of 
D™ath, this was John Crichton, all the warning signs were there, but no, he had 
to be a stupid tresnak and keep pushing. All things considered they were lucky 
Crichton's episode, whatever it was, had been as mild as it was. They couldn't 
help but deal with Earth now and how would they do it if he had pushed the one 
man who knew the planet to the breaking point?

"D, if you don't quit staring at me, Chiana's gonna get jealous."

"I don't know what you're talking about," D'Argo growled softly, embarrassed to 
be caught.

"Sure, man," John smirked at his friend. Who would have thought? he laughed to 
himself. Four cycles ago D'Argo would have fallen on his Qualta blade before he 
admitted to any concern for the higher brain function deficient John Crichton, 
but now the big guy didn't seem to want to let him alone. "Much as I appreciate 
the concern, I'm not sure our guests are ready for the sight of a Luxan."

D'Argo eyed him coolly. "You dealt with it well enough," he said simply.

"You knocked me out with your tongue," John snorted.

"Yes, well, you were being distracting. I'm sure these humans will get over 
their shock quickly."

John shrugged. He knew enough to recognize that in this instance D'Argo would be 
getting his way. Fight the battles you can win, a lesson he'd learned long ago. 
Actually, there was a mischievous curiosity lurking in his mind; he was sure to 
take some perverse pleasure from seeing the humans' first reactions to Moya and 
springing the Luxan on them unannounced promised to be amusing. He briefly 
wondered if there was something wrong about wanting to surprise his fellow 
astronauts but he quickly dismissed the thought -- he had to go through this; 
they'll have to go through it. Hazing, UT-style. 

"Crichton, Crichton, Crichton, Crichton, Crichton." The monotonous chant 
heralded Stark's arrival in the bay. The Banik stepped into the cavernous room 
and glanced around furtively.

John sighed and waved the man over. "She's in center chamber whipping up a feast 
for our guests."

"Good," Stark nodded than spat venomously, "Bitch."

"Was there something you wanted, Astro?"

Stark's eye widened and he leaned closer to Crichton. "Yes. Yes, there's 
something I have to tell you. Something really, really important," he whispered 
loudly. 

"And that is . . ." John prompted. 

"There's a shadow over Earth. Like a . . . like a thing drifting down over 
another thing."

"You're gonna go far with those mad poet skills."

Stark's eye flashed with impatience and something very close to anger. He turned 
John to face him and bunched his fists up in his shirt, pulling their faces 
close together. "Listen to me," he hissed. "This darkness. It's real. And 
dangerous. So dangerous. I can feel it. Zhaan can feel it." John recoiled at the 
mention of Zhaan's name but Stark tightened his grip. "Be careful. This path 
you're on. There are things you can't see. You'll fall, fall, fall if you're not 
careful. We'll all fall."

John stared at the Banik, seemingly lost in his words and his eyes took on a 
terrified, far away look. D'Argo swore viciously and pulled them apart, shoving 
Stark roughly out the door. "You stupid krobash. What are you trying to do?"

Stark stumbled, falling to the floor and slid back to hit the far bulkhead in 
the hallway. "He has to know," he wailed plaintively. Getting to his knees, he 
shuffled back across the hallway to grab at D'Argo's leg. "Please. Please. It's 
so . . . bad, very bad." Stark pulled himself back to his feet, but kept hold of 
D'Argo. "I don't like it here."

D'Argo shook him off and pushed him back again. "I don't care what you like, 
Stark. This is John's home, we will help him deal with it and we will not make 
him tense," D'Argo enunciated slowly and pointedly. "Do you understand me?"

Stark brought his hands to his face and passed them over his head then back to 
hover at his lips. "I . . . understand. I understand." He backed slowly down the 
hallway, peering nervously into the landing bay. D'Argo growled and Stark turned 
and ran. 

Ignoring the exchange between D'Argo and Stark, John stared blankly around the 
bay. So lost was he in the sudden grip of fear, that he failed to even notice 
the large transport setting down gently in front of him. All he saw were flashes 
of white in his mind's eye and whirling light heeled joy. He drifted there for a 
moment, happily, only to have it obliterated by a splash of wild red, and 
rumble, roars and cracking air. Fragile, she'd never been fragile, but clutched 
desperately in his arms, she was so precious, so delicate. His own inhuman howl 
echoed in his ears. Raising his trembling hands to his face, he almost expected 
them to be stained with crimson and he stared at them, surprised that they were 
clean. Through his fingers he caught movement and his lungs seized in his chest.

Aeryn stepped quickly down the transport's steps ahead of her passengers, only 
to stop at the bottom, frozen in place by the raw horror in Crichton's eyes. She 
crossed to him in an instant, barely noting D'Argo's presence in the bay. 
"John?" John dropped his hands quickly and greedily drank in the sight of her, 
though his gaze continued to be a haunted one. "Are you alright?" She asked 
quietly, trying to shield him from the trio of humans clattering down from the 
pod. If he wasn't well enough to meet them she would send him off with D'Argo 
and handle their guests herself. 

John took a shaky breath. "I, uh," his voice stuck in his throat and he had to 
clear it a couple of times before he could speak. "I'm okay." His eyes flickered 
over Aeryn's shoulder to the new arrivals. A brittle smile crossed his face and 
he tried to put on his mask of good cheer for them. "Welcome to Moya," he 
greeted and moved past Aeryn.

Peter Tsang's mouth had dropped open in dumbfounded awe at his surroundings, he 
closed it with a click when Crichton spoke and he stepped forward to take the 
other man's hand in a friendly clasp. He swayed slightly on his feet and John 
reached out to steady him by his elbow. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Gravity huh?"

Peter gave him a crooked grin. "Yeah, it's been a few weeks. How, uh, how do you 
have gravity here?"

"Hmm, well, I'm gonna let Pilot answer questions about Moya. Let's get you guys 
to the center chamber then you can sit down and we'll have us a nice little pow-
wow."

Peter nodded agreeably. "Oh, this is my biologist, Ellen Harrington and this is 
Colonel Illya Kaminsky."

John smiled a welcome and nodded his head at Aeryn. "This is Officer Aeryn Sun 
and the big guy over there is Ka D'Argo." The humans' eyes widened, almost 
terrified, when they finally noticed D'Argo. D'Argo gave them a less than 
comforting grin that showed far too many teeth. "Don't worry about D, he's a big 
softy," John reassured the astronauts with his own roguish grin. Their 
nervousness did not abate but they didn't run screaming either. 

D'Argo, Aeryn and John helped the humans to the center chamber. D'Argo lent his 
arm to Ellen and after she got over her mind-numbing shock, she let him carry 
her out of the bay. John grabbed hold of Peter's belt and helped the mission 
commander and though Kaminsky had only been in space for three days, he did 
however gracefully accept Aeryn's assistance, grinning broadly as he slung his 
arm around her shoulder. 

John narrowed his eyes at the Russian, his nostrils flaring briefly, but he kept 
himself in check and didn't throw the guy through a bulkhead. Aeryn ignored them 
both and when they got to the center chamber she rather abruptly deposited 
Kaminsky on the bench and crossed to the other side of the room. Once seated the 
trio stared around in wide-eyed delight, though they seemed to have the look of 
people expecting to wake up any minute. 

"OW! What the . . .?" Peter exclaimed and almost fell back off the bench. Ellen 
and Kaminsky followed suit an instant later, with Kaminsky actually jumping 
clear of the table. A DRD shot out from under the table and left the room with a 
squeal. 

John smirked. "Sorry, forgot to mention that," he told them, not sounding too 
sorry at all.  "Translator microbes. They'll let you understand the rest of the 
crew." He turned and looked pointedly at Kaminsky. "So no more hitting on Aeryn 
in Russian. She can understand everything you say. We all can," he said 
dangerously. 

Kaminsky went pale and Ellen cleared her throat hesitantly, looking a little 
queasy herself. "What kind of microbes?"

"They colonize at the base of your brain. Allow you to understand most spoken 
languages. Everybody in the UTs has them," John told her brightly. "Oh yeah, by 
the way, welcome to the Uncharted Territories."

"Microbes. Microbes? We've been infected?" Peter sounded almost betrayed.

John waived his hand. "They're not going to hurt you. Though I reckon Earth's 
gonna be a little touchy about it, huh?" He asked conversationally. "That'll 
suck later." He leaned forward comfortably against the table, watching them for 
their reaction. Peter's jaw clinched in irritation, Ellen looked intrigued, and 
Kaminsky appeared to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit. 

"You set us up." Peter growled.

"No," John said calmly. "That's just the way things work out here. Earth isn't 
all alone -- you're going to have to play by a new set of rules."

"Is that what this is about?" Kaminsky asked angrily. "You want to play games 
with us?"

John sighed and got up from the table to pace slowly around the room. "What I 
want is to see my family again. What I want is to warn Earth about some of the 
nasty shit that's in this corner of the universe. What I do not want is to get 
any of my crew killed or injured. I have the knowledge here. I have the power 
that can keep that from happening. So, yeah, if it gets me what I want and keeps 
us all safe, we're going to play a few games."

"We're hostages," Peter said blandly.

"You can go anyplace you want, anytime you want," John informed him.

"Except down to Earth," Tsang yelled. "You've put some alien bugs in our brains, 
they'll put us in quarantine for fucking ever."

"That's not my problem. That's between you and Earth. I've told you the microbes 
won't hurt you and it's the truth." John rubbed his hands tiredly over his face 
and leaned back against the wall. "Look. I didn't want to come off being the 
heavy here. I really just wanted to invite you guys over and show you this 
really cool ship. I haven't seen another human in over four cycles. I'm 
desperate. But, think about this. If I go down to Earth what are they going to 
do to me? What are they going to do to D'Argo if he goes down? Or Aeryn? I don't 
trust Earth and I need all the advantages I can get. I'm sorry you guys are 
caught in the middle here but that's what happens."

"What are we supposed to do?" Ellen asked. "What about our lives? You've just 
stolen them."

Aeryn had watched the entire exchange from the other side of the room and she 
wasn't particularly pleased with the way it was going. She did, however, 
understand the helpless feeling the humans' were undoubtedly experiencing at 
that moment. "You're safe on Moya for now," she informed them briskly. "We have 
more than enough room for you all."

"That doesn't solve our problem," Peter replied scornfully. 

"Your problems go beyond the translator microbes," Aeryn informed him coldly. 
John had warned her that Earth would react badly to the translator microbes 
initially and that they would try to isolate those åinfected' with them. But 
John had also realized something that hadn't quite hit the astronauts yet -- 
their exile was assured the moment they stepped onto Moya. Apparently Earth had 
rules about contact with alien beings; rules that looked a lot like Peacekeeper 
rules. Of course the humans wouldn't be executed, but they would be put into 
quarantine for an indefinite amount of time, simply because they shared space 
with unclassified alien lifeforms.

Madge chose this moment to make her presence in the room known. She came out 
from behind her pots and strolled across the chamber as if walking through a 
verdant, peaceful garden and not a room whose air was so thick with anger and 
tension it was almost claustrophobic. Stopping next to the table, she gave the 
visitors a beatific smile. "Nothing ruins a good meal more than a sour mood," 
she said hospitably. "Perhaps, Crichton, I could show our guests around Moya. 
Allow them the chance to know her, and perhaps find some peace in this kind and 
majestic being."

"Sure Madge, that'd . . . that'd be great. I appreciate it," John told her 
wearily. Madge smiled at him and escorted the humans out of the room. D'Argo 
watched them pass, then, seeming to come to a decision, he nodded to John and 
Aeryn and turned to follow Madge and her charges out the door, his Qualta blade 
held casually in his hands. 

Pushing himself away from the wall, John walked slowly over to Madge's kitchen. 
He dipped his finger into something bubbling happily on a burner and brought it 
to his mouth for a taste. "Not bad," he murmured. He looked up and noticed that 
Aeryn was still staring thoughtfully at the entrance to the room. "It was the 
right thing to do."

She blinked once and glanced over at him. "Yes it was."

"I didn't like it."

"No reason why you should have." Aeryn saw the uncertainty in his eyes and 
sighed. "You've only done what you needed to do, John. If it makes any 
difference, I agree with everything you've done so far."

"It does make a difference." He gave her a small smile. "I couldn't do this 
without you, Aeryn."

Aeryn let out a long breath and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them 
again she saw that John was staring intently at a leafy, purple vegetable. 
"John, look at me." He raised his eyes slowly. "We do this together, like we 
always do. Besides," she grinned at him. "I want to see Earth. Feel the rain 
again. Observe your ridiculous human sports. Drink beer. Eat pitsaw."

"Pizza, Aeryn. It's pizza."

"That's what I said," she said petulantly. She crossed her arms and leaned 
against the table and continued more seriously. "We'll get down there, John. We 
will. Your plans usually start out this badly but then when I come in to save 
your ass things generally end up working out."

John laughed. "How comforting."

"Quite." She pushed off the table and jerked her head towards the door. "I think 
it's time we contact your Houston again to tell them we have their people. And 
perhaps you should check with your sister."

"Time to play our hand, huh?" Aeryn stared at him quizzically and he shrugged 
his shoulders. "Erp saying."

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes and left the room. Crichton darted out the door 
after her.

"It means . . ." he let his explanation die on his lips at her withering glance. 
"Never mind."

"Thank you."

>>>><<<<

7.

"What do you suppose his mental state is now?" 

Jennifer Crichton raised a dubious eyebrow at the IASA psychologist parked in 
front of her. "I have no idea." 

"None at all?" The woman asked, obviously not quite believing that Jenny 
couldn't somehow divine John Crichton's state of mind. 

"I'm gonna go with homesick," Jenny told her with exaggerated patience. "Beyond 
that, I've got no clue. I haven't seen him in almost five years. He's been in 
space. A galaxy far, far away, for all I know." 

"So you believe that is your brother." 

Jenny rolled her eyes and tossed up her hands in exasperation. "It sounds like 
him. He knows stuff John knew. Looks like him. That's all I've got. You probably 
know more than I do about this." 

All her conversations today were more or less the same. Is that your brother, is 
he a threat, does he harbor any resentment towards the government, does he like 
bunnies? As Jenny had predicted, when the ship was spotted all hell broke loose. 
She spent several hours trying to secure leave, but once John actually made 
visual contact with the space station she was hustled off and the questions 
started, eventually they'd simply tossed her on a plane to Houston. Now, half a 
day latter, the questions hadn't stopped but at least the scenery had changed. 

"Would he do anything to harm Earth?" 

Jenny fought back a growl, settling instead for a harassed glare. "No. The John 
Crichton I know would never hurt Earth. Come on," she pleaded impatiently, 
"you've got enough psych data on him to fill a fucking phone book. He's an all-
American, clean cut, test pilot, astronaut, genius physicist, mom and apple pie 
guy! He's everybody's buddy. Chicks want to date him; guys want to watch 
football with him; kids and puppies love him. What more do you want? What can I 
tell you that you don't already know?" 

The psychiatrist pushed her glasses down her nose and looked at Jenny over the 
rim. "Well, that's what this interview will determine." 

Gnashing her teeth, she was about to tell little Miss Freud where she could 
stick her interview when her cell phone rang. Jenny stared the woman down and 
dug the phone out of her jacket. "Hello? Oh, uh, yeah . . . just fine . . . 
could you hold on just a second? Great." She graced the psychiatrist with an 
overly friendly smile. "If you could excuse me, I really need to take this call. 
Thanks so much." Jenny darted away before the woman could protest. 

She desperately looked around the mission control room, trying to find some 
niche or corner she could jam herself into so she could take the call in 
private. Unfortunately with the situation as it was, the room was just too 
crowded. She did the best she could, ducking to one side of a row of unused 
computer equipment. "Okay, go . . . I'm sorry, you did what? . . . You have got 
to be kidding me. Are you trying to piss off the entire planet?" She hissed, 
then stopped and glared at an IASA employee who was coming just a little too 
close to her person. When he was followed by another and then another she 
finally conceded defeat and shouldered her way out of mission control, pushing 
past two arguing engineers, and ducked into an empty cubicle in an astrophysics 
lab down the corridor. 

She glanced around furtively then raised her phone again. "What good is that 
going . . . No, how is that going to help? . . . Yeah, well, I think . . . I 
said I'd do it and I will, but . . ." She scrubbed her hand through her hair, 
irritation evident in every line of her body. "You're insane, completely . . . 
Did I stutter? You are a lunatic . . . What did she say? . . . No, tell me what 
she said . . . hmm, she's right. I like her . . . Really? Why don't you shove it 
up your . . . Fine . . . Yes . . . Hold on." She heard the shuffle of feet 
approaching and put her hand over the phone, looking up in expectant vexation. 

A scrawny geek of indeterminate nerd origin poked his greasy head over the top 
of the cubicle. Jenny raised her eyebrows and nodded her head briskly. "You 
Major Crichton?" Her brow furrowed in a disbelieving scowl and after pointing to 
the nametag on her uniform she gave him a rather sarcastic thumbs-up. He frowned 
back, his lip curling in distaste. "Colonel Crichton is here," he told her 
shortly, then turned and disappeared before she could reply. 

Jenny chewed her lip nervously for a long moment and it was with a small start 
of surprise that she remembered the phone in her hand. Bringing it back up to 
her ear, she took a deep breath and plunged back into a difficult conversation 
that was about to get more so. "Dad's here . . . I don't know. Why don't you ask 
him? . . . You've got to do it eventually . . . Yeah, I've called him twice, 
he's still pretty sure I'm delusional." She rolled her eyes and sat back in the 
chair, idly pushing some paperclips around the desk. "I don't think I've ever 
been called a wing-nut so many times in one day . . . Get used to it? What the 
hell is that supposed to mean? . . . I'll call him again but I've got to talk to 
Dad first . . . Oh, you owe me a hell of a lot more than that." She pushed the 
paperclips into a pile and started layering them into pyramids. "When am I going 
to see you? . . . Hey! What's with all the derogatory human comments? That's not 
going to make you a whole lot of friends . . . You'd better start caring . . . 
Yeah, åcause kidnapping three astronauts is going to help with that trust thing 
. . ." 

A throat cleared and a body appeared at the opening in the cubicle, and Jenny 
looked up, her face flushing guiltily. "Uh, hi Dad." 

Jack Crichton regarded his youngest daughter intently, but eventually his stern 
mien softened and he gave her a fond smile -- even grown up his children were 
still a handful. That thought tightened the knot of anxiety in his gut and he 
frowned again. "Jennifer. Would you like to tell me what's going on?" 

"Oh, do I have a choice?" She said lightly, then paused a moment, trying to 
gauge her father's mood. He appeared to be a little tense, she thought, but then 
he was always fairly intense. Standing there in his bomber jacket, he looked 
steadfast and confident, and his neatly trimmed silver hair gave him a 
distinguished air. Always the gallant hero. 

He raised his eyebrow expectantly and Jenny sighed again. How was it possible 
that even as a grown woman with a decade of military service under her belt, her 
father could look at her in just the right way to make her feel like she was 
eight years old again and he had just caught her booby-trapping her sister's 
bedroom? She nodded in resignation. "Just a second, okay?" 

"Jennifer," he said ominously. 

She held up a hand, pleading. "Let me just finish this call." 

Jack jerked his chin at the phone. "Who is that?" 

"Uh . . ." she said cleverly. She was really starting to doubt that there was 
anything John could do to make this up to her. "Just a minute," she told her 
father, trying to put some steel in her voice. It didn't really work, though, 
and she dropped her gaze at the coldness in his blue eyes. Nope, nothing John 
could do. She was moving from cheerfully strangling him to cheerfully 
bludgeoning him. Maybe both -- followed by tossing him off of something really 
tall. 

She hurriedly brought the phone back up, trying her best to ignore her dad's 
impatient presence. "He's here now, do you want to talk to him? . . . Coward. 
Fine, what's the plan? . . . Oh, you are so doing drugs aren't you? Or is it too 
much pure oxygen? . . . Either way you're . . ." She sat up suddenly and 
clutched the phone more tightly. "Jesus, are you okay? . . . Yeah, okay, sorry . 
. . I'll do what I can, you know I will . . ." She stopped and looked up at her 
father again, giving him a weak smile. "Um, he's giving me that look. You know 
the one . . . Yeah, that's it . . . okay, well obviously you have my cell phone 
number, so call me any time . . . I know, I know . . . Please just be careful . 
. . I love you, too." 

Jenny clicked off the phone and stared at it almost sadly for a moment. That was 
not the John Crichton she remembered, at least not completely. An icy chill shot 
down her spine and she wondered just what had happened to him in all that time 
he was gone. It didn't look good. 

"Was that, uh, was that him?" 

Jenny looked up and inhaled sharply at the vulnerability in her father's face. 
She'd seldom seen its like before; it was unusual to see her normally 
unflappable dad . . . flapped. "Yeah, it was. He . . . he's got a lot of stuff 
he's juggling," she said lamely, trying to come up with some excuse as to why 
John refused to talk to their dad. 

"Did I hear you say he kidnapped three astronauts?" Jack was obviously trying to 
keep it together, falling back heavily on his ådeal with it now, think about it 
later' training. 

Jenny ground her teeth and stared up at the ceiling. "Yes. Well, actually not 
technically. Er, sort of. He invited them to his ship and, well, they went over. 
You know what that means. But that's not the best part. The best part is that 
they have these little microbe things up there that let them understand spoken 
languages. The three were injected with them when they went aboard." 

"Oh god." 

"Yeah." 

Jack crossed his arms over the top of the cubicle wall and leaned heavily 
against it, his head bowed. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you this morning, 
sweetheart." 

Jenny, still feeling uncharacteristically affectionate, stood and put her arms 
around her father. "I don't think I'll believe it until I see him for myself." 
Pulling back a bit, she gave her father an appraising look. "How did you get 
here so quickly?" 

"Oh, I borrowed a jet," he told her offhandedly. 

"From who?" 

Jack's face broke into the patented Crichton grin. "I don't think I caught his 
name." He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her with him down the 
corridor. "How long have you been here?" 

"I got in about an hour ago." 

"Everything's on high alert, how'd you get away?" 

"Well, I spent most of the morning trying to get some emergency family leave and 
beating my head against a brick wall, followed by some friendly interrogation, 
then in one of his last communications with the station, John asked for me and 
they packed me off pretty damn quick. So here I am." Jack nodded and tightened 
his grip on his daughter's shoulder. 

What a strange day it was. Certainly nothing Jenny had ever been through 
prepared her for any of this. As happy as she was that her brother was alive, 
her stomach still churned anxiously. John's latest stunt was not going to go 
over very well with either the American or Russian governments and she was now 
having second thoughts about his request that either Dad or DK alert the media 
that he was there. There was so much about this that could go sideways and with 
something as touchy as alien visitation there was no way to truly predict public 
reaction. Truth be told, Jenny was scared. She wanted to see John desperately 
but she wanted more than anything for him to be safe. 

Jack led his daughter to a grassy quad just off one wing of the building, there 
were far too many ears inside for them to talk comfortably. "Have you called 
your sister?" He asked. 

Jenny snorted and sat down on a low retaining wall. "Yeah, she told me I needed 
mental help. Which reminds me, I need to call DK again, too." 

"What does he think of all this?" 

"He is absolutely freaking out," she told him seriously. "I called him before I 
called you this morning and I've tried a couple more times since, but last time 
he just hung up on me." 

Jack squinted up at the bright blue sky, a slight breeze ruffling his hair. "Let 
me try. John's loss was rough on him." 

"Well, it was pretty fu- damn tough on all of us," Jenny observed crossly. 

"DK's blamed himself for a long time." 

"You were there, too, Dad, I know you've been pretty hard on yourself about the 
whole thing." 

Jack smiled down at her and shook his head slightly. "I know there wasn't 
anything I could do but he's my son. It was hell watching that. I just . . . I 
just kept remembering that there was something about that mission that had John 
nervous the whole time. More than usual. Hell he even broke out of quarantine 
that morning." 

"And you kept thinking there was something you should have seen," Jenny astutely 
finished for him. 

"Something like that." Jack turned his back on Jenny for a moment and let his 
eyes drift over the quad, then sighing heavily he sat down next to her. "Where 
has he been? How . . . how did this happen?" He rubbed his face wearily and bent 
over, elbows on his knees. "I don't even know . . . how am I supposed to feel 
about this?" 

"Happy?" Jenny suggested. He looked up sharply at her and she gave him a 
contrite smile. "No. I know what you mean. It doesn't feel real. I'm scared that 
I'll get too excited and it'll be a dream like you said. That would hurt too 
much." 

"Jack?" The two Crichtons fell immediately silent and stood up to meet the 
intruder. 

"Hey there, Charlie," Jack greeted cordially but somewhat reservedly. "Jenny, 
this is Charlie Mecklenberg. He's a deputy administrator here. Charlie, this is 
my daughter, Major Jennifer Crichton." 

Jenny shook hands with the well dressed, but smarmy looking little round man. 
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Mecklenberg," she said politely. 

"A pleasure, Major. Another Crichton destined for the stars?" He asked with a 
too friendly chuckle. 

"Could be," Jenny offered blandly. There was something about the guy that set 
her on edge. And though she'd only known him for a grand total of two seconds 
she didn't trust him -- he looked like a tubby Chihuahua with a mean streak. 

"I heard you gave our psychologist the slip. Dr. Poplar would like to finish the 
interview when it's convenient." 

Jenny's jaw tensed and her nostrils flared slightly at the hint of graciously 
condescending rebuke in Mecklenberg's voice. "I'll see when I can fit her in, 
Sir," she replied, just as superciliously. 

Mecklenberg's lips thinned slightly but he recovered quickly and managed another 
unctuous smile. "We'd appreciate that." He dismissed her with a nod of his head 
and turned to face Jack. "We need to talk about this situation. If that really 
is your son up there, though it's just a little hard to believe, he's causing 
quite a shit storm down here." 

"I'll give you whatever help I can here, Charlie, you know that," Jack said 
firmly. Jenny could tell he didn't like Mecklenberg any more than she did and 
she smiled smugly to herself, hoping the little twerp was stupid enough to try 
that overbearing stuff with her father. It'd be fun to watch. 

"Well he's contacted us again with another list of demands." 

Jack stared at the man evenly. "Has he made demands before now?" 

"Not as such," he conceded reluctantly. "But he's playing it a little heavy 
handed. Coming in and sitting there for a good hour before contacting us. He's 
pretty damn cocky," Mecklenberg sneered. 

"He's being cautious, sir," Jenny put in. "This is a strange situation for . . 
." 

Mecklenberg interrupted Jenny with narrowed eyes and a sharp bark. "Fuck his 
caution. He's aware of procedure and I know he's just thumbing his nose at us 
right now." 

Jack bristled at the man's tone. "I'd appreciate if you didn't talk to my 
daughter like that, Charlie," he said coldly. "What are his demands?" 

"He has two of our astronauts and a cosmonaut on that behemoth of a ship of his. 
He's infected them with a biohazard, some sort of bug his entire crew are 
carriers of, and now he's trying to use the three of them as a bargaining chip." 

"What does he want?" Jack asked again, slowly but insistently. 

"He wants to come down to Earth. He wants safe passage and a neutral landing 
location and he wants to see you," Charlie huffed disdainfully, making perfectly 
clear that if he thought those demands beyond ridiculous. 

"What's the problem?" 

"Did you not hear what I said about the biohazard? What if they infect the 
planet? How do we know that they aren't carrying something that could wipe out 
all life as we know it on Earth? They're the Spanish and we're the natives, 
Jack. They could kill us with a sneeze." 

"Well John survived okay," Jenny pointed out helpfully. 

"He's one person. I have six billion to worry about." 

However much she was beginning to loathe him, Jenny couldn't help but understand 
the man's point. "Well couldn't we have the ISS crew run some tests, sir? Make 
sure that they're safe?" 

"They've been infected!" Charlie shouted. "They are not coming down to this 
planet." 

"It's harmless," Jenny argued back, annoyed. 

Mecklenberg's eyes flashed and he latched onto her arm. "What do you know about 
it? Have you been in contact with him?" 

Jenny's mouth shut with a click and she started mentally kicking herself for 
being stupid enough to give away her trump card. "Look. Test the stuff. You'll 
see it's not going to hurt anything." 

"The only reason Commander Crichton may have survived unaffected is because he 
is in an environment where these bugs are controlled. If we bring them down 
here, to this warm wonderful planet of ours, they could get out of hand. 
Mutating into god knows what," he told her fiercely. 

Jack put his hand on Mecklenberg's arm, squeezing until the man dropped Jenny's 
arm. "We have a unique opportunity here, Charlie. That's an alien intelligence 
up there. John may be human, but something made that ship. Sure, I know 
procedure, John knows procedure, but this situation was only vaguely considered 
when those procedures were developed. I think the point here is that we're going 
to have to adapt to this situation and categorically refusing anything John says 
is not the way to go," he told him calmly before continuing with more fire. 
"Think how much they could teach us. For god's sake that ship is obviously 
capable of interstellar travel, you can't tell me you're going to turn away from 
that. And in case that's not inducement enough for you, Charlie," he continued 
icily, "let me put it this way, if you don't deal with John, somebody else will. 
Maybe the Russians, maybe the Chinese, hell maybe the French for all I know. Can 
we afford to give up that technological edge?" 

Mecklenberg's mouth opened and closed a few times in a rather guppy-like manner, 
clearly he hadn't managed to think that far ahead yet. Jack turned from him in 
disgust and put his arm back around Jenny's shoulder, and they started walking 
back into the building. 

"Good one, Dad," Jenny told him proudly. 

Jack smiled a wan smile. "Thanks, honey. Charlie may be a jackass but he's a 
smart jackass. He'll get his head out of his ass eventually." 

Jenny nodded thoughtfully. Everybody was still in shock, even the little 
Chihuahua man, but the people at IASA were used to handling unique situations, 
she'd just have to have faith that they'd do the right thing without too much 
paranoia.

>>>><<<<

8.

"So, uh, doesn't that hurt?" Mission Specialist Dr. Ellen Harrington was perched 
on top of Pilot's console, leaning across it and looking down at his connections 
to Moya--a mind-boggling web of nerve fibers binding the two creatures 
inexorably together. 

"No, the . . . the original connections were rather painful, however, I was 
allowed to re-bond with Moya naturally over two cycles ago," Pilot told her with 
a tinge of discomfort in his voice and he glanced over at Aeryn who was leaning 
against the other side of his console. She gave him a small smile and gently 
touched one of his claws. "There is no pain. On the contrary, I have known no 
greater pleasure than my bond with Moya." 

"That is . . . that is," Harrington muttered, so suffused with awe she could not 
complete the thought. She sat up and stared at Pilot. "That is so amazing," she 
finished finally. "Wow. So, you process all the information Moya sends you? 
Impulses, sensation, thought?" 

"That is correct Doctor Harrington," Pilot nodded his ponderous head in her 
direction. "I take care of Moya, monitoring her wellbeing and directing any 
necessary repairs. I also facilitate the operation of Moya's systems to allow 
for the safe passage of other beings within her, and while they are onboard it 
is my duty to see to their comfort." 

Ellen shook her head in dazed wonder. "What do you get from all this, Pilot?" 

Pilot blinked slowly and cocked his head. "I get to travel the stars," he told 
her softly. 

"Pilot's an explorer," Aeryn said with a fond smile. "His species is planet-
bound, but their extraordinary relationships with Leviathans allow them access 
to the universe." 

"It is the purpose to which every member of my species aspires," Pilot agreed. 

"That is so incredible. Well, this just beats the hell out of growing wheat in 
space. So let me ask you --" 

"Aeryn?" The conversation broke off at Chiana's sudden appearance at the door to 
Pilot's den. 

Aeryn pushed herself away from Pilot and nodded at the Nebari. "Chiana?" 

"Can I talk to you for a microt?" Chiana glanced over at Pilot and noticed the 
human woman sitting there. She gave a cheery wave. "Hi!" 

Ellen shook herself out of her shock quickly, hoping that her blatant staring 
hadn't been too noticeable. She'd met the entire crew, including Chiana, but she 
seemed to only have the capacity to deal with one alien at a time -- Aeryn 
didn't count, she looked far too human -- add another to the mix and she was 
flummoxed. "Hi?" she said weakly. 

Chiana grinned then turned her attention backed to Aeryn and cocked her head, 
jutting her chin towards the Sebacean. "Please?" 

"I can look after Doctor Harrington, Aeryn," Pilot offered. "I would like the 
opportunity to talk to her more about Moya." 

Aeryn noted a number of subtly placed DRDs arranged around the den, most of them 
were in a position to keep an eye stalk or two bent in the human's direction. 
"Thank you, Pilot. Chiana?" Aeryn moved briskly out of the room. 

"Frell, Aeryn, slow down," Chiana called after her once they were out into the 
hallway. "I just wanted to talk to you, where are you going?" 

Aeryn caught what she was doing and came to a full stop. Her first thought once 
she'd been relieved of Harrington had been Crichton. Frelling humans, they 
plagued her constantly. The thought didn't carry the venom it used to, though. 
Crichton was no longer part of that classification in her mind that said 
åhuman', he was just Crichton, her shipmate, her friend, her . . . She rolled 
her head on her shoulders, trying to pop some of the tension out of her neck. He 
was her frelling default now. Anytime she moved from one task to another she 
thought of him and always considered, for longer than she liked, if she ought to 
check on him. And when she'd left Pilot's den, those were exactly what her 
thoughts had been, and she completely forgot about Chiana. 

"What did you want to talk about?" Aeryn asked as contritely as she could 
manage. 

Chiana stood with her arms akimbo and bobbed her head at Aeryn with a breathless 
little giggle. "Well, what do we ever talk about? Crichton." 

"What about Crichton?" 

"I'm really worried about him," Chiana exclaimed loudly. "He seems to be in his 
head a lot, you know? I don't think I like it. It's really dangerous. And these 
. . . fek, I don't know what they are, these attacks he's having? Come on 
Aeryn." 

Aeryn gazed at Chiana thoughtfully. The girl's concern was sincere, that much 
was obvious, though probably the only time she was sincere was when it was about 
Crichton. Aeryn sighed quietly and quickly banished that unfair thought from the 
fore of her mind. She and Chiana hadn't always gotten along particularly well, 
but the young Nebari did her part on Moya and she adored John. And John adored 
her back. Aeryn envied them their comfort with each other. But she was relieved 
by the knowledge that if any thing happened to . . . well, she knew Chiana would 
always look after Crichton. 

She took a deep breath and tried to moderate her automatic impatience. "I . . . 
am concerned as well," Aeryn confessed slowly, almost painfully. 

"What are we going to do?" Chiana watched Aeryn expectantly, as if waiting for 
some great plan to save Crichton's sanity to come tumbling out. Aeryn almost 
snorted at the absurdity of that. She had no greater insight into that than 
anybody else did. 

"I don't know, Chiana. Maybe . . ." she shrugged. "Maybe he'll be better once he 
sees his family." 

"What about those frelling attacks? He's collapsed once today and I know I've 
caught him talking to Harvey at least twice. D'Argo has too, and he says 
Crichton freaked out when you came back with the humans." 

Aeryn scowled at the mention of Harvey. She hated that wraith with a surprising 
passion. She'd never forgive that he'd tried to kill John at least twice, and 
she doubted she'd ever manage to forget the time he did succeed in killing her. 
John swore he was harmless now, that he helped him out, but she couldn't help 
but feel a chill whenever she noticed Crichton's eyes slip out of focus while he 
retreated into his head to talk to Harvey. 

"It's stress," she stated tiredly. "We need to get this first contact out of the 
way so that he can rest." 

"I don't like it," Chiana pouted. 

Aeryn raised her eyebrows dangerously. "I don't like it either. What do you 
suggest we do?" She asked pointedly. 

Chiana took a step closer to Aeryn, leaning in slightly, speaking softly and 
almost conspiratorially. "You can talk to him. Get him to take it easy, you 
know?" 

Aeryn snorted humorlessly. "What makes you think he'd listen to me?" 

Chiana pulled her head back and stared at Aeryn in disbelief. "You're kidding, 
right? He's so in love with--" 

"Chiana, don't go there," Aeryn snapped. 

"It's true," Chiana snapped back. "I'm sick of slinking around you two, afraid 
that somebody might say the wrong thing to either one of you. What's so wrong 
with being in love with him? Is this about the other one still? That was 
Crichton, too, and he'd be madder than a Luxan in hyper-rage if he saw you 
acting like this toward . . . uh, himself." 

"Chiana," Aeryn growled fiercely. "I am not talking about this with you." 

"Well, who are you going to talk to about this? I can't imagine loosing 
Crichton. I don't want to imagine it. But the way I see it, Aeryn, is that we 
are loosing him right now and it's all because of you. So frelling fix it. Fix 
yourself. Do whatever it is you have to do to get your dren back together and 
fix him," Chiana cried desperately. 

Aeryn's icy facade crumbled at the force of Chiana's words and at the hurt and 
fear that came with them. She backed up to a wall and slid down it weakly, her 
eyes closed. "You don't know what it's like, Chiana," she whispered brokenly. 
"To have him here and have him dead." 

Chiana stared at Aeryn, completely stunned. Whatever she had expected from the 
confrontation it hadn't been this. A pulse pistol in the ear, yeah, but Aeryn on 
the floor almost crying? Hezmana, no. 

Chiana dropped slowly to her knees, watching the Sebacean warily, almost afraid 
that this was some trick. "Aeryn?" 

Aeryn opened her eyes and gazed bleakly at Chiana. "I've hurt him." She dropped 
her head back against the wall and closed her eyes tightly again. "I didn't mean 
to do it but . . . he . . . we can't be what we were, Chiana." 

Chiana was getting a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. "What did you 
do, Aeryn?" 

"I wasn't there," she said and rubbed at the fatigue in her eyes. "When I . . . 
when I returned to Moya I did something very selfish." 

Aeryn's mind slipped back to those first few days after she'd returned to Moya. 
The other crewmembers watched her warily, so much so that it reminded her 
strongly of when she'd first left the Peacekeepers all those cycles ago, and 
John alternated between being there every time she turned around to disappearing 
for days on end. She'd known things couldn't go on like that forever and she'd 
had a question gnawing at her mind for over half a cycle. A question only he 
could answer. So she spent a day hunting him down. When she finally found him, 
he was backing out of an access shaft on one of the lower tiers, swearing and 
shaking his hands. 

"What happened?" 

Crichton's head shot up in surprise and he gaped at her for a long minute. 
"What?" She jerked her chin towards his hands. "Oh, just an electrical burn. 
Nothing a hacksaw won't cure." He shook them again and blew lightly across the 
tips of his fingers. 

Aeryn pursed her lips and nodded. "You should have Jool tend to them." 

"Yeah, in a bit. I want to fix that power coupling first, it's giving Pilot 
hell." 

Aeryn pushed herself away from the wall, taking a couple of steps towards him. 
She saw John watching her out of the corner of his eye. She hadn't said a very 
much to him since she'd been back on Moya. When they did talk it was usually 
shop talk, as he called it, certainly nothing more personal than agreeing on 
which task to see to when. This was the first time she'd actively sought him 
out, it was small wonder he was wary. 

"I'll fix the coupling," she told him softly. 

John dropped his head back against the wall before turning to fully meet her 
gaze. "What's up, Aeryn?" 

She stared back at him evenly but the frankness of his regard eventually forced 
her to look away. Her eyes wandered over the scattered tools and for a few 
seconds she contemplated retreating back into the role of Officer Sun and coldly 
telling Crichton to go find Jool, that she would do the work he was so obviously 
incapable of doing. A bitter knot of icy nausea held her tongue. He deserved 
better than being lashed by her anger and sorrow at every turn. It was hardly 
his fault he was alive, whatever she might feel. 

"Can we ä I need to talk," she breathed hesitantly. Aeryn glanced at him and 
braced herself for Crichton's reply, expecting some wry observation on her 
taciturn peacekeeper nature or a sarcastic comment loaded with a human joke 
she'd never understand. What she got however was almost enough to break her 
resolve. 

John watched her through tired eyes, and when he replied his voice was barely 
above a whisper, "Sure, Aeryn." 

When he made no move to get up, Aeryn worked her dry throat and stared back down 
at the tools. "Can we go someplace else?" 

Crichton climbed slowly, almost reluctantly to his feet. His left knee popped 
alarmingly and he hissed in pain when he forgot about his burns and tried to rub 
his face with his damaged hand. He ruefully let the limb fall and pinched the 
bridge of his nose with his other hand. 

"Where to?" He asked quietly. 

Aeryn thought quickly, trying to come up with some neutral location but also one 
where they were unlikely to be intruded upon. The terrace was out of the 
question, entirely too many emotions attached to that room. Nor was she prepared 
to go to his quarters or have him into hers. Aeryn thought for a second longer 
and then sighed; they'd spent too much time together on this ship. Every corner 
was suffused with some memory, good and bad. 

"Workshop's a safe bet," Crichton suggested. 

Aeryn shot him a hard look. She hated how vulnerable it made her feel that he 
could read her thoughts as well as the othä as well as he always had. "Fine," 
she said, her voice clipped and cold. 

They made the trip in silence, with each lost in their own thoughts, though 
still careful of the other's presence, almost as if an uneasy peace had been 
declared between two mortal enemies. Aeryn's stomach clenched at that thought. 
The last thing she'd ever wanted was to be John's enemy. She just didn't know 
how to broker the peace they both wanted. 

John sat down at his workbench, shifting some of his projects out of the way, 
and leaned his elbows on the table. Aeryn sat down across from him and squared 
her shoulders. This was an almost impossible task she'd set for herself, but her 
need to know was driving her. 

"I need to ask you a question." Her voice was so soft, so laden with emotion he 
could hardly hear her. 

He bent forward across the table, as close to her as he dared. "Go ahead." 

"You're him," she said simply, not sure for a moment how to say what it is she 
needed to. 

John gritted his teeth. "Is that the question?" 

She shook her head. "No." 

"What is it, Sunshine?" Aeryn flinched from the endearment and John grimaced 
painfully. "Sorryä" 

She cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. "No. Iä it's alright. It's 
justäit's just hard." 

"Yeah," he said lamely. 

Aeryn laughed weakly. "I thought self-torture was a purely human trait. I don't 
know if this will make me feel better or worse but I need to know and you can 
tell me. Please tell me," she pleaded hoarsely and looked down at the scarred 
workbench. She couldn't force herself to meet his gaze just then. 

"Hey." He said lightly. 

She wiped her eyes with a shaky hand and gave him a grateful nod. "This won't be 
easy." 

"Wouldn't be us if it was." 

"I need to know," she paused and took a deep breath. "He said he was at peace." 

John stared at her in sick realization. "Oh Jesus fucking Christ, Aeryn," he 
groaned. "Why don't you just take a kidney? Or how about a lung? I've got two of 
each." 

Aeryn pressed her lips together while a tear spilled down her cheek and she 
jerkily pushed to her feet and made to leave. She couldn't do this. She was 
wrong to even try. Of course, he wouldn't answer her, why should she expect that 
he would. Bastard. 

John swore quietly and reached out to grab her arm. "I'm sorry Aeryn. God, I'm 
so sorry. Sit down, please. I'll tell you. I'll tell you." 

She stared down at him, her eyes hard as flint and her face carved from granite. 
She slowly lowered herself back down to the bench and watched him closely. 

"What do you want?" He asked hoarsely. 

"Was he?" 

John swallowed thickly. "At peace?" Aeryn gave him one brusque nod and John 
licked his dry lips. "Yeah, Aeryn, he was." 

She watched him expectantly, that wasn't all that she wanted, she wanted him to 
talk, and she wanted him to tell her ä something that would lessen the pain. 

John closed his eyes, trying to steady his roiling emotions. "The dying part 
sucked, Aeryn. He hated that," John snorted a soft laugh and Aeryn nodded 
sagely. "But, hey, you were there. If I had to die I'd rather you were with me. 
I'd hate how much that would hurt you but, hell, I'm a selfish bastard and I'd 
be glad you were there. Glad the last thing I saw was you. Last voice I heard 
was yours. Last ... last everything was you. Not such a bad way to go, I guess." 
John's voice cracked and he had to clear his tight throat a couple of times 
before he could continue. "Can't say he wasn't pissed, though. I mean he had a 
taste of everything he wanted for about two seconds. You. A chance to go home. 
Brain Harvey-free." John absently twisted some wires between his fingers. 
"Nothing like having the universe kick you one last time." 

"I don't..." Aeryn started slowly. 

John shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "The kicker is, Aeryn," he 
stopped and laughed. "I envy that bastard." 

Aeryn narrowed her eyes and glared at Crichton. She wasn't sure if he was 
laughing at her or not. "Envy?" 

"Oh frell, yeah. So he only had what he wanted for two seconds, he still had it. 
Trust me, Aeryn, he died a happy man," John told her confidently and with more 
than a touch of bitterness. 

Aeryn was staring at him now, openly considering the man before her. She had 
wanted him to tell her these things in the hopes of finding some comfort in 
knowing her John had truly gone peacefully but she hadn't considered how this 
conversation would affect Crichton. But now she could see how ragged he was, how 
tenuous his grip on his emotions was. She felt ill. 

"You know, I did think about you when we were apart," she told him matter-of-
factly. "It was just ... complicated." 

John's lips twisted into a grimace of distaste. "Aeryn, don't bother, alright? 
You loved John Crichton, you had John Crichton, and you watched John Crichton 
die. I'm just what's left over. You don't owe me a goddamned thing." He stared 
at the wires in his hand, contemplating them deeply. When they refused to give 
him any answers he flung them down the length of the bench and watched as they 
skittered and bounced to the floor. 

Aeryn couldn't bring herself to look at his face or even glance his way but 
there was one small thing she could give him. It was all she had just then. "I 
loved John Crichton a long time before there were two." 

"Yeah, but then there were two and he got the girl." He laughed, and Aeryn's 
head snapped up at the harsh sound. It bordered on hysteria. "Man! The universe 
has it out for John Crichton. Not enough to screw just one over, nah, there had 
to be two. It's frelling Greek!" Another hysterical burst of laughter. "Give one 
guy everything he wants then kill him and force feed the other guy the ashes. 
Beautiful." The frenzied outburst tapered off into a low, ragged whisper. 

John growled softly. "I am so sick of this shit. I'm so sick of being bogged 
down by all this ... wretchedness. Hell, I've never used that word in a sentence 
in my life but that's what this is -- wretchedness. I'm tired of it. I'm tired 
of living in it, and breathing it, and eating it, and thinking about it all the 
time. I'd give anything to trade places with that guy, to have those two seconds 
of peace. And he died a hero, and you loved him, and I died because I was too 
stupid to get out of D'Argo's way and you..." he stopped and shrugged his 
shoulders again, unsure of what to say next. After an eternity of tense silence, 
John got up without a word and left the room. 

"I wasn't there." She completed his sentence softly. 

Aeryn closed her eyes and when she opened them again she was staring back at the 
now distraught Nebari thief. "I wasn't there," Aeryn told her dismally. "I've 
left him twice, Chiana. I don't think he can forgive me that anymore." 

Chiana leaned forward and impulsively took one of Aeryn's hands in hers. 
"Goddess, Aeryn, of course he forgives you, he loves you. He knew you had to do 
what you thought was best. He'd never hold that against you." 

"But he doesn't trust me anymore," Aeryn persisted stubbornly. "Why would he? 
I'll just leave him again, right?" 

"Will you?" 

"No," Aeryn spat bitterly. "But he doesn't know that because I've frelled it all 
up. So in answer to your question, Chiana, he wouldn't listen to me because he 
has no reason to trust me." She pulled her hand out of Chiana's grasp and stood 
up abruptly. 

"Aeryn, wait," Chiana scrambled to her feet and put a hand on Aeryn's shoulder, 
trying to keep her from disappearing down the corridor. "Can you just . . . can 
you just stop feeling for a microt and think? He does trust you. Look at this 
situation. If he could go down to Earth and only take one of us with him who 
would he take?" 

Chiana peered at Aeryn intently while she waited for the Sebacean to answer the 
question. "It's because I look human," Aeryn began. 

"Wrong," Chiana told her sharply. "Those Earth people know what we look like 
now, why does it matter if you look human? You'll go down there because he 
trusts you the most." 

Aeryn shrugged off the Nebari's logic. "No. I've told John I need to speak with 
his father." 

Chiana threw her arms up in the air and swore in resignation, "Fek, Aeryn, 
you're as stubborn as he is." She moved as close to Aeryn as she dared and stuck 
her face in Aeryn's. "You don't believe me? Fine. But I'm telling you Aeryn 
you're the only one he'll listen to. If not because he trusts you, than because 
he respects you and he knows you respect him." She stepped back and considered 
Aeryn solemnly. "I don't want to loose him Aeryn but there's only so much I can 
do." Chiana shrugged and gazed at Aeryn for a moment longer and then she turned 
and left, moving quickly down the hall towards command. 

Aeryn stared after her until long after she'd disappeared from view. Perhaps 
Chiana was right, a terrifying thought all its own. But could she trust herself, 
again? That was the question that haunted Aeryn's mind now. She might charge 
herself with mending Crichton's fractured mind and wounded soul, but could she 
trust herself not to hurt him again? The real truth came on the heels of that 
thought and it brought with it a bitter rush of fear. To trust herself she would 
have to lay aside more than a cycle's worth of pain. A pain that she had come to 
rely on, because for a cycle that had been all that told her she could still 
feel. If she let it go, would she fall into oblivion?

>>>><<<<

9.

_You're listening to Coast to Coast AM. This is your host, Art Bell, coming to 
you live from somewhere in the Nevada desert. Good evening everybody. Well . . . 
well I have some truly amazing news for you tonight. I don't know if you've been 
hearing the reports but they've been coming in to the studio here since early 
this morning. 
Here's what we've got . . . Around 5 a.m. Pacific time this morning, what looks 
like a large spacecraft appeared in orbit with the International Space Station. 
A reliable IASA source emailed me a batch of images from the ISS and a Russian 
ground based telescope this afternoon. I have one of these pictures up in front 
of me now and all I can say is . . . wow. It looks like a light brown, or I 
guess a sort of golden brown, elongated oval or disc. And it is absolutely huge. 
It's got to be at least twenty times the size of the space station. The pictures 
from the ISS are even more mind boggling; the object is so large all I can see 
in the field of view is a vast expanse of mottled golden brown, without any idea 
or hint of shape or definition. There appear to be what could be a row of 
windows, some lights on the side. But it is so hard to get a good idea of the 
sheer size of this craft. If you go to my website at artbell.com and look under 
åwhat's new' you'll find a link to a few of these pictures. I have to tell you, 
I am completely blown away. I've got Richard Hoagland with us tonight and later 
on the program, remote viewer Major Ed Dames. They'll help us make sense of 
what's going on here. You're listening to Coast to Coast, I'm Art Bell, don't go 
anywhere or you'll miss out on what could be one of the biggest stories in human 
history._

John snickered loudly and with more than a hint of devilish amusement. Coming 
home had to have some sort of freak out the freaks mileage to it, otherwise what 
the hell was the point? He shifted and wedged himself more comfortably against 
the bulkhead, next to the view port, and looked out. For the first time all day 
he felt almost relaxed and the view of Earth was stunning. He'd drifted above 
the planet like this twice before, well three times actually but the last time 
didn't count -- he was too busy skipping his module off the atmosphere to pay 
much attention to the view. 

Tapping his fingers idly against the window, he picked out familiar features. He 
couldn't believe he was actually here. His driving goal during the first cycle 
he'd spent in the Uncharted Territories had been to get home. Every move he 
made, every thought, every dream had been of Earth. Somewhere that had changed 
and he wasn't quite sure where. God, the more he thought about it the longer ago 
it was. The . . . dreams he had after they blew up the command carrier had been 
about reality, about finally waking up. When was it that he really turned that 
corner? Maybe it was as long ago as the false Earth. Aeryn told him to choose 
and he did. Sure it was all an illusion but he didn't know that when he made the 
choice. 

He traced lightly over Asia and smiled ruefully down at the planet. Fate had 
more than just a little cruel streak when it came to John Crichton. How else 
could it be explained that only after he'd finally let go of the thing that he 
thought had driven him for so long, he'd find it right in front of him?

"Would you like some more cobbler?"

John spared the intruder on his thoughts barely a glance. "No, thanks, Madge."

"Cake, perhaps?"

John rolled his head to the side and looked up at her. "Nope."

Madge smiled and crept closer to him. "Tart?"

"Chiana?" He laughed.

"Pardon?"

John shook his head and waved his hand at her. "No."

"Tea?"

"Madge. Give it a rest," he snapped, his relaxed mood fading into irritation.

"Perhaps you'd like to talk instead," she suggested with all the annoying 
patience of a high school counselor. He gave her a baleful glare but she ignored 
him and perched herself on the edge of a nearby bench and leaned towards him 
with a gentle smile. "Tell me what's troubling your mind."

"Are you kidding me?" He exclaimed incredulously. "Do you remember the little 
acid trip you took me on when you first got here?" 

"Of course I do, John," she said quietly. "Do you remember why it was 
necessary?"

"Frell you," he growled. "I do not need the mind games."

"Do you remember?" She persisted loudly. "The lies? The truth? Do you remember?"

"Yes!" He yelled harshly at her and shot to his feet. "Every time I look at that 
planet I see it. I see every mistake I've ever made and I see all the ones that 
I'm about to make." He paced restlessly in front of the view port. "Every time I 
close my eyes here, every time I blink, I see her . . ." His voice gave out and 
he stopped and pressed his lips together, trying to get himself under control. 

His eyes slipped shut and just as he'd told Madge, he was taken to his nightmare 
again. The scene played out against his eyelids again and again. The floor was 
littered with the bodies of his friends and family, the air was thick with smoke 
and charged with loss and desolation. But his attention was fixed on the woman 
in his arms. Her warm blood flowed thickly between his fingers as he desperately 
tried to hold her life in. He felt the scream of anguish build up in his throat 
as her last breath rattled in her chest. 

He was pulled back to Moya with a start when Madge came up behind him and put 
her hands on his shoulders. He tried to shrug her off but she tightened her grip 
and pulled him back to her. "Is she worth all this?" She questioned in a 
seductive hiss.

Crichton shook her off and turned quickly, grabbing her by the lapels of her 
long jacket and giving a fierce shake. "Quit whispering in my ear, old woman," 
he warned dangerously. "I still remember that, too."

Madge freed herself and backed away from him nervously, not prepared for the 
conversation's sudden change in direction. "What . . . ah, what do you remember 
about that?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, his expression dark and terrifying. With 
a shaking voice he angrily recited words that had tormented him for monens. "'Be 
forgiving. Be kind. Better angels . . .'"

Madge grabbed his arm. "No!" She looked up at him, pleading. "You should not 
know that."

"'Her life. Her world,'" he continued, snarling through gritted teeth. 

"Stop!" 

John's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Oh, you've heard this one before?" He 
grabbed her again and held her fast. When he spoke his voice was silky smooth 
and his eyes flashed with icy rage. "No more. Do you understand? No more 
frelling with my head."

"Of course, John. Of course," she said quickly, trying to sooth him. "I wanted 
to help you as you'd helped me. It was--"

"No more!"

Her hands fluttered up and she pressed her fingertips lightly to his cheeks, 
then his forehead and back down to cup his jaw. "I wanted you to--to learn, to 
find peace, hope. I'm sorry, you should not have known that until another time, 
another place, perhaps."

John pushed her away from him and moved back to sit heavily at his previous 
perch. "Why tell me something you don't want me to know?"

She took a step towards him but thought better of it and stopped. "Nothing I did 
was to be cruel. Perhaps that last was not my gift to give," she muttered 
thoughtfully. 

"I don't need that kind of help," John told her roughly.

Madge held up her hands, trying to placate his anger. "Consider your actions 
with that knowledge versus what they might have otherwise been." She dared 
approaching him again and placing her hand on his head, told him solemnly, "I 
swear to you John, what I did was out of concern, not because I wished to tamper 
with your mind."

He ducked his head away from her touch and stood again, crossing the room to a 
console. "I really don't need this right now."

"John, please--"

"Get out!" He roared and turned up the volume on the radio feed from Earth.

It's not so surprising. We've been expecting contact since the Chilbolton crop 
glyphs appeared two years ago.

I remember that. You said "soon". I don't think any of us were prepared for it 
to be quite this soon. 

Well, even for believers this is something you dream about but never really 
expect the day to come. 

Because you never know when it will happen.

That's right. 

So you don't believe they're a threat?

Not at all. The fact that they are so visible shows that they aren't trying to 
be subversive. This is a greeting. A knock on the front door, if you will. 
"Hello, here we are." They're not trying to be sneaky about it. I think the real 
question is, when will IASA and the government announce what we already know? 
How long will they try to keep this quiet?

Aeryn leaned back against the bulkhead just inside the door and silently watched 
the confrontation between John and the old woman. After checking on their guests 
and making sure they were secured in their quarters she'd gone by John's room 
only to find it empty. Concerned, she looked for him in all his favorite haunts 
before finally making her way back to command. What she found was enough to make 
her pull her pistol and throw the old crone off the ship, but something held her 
hand, some nagging curiosity, and so she let the scene play out. 

She'd come in just as John ordered Madge to stop frelling with his mind, and she 
listened to the rest of the conversation, a confused frown creasing her brow. It 
was clear enough, however, that the woman had made some misguided attempt to 
ease John's pain. And while she could understand the motives behind that, she 
bristled at the method. The old woman was not the first female to try to take 
advantage of John's apparent mental weakness or instability. She'd certainly not 
be the last, much to Aeryn's annoyance. John collected these females without 
even trying, and they all wanted to mother him then bed him. Aeryn snorted 
softly at the thought. They could try to take advantage of him all they liked; 
John was both too obstinate and too subtle to be so easily seduced. His mind was 
a strange and quite obviously terrifying place, but he knew it better than 
anybody else did, and he was not so easily conquered. 

Aeryn watched Madge watch John for a long microt, and she smiled inwardly when 
the old woman turned and squeaked in surprise.

"A--Aeryn," Madge stuttered. Aeryn raised an eyebrow and regarded the woman 
coolly. Madge quailed at the look and fiddled with the buttons on her jacket. 
"He . . . ah, he is tired, he should sleep," she muttered lamely.

"I'll see to him," Aeryn told her brusquely. Madge nodded meekly and shuffled 
out of the room quickly. 

"You're not here to help me, too, are you?" John asked, never taking his eyes 
from Earth. "åCause I'm really not in the mood."

Aeryn crossed the room slowly. His back was rigid, his posture defensive, but 
she knew her way around that. "I thought this was D'Argo's watch," Aeryn said 
blandly. 

John's shoulders relaxed slightly and he turned his head towards her, a wry grin 
on his face. "I told him I'd take it. But, you knew that already."

Aeryn shrugged and moved to stand in front of the view port. "It's a pretty 
planet," she noted conversationally. "What is that?" She asked, pointing to a 
long peninsula. 

"Korea."

She nodded sagely. "Is it nice there?"

"I don't know. I've never been," he told her with a laugh. "I hear the south's 
okay. North's no fun."

"Hmm. And where were you born?"

John narrowed his eyes and peered at her closely. "North Carolina. I thought for 
sure the other guy would have told you that," he said bitterly.

She ignored him, refusing to allow him to pull her into a fight. "That's not 
near Korea?"

"Not even close."

Aeryn nodded again, thoughtfully, still studying the globe beneath them. "Is it 
close to Houston?"

"North Carolina? Well, it's a hell of a lot closer than Korea. What's with all 
the questions tonight?" He asked sharply.

"If I'm going down to that planet I want to know as much about it as I can," she 
told him matter-of-factly. 

"I'll get you a subscription to National Geographic," he told her dryly.

"What's that?"

John paused again, trying to decide if she was truly curious or if she was 
trying to get him to say something specific. "It's a magazine, a journal."

"Is the food good?"

John stared at her, slightly dazed by the abrupt change in subject. "Where?" He 
asked weakly.

"Korea."

"We're not going to Korea, Aeryn," he told her with exaggerated patience. A 
microt later realization dawned on him and he moved away from the console to 
stand next to her. The small smile on her face gave her away. "You're just 
frelling with me aren't you?"

"I'm very disappointed we're not going to Korea." She told him earnestly, and 
watched with satisfaction as the lines on his face relaxed and he chuckled 
softly. 

"Well I'd hate to disappoint you. So, maybe a side trip, just for you." He 
grinned broadly at her and shook his head slightly.

Aeryn made every show of accepting his offer graciously. "Thank you." She smiled 
at him then cocked her head to the side, listening to the radio broadcast. 

The lines are open and from east of the Rockies, we have Doug from Houston. Go 
ahead caller.

Hi, Art. Hi, Richard. I work . . . uh, I work at Johnson Space Center. And, uh, 
I thought you guys should know that this morning we got a weird call from the 
Air Force. They called up at about, um, six our time.

That's what? Four Pacific Time?

Yeah. Anyway, they wanted a line in to the, um, space station's comm traffic.

Wait. They wanted this at six this morning? A full hour before the craft 
appeared?

Yeah. They wouldn't tell us what it was for. They just wanted a line in and said 
something about some experiment on the stability of ground to space 
communications but that it was all top secret so they couldn't tell us. The 
thing is they called up out of nowhere and demanded we get them connected in 
like ten minutes. 

So you're saying that the U.S. Air Force knew about this craft before it got to 
Earth?

Yeah. It looks like it.

Are there a lot of Air Force personnel at Houston now?

Well there are always Air Force guys around but, yeah, they pulled in some Major 
from Space Command in Colorado this afternoon and she's been in conferences with 
the big guys all day.

"What are we listening to?" Aeryn asked, puzzled.

"Art Bell. The voice of the lunatic fringe in the States. I knew this would leak 
and he'd be the first to hear it. I wanted to gauge the mood of regular people. 
Seeing as I've pissed off two governments and my own space agency, I just want 
to see if anybody's going to be on my side," he shrugged and sat down in front 
of the window.

"You have plenty of people on your side." Aeryn told him firmly, trying to 
forestall the self-pity she heard weighing down his voice. 

"Down there?" He asked doubtfully, glancing up at her. 

"Your sisters, your father, your friends," she murmured softly. 

John frowned uncertainly, and Aeryn sighed and stepped up next to him. His eyes 
widened in surprise when she reached out and gently ran her fingers through his 
hair. She absently watched her hands slip through the soft, short locks, 
reveling in the texture. It had been so long, it would be so easy, but then it 
would be so hard. Her fingers drifted down and danced lightly over his brow. He 
flinched away but her hand slid down and she grabbed his chin forcefully, 
turning his face up to look at her. She stared down into his sapphire eyes, 
feeling herself falling. There was so much between them, not just pain and loss, 
but friendship and love. Her heart ached for him; she'd thought that going away 
would ease her pain, but she'd missed her friend. Her stomach lurched with a 
sudden surge of dread, but as she stared down into his eyes, his vulnerability 
and strength blended there and for the first time in monens, the fear abated and 
she saw into John Crichton again. She trailed her fingers along his jaw, and he 
sat frozen, gazing up at her, helplessly in her thrall. Locked in the moment, 
Aeryn leaned over him and they drifted irresistibly together. The instant before 
their lips touched some brief flash of reality broke the spell and they both 
pulled back reluctantly. 

Aeryn held his gaze but took a deep, shaky breath. "John, I . . ."

John blinked slowly and gave her a rueful smile. "Yeah, I know," he told her 
softly.

She regarded him evenly for a time, then sighed again and offered him a small 
smile of her own. The emotional intensity of the moment had dissipated into 
something more comfortable and she brushed her fingers through his hair fondly. 
"You're tired, John. You've had a long day and now you need to rest."

"Nah, I need to finish D'Argo's watch," John protested.

"I'll take care of it. Go to bed," she ordered. 

John stood up and grinned at her. "Yes, ma'am."

Aeryn called out to him one last time before he left command. "When this shift 
is over I will be by your quarters to make sure you are both there and asleep." 
John shot her an amused glance and disappeared out the door.

Leaning back against a console, Aeryn closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders 
tiredly. Only John Crichton could make her live through a day like that, she 
thought to herself with a small snort of laughter. Undoubtedly the days would 
only get odder the longer they stayed around Earth. 

Wildcard line, we have Hector. Go ahead Hector.

Mister--Mister Bell, I listen to your show every night. For years and years. As 
long as you've been on the air, I've been a fan.

That's great Hector, what do you have for us?

Well, uh, well . . .

Caller?

I work at a, um, military installation and I don't want to say where because I 
don't want to be killed. But, uh, there are already aliens here you know? And 
they're, uh, they're working on big things. Scary things you know? I don't . . . 
I don't know if they're like these aliens on that ship up there, but if they are 
we are so screwed. åCause these guys want to like take over the Earth and get 
all of its resources and make us like slaves. 

How do you know this Hector?

Well, åcause I work there, you know? I'm a night guard at one of the, um, labs. 

What do these aliens look like Hector?

Well they look, um, they look . . . well, I've never really got a good look at 
them. Um, I kind of saw one once and it gave me nightmares. Totally iguana dude, 
hissing, probably a forked tongue kind of thing. Totally creepy. He tossed 
another guard through a fuckin' brick wall man. The guy's toast. Man, one of my 
friends works another shift and saw the dude and he like spit fire and ripped 
people's livers out with this big ass claws of his. 

Well, that's fascinating, thanks for your call, Hector. 

You gotta belie--

Aeryn shook her head in bemusement and turned off the radio feed. "Humans are 
frelling insane. 

>>>><<<<<

10.

"But the point is, D'Argo, you can't keep tonguing him. You're gonna give him 
brain damage," Peter Tsang told the Luxan reasonably as he leaned across the 
table to spear at a piece of mystery vegetable with his knife. 

D'Argo glared at the sulking Russian sitting next to Peter and sniffed with 
disdain. "He would have to have a brain to damage first," he muttered darkly. 

"I resent that, you hairy galloping camel," Kaminsky growled into his cup. 

Peter and D'Argo exchanged quizzical looks. "Hairy galloping camel?" Peter 
asked. 

Kaminsky's face flushed slightly and he pressed his lips together. "Stupid 
translator microbes." The other men laughed and the general din in the room 
became louder. 

In the month they'd been in orbit around Earth, the evening meal had become a 
fairly important ritual for the crew of Moya and their guests. It was a chance 
to ask questions, get used to each other and an opportunity to air their 
grievances. Most of the crew were gathered there now, eating, talking, laughing, 
glowering and in the case of John and Aeryn, seated at the far end of the room 
at a small table all their own, looking on the chaos with all the weariness of 
parents watching over a party of rambunctious sugared-up children. 

D'Argo cleared his throat loudly, trying to be heard over the noise, and 
addressed Peter in the same reasonable tone. "The real point is that if he would 
behave I would not have to tongue him." 

Kaminsky sneered at him. "Define behave." 

D'Argo leaned across the table towards the human, looming as only a Luxan could, 
and growled menacingly, "The girls do not appreciate the unwanted advances. 
You're lucky Aeryn hasn't fed you her pulse pistol yet." 

Jool, who had been following the conversation closely, a small smirk on her 
lips, finally spoke up, "Yeah. Why hasn't she?" Her tone of voice clearly 
conveyed her astonishment that Aeryn hadn't squashed the loathsome human yet and 
that she was somewhat put out by that fact. 

Chiana could never pass up the opportunity to needle Jool and she jumped into 
the conversation with a snicker. "What do you need Aeryn for, Jool? You melted 
him to the workbench." 

"He pinched me," Jool replied indignantly. 

D'Argo looked down at Jool in surprise then shot another glare at Kaminsky. 
"Where?" 

"In the workroom," Jool replied. 

D'Argo rolled his eyes and tapped a finger impatiently on the table. "No, where 
did he pinch you?" 

Chiana let out a loud snort of laughter. "Where else? Her big, fat eema." Jool 
hissed in irritation at that and gave Chiana a murderously dirty look. Chiana 
grinned back happily and leaned over to the human sitting next to her to whisper 
something in the woman's ear. Ellen Harrington and Chiana had struck up a very 
curious friendship. Originally fired by a shared deep love for Moya and a mutual 
appreciation for John Crichton's leather pants, especially when he was in them, 
the friendship had deepened and they'd become the terror of the crew. Doctor 
Harrington, it seemed, had something of a checkered past, a wild youth, and when 
bored she and Chiana would take turns honing and testing their snurching and 
stalking skills. 

"It was a cultural misunderstanding," Kaminsky said, trying to defend himself. 

Ellen eyed him coldly. "I'm pretty sure a Russian woman would belt you, too, 
Illya." 

"That's Colonel Kaminsky to you, Doctor," he snapped, stressing her title 
scornfully. 

Peter sighed heavily. Trying to ride herd on the other pair of humans was vastly 
more aggravating than being held hostage on an alien spacecraft. "Relax 
Kaminsky," he told the Russian wearily. "And D'Argo's right. Lay off. You're not 
making things any easier." 

Jool was still stinging from Chiana's earlier comment on her anatomy and she 
continued to glare around the room unhappily. "I do not have a fat eema," she 
protested petulantly. 

Kaminsky forgot himself for a moment and smiled at her reassuringly. "It is 
pleasantly round," he told her. 

Peter slapped his hand down on the table. "Kaminsky. I'm warning you," he 
barked. 

"You'll do what?" Kaminsky sniffed. 

"I'll introduce you to the pointy end of my Qualta blade," D'Argo rumbled. 

Ellen stared at the big Luxan thoughtfully then turned to Chiana. "Would he?" 

"Stab Kaminsky? Sure," Chiana informed her brightly, while she stuffed a piece 
of bread into her mouth. 

"That'd be kind of rude," Ellen pointed out. 

Chiana shrugged and chewed. "Probably." 

She frowned slightly and looked back and forth between D'Argo and Kaminsky. "And 
it would hurt." 

"Not for long," Chiana told her with a grin. 

Kaminsky was hunched over his cup, pretending not to hear any of the 
conversations regarding him and where various sharp objects could be inserted 
into his body. He glowered moodily at his reflection in the liquid and with a 
snarl tossed the drink back quickly. Before the liquid was even halfway down his 
throat he began to cough violently and he grabbed on to the edge of the table to 
keep himself from tumbling off the bench. When his coughing fit passed, he 
sighed in satisfaction and slammed his cup on the table. 

Peter was watching him with a slightly worried frown. "What are you drinking?" 

"None of your business, Commander," he replied haughtily. 

D'Argo grabbed the empty cup and sniffed at it curiously. "Raslak and something 
else." 

Ellen leaned across D'Argo and peered into the cup, taking in a whiff of the 
strong burn of alcohol. "Vodka?" 

Peter stared at Kaminsky, his face a combination of horror and sick fascination. 
"Raslak and vodka? Jesus, do you even have a liver anymore?" 

Kaminsky dropped his head on to the table and wailed piteously, "Why must you 
all torment me?" 

"Because you're a stupid krobash?" Jool offered acerbically. 

"I am the pride of the Russian space program," Kaminsky whined. 

D'Argo shook his head, unimpressed. "That's sad." 

On the other side of the room, momentarily forgotten by the rest of the crew and 
mercifully well out of that conversation, John sat sideways on his chair, his 
back against the bulkhead, and watched the interaction with an amused smile. 

"This is like summer camp gone bad," he observed wryly. He glanced over at his 
dining companion and caught Aeryn staring at him speculatively. He raised his 
eyebrows, inviting comment but she blinked once and looked back down at her 
plate, deciding she'd rather push the crumbs of her meal into a pile instead 
than share her thoughts at that moment. 

John's smile broadened as he gazed at her. It had been a good month for them. 
Probably the best month since . . . well hell, since he killed her, he thought, 
his humor tinged with a touch of wry self-contempt. Sitting back, admiring her 
strong, beautiful features, he reminded himself again that he was a luckier 
bastard than he had any right to be, that she was alive with him now. His 
fingers itched to reach out and stroke her soft cheek, but he held himself back. 
They hadn't made much progress on the romantic side of their relationship, and 
for now that was fine with him. For once he was the one who wasn't too sure he 
could handle the emotional complications of that aspect of their relationship. 
In spite of that he took great comfort in the fact that they were seldom far 
from each other these days, and he had finally been able to set aside some of 
his own bitterness and hurt to simply allow her to help him. The result had been 
a much more relaxed John Crichton and a relaxed John Crichton meant smoother 
negotiating with Earth, which meant he was, of course, less stressed, which then 
meant fewer breakdowns for their guests to observe and report. All in all, John 
figured things were about as good as they could be, which for once wasn't all 
that bad. 

He tapped his fingers gently on the back of her hand, drawing her attention back 
to him. "They get this from your side of the family," he told her with a laugh 
and a nod towards the rest of the crew. 

Aeryn frowned at him. "What are you talking about?" 

He chuckled softly and stood up, gathering his plate and cup. "I need to go call 
my sister. I'll talk to you later," he told her and started to walk away. 

Aeryn stood up quickly and picked up her own things, following him across the 
chamber to clean off her dishes. "I'm coming with you." 

"You don't have to be there every time, Aeryn," he said patiently, thinking she 
must be getting tired of babysitting him. 

"I want to talk to Jenny, too," Aeryn said simply. 

He glanced over at her and scrubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. 
"God. I hate it when you guys do that." 

"Do what?" 

"Talk about me like I'm not even there, and I'm the one translating," he 
complained grumpily. 

"Well if we could find a way to get your sister translator microbes this 
wouldn't be a problem," Aeryn pointed out to him, her tone of voice seeming to 
suggest that it would be the most sensible thing in the universe for her to just 
fly down and shoot his sister up. 

"That would totally violate what little trust Earth has in us now," John 
informed her. 

Aeryn, having made her point, stared at him blandly. "Than you'll just have to 
manage." 

John ground his teeth and gave her a sarcastic little nod. "Fine." 

The pair left the center chamber silently and quickly made their way to command. 
Aeryn leaned her hip against the console, facing John, while he started to make 
the connection to his sister. Just as he was about to engage it he looked up at 
her. "You know I'm almost dreading the day you two meet." 

"Why?" She asked him, slightly hurt. 

"Because I am just gonna be so screwed," he told her with a resigned shake of 
his head. Aeryn laughed and gave him a smug smile. He smirked back at her and 
opened the channel to Jenny's cell phone. 

"Crichton." 

"Hey Jenny," John greeted his sister. 

"You're late," Jenny growled at her brother. 

John winced. "Sounds like you're not in the mood for a chat. I could call back 
later." 

"Hang up and die," she warned fiercely. 

"Okay, um, want to tell me what's up?" 

"What's up? You want to know what's up? Fine. Here's what's up. You've been back 
for a month. No, wait, let me correct that, you've been back for more than a 
month. You still haven't talked to Dad yet." 

"Jenny--" 

"No," she barked, interrupting tonight's excuse. "He's hurt, you know that? More 
than that, he's getting really, really pissed. And do you know who has to hear 
about it every day? That's right -- me." 

He tried again. "Jenny--" 

"I am not finished," she yelled. "He called me by my full name today. My full 
name," she repeated, enunciating slowly, making sure he got the point." Jennifer 
Abigail Crichton. You know how much I hate my middle name. And you know how he 
says it. Calm and stern. I wanted to run to my room and hide under my bed. 
Except, of course, I AM A GROWN WOMAN." 

John flinched again and glanced over at Aeryn. She was staring at him, an 
eyebrow raised, her lips pursed. She was clearly trying not to laugh and he 
narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth in irritation. 

"Jenny, I'll talk to him," John assured her. 

"When?" 

"When I get down to Earth." 

Jenny let out a small scream and the next microt there was a strange pounding 
noise. John rubbed his chin, apprehension gnawing at his stomach; this was not 
going to go well tonight. "Jenny?" 

"When you get down to Earth? When the fuck will that be? God, John, you are 
being such a prick." 

"Hey. Watch it," he barked back. 

"Well, you are. How long is this going to take? Another month? Two months? A 
year? And you're just going to keep putting off Dad? You know what, John? You 
suck. Okay? You do. Totally and completely." 

He shook his head and tried to speak but his voice got caught in his throat and 
after a long microt he gave up and growled in frustration. He was afraid, pure 
and simple. And he absolutely loathed himself for it. John ground the heels of 
his hands into his eyes, and bowed his head, trying to stave off the headache he 
could feel nagging at the corners of his brain. 

"What are you going to do, John?" His sister asked insistently. 

"I don't frelling know!" He roared back at her. "Alright? I do suck. I am a god 
damned, frelling coward. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?" 

There was a pause on the other end of the line and they could hear Jenny taking 
a deep breath. "No. I didn't want to hear that. John, I'm sorry, I just want you 
to talk to Dad. For two minutes," she pleaded softly. "Please." 

"I don't know what to say, Jenny," John told her, his voice shaking slightly. 

Aeryn sighed heavily and moved around the console to stand next to him. Laying 
her cool hand on the back of his neck, she leaned in next to him. "John, relax. 
It's alright." 

"I am relaxed," he argued irritably. 

Aeryn snorted at that and squeezed his neck firmly. "Every time, John, every 
time you talk to your sister you have this conversation in one form or another. 
You need to deal with this. Just get it over with. I am frelling sick of hearing 
it." John tried to pull away from her but she kept her fingers clamped on his 
neck and tugged his face closer to hers. "You know I'm right." 

"I don't know what to say," he told her. 

"Say hello," she suggested. 

"I wish it was that simple." 

"You're making it complicated. Stop it." 

John clenched his jaw and pressed his thumb to his lips while he tried to sort 
through the chaotic jumble of thoughts and feelings. He was being ridiculous and 
he knew it, but he couldn't seem to find his way out of his loop of fear. It all 
kept coming back to some bizarre feelings of inadequacy. He wasn't a hero. In 
fact, he could barely hold his own mind together long enough to tie his boot 
laces in the morning. He always held himself up to the benchmark of his hero 
father and he was terrified to show him what a crippled mess his son was now. 

"Johnny?" 

"I'm here," he sighed. "Aeryn agrees with you, by the way." 

"Of course she does," she said. "Hanging with her was the smartest thing you've 
ever done, bro." 

"Not the smartest thing she's ever done," he said with a bite of self-
deprecating humor. 

Jenny made a noncommittal murmur. "She might disagree," she told him mildly. 

"I do," Aeryn said firmly. 

"See? There you go," Jenny laughed. 

"You don't even know what she said," John protested. 

"I could hear it in her tone of voice," Jenny laughed again. She fell silent for 
a few breaths before continuing more soberly, "John, seriously, just two 
minutes. I'll time it if you want. He just wants to hear your voice. I think 
he's still half afraid this is all some really bad joke." 

"Is he there now?" IASA and the military had decided to make Kennedy Space 
Center their base of operations for this situation. IASA recalled Jack Crichton 
to Florida to consult and the Air Force temporarily reassigned Major Jennifer 
Crichton to Canaveral. John figured DK would find himself sent to Florida on 
some special project soon enough, but he did wonder what they'd come up with to 
get his sister Joey down there, too. It was subtle as only the U.S. government 
could be. John had his åguests'; they had their åguests'. 

"No, he . . . uh, he got tired of waiting for you to decide to talk to him. He 
leaves the house now when it's time for your call." 

"Oh." John didn't know what to say to that. Was he really being that big a 
jackass? So stuck in his own head he couldn't see how he was treating his 
father? "I'll talk to him tomorrow night when I call. Okay?" 

"Good, thanks, Johnny." 

"Yeah, yeah. Now to business. Shuttle's still going up tomorrow?" As part of 
their ongoing negotiations, IASA and the crew of Moya had mutually agreed to 
allow a shuttle up to Moya to assess their risk to Earth's biosphere. The 
shuttle would actually land in Moya and a team of biologists would test the crew 
and the ship for hazardous contagions. 

"Yep, everything looks good to go. Are you guys ready for them?" 

"We've got a parking space with their names on it." 

"Great. Um, there's something you should know though," Jenny said hesitantly. 

"That doesn't sound good," John noted almost absently. He wasn't surprised, of 
course there was a catch, it was all too easy otherwise. "What's up?" 

"Yeah, uh, it could be good. Maybe. Could be bad, but, uh, you might not think 
so. You might think it's good. Or not. So, err," she rambled, clearly stalling. 

"Jenny." 

"IASA wants to send up somebody that knows you. Somebody that knows you really 
well. They're still trying to determine if you're you and if you're, uh, sane." 

"They'll let me know when they figure it out, right?" He asked dryly. 

"I volunteered but they wouldn't take me." 

"They don't trust you," John told her. 

"Nope. They wouldn't take Dad either. No family actually. They were going to 
send somebody from your astronaut group, but somebody else had another idea." 
Jenny hesitated again. "I didn't find out until today. There was some sort of 
crash astronaut training thing going on for a couple of the biologists they 
decided they needed from the outside. One from the CDC and the other . . . uh . 
. ." 

"Jenny, I swear to god . . ." He let the threat trail off menacingly. 

"It's Alex, John," Jenny said quickly. "Somebody pulled her name out of nowhere 
and she agreed to go up. Don't ask me why, but she did." 

John's head snapped back in shock and he blinked a few times. "Well frell me to 
tears," he managed. "That's . . . um, wow." 

"Yeah. I just heard about it today. Some of the mission control geeks were 
talking about how they almost missed their original launch window because they'd 
needed to hurry up and train two scientists for the mission, and there was some 
sort of snafu in the training program." 

"And you beat Alex's name out of them, huh?" 

"Well, I wouldn't say åbeat' so much as gently coerced." 

John couldn't help but laugh, he was starting to get the impression that Jenny 
was gaining quite a reputation among the personnel at Kennedy Space Center. They 
seemed to be falling into two distinct groups; those who cowered in fear and 
those who took her out for beer. IASA just loved the Crichtons. 

"Wow," John repeated again. "Not what I had expected at all." 

"No," Jenny agreed. "I never would have thought she'd agree to it. Man they must 
have bribed her with something really good," she mused almost jealously. 

"You're saying they'd have to pay people to come see me?" John asked with mock 
hurt. 

"Oh, get over yourself," his sister sighed. "It's just that she wasn't real high 
on the space program the last time you guys were together." 

"That was over ten years ago, Jenny," John pointed out. "And it wasn't so much 
the space program as we were just starting down different paths, you know? One 
of those things," he shrugged. 

"I guess," Jenny said, still dubious. "Well, anyway, I didn't want them 
springing it on you. I don't think they were planning on telling you." 

"I appreciate that," John said dryly. "I'm sure they were hoping for a nice 
reaction." 

"Probably. Is Aeryn still there?" 

"Yeah." 

"I wanted to talk some more about that Prowler but it's an early morning launch 
and they want us there so we're gonna have to take a rain check on that." 

"Tell her it's fine," Aeryn told John. "And tell her I'll make sure you're there 
tomorrow to talk to your father." 

John rolled his eyes, exasperated, but did as he was told. "She says it's cool 
and that she'll drag me to the comms tomorrow if she has too." It was Aeryn's 
turn to roll her eyes but she held any comment. 

"Alright guys, good night. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Johnny. Thanks Aeryn." 

"Night kid," John said affectionately and cut the comms. 

"I like your sister," Aeryn told him decisively. 

"You always say that." 

"Well, it's true." Aeryn cocked her head and searched his face for a microt. 
"She reminds me a lot of you." 

"So you're saying you like me?" John asked with his boyish grin firmly in place. 

"Sometimes," she allowed with apparent great reluctance. She ended up smiling 
back at him before returning to the matter at hand. "How do you feel about Alex 
coming to Moya?" 

"Actually I was just about to ask you that question." 

"It doesn't matter how I feel." 

John frowned incredulously. "Of course it does." How many times had he told her 
he couldn't do this without her? His own feelings on all this were so haphazard 
he couldn't tell if he was doing the right thing at any given moment. Aeryn's 
input was invaluable in keeping him from stepping in it too much. 

"I don't know her. I only know what you've told me, which hasn't been all that 
much. I want to know how you feel," she told him gently.

His brow creased as he thought about it. He seemed to be experiencing a mixture 
of nervousness and excitement. His romantic relationship with Alex was so far in 
the past it was only a dim memory, and none of his feelings tended towards that 
at all, he was far too taken with a certain Sebacean for it to be much of a 
consideration. But Alex had also been his friend and an important part of his 
life on Earth and she'd be the first person from that life he'd be able to see 
face to face in almost five years. 

"I'm excited, kind of happy," he declared finally with a grin, but then he met 
Aeryn's gaze and fumbled slightly. "We were over a long time ago, but, uh, you 
know . . ." 

She shook her head, cutting him off. "You don't have to explain," Aeryn moved 
away from John and adjusted her pulse pistol at her side. "I'm not worried about 
Alex." 

John watched her rest her hand on her pistol, his blue eyes crinkling with 
amusement. "You're pretty confident." 

"Yes, I am." Aeryn told him slyly then left the room without a glance back. 

John turned to watch her over his shoulder, and he bit his lower lip and 
grinned. "Damn."

UFO Act 2

>>>><<<<

11.

Aeryn stifled a yawn and couldn't quite keep the slouch out of her parade 
stance. It had been a long night. She wasn't quite as confident in all this as 
she'd let on to Crichton, and thoughts of everything that could go wrong left 
her sleep disturbed. Actually it might be that it was all the things that could 
go right that truly had her restless. Crichton had originally been so adamant 
that they not go anywhere near the planet, then he'd refused to go down, then he 
insisted that he didn't trust a single soul on Earth, but as the weekens passed 
his resolve weakened bit by bit. Truthfully she was almost afraid of Alex's 
presence on the ship. The woman was a part of John's past in a world Aeryn had 
never known. The uncertainty and the potential for explosive emotional 
_moments_, was leaving her feeling more unsettled than she ever liked. She'd 
told Crichton once that she didn't need his emotions, but his emotions weren't 
the traitorous ones here. The real treachery was in her own heart and, frell, 
she was scared to have him, scared to lose him, and scared that she didn't know 
what to do about any of it. 

A small rumble shook the floor of the bay, the first sign of their arriving 
guests. She brushed her fingers through her hair and glanced up at D'Argo 
standing rigidly next to her. "I don't think they're bringing up an army. You 
can put your Qualta blade away." 

D'Argo snorted and shook his tentacles. "More frelling humans. A ship full of 
Crichtons. If I'd found the pulse cannon in one piece," he gave her a pointed 
look, "I'd have brought it, too." 

Aeryn smirked. "You should have asked. I'd have been more than happy to 
reassemble it for you. Did you want to get in your ship instead? Prime the 
weapons in case the human scientists try to storm Moya?" 

D'Argo rolled his eyes and pointed a finger at her. "Now you're just laughing at 
me." 

"Yes, I am," Aeryn confirmed. 

D'Argo chuckled but he didn't sheath his Qualta blade. They both stared at the 
bay doors for a long microt in silence before D'Argo frowned slightly and asked 
her, "You're not worried?" 

"About the humans?" Aeryn raised her eyebrows and D'Argo nodded. "Well, I'm not 
worried about them taking over Moya, if that's what you mean." 

D'Argo looked at her and put on his most long suffering tone. "You know exactly 
what I mean." He brought his blade up and braced it across his crossed arms, 
almost cradling the weapon. "It's hard. I'm happy for John, I'm glad he's 
finally home, but . . . well it's probably selfish, but I don't want him to 
leave. I know we don't have any right to ask him to stay, I mean, we each went 
our own way for a time, but . . ." D'Argo trailed off, echoing Aeryn's own 
anxiety. 

Aeryn shifted her weight uncomfortably and stared down at her boots. "You've 
heard him, D'Argo, he doesn't want to stay on Earth." 

"Not even for his own good?" 

Aeryn rolled her eyes. "I'm not even going to touch that. I don't think John 
would appreciate us making that sort of decision for him. And I'm not even sure 
that that's the right place for him anymore." 

"Where is the right place for him?" 

"I don't know, but it's up to him to decide," Aeryn told D'Argo firmly. The 
decision, whatever it was, would be difficult enough for him without the crew 
pressuring him to do what they each felt would be best. Frell, they couldn't 
even agree on which food cubes were better, let alone which direction they 
should take their own lives. 

The door behind the pair opened up and a tense shout announced the arrival of 
John Crichton. "Chiana, enough!" John stormed into the bay with the young Nebari 
skipping along behind him, trying to hold on to his attention. 

"But, Crichton, this . . . this . . . you said . . ." she stopped and made a 
frustrated little yell and snatched at his arm. "You're being just a little too 
trusting, don't you think?" 

John spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders. "We all agreed to this. They 
come on board, do their thing, I go down and say hi to my family, grab a six 
pack and we are out of here. Right?" 

"I don't like it," she pouted. 

"Too late." John turned back towards the now opening bay doors, but he gave 
Chiana one last glance over his shoulder. "Look, Pip, I trust you to watch my 
back. It'll be fine," he reassured her with a charming grin. She was unaffected 
and scowled back. 

Aeryn exchanged an amused glance with D'Argo before focusing her own attention 
on the newest ship in Moya's bay. She examined it with a dubious frown. How is 
it these humans hadn't killed themselves flying these things? Goddess, it made 
John's module look sexy. The shuttle was maybe a third again as large as a 
transport pod and it looked awkward as hezmana. "That thing flies in 
atmosphere?" She murmured, the prowler pilot in her slightly horrified. 

D'Argo snorted. "Flying? More like plummeting and hoping for the best. It just 
confirms what I already suspected -- all humans are insane." He pronounced that 
judgement almost cheerfully and readied his Qualta blade as if not just 
expecting an invasion but hoping for one. 

The four watched the shuttle's cargo bay doors whine open and settle with a loud 
clang. Aeryn could just make out a long, white, boxy structure in the cargo area 
of the craft but she couldn't tell what it was. She glanced at John for some 
sort of cue but he was frozen, completely transfixed by the sight. She was 
surprised when she didn't feel that rush of fear again, here was Earth, big and 
real and unavoidable, but she found she was actually, overwhelmingly happy for 
him. She went back to her study of the craft, determined to make this all go as 
smoothly as possible. 

It wasn't until a good quarter of an arn later that a pair of yellow suited 
figures finally appeared, climbing out of the top of the structure and carefully 
scrambling along one door. It was hard to tell exactly what the people were 
doing as they dropped back down into the shuttle, next to the structure, 
periodically popping up and then disappearing again. Aeryn was just reaching the 
point of impatience when one of the figures dropped a ladder down from the back 
of the door to the floor of Moya's landing bay below. The pair hesitated on the 
door, staring at Moya's crew, until one finally worked up the nerve and climbed 
awkwardly down the ladder. The second followed immediately but hung back by the 
shuttle when the first started to cross the bay. 

Aeryn twitched nervously as the first person walked right up to John. Her 
fingers itched to grab for her pulse pistol but she ground her teeth and held 
herself in check. She could feel D'Argo shifting tensely next to her as the 
figure approached. Chiana edged closer to John but glanced nervously back at 
Aeryn. Aeryn shook her head slowly, but didn't otherwise move. These first few 
microts were John's, and Aeryn was set to follow his lead. For now. 

John was seemingly oblivious to his friends' discomfort and his laugh and jovial 
greeting echoed through the tension. "That's one damn sexy bunny suit you got 
there, Alex." 

Aeryn could just make out the woman's features through the faceplate on her 
strange head covering. She was pretty enough, Aeryn supposed, and there didn't 
seem to be any deceit in the woman's smile. In fact, there were tears in her 
eyes as she looked John over closely. 

Alex gave John a watery smile. "Nice pants." 

"When in Rome." John's grin brightened the mood in the bay considerably and 
Chiana moved up next to him, one hand on his shoulder, openly staring at the 
woman. 

"Alex, this is Chiana. Chiana, Alex." Chiana grinned and held out her hand. She 
and John had practiced the rituals of human greetings for arns the night before, 
and she was apparently eager to test some of her new knowledge out. Alex's head 
jerked in surprise and she absently took the young Nebari's hand. Chiana gave it 
a hearty shake and promptly dropped it. She kept up her frank appraisal of the 
human woman and moved even closer to John, slipping one arm around his shoulders 
and the other around his waist. Aeryn's lips pursed in amusement. That little 
tralk. Aeryn made a mental note to make sure Chiana got something suitably gaudy 
while they were on Earth. 

John raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Chiana. She gave him an innocent 
smile and leaned her head on his shoulder. Shaking his head, he removed her 
arms. "Play nice, Pip," he chastised gently. She pouted as adorably as she could 
but stepped back from him a bit. 

John turned back to Alex, his almost ecstatic grin back in place. "How was the 
trip up?" 

Alex pulled her eyes from the gray skinned girl and looked back at John. "You 
don't seem surprised to see me," Alex noted quietly. 

"Jenny told me last night. It's better this way," he assured her. "I'm not real 
big on surprises these days." 

Alex nodded and took another step towards John. She put one gloved hand on his 
face, brushing his cheekbone tenderly. "Look at you," she murmured, wonder clear 
in her voice. "I can't believe it. I wish I wasn't in this damn suit but . . ." 

"You need to make sure we're not an Ebola toting Death Star," John finished for 
her. 

"Something like that." She stared at him for another long moment before pulling 
him into a fierce embrace. "This'll do for now." 

John was the first to break the hug, stepping back slightly. "Where are my 
manners?" He asked suddenly, putting his arm around Alex's shoulders he turned 
around, pulling her with him over to Aeryn and D'Argo. Predictably, Alex's eyes 
went immediately to D'Argo and she looked almost on the verge of a panic. 

Aeryn crossed her arms uncomfortably across her chest and waited for John to 
make his introductions. Once again she found her emotions were an unsettled 
jumble of happiness, fear, sadness, loss . . . love. She absolutely hated this, 
she felt so emotionally vulnerable and she couldn't find a way to combat it. She 
hated the way Alex fit so comfortably next to John, she hated the history 
between them, and she hated that she hated all that and it was beginning to set 
her teeth on edge. Maybe if this had been the other John, maybe . . . maybe she 
should stop dwelling on all of this and frelling deal with it like the frelling 
soldier she was. Frelling human. She quickly tried to wipe the irrational 
irritation off of her face before John turned to her but by his suddenly raised 
eyebrows she could tell she failed. In response she stiffened her spine and 
forced a smile on her face. It was a small smile to be sure, but it was there, 
frell him. 

"Alex, this is Ka D'Argo," he waved a hand at D'Argo. "Luxan warrior, general 
bad ass, crappy rock, paper, scissors player." 

"I've beaten you at your stupid game," D'Argo growled and Aeryn watched with 
almost guilty satisfaction as Alex shrank back slightly. 

"When?" John countered with a grin. Noticing that Alex was a little too in awe, 
or terror, of D'Argo, he pulled her forward again. "Like I said, crappy rock, 
paper, scissors player, but he's a hell of a drinking buddy and best guy I know 
to have at your back." 

D'Argo looked more than a little pleased at the rest of John's introduction. 
Knowing he couldn't be understood, he settled for nodding genially at Alex and 
giving her his friendliest grin. It may have been a little too friendly because 
an instant later he grunted in surprise when Chiana elbowed him in the side. A 
little dazed by all of this, Alex just smiled and stayed as close to John as she 
possibly could. 

Now it was Aeryn's turn. Taking a deep breath, she checked that her small smile 
was still in place, and braced herself for John's introduction. "And this is 
Aeryn Sun," he said simply. It was probably only Aeryn's imagination that his 
voice became softer and more intense when he said her name, or that his eyes 
locked with hers for longer than usual. Imagination or not, Alex seemed to 
notice something in the introduction and she turned to look up at John. "There 
aren't enough words," he said softly, responding to her unasked question. 

The breath left Aeryn's body in a rush, and she had to fight to tear her gaze 
from John long enough to clasp Alex's proffered hand. How was he always able to 
do that? How was he always able to tear down her walls at a glance or with a 
simple word? Embarrassed to be caught out like that, Aeryn gave the other woman 
a brusque nod then looked past her, jaw clenched. 

"And you met Chiana, best snurcher in the Uncharted Territories. So, uh, keep an 
eye on your purse," John teased lightly, trying to ease the suddenly charged 
atmosphere. "Guys," he nodded at his shipmates, "this is Dr. Alexandra O'Connor-
Walker." He paused and glanced over at Alex. "It is still Walker right?" 

Alex nodded with a smile. "Yes. Still Walker." 

"How is whatshisface?" John asked with a tremendous amount of false enthusiasm. 

"Ken? Ken is fine." 

John snapped his fingers. "Ken. That's right. Like the doll. I shoulda 
remembered. Personality of molded plastic and all." 

Alex gave him a gentle shove. "Wow. Five years and you haven't come up with any 
better material." 

"Hey, I've been busy," John shrugged nonchalantly. "So, how the hell did they 
get you in that shuttle?" 

Alex shrugged. "Your father asked me." 

"Dad?" John said weakly. 

"Yeah," she confirmed softly. "IASA wanted to send up somebody who knew you but 
they didn't want any family." 

John nodded. "That's what Jenny said." 

"But your dad didn't seem to really trust any of the people IASA wanted to send 
up. He knew they were going to have to rush train at least one astrobiologist so 
it wasn't going to be a big deal to add another person to that. Well at least 
not a bigger deal than it already was." She stopped and shrugged again, looking 
around the bay as if she still couldn't quite believe she was there. "I'd just 
seen it on the news, that this ship was here and that you were supposedly on it. 
I called your dad just . . . just because I had to know and we got to talking. I 
don't know how he did it but the Colonel can be awfully persuasive, next thing I 
knew it was two days later and I was on a plane to Florida." She pinned him with 
a suddenly piercing stare. "You owe me big time for that crash astronaut 
training. I can think of a couple levels of hell that would be more fun." 

John laughed. "I seem to be racking up the debts. So how'd Ken take it?" 

Alex sobered and glanced past John to Aeryn. Aeryn couldn't read the woman's 
expression but she frowned all the same. "Ken wasn't too happy but I explained 
how important this was. He understood." Alex fixed her gaze back on John. "I 
told you I'd always be there for you." 

"Yeah you did," John replied. "I'm glad you're here." 

Alex turned away from John and looked back across the bay towards the shuttle. 
"Well, I guess it's my turn for introductions." She waved the other person over 
to them. "This is the mission commander." At Alex's prompt the man strode 
purposefully towards them, his confident stride was broken when he almost 
tripped over a DRD. Cursing under his breath, he caught himself and raised his 
hands in a self-deprecating gesture. 

"What . . .ah, what was that?" The man asked with a little laugh as he got to 
them, looking back over his shoulder for the DRD. 

"DRD. Little robot. They clean, make repairs, stuff like that," John explained, 
his voice slightly wary. 

"John, this is Commander Samuel Preston." 

Preston smiled and reached out for John's hand. "It's great to meet you 
Commander Crichton." 

John stared at the man's hand for a long moment, then he let his gaze travel up 
to his face, scrutinizing it for a long microt, before finally dismissing the 
man and looking past him to the shuttle. 

"John?" Alex prompted, startled by his sudden lack of response. She tried again, 
a worried frown crossing her features. "John?" He remained silent and 
motionless. Commander Preston awkwardly dropped his hand back down to his side 
and looked almost insulted. 

Aeryn felt the hairs on the back of her neck start to rise as a chill went 
through her body. Taking a couple of steps closer to John, she tried to get a 
good look at his face. She recognized the glazed look instantly. "Frell," Aeryn 
muttered viciously and moved up to John, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him 
to face her. "John?" 

John blinked once and met Aeryn's gaze, his own eyes suddenly cold and hard. 
"I'm fine Aeryn." 

"No, you aren't," she snarled quietly. "What is it?" 

"Later." 

"Frell you. Tell me." 

"Later, Aeryn," he snapped. Her eyes narrowed dangerously but he turned away 
from her before she could say anything. He reached out his hand again to the 
Commander. "Sorry about that man, the shuttle caught my eye and I sort of 
drifted off. It's been a long time, you know?" His voice was bright, cheerful, 
but Aeryn could hear the edge of mania in it and felt her stomach clench in 
dread. Aeryn glanced over her shoulder to see if the others heard it too and the 
looks of concern on D'Argo and Chiana's faces confirmed it. 

Meanwhile John had thrown a companionable arm around the shuttle commander's 
shoulders and was moving them both towards the shuttle. "So how many missions 
you been on, Prescott?" 

"Preston. I've been on seven missions. This is my third command." 

"Well damn, that's pretty impressive. I was only on three. Third one's the charm 
isn't that it? That's the one that got me lost in space." John laughed. "Or 
maybe that's three strikes." Definitely manic, Aeryn noted grimly. This wasn't 
going to end well, she could tell. 

"Hey, it's the Endeavour. I went up on that bird twice. She's a good old lady, 
isn't she?" He stood just in front of the nose of the craft, his grasp on the 
commander still firm. "I was kind of hoping after five years they could have 
gotten you guys a new shuttle. I saw the designs before I left Earth. But, hey, 
that stuff costs money, and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Hell, I've still 
got the Farscape. I'll have to show her to you some time. I've got her tricked 
out real nice now. She can pull a hetch four without breaking a sweat." John 
finally let go of the other man and walked right up to the shuttle. He reached 
up and ran his hand along the tiles on the underside. "Course neither of them 
are anything compared to what's out there, you know?" He turned from the shuttle 
and fixed his icy gaze on Preston. "Out there they've got some bad ass stuff. 
Peacekeeper Command Carriers, Scarran Dreadnoughts, Nebari Host Vessels." He 
stalked towards the other man. "Scary stuff. I don't know that Earth's ready for 
any of that." John came to within a handful of denches of the other man, his 
voice dropping into a low rumble. "Of course I'm here now, and hell, I've 
destroyed a command carrier and a dreadnought, so I guess that's one up for 
Earth, isn't it?" 

The other man looked very much like he wanted to back away but some sense of 
pride held him in his spot. "I . . . I guess so Commander." 

John flashed him a grin and sprinted back to the shuttle, caressing the craft's 
ceramic skin again. "But right now you guys are up here making sure I'm safe for 
Earth. Making sure no nasty critters come down with me. God only knows what a 
bad case of Luxan athlete's foot could do to the ecosystem." He walked around 
the ship, examining it closely as he talked, finally coming around to the ladder 
and staring at it thoughtfully. "'Course it would probably be a bad thing if I 
climbed on up there and popped that hatch. Sure you've got your air locks and 
crap but it'd be easy enough for me to pop those, too." He reached out a hand 
and grabbed one of the rungs. 

Worried and confused, Alex called out to him, "John, what is going on?" 

"Nothing, darlin'. Just thinking how easy it would be for contamination to 
occur, you know? I think I'd be pretty damn depressed if these handy translator 
microbes somehow managed to wipe out life on Earth." He pushed away from the 
shuttle and walked back over to Commander Preston. "Yeah, that would suck," he 
growled as he brushed past the man, purposely running into him, shoving him back 
slightly. 

He started back across the bay and pulled Alex into a quick hug. "Alex, it was 
great to see you again, but it's time for you to leave." John moved away from 
her before she could respond and started out of the bay, ignoring the bewildered 
looks of the others. 

"Commander," Preston yelled. "What about our people? We need to make sure 
they're safe." 

Spinning around at the door, cold rage flashed across Crichton's face as he 
regarded the other man. "Get that shuttle the fuck off my ship," he snarled 
viciously, then turned again and left the bay in stunned silence. 

"Hezmana," D'Argo rumbled after a long microt. 

"What just happened?" Chiana asked, clearly mystified. 

Taking a deep breath, Aeryn rubbed a hand across her face and quickly replayed 
the last quarter arn in her mind, trying to find whatever it was that had 
triggered Crichton's anger. Unable to come up with anything, she shook her head 
slowly and glanced over at the nervous humans. "I have no idea. Chiana go get 
Doctor Harrington, we're going to need her to translate." 

Eventually, with the help of the rest of Moya's crew and their astronaut guests, 
and a good deal more patience than Aeryn ever thought she possessed, they were 
able to calm down Commander Preston, help the visiting shuttle's crew set up to 
begin their tests, and give them all a limited tour of the Leviathan. Alex 
continually asked after John, while Aeryn dodged any mention of the man, and by 
mid-day neither woman was particularly fond of the other. Unfortunately for both 
Alex and Aeryn, all of Moya's crew deferred questions about John to Aeryn. By 
evening meal, Aeryn was ready to shoot the next person who mentioned Crichton's 
name. To make matters even worse, Crichton was most conspicuous by his absence. 
He was nowhere to be found. 

The shuttle's scientists retired back to their ship to decontaminate and 
whatever else it was they did on that death trap of a ship, shortly before the 
evening meal, giving Aeryn a much-needed respite. However, thoughts of Moya's 
odd human plagued even her quiet moments, and she found herself unable to eat 
much more than a food cube. She'd gone over the scene in the landing bay 
countless times since that morning and there wasn't anything she could come up 
with to explain John's bizarre outburst. Nothing except the influence of that 
damned clone, but even then she had to allow that he'd never had an outburst 
like that after talking to Harvey. At least, not that she was aware of. 

The crew finished their meal and settled into their evening routine and still 
John didn't show up. Pilot had DRD patrols looking for him, and each of the crew 
had wandered off at various times, hoping to run into him, but so far they'd 
turned up nothing. Aeryn had to give John credit; he was as slippery as Chiana 
when he didn't want to be found. Now, however, it was looking more and more like 
he wouldn't show up to make the call to his sister and Aeryn gnashed her teeth 
in irritation. Tonight was the night he was supposed to talk to his father, and 
now this. She wondered irritably, when it was she became Crichton's frelling 
keeper. 

Pulling Ellen Harrington and Chiana away from their nightly torment of D'Argo, 
Aeryn took them up to command and called John's sister. With Ellen translating, 
Aeryn informed Jenny, in the vaguest possible terms, that John was unwell and 
therefore unable to talk with his father. Jenny didn't sound like she believed 
that story any more than Aeryn would have. After promising that she'd check on 
John and that they'd try again the next night, Aeryn bade Jenny a good night and 
waived off her helpers, taking herself wearily to her quarters. 

Alone in her room, Aeryn slumped exhausted onto the bed. She promised herself 
she'd get up in just a microt to actually prepare for sleep, but she found 
herself instead staring at the ceiling, still contemplating John Crichton. He 
was afraid of something, that much was clear, but she was certain this went 
beyond whatever fears he had of not fitting in on Earth anymore. During their 
time on Talyn, John had talked to her at length about that, about how he was so 
far from the man he'd been on Earth, and his fears that nobody would or could 
understand the places he'd been, the things he'd seen, or the things he'd been 
forced to do. No, this was more than insecurity; this was almost irrational 
terror. For brief moments he could master it, but then all it would take was the 
smallest trigger and he'd be lost in some horror, deep inside his own mind. 

Aeryn frowned and sat up when those thoughts triggered a memory of her own. A 
memory from over a cycle ago, just before she'd left Moya. John had been less 
than forthcoming about the whole incident but she knew the old woman had given 
him something that induced hallucinations. Goddess, he didn't need the help. 
D'Argo had briefly mentioned it to her at one point, but she'd been so deep in 
her own grief and pain she'd paid little attention to him. No, wait, he'd 
mentioned something about a powder, but Aeryn had been with John during most of 
his most recent episodes and the old woman was nowhere around. Leaning back on 
her elbows, Aeryn chewed it all over in her mind again. These weren't 
hallucinations, either. Or at least, she didn't think they were. Frelling 
stubborn man, he wouldn't talk about any of it. 

She dropped back on her bed, stared up at the ceiling for a few more microts, 
cursed John as thoroughly as she knew how and came to a decision. With some 
renewed vigor she rolled off of her bed, checked the chakan oil cartridge in her 
pistol by force of habit, and pulled her long coat on. Striding down the 
corridor she made it to John's room quickly, and was pleasantly surprised to 
find him there. Sighing irritably, she noticed the pair of DRDs standing 
sentinel outside his door, and wondered exactly how long Pilot had known where 
he was.

She shook her head, stepped over the DRDs and opened the door. Entering slowly, 
her boot immediately made contact with a small object on the floor, sending it 
rolling madly away from her until it clattered into a number of other objects. 
Aeryn looked on the scene, mildly stunned. He'd torn his quarters apart, 
literally. His few belongings lay broken and scattered across the floor, the 
pieces of his precious chess set were bent and strewn all about, the board 
itself cracked, his blankets had been torn off the bed, and from the looks of 
them, torn in two. His bed was tilted up on one side, and one of his benches had 
come to rest, in several pieces, just inside the door. The only thing that 
appeared to be intact was his table, and it stood out like an island in the 
chaos. 

"Goddess, John," she breathed, stunned. 

"Go away Aeryn, I don't want to talk." He sat perched on his table, rolling one 
of his chess pieces back and forth in his hands, and staring contemplatively at 
the destruction around him. 

She immediately saw the futility of getting into any sort of argument with him. 
"Get your coat," she ordered simply. He glanced over at her with a dark glare 
but made no other response. Aeryn walked further into his room, his shattered 
possessions crunching under her boots, and kicked through the pile of clothing 
next to the overturned bed. Finally spying what she was looking for she bent 
over and picked up his coat, tossing it to him. "Let's go." 

John batted the coat away. "Get out, now," he growled menacingly. 

"John, please--" 

"Get the fuck out," he screamed, his face turning red with rage. 

"No, frell you! Talk to me. Tell me what is going on with you," she yelled back. 
"Tell me what's wrong." 

John stared at her for a long microt, however she wasn't entirely certain he saw 
her, and she jumped slightly when he let out a wordless howl of frustration and 
rage and threw the last chess piece across the room. 

Aeryn closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. Opening her eyes again, 
she watched John stare at his trembling hands. "I can't help you if you won't 
talk to me," she informed him flatly. 

"Nothing you can do, Aeryn," he muttered. 

"Damn it, Crichton," she spat angrily. He looked up at her, but his face was 
frighteningly blank. Aeryn moved to pick up his coat and toss it at him again. 
"Put it on and let's go." 

"Where?" 

"We're going to do what we came here to do. If being here is . . . is upsetting 
you this much, than I want us gone as soon as possible. Put your frelling coat 
on." 

Aeryn held her breath to see what he'd do next, and was more than a little 
surprised when he complied without another word. She felt a grim sort of pride 
when he pulled his pulse pistol and checked the cartridge before he slipped his 
coat on.

Following her out of his room, he asked curiously, "Where exactly are we going?" 

"Florida," she pronounced without hesitation. 

"Florida," he repeated softly. 

"Yes." She glanced over at him and felt her stomach sink, his face was a mask of 
pale dread and she was frustrated at every turn in trying to find an explanation 
for it. "You need to do this, John. I need to do this. When it's done, we can 
put our guests back on their little station and send the shuttle off and we'll 
be gone within a day." 

"The shuttle's still here?" 

She gave him a withering glare. "I needed more than one of your tantrums to 
throw them off the ship, John. We spent four weekens negotiating that, I wasn't 
about to send them off without a better explanation. Or any explanation for that 
matter." 

"You couldn't trust me?" He growled angrily. 

"Stop right there, Crichton," she turned and grabbed him by the front of his 
coat. "One microt you're talking to Preston like he's your best friend and the 
next you're telling him to get off the ship. What am I supposed to trust there?" 

He pushed her hand away. "You're supposed to trust that I know this planet and 
that I'll do what's best for Moya and this crew." His voice was just a step from 
pure fury and it took all of Aeryn's strength not to respond in kind. 

"We are a partnership, John. We always have been no matter what else has gone on 
between us. But you have been up and down so many times since we arrived at 
Earth, that I can never tell which way you're going to go at any given microt. 
So no, I guess right now, I don't trust you. I don't trust your judgement." 

He started to turn away from her, heading back down the corridor towards his 
quarters but she grabbed his coat again and pulled him roughly around. "Unless 
you can tell me what is wrong. Tell me what has got you so terrified. No, don't 
argue with me about this." She gave him a shake when his lips curled back in an 
angry snarl. "You want to talk about trust? Fine, trust me. Trust that I know 
you well enough that I can see there is something horribly wrong here. That you 
are not well. Trust that I care enough about you that I will do whatever I have 
to, to make sure you don't do something stupid, something you'll regret for the 
rest of your life." She let go of his jacket and brought her hands up to his 
face, holding him firmly and forcing him to look at her. "Trust me, John." 

He stood silently, searching her face for a long microt. "They'll have the house 
under surveillance. It won't be that easy," he said quietly. 

Aeryn stared at him, dumbfounded. "Oh for the love of Chilnak," she laughed. 
"John, we've infiltrated a Gammack base, we've destroyed a shadow depository, 
we've been on a command carrier and survived. I somehow doubt Earth will have 
any security that can top that." 

"I guess you're right," he mumbled, sounding almost unhappy. 

Aeryn shook her head slowly; she just could not figure this man out today. He 
looked so incredibly reluctant to go down to Earth she was almost afraid to push 
him, afraid the stress would trigger another fit. "Just remember you're not 
doing this alone." 

That pulled a small smile out of him and he brushed a finger fleetingly across 
her cheek. "I know." 

They made the rest of the trip to Aeryn's prowler in silence and with the 
exception of some navigation, the trip down to Earth was equally hushed. Finally 
over Florida, in the area John's father lived, Aeryn looked for a suitable place 
to land the prowler. 

"There should be a park, a wilderness area, about a quarter metra away from his 
house," John told her. 

"Well if I knew where his house was that would be really helpful, I'm sure." 

"Keep your shirt on, Sunshine," he murmured absently, looking over her shoulder 
at the darkened landscape below them. "There, that strip of road there. That's 
highway fifty. I think." 

"You think?" 

"Yeah, yeah. That city there is Orlando, we'll follow the highway east of the 
city for a few metras and then I just gotta find the right road north. Easy," he 
assured her, and she was relieved to hear a smile in his voice. 

A quarter of an arn later John had successfully managed to find them a suitable 
landing spot in a wooded area he swore was near his father's home. Aeryn spotted 
a small clearing and nosed the prowler in between the trees, settling them deep 
in a patch of brush. 

Popping the canopy, she took her first breath of Earth air. The smell was 
surprisingly strong, heavy with the scent of vegetation and moisture. A light 
mist swirled around the base of the trees and a refreshingly cool breeze nipped 
at them. She looked over her shoulder at John and saw he had his eyes closed and 
he was breathing deeply. "John?" 

"Smells good, doesn't it?" 

"I suppose." 

His eyes opened and he looked at her with good humor. "You suppose?" 

"Smells like Dagobah," she told him, a smile dancing at the edge of her lips. 

He laughed and started to climb out of the cockpit. "C'mon Aeryn, let's get this 
show on the road." 

They took a few microts to cover up the Prowler in more brush, trying to hide it 
from prying eyes, before they made their way through the undergrowth, John 
muttering something about critters the entire way. A half-an-arn later they 
stood in the shadows behind Jack Crichton's house. The lights were on 
downstairs, meaning somebody was there but John hung back, hesitating again. 

"John," Aeryn hissed. "He's your father. He's missed you as much as you've 
missed him." 

"I know Aeryn, I'm just . . ." He shrugged helplessly and shifted uncomfortably 
next to her. 

"Scared," she finished for him. "I understand. But you need to do this." 

"I know." 

She nodded and started towards the house, John's hand on her elbow stopped her 
before she got too far. "Aeryn?" 

She turned back to him with a puzzled frown. "What?" 

"Thank you." he whispered intently. Aeryn frowned at him for a long moment 
before finally nodding her head slowly and continuing towards the house. 

They darted across the dark yard, gliding from one shadow to the other with 
terrifying ease. Once on the porch, Aeryn kept a watchful eye out while John 
worked the locks. With a small grunt of triumph, he pushed the door open and 
they both slipped into the house. Aeryn looked around what was obviously the 
house's galley; she looked again to John for a signal. He held one finger to his 
lips and pointed to the door leading from the room into the rest of the house. 
Aeryn nodded and followed him to the opening, they stepped through and Aeryn's 
eyes immediately fell on a woman seated on the floor, papers spread out around 
her. Music played softly in the background, masking their entrance for a moment. 

John moved slowly, spreading his arms out at his sides, palms up, and called out 
softly. "Jenny." 

Jenny's head whipped around and she moved instantly and fluidly into a defensive 
crouch. John held his arms up higher, trying to show he was harmless. Jenny 
climbed slowly and warily to her feet, her eyes flickering ever so slightly to 
Aeryn and then back to John. "Johnny?" 

"Yep. I'm not going to hurt you, kid," he said slowly and softly. 

A small cry escaped Jenny's throat and in few short steps she was in front of 
John. She gave him a powerful shove then caught his coat, and threw her arms 
around him in a crushing hug. John wrapped his arms around his sister and bowed 
his head, his own emotions finally spilling over as sobs shook his shoulders. 

While John and his sister held each other tightly, Aeryn looked around 
curiously. The room was well furnished and comfortable looking and she moved 
slowly into it, stopping when she noticed images on the wall. She recognized the 
boy in a number of the pictures immediately. The mischievous grin and bright 
blue eyes gave him away. Aeryn found herself smiling back at the young John 
Crichton, vastly reassured to know that if nothing else, it now appeared that he 
had always been this much trouble. She moved from image to image, taking in what 
she could of this man's other life. 

"Aeryn?" 

Aeryn pulled her eyes from what must have been the most recent image of John; he 
stood next to his father in his bright orange IASA flight suit, looking so much 
like he had when she first met him. So much younger, his soul lighter. 

"Yes?" 

John waved her over and she met Jenny Crichton's smile with one of her own. 
"Aeryn, Jenny. Jenny, Aeryn." 

"Aeryn Sun," Jenny said thickly, tears still in her eyes. She held out her hand. 
"Thank you for bringing him home." 

Aeryn nodded and clasped the other woman's hand tightly, then she dropped it and 
dug into her pocket for an injector, she pulled it out and held it up in 
invitation. 

"Translator microbes?" John asked. 

"Yes. Ask your sister if she wants them." 

"I didn't even think of that," John said, chagrined. 

"Obviously," Aeryn snorted wryly. "Ask her." 

John turned to ask her, but Jenny already had her arm out to Aeryn. "Shoot me 
up." 

Aeryn grinned and pressed the device to Jenny's arm. Jenny hissed in pain but 
shook it off quickly and looked at Aeryn expectantly. "Well? Come on Aeryn, say 
something." 

Aeryn pursed her lips. "You're so much like your brother it's terrifying." 

"Hah! I understood that. Man, that's cool," Jenny gushed. 

"Yeah, yeah, neat," John interrupted. "Jenny, tell me there's beer." 

"There's beer." 

"Order me a pizza?" 

"You've forgotten how to use a phone?" 

"Please?" 

"Fine." 

Looking around suddenly, he swallowed heavily and cleared his throat. "Uh . . . 
where's dad?" 

"He and DK went out to pick up some dinner. They should be back any minute." 

John nodded. "Beer?" 

"You remember what a fridge looks like?" 

He gave her a mock glare. "Aeryn, you want one?" 

"Please." 

John left the room and Aeryn and Jenny stared at each other. "How is he?" Jenny 
asked suddenly. 

"He's . . . he's been better," Aeryn said truthfully. 

Jenny eyed Aeryn evenly then gave a firm shake of her head. "All right Aeryn, 
what the hell's going on? Two hours ago he couldn't talk to us and now you guys 
are here." 

Aeryn wished desperately for some clue as to what she could possibly tell Jenny 
that would explain anything about the evening. Unfortunately, the man was a 
complete frelling mystery to everybody, most of all her. "It's been a bad day 
for him. I don't know what's set him off, though. Something's got him on edge." 

"Is he like this a lot?" 

"No," Aeryn was quick to reassure Jenny. "Earth is just . . ." She trailed off 
when she heard John approaching. 

John walked up to them and passed a tall brown bottle to Aeryn. "Beer." 

"Thanks," Aeryn took a long drink and nodded her approval. "Good, very good." 

John grinned. "Gotta love a girl who loves beer." 

Aeryn smirked and was about to raise her bottle for another pull when the 
outside door opened. Her hand dropped immediately to her pulse pistol and not 
surprisingly so did John's. Aeryn relaxed when she recognized John's father and 
a dark haired man she assumed was his friend DK. John, however, didn't relax, if 
anything he was more tense, almost quivering. 

Jack took just a few steps into the room, moving out of the way enough to let DK 
in behind him. DK stared at his lost friend over Jack's shoulder, his eyes wide. 
"You son of a bitch," he swore with a helpless laugh. 

"Good to see you too, buddy," John smiled back. "Beer?" 

Jenny caught Aeryn's amused look and murmured, "Guys are so weird." 

Aeryn nodded her agreement and glanced again at Jack when he took a couple of 
steps closer to John. Seeing the real Jack Crichton, finally after so long, she 
recognized John in him immediately and she could tell by his body language and 
the flash in his blue eyes that he was absolutely furious. "Frell," she muttered 
quietly, debating what to do. She reached out a hand, instinctively wanting to 
warn John, but ending up pulling back. This was not the place for her to 
interfere. Taking a step back to better observe John's meeting with his father, 
she watched more than four cycles of hope and pain play out in front of her. 

John's hand twitched and twisted around the neck of the beer bottle as he 
nervously met his father's icy gaze. "Hey Dad." 

"Son." Jack's fist clenched at his side, and in a flash he struck out, catching 
John on the jaw, dropping him to the floor. Jack turned without another word and 
slammed back out the door.

Aeryn reached down a hand to help him to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he 
rubbed at his jaw and glanced at Aeryn. She gave him a small nod, silently 
encouraging him, and he followed his father out of the house. 

Aeryn watched him make his way slowly out the door before she took another drink 
of her beer and muttered to no one in particular, "I can't tell you how many 
times I've wanted to do that today." 


>>>><<<<

12.

John stepped out on to the front porch of his father's home, the squeak of the 
screen door and the clatter of its frame as it bounced shut behind him filling 
his mind with a rush of images and memories. Familiar sounds from a lifetime 
ago, as much a part of him as the blood in his veins. Home. He was finally home, 
but after so long it felt as unreal as his first day in the Uncharted 
Territories.

He took another deep breath of the heavy night air and searched out his father 
in the gloom. The older Crichton was standing rigidly against the porch railing, 
looking out into the evening mist, only a slight twitch in his shoulders at the 
creak of the screen gave any indication he was aware of his son. John sighed. 
Well, at least they'd gotten the rejection out of the way immediately. 

John crossed the porch slowly, and settled himself down on the steps. He shifted 
the tails of his long duster out of the way and unconsciously adjusted the 
holster on his thigh so the butt of the pistol wouldn't dig into his hip. "Dad," 
he greeted softly.

A simple "Son," was his father's quiet, hoarse reply.

John looked up sharply, peering into the darkness at his father's face. Was his 
dad crying? He felt an avalanche of regret crash into him and he hunched 
forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean . . . I didn't know 
how to call, to talk to you. I just . . ."

"No, John," Jack cut him off and sat down next to him on the step. He grabbed 
John's chin and turned his head to look at the dark bruise forming on the side 
of the younger man's face. "God, I am so sorry. I never should have hit you." 

John pulled his head out of his father's grasp. "Nah, it's okay. You were angry, 
I understand," he said, dismissing the incident with a small shrug.

"No, I wasn't angry. I was hurt, but . . . well maybe I was a little angry," 
Jack allowed with a small, crooked smile. "Weeks and weeks of nothing and 
suddenly you were standing there. It was just so real and so sudden. It was too 
much. But that's no excuse for hitting you," Jack's voice grew hoarse again and 
he cleared his throat. "Please don't think for a minute that I'm not glad you're 
home, John. Please."

Not trusting his own voice, John settled for a simple nod, and allowed himself 
the luxury of leaning into his father's solid form for a brief moment. If he 
closed his eyes he could pretend he was a child again, with his father 
comforting him after a bad dream. His father, his hero, the man he'd spent his 
life aspiring to be. John shifted away from him and stared back out into the 
night. He wasn't that man -- he would never be that man.

"You know I used to have dreams about this," Jack began softly. "Us sitting on 
the porch, chewin' the fat for hours like we used to."

"I did, too," John told him.

"But I always woke up."

"Yeah." 

Jack took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't . . . I don't even know what to say." 
Turning to his son, he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're all right, aren't 
you? I've talked to Jenny--"

"And she says I'm a wing-nut, right?" John interrupted with a bitter laugh.

"No, she hasn't said that at all," Jack corrected him impatiently. "I just . . . 
you've been gone so long. I know you've changed, I'd be a fool to think 
otherwise, I just don't know how you are. Jenny said that you sounded . . . 
tired, tense . . ."

"Yeah," John murmured again. He couldn't quite bring himself to talk to his dad 
about this. It was easier to just respond to the questions, a simple yes or no 
of vague reply. If he started talking he didn't think he'd be able to stop and 
there were so many things best left where they were. It wouldn't last, he knew, 
that pointed question was coming, maybe it would form in the next words out of 
his father's mouth, but for now he could hang in that instant before the 
question was asked. That brief instant where he was just home, sitting on his 
father's porch, breathing in the sweet autumn air.

"I know you don't want to worry me, son, but we're a little past that."

John chuckled. "Ya think?" He glanced at Jack out of the corner of his eye, 
brushing his thumb across his lips thoughtfully. "I don't know what to say any 
more than you do, Dad. I've seen things and I've done things I can't even begin 
to describe."

"And you're going to try to protect me from a lot of it, aren't you?" Jack asked 
sharply. "I don't want that John. I want to know where you've been. I want to 
know what kind of universe it is that put those lines on your face, that made 
you so comfortable with a sidearm, you don't even think twice about wearing it 
in my house." He tapped the weapon for emphasis. "I'm not . . . I don't . . ." 
He struggled with his thoughts for a few moments before sighing heavily. "Just 
tell me what happened after the accident. Just start there, that day, and we'll 
go from there. Okay?"

John started to speak but stopped almost immediately, his words choked off by a 
sudden laugh. "I was about to say that was the longest day of my life but I've 
had about a hundred of those since then." John rubbed the back of his neck and 
tried to organize his thoughts, but then he looked up at the startlingly 
familiar constellations and his thoughts scattered. Why hadn't he expected that? 
It was almost unsettling and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. Maybe it 
was because it wasn't a sight he thought he'd ever see again. Or maybe it was 
because he just couldn't seem to force his mind to accept the surreal reality of 
this moment. Was it too bizarre to think they looked too familiar? Almost fake, 
like one of those paintings with the happy little bushes, where nature looked 
too perfect to be natural. Like it was some sort of creepy alternate reality 
populated by Stepford chipmunks.

"How many of those long days had to do with that lovely lady you brought home?" 

John started out of his reverie and realized he'd fallen silent for several long 
moments. It took another moment for his father's words to process but once they 
did a slow grin spread over his face and he looked back over his shoulder to the 
door. He couldn't see her in the house, but he saw her coat draped over the back 
of the couch and that sight settled him as much as the constellations had 
unsettled him. He looked back at his father, and saw the amused smile on the 
other man's face. He was giving him an out, letting John talk about something 
that was apparently easier for him and John nodded gratefully to him. 

"Aeryn Sun." John pronounced her name affectionately. "Most of them, I think. I 
met her that first day. First time a girl ever kicked my ass."

Jack breathed a small laugh and snuck his own look over his shoulder. "Got the 
better of you, huh?"

"Oh yeah. She kicked me across a cell, pinned me to the floor and demanded my 
name and rank," he drawled with a fond shake of his head.

"Love at first sight?"

"Yeah, welcome to the Uncharted Territories John Crichton," he snorted. "You 
know, I don't remember any babe ever kicking Captain Kirk's ass like that. 
Wasn't the last time she did it, either. This was after I found myself on the 
other side of the galaxy, in the middle of a battle, sucked into a giant ship, 
attacked by a tiny yellow robot, and a big guy with tentacles knocked me out 
with his tongue. And that was just the first hour."

Jack laughed, a disbelieving grin on his face. "And you had longer days than 
that?"

"Oh frell yeah. That was tame by comparison," John assured him. He thought for 
another long moment and came across a surprising realization. "For a long time I 
used to think that was the worst day of my life."

"And now?"

John shook his head. "It wasn't."

Jack nodded sagely and stated simply, "You've had worse."

John looked over at Jack and gave him a crooked smile. "Well, yeah, but that's 
not what I meant. I think it may have been one of the best days of my life. I 
found Moya." He stood up off the porch and took a few steps down the path. 
Something caught his eye and he crouched down. Reaching out he brushed his 
fingers through the short grass reverently. "Damn, who'd'a ever thought grass 
would look weird?"

Jack watched his son closely. "Why don't you tell me about your friends. Jenny's 
talked about a few of them, and I've seen the images at IASA but . . ."

John plucked a blade of grass and stood up. "Well, first one I saw was D'Argo. 
He used to have a little bit of a temper," John snickered and paced slowly in 
front of his father. "I remember not long after I landed on board I spent about 
three days hiding from him. Man, I still don't know what I did, other than just 
being another guy on the ship. But D's come a long way. He's really, I dunno . . 
. grown up," he shrugged, unable to come up with a better word for it. "They all 
used to give me crap about being an inferior species and D'Argo would barely 
lower himself to call me his comrade, takes a lot to earn a Luxan's respect."

"Jenny says you're pretty close."

"Yeah, it only took blowing up a small moon." John smirked and looked up at the 
sky again. "He's kinda like a brother. I don't think D'Argo and I ever agree on 
much. Just ask Pilot, he kicked us off the ship once åcause we were driving him 
crazy. Kinda one of those ådon't make me stop this car,' moments."

Jack laughed and rolled his eyes. "I know those moments pretty well. åDad, 
Johnny's holding my Barbie hostage.' åDad, Joey's foot is on my side of the 
car.'"

"Something like that," John grimaced at the memories, and the fact that that 
wasn't too far off from how he and D'Argo were behaving. "Now Pilot is an 
interesting guy," he quickly changed the subject. "His people have a symbiotic 
relationship with Leviathans, it's the only way they can ever travel off their 
planet. He's a dreamer, an explorer, curious about everything and absolutely 
dedicated to Moya."

Jack frowned. "I don't think I've seen him."

John thought for a second and then shrugged. "Think giant purple lobster. Only 
problem now is he seems to be addicted to cricket. Can't tear him away," he 
shuddered.

"You couldn't introduce him to baseball?"

"I tried," John threw up his hands in frustration. "I tried baseball, I tried 
hockey, I tried football. No dice."

"What about your other friends, I don't remember their names. Zen?"

"Zhaan." John's face became solemn. "Zhaan died a little over a cycle and a half 
ago."

Jack could hear the pain in John's voice and he bowed his head in sympathy. "I'm 
sorry, son."

"She'd . . . she'd been sick and we were trying to find a place for her to get 
better when I fucked up royally." John couldn't quite keep the bitterness and 
self-loathing out of his voice. "She sacrificed herself to save Moya, to save 
all of us." He pressed his lips together and scrubbed at his suddenly watery 
eyes. "Wish you could have met her." John fell silent and tried to control the 
sudden wash of grief. He sniffed and rubbed at his nose. "She was beautiful, 
too. Tall, bald, blue. And a plant," he laughed.

"A plant?" Jack repeated incredulously.

"Her people evolved from plants." John fell silent for another long moment. 
"Then there's Rygel. Pretty much the exact opposite of Zhaan. Small, green and 
ugly. A two foot tall toad. He probably sold his grandmother for some marjoules. 
The deposed Dominar of over 600 billion subjects. His cousin stole his throne 
and handed him to the Peacekeepers for, damn, over a hundred cycles. Anyway, 
things changed about a cycle ago and he left to try and lead a rebellion against 
his cousin."

"You all sound like you were pretty tight, you didn't go help him?"

John shook his head. "No, everybody was headed their own way about that time. 
D'Argo went off to find the guy who killed his wife, Chiana went off to find her 
brother, and Rygel went off to get his kingdom back."

"What about Aeryn?"

John flinched and turned from his father, staring out into the darkness. "Aeryn 
left to find herself."

Jack heard the terseness in John's voice and saw the tension in his shoulders. 
"And what did you do?"

John looked back up at the stars, locking his hands behind his head. "I worked."

"On?" Jack prompted.

"Wormhole theory. The new big thing in intergalactic warfare. Every good little 
military dictator is hoping to find one under the tree Christmas morning." John 
dropped his arms down and turned back to his father. The older man frowned in 
confusion. "I've got it all in my head. All of it."

"You . . . develop weapons?" Jack asked slowly, certain he didn't completely 
understand what his son was saying.

"I didn't ask for it. It was a gift." John's lips twisted into a pained grimace. 
"That's how I ended up out there, fell through a wormhole. And one fine day some 
aliens decided to frell with my head to see if Earth was a nice place to settle 
down. In return for using my brain as their own personal jungle gym, they gave 
me the secrets to wormholes. Of course, I didn't know it until a really nice guy 
name Scorpius tried to rip my mind apart and all those secrets came tumbling 
out. And now John Crichton is the galaxy's most wanted." He thumped his chest in 
mock pride. "Everybody wants what's in my head."

Jack breathed a heavy, worried, and extremely frustrated sigh. He leaned against 
the porch railing and watched John's agitated pacing. He could hear the unspoken 
volumes of John's story in every word and there just wasn't enough for him to 
piece it all together. "So let me get this straight. Wormholes, the theory 
you've developed, can be somehow used as a weapon and everybody wants it. 
Right?"

"Right."

"And you're the only one who knows it works?"

"Well aside from the aliens that gave me the knowledge, yeah, I'm the only one I 
know who can make them work."

"And now everybody wants that knowledge? Who is everybody?"

"The Peacekeepers and Scarrans mostly. They're at war now. It's been brewing for 
a long time and it finally came to a head about half a cy- . . . 6 months ago. 
Scarrans are bad news. The Peacekeepers aren't a whole lot better but at least 
they don't tend to wipe out native populations."

"Peacekeepers? That's a kind of optimistic name for what I'm assuming are bad 
guys."

John smirked. "Tell me about it. Aeryn used to be a Peacekeeper. Xenophobic 
space-nazis. That's about the best I can say about them."

"Aeryn was a Peacekeeper?" 

"Yeah. Born and bred to be a soldier. They're kinda picky about who they hang 
out with and when Aeryn, for reasons still unclear, decided to stick up for me, 
her Captain decided she'd spent too much time with an unclassified alien 
species. Irreversibly contaminated. It's a death sentence in the PKs. So, 
anyway, she ended up with us." 

John stopped his pacing and took a deep breath. He could see that his father was 
confused and uncomfortable with the direction the conversation seemed to be 
going. "Look Dad, I know a lot of this doesn't make any sense. But I just want 
you to know I'm all right. Yeah, things can get bad out there, but I've got 
friends, family."

"You're not staying here are you?" Jack's voice was resigned and tinged with 
sorrow.

John shook his head slowly and moved to sit on the porch steps again. "There're 
some things I need to take care of here first, but yeah, eventually I'm gonna 
leave. It's just better that way. Earth'll be safer if I'm not around."

"You don't know that," Jack argued weakly.

John silently agreed. In fact he knew he'd already failed on at least one count. 
Damn it. "I have to do what I can."

"I understand." Jack raised an eyebrow at John's sidelong glance. "I do. I don't 
like it, but I understand."

John nodded and leaned back on his elbows, stretching his feet out in front of 
him and trying to relax a little bit. It felt good to be there, felt good to be 
sitting next to his dad again after so long, but even at his most relaxed there 
was always that lingering bit of wariness buzzing at the edge of his brain.

"Hey Dad, where's the press? I'd figured they'd be crawling all over the place."

"Yeah, they were pretty thick those first few days. Things got bad enough there 
that the Air Force stepped in and put up a security perimeter. There are a 
couple checkpoints you have to get past on the roads out here, now. And patrols 
through the area. A couple UFO lunatics get through every now and again but they 
don't seem to make it as far as the house." Jack chuckled, a slightly 
mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Bet the neighbors love that," John snorted.

"Hmm. Well the novelty hasn't worn off yet, I don't think. Give it another 
couple weeks and they'll be asking me to move, I'm sure," Jack muttered. "Come 
to think of it, how did you two get here?"

John's lips curled into a roguish grin. "I'm just a sneaky bastard these days." 
He laughed at the expression on his father's face and shrugged his shoulders 
nonchalantly. "I figured there'd be people around so we came in as quietly as we 
could. I, uh, I don't think I saw anybody though. Have to ask Aeryn, her eyes 
are better in the dark than mine." As Aeryn's name touched his lips he felt a 
tingle down his spine and glanced over his shoulder to find her standing just 
inside the door, watching him. "You want to talk to him now, babe?"

"When you're ready," she told him.

Jack turned his head to follow John's sudden shift in attention and he watched 
the pair's interaction with a great deal of interest. 

John climbed to his feet. "Now's as good a time as any. I'm getting kind of 
hungry anyway. We'll be in in a microt." He watched her disappear back into the 
house and then looked down at his father. "Aeryn needs to talk to you. Are you 
okay with getting translator microbes?"

"Transla--yeah, yeah, that's fine. You're not going to be there?"

John cleared his throat and scratched his jaw. "I, um . . . not for this. I 
can't tell you much about this, I mean, I wasn't there, but, um, guess I 
shouldn't just let Aeryn spring this on you." He knew this was all confusing as 
hell but there wasn't much he could do about that. "About a cycle and a half ago 
-- not long after Zhann died actually -- D'Argo, Chiana and I found a sick 
leviathan. Our transport was damaged and we didn't have much choice other than 
to go on board the leviathan to try and find what we needed to fix it. We, uh . 
. . well, I don't actually want to go into what happened there. It was, uh, it 
was bad. Anyway, there was this guy who . . ." John stumbled to a halt, suddenly 
not sure how to describe this. "I, uh, anyway, I was, uh, twinned."

"Twin--" Jack's voice caught and he cleared his throat hesitantly. "Twinned?"

"Yeah. Two of me. Equal . . . uh, the same in every way, apparently. The crew 
split up after it happened. Um, the . . . the other me went off with Aeryn on 
another leviathan, Talyn, and I stayed on Moya."

"Where . . . where is he?"

John chewed on his lip and looked everywhere but at his dad. "Like I said, I 
wasn't there. It's Aeryn's story to tell." John crossed to the screen door and 
pulled it open, holding it while his father stood up. 

"Hey DK," John called as they walked back into the house. "Dude, come outside 
and talk to me while we wait for the pizza." He narrowed his eyes at his sister. 
"You did order the pizza, didn't you?"

 Jenny rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Yes, John, 
pizza is coming."

"Good. Let me grab another beer and we'll go outside. C'mon DK." John stopped 
next to Aeryn before collecting his friend and another beer. "If you need me . . 
." he whispered.

Aeryn nodded back briskly. "I know."

John regarded her intently for a long moment, this wasn't going to be easy for 
either of them. There were still things about what happened on Talyn he didn't 
know, things he didn't particularly want to know, and he wondered just how much 
Aeryn was going to tell his family. His stomach clenched at the thought of 
reopening these particular wounds. It had taken them a long time to get their 
friendship back. He finally shrugged and went back into the kitchen for his 
beer. He'd let her do whatever she needed to do to heal and he'd just hope to 
hell it was enough.

>>>><<<<

13.

This day was shaping up to be one of the oddest days Jennifer Crichton had ever 
had, and that was with a month of extraordinarily odd days already behind her. 
When Aeryn Sun told her she needed to speak with her, Jenny hadn't quite 
expected the half-hour of awkward small talk that followed. Aeryn resolutely 
steered clear of any conversation about John, settling them instead into a 
discussion about her prowler, while they waited for . . . something. And while 
it was a fascinating discussion, Jenny couldn't help but feel a tingling 
apprehension crawling up her spine, and the tingling turned into a full on 
shiver when John deposited their father in the kitchen and pulled DK back 
outside with him. What was so important that Aeryn had traveled across the 
freaking galaxy to tell them? Well it had to be about John, of course, but why 
wasn't he part of the conversation? Hell, he'd almost run from the house as soon 
as he'd grabbed another beer. 

Jenny watched her brother disappear outside again before she sat down warily, 
watching Jack and Aeryn take their own seats at the kitchen table. Jack's face 
was worried and tinged with either fear or dread and Jenny stared at him for a 
long moment, trying to decipher the odd expression. He knew something about what 
was going on, and he appeared to be trying to brace himself for some truly 
upsetting news. Cold fear prickled at her scalp and she shifted her eyes to the 
third member of their grim group. 

Jenny liked to think she knew Aeryn at least a little bit, they'd talked almost 
every night for the past month. Admittedly they'd had to go through John for 
translation, but she'd heard enough to get some sense of the alien woman. 
However, seeing her face to face was an entirely different experience. For as 
changed as John seemed, it wasn't until she got a good look at Aeryn Sun that 
she really wondered how many kinds of hell their lives had to be.

There was nothing soft about Aeryn, every line of her body, every expression on 
her face, every twitch of her hands, shouted out that she was a battle hardened 
warrior, and in her eyes was a weary anguish that shook Jenny to the core. Now 
sitting across from the woman, Jenny could feel herself tensing up dramatically. 
She wanted to yell out, demand to know what was going on, but she also wanted to 
stand up, run from the room, grab her big brother and never know just what was 
so horrible that those eyes that had seen so much were clouded with such heavy 
grief. She struggled with an almost overwhelming surge of fear before she was 
able to take a firm hold of herself and with an iron will she patiently waited 
for the other woman to begin. 

Aeryn began her tale with an odd story of a sick ship and a broken down 
transport, and Jenny's brow furrowed in confusion. It was sort of a sci-fi, 
campfire horror story, and while fairly gruesome, it didn't seem worth crossing 
light years to tell. Jenny stepped on her own impatience and the reason behind 
Aeryn's story became apparent within moments, Jenny's stomach knotting painfully 
as it went on. Two John Crichtons. She put the pieces together quickly, long 
before Aeryn actually got to the horrible end. John's odd reluctance to talk 
about certain things, the obviously deep bond between Aeryn and John that at 
times seemed painfully awkward, and of course, the simple fact that where there 
were two there was now only one. And when Aeryn finally said the words 
åradiation poisoning', it was all Jenny could do to keep the contents of her 
stomach where they were. 

"God," Jack breathed, slumping back heavily in the chair. "John was . . ." his 
voice caught and he shook his head, frustrated. He stood up abruptly and went to 
the kitchen door, looking out towards the front of the house. Towards the 
living, breathing John Crichton.

Jenny watched the grim faced woman across from her, a mixture of horror, grief, 
and confusion warring in her heart. "Jesus Christ, Aeryn," she muttered softly. 
The muscles in Aeryn's jaw flexed and bunched as she ground her teeth, obviously 
trying to keep that stone faced control intact. Jenny's heart broke for her and 
she let out a small laugh, trying weakly to lighten the heavy anguish that 
enveloped the room, "Thank god you had two ships to put them on. They would have 
killed each other."

Aeryn raised her haunted gray eyes to Jenny's bright blue ones and they stared 
at each other for a long moment before Aeryn's lips twitched and a small smile 
appeared. "They were a little difficult."

"You're a stronger woman than I am," Jenny told her with all the solemn, 
heartfelt intensity she could manage, hoping Aeryn would hear the deeper meaning 
in the words. She seemed to, shrugging her shoulders uncomfortably and sliding 
her eyes away from Jenny's. And Jenny's heart broke just a little bit more. She 
knew what it felt like to lose John and she knew what it felt like to have him 
back from the dead. Knowing that a part of him was gone forever, though, and 
knowing that but for a bizarre and freakish turn of events she had been just 
that close to never seeing him again, left her lungs constricted, her throat 
aching, and black terror draped over her soul. If it was this confusing for her, 
this odd mixture of relief, joy, grief, and fear, how much worse was it for the 
woman who clearly loved her brother so deeply? For god's sake he'd died in her 
arms, and probably not even a week later he stood in front of her again, alive 
and well. How could any mind or heart deal with that?

"Jesus Christ, Aeryn," Jenny shook her head and muttered again, all other 
thoughts and words failing her. 

"Aeryn," Jack spoke up suddenly, breaking the moment's quiet sorrow. "John told 
me you stood up for him that first day you met him. He said it earned you a 
death sentence."

"Yes." Jenny's eyebrows raised in surprise at that soft but wary verification of 
truth. A death sentence?

Jack nodded his head slowly and pinned Aeryn with an intense stare. "Tell me 
about my son," he said gently. It wasn't exactly an order, there was only 
softness behind it, but it most certainly wasn't a request.

Aeryn glanced over her shoulder, unconsciously checking on John, Jenny thought, 
then turned her head back and met Jack's appraising gaze. "He is a . . . 
remarkable man," she confirmed slowly and Jenny watched the mix of emotions 
swirling on Aeryn's face. Pain, love, admiration . . . irritation. 

"Tell me about him, Aeryn" Jack said again, firmer this time, almost pleading. 
"Tell me about the man who sacrificed himself." Aeryn darted another look over 
her shoulder and Jack smiled at her. "Tell me about the man who puts that look 
in your eyes." 

Aeryn sighed and sat back in her chair, she stared up at the ceiling 
thoughtfully for a long moment. So long in fact, Jenny didn't think she was 
going to answer and Jack fidgeted slightly. 

"Aeryn, he won't tell me," Jack interrupted her thoughts. "He's trying to 
protect me, damn it, but I don't want that. I want to know where my son's been; 
I want to know what's happened to him. You've been with him from the start."

"Yes, I have," Aeryn said, a small smile on her lips.

"Well, fine, then you can tell me what that damn stubborn son of mine won't."

"I will," she said, a slight hint of amusement touching her voice. "But it's 
hard to know where to start. To know where he's been you have to know our 
world." She shrugged. "I can tell you we destroyed a Gammack Base but that won't 
mean anything to you if you don't know what a Gammack Base is."

"What's a Gammack Base?" Jenny asked, not bothering to keep back the grin that 
stole across her face.

Aeryn's smile widened and she shook her head. "So much like your brother," she 
murmured. "When we met, well, I don't think it was the best time for either of 
us, but all things considered I think he handled it better than I did. He was so 
curious, a million questions about every little thing. It was very annoying." 
Aeryn smirked at the memory. "We were fairly merciless with him, but he did 
learn quickly. He had to, he wouldn't have survived otherwise."

Just what was the price of that survival, Jenny questioned silently. When they'd 
appeared in the living room earlier that night, it took Jenny longer than she 
would have imagined to recognize her own brother. It wasn't just the clothes, 
though she couldn't ever remember a time John wore leather of any type, not even 
a jacket. He was more a jeans and flannel kind of guy. Yet there he was, clad 
all in black, a weapon at his side. Five years ago it would have been a 
Halloween costume, a joke, five years ago she would have laughed. Now, however, 
the clothes fit him terrifyingly well. But it really wasn't appearance at all; 
it was more a case of a shift in the gravity of his soul. He was dark now -- 
dark and dangerous. 

"Who's Scorpius?" Jack asked, shaking Jenny out of her musings.

Aeryn tensed and her face became guarded, her eyes shadowed. "John told you 
about him?"

"I don't think he realizes he did it," Jack admitted.

"Probably not," she muttered and then sighed, casting back in her thoughts for a 
memory. "About half a cycle after John arrived, he thought he found a wormhole 
home. We said our goodbyes and he left. But we were . . . anxious for him. There 
was no way to be certain the wormhole actually led to Earth or if John made it 
through safely." She shifted in her chair, a wry glint in her eyes. "So we 
followed him. However it wasn't Earth at all, but rather a simulation drawn from 
John's memories by a race of creatures who call themselves the Ancients."

Jack tipped back in his chair and stared pensively at Aeryn. "They're the ones 
who gave John the wormhole knowledge, right?"

"Correct," Aeryn said with a brisk nod. "John wasn't very happy that they'd used 
his memories like that."

"What's this have to do with this Scorpius guy?" Jenny asked somewhat 
impatiently.

"Well a few weekens after that I . . . I was injured and needed a tissue graft. 
Unfortunately the graft could only be obtained from a compatible Sebacean donor, 
which we didn't have. I was certain I was going to die," Aeryn told them matter-
of-factly, but then her mouth drew down into a frown and her eyes flashed. "I 
underestimated John's stubbornness and shear obstinate stupidity. Really it was 
one of the most ridiculous things I think I've ever seen him do. For that time? 
He could barely open the doors and there he was suggesting that he could 
infiltrate a high security Peacekeeper base," she growled.

Jenny's lips pursed, as she tried valiantly to keep back a smile. "Well, you're 
sitting here so I take it it worked."

"Oh it worked. He got the graft and Chiana got it back to Moya in time. But John 
was captured almost immediately. By Scorpius."

Jack's lips were set in a grim, white line and he his voice was cold when he 
stated flatly, "John was tortured." 

"Yes."

Jenny took a deep, shuddering breath. "For how long?" 

Aeryn looked at her sharply and bit out a terse reply, "Long enough."

Jenny was a little surprised by Aeryn's vehemence but it was quickly overridden 
by her fear for her brother and she couldn't help but respond in kind, "What's 
that supposed to mean?" 

"It means, long enough. It was torture, is any amount of time tolerable at all?" 
Aeryn asked pointedly, her icy eyes locked on Jenny's. "John was placed in a 
device called an Aurora chair. It works by mapping your neural pathways and 
forcibly extracting memories. It is extremely painful. Most people placed in the 
chair for any amount of time don't survive."

Her stomach lurched at the described torment but Jenny suddenly felt that she 
needed the answer like she needed her next breath. "So how long?"

"No more than two solar days. Five or six sessions in the chair."

"That's it?" Jenny regretted the indelicacy of the question immediately and 
flinched back from the pair of chastising scowls.

"That was enough," Aeryn informed her firmly. "More than enough."

"Is that why he's . . . he's like this now?" she asked hesitantly.

Aeryn sighed heavily and stared down at her beer bottle. "One of the reasons. 
There's more. There's always more," she muttered wearily. "Scorpius got a taste 
of the wormhole knowledge in John's mind, technology he'd been actively working 
on for cycles and he wasn't content to simply try and rip John's mind apart; he 
saw he wasn't getting the information he wanted. The Ancients put a block on it 
no amount of time in the chair was going to undo." She paused and took a 
steadying breath and picked absently at the edge of the bottle's label. "He 
implanted a chip in John's head that dug through his mind for the information 
Scorpius required. We didn't know about it for ä quite a while."

"Mother of God." Jack whispered, his horror perfectly echoing Jenny's.

Aeryn didn't look up at the bitter oath, but continued almost dispassionately, 
though Jenny swore she could hear a roughened catch at the edge of the other 
woman's voice. "After a time the chip started to take over. John began to have 
hallucinations, nightmares, serious lapses in attention. He'd walk through the 
halls talking to himself, or he'd fire his pistol at nothing. He," her voice 
gave out and she was forced to clear it twice before she could speak again. "He 
lost weight, didn't sleep, didn't eat, was short tempered. It was bad. He 
attempted to give himself up to Scorpius at one point to get the chip out." 
Again she stopped, but this time it was a thoughtful pause, as if she was 
uncertain if she should continue or not. She darted a quick look at Jack before 
returning to her contemplation of the beer bottle. "When the chip's hold became 
too strong he even begged D'Argo to kill him."

"This went on for how long?" Jack demanded.

Aeryn carefully placed the beer bottle back on the table and settled her hands 
down flat next to it. "It was probably a cycle between when the chip was 
implanted and when it was finally removed."

Relief washed over her at that news but that clearly wasn't the end of the story 
and Jenny prompted her when she didn't continue immediately, "But?"

"The chip had a neural clone on it."

"Which is . . . ?"

Aeryn sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. "A clone of Scorpius' personality. 
That's who John was seeing, talking to. That's who took over. Scorpius." She 
venomously spat the name. "He killed me. He took over John and when I tried to 
keep him from delivering John to Scorpius he forced my Prowler down into a 
frozen lake. I was dead."

Jenny wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, evidently it was hard to kill 
people out there. Torture them, make them suffer through a living hell, sure, 
but actually kill them? For good? Neat trick. "Um . . ."

"Zhaan pulled me back -- somehow -- and gave me a second life." Aeryn moodily 
stared back down at her hands.

Jack nodded suddenly and leaned forward towards Aeryn, his voice soft and 
gentle, "That's what made her sick." 

"Yes," she confirmed sadly.

Jenny hadn't heard about Zhaan. The name was completely unfamiliar, but there 
was something about the look in Aeryn's eyes, a look that said this may be one 
more sorrow than she could bear today, that held Jenny's tongue.

"And that neuro clone?" Jack asked quietly.

"The neural clone is still there."

Jenny blinked rapidly a few times and croaked out a fairly harsh, "What?"

"John calls him Harvey. They . . . talk," Aeryn's lips curled in distaste and 
her voice was dripping in revulsion, "frequently." 

"This thing is in his head? This thing that took him over?" Jack snarled 
furiously.

"John insists that since the chip's removal Harvey is harmless." Aeryn's tone 
left no doubt that she didn't believe for one second that that was the case. 
"However, John -- the John with me on Talyn -- had the clone removed by the 
Ancient. That clone tried, and very nearly succeeded, in taking over John. I was 
a microt away from shooting him myself."

"Oh my god," Jenny breathed.

"Is there someway to get him out?" Jack asked desperately. "Get that . . . thing 
gone?"

"I don't know," Aeryn shrugged wearily. "John isn't going to be very pleased 
that you know this, but--"

"That's too damn bad." Jack barked.

"But," she continued with a small nod in Jack's direction, "he's not anxious to 
get rid of Harvey either and I think you deserve to know."

Jack smiled a grateful but solemn smile at her. "You're in a pretty awkward 
position here, Aeryn, but I can't tell you how much I appreciate that you are 
here."

"It's important that you know he's not alone." Aeryn's voice was low, almost a 
whisper. "Not just . . . not just me, but D'Argo and Chiana in particular. John 
is important to all of us."

"I get that." Jack assured her.

"And it hasn't been all bad," she tried to reassure them. "Certainly things have 
been difficult but we've had good days. All of us."

"I get that, too. Wouldn't be home otherwise, would it?"

"No, I suppose not." She finally met his small smile with one of her own. "I 
certainly can't imagine life without any of John's questionable plans. I should 
tell you about the time he had Rygel urinate on a group trying to kill us."

Jenny broke into a loud laugh. "Now that sounds like John."

Aeryn's eyebrow raised in amusement and she shook her head slowly. "Or what I 
caught him doing when we all switched bodies for a day."

"He was in your body?"

"Mmhm."

"Man, I can only imagine," Jenny gasped in between chuckles.

"Well I was in his body for a while too, so I suppose it all came out even." 
There was a wicked gleam in Aeryn's eyes and Jenny lost herself to another fit 
of laughter as her father's face reddened alarmingly. He fought a battle between 
amusement and embarrassment before finally settling on an uncomfortable grin. 

When the laughter finally abated, a comfortable lull fell upon the room. Jenny 
took a deep breath and mumbled, in something very near to awe, "How is that even 
possible? What a strange world, you guys live in."

"It can be odd," Aeryn allowed. "But, I wouldn't want to go back to my life 
before. I wouldn't change anything."

"Not even the very worst things?" Jack inquired carefully. 

Aeryn paused for a long moment before answering; "No . . . things happen for a 
reason. It took me a long time to accept that, but I think I have now. Even the 
very worst of things."

"Even losing that part of John?" 

Aeryn fidgeted nervously with her beer bottle again. "I . . . I'm not sure yet, 
it's still too near."

"But he's not gone, though, that's all still John, right?" He persisted 
delicately.

Aeryn pinned Jack with an intense stare, seemingly searching his face for 
something. "Yes." The painful sincerity in that single word and the drawn look 
on Aeryn's face told Jenny just how much it cost her to give up that truth both 
to them and to herself. 

"Aeryn, you know it's okay to . . ." Jack shut his mouth with a click and 
pressed his lips together. Jenny wondered what he'd been about to say, it had 
started out sounding a lot like the patented Dad Lecture Voice, but amazingly 
enough he'd held his tongue. Nobody escaped the Dad Lecture once it began, how 
the hell did Aeryn rate? 

Jack cleared his throat before completely changing the topic. "So what's he so 
afraid of now? Scorpius?"

"Scorpius is dead. We destroyed his command carrier a cycle ago," Aeryn told 
them flatly, and Jenny marveled at her offhand tone, as if it was an every day 
occurrence. åWe went to the post office, destroyed the command carrier, picked 
up the dry cleaning, and then ordered take out for dinner'. Probably was, Jenny 
snorted silently to herself, and then shaking her head, forced her attention 
back on Aeryn "No, there are worse things than Scorpius in the universe, hard as 
it may be to believe. The Peacekeepers haven't let up. The war with the Scarrans 
is making them desperate and they want John. They want what he knows."

Jenny let out an explosive breath. "God, why doesn't he just give them what they 
want and then they'll leave you alone."

"No. I've seen the power of this technology. It's . . . it's beyond 
description," she said gravely, with more than a small hint of dread. "Billions 
of lives will be lost if either side gets hold of it. It's what John died to 
protect. And he'll die again before he gives it to them."

"So . . . what? You're just going to run for the rest of your lives? Your luck's 
going to run out eventually, and then what?" Jenny asked.

Aeryn's lips turned up in grim amusement. "We have no luck and we do what we 
have always done -- the best we can."

"That's kind of a crappy hand, Aeryn," she bit out.

"It is what it is. What else do you want us to do? I don't think you understand 
the stakes, and there's only so much I can tell you."

"You're here now. Just lay low on Earth."

"Which is exactly what John is afraid of," Aeryn told them with an emphatic 
thump on the table. "He's afraid they'll come to Earth after him. Scorpius knew 
the location of this planet; he taunted John with the knowledge. You have 
nothing that could stand up to a command carrier," she said reasonably, trying 
to get them to see this reality. "Your civilization would be decimated in a 
matter of arns."

"And that's why he's leaving and running again?"

"What do you want him to do?"

"I want my brother home," Jenny yelled out. She realized that she was sounding 
almost petulant but . . . this just wasn't right. Things like this didn't 
happen. Scarrans, Peacekeepers, Ancients, Scorpius, they were all just names and 
the more they ran through her head they more abstract they became. 

"You think after four cycles of this, he doesn't wish things could be as simple 
as coming home and forgetting everything that's happening out there?" Aeryn's 
eyes flashed in irritation and her posture became stiff and defensive.

"I think he's too fucked up to know anything and I'm starting to think that 
maybe he would be better off here," Jenny argued loudly. "If John stays here and 
you guys leave, there's no reason why the Peacekeepers or whoever would even 
know he was here. Unless you told them."

"John doesn't belong in your world anymore."

That was it, Jenny stood up and leaned over the table, her fists planted firmly. 
"This is his world. This is his home."

"He is not--"

"Jennifer. Aeryn." Jack said sharply, interrupting the argument. Jenny sat back 
down and stared moodily at her hands. "Aeryn, I don't really know what to say 
here. I don't understand your world, I don't know that I can, but I do 
understand having to make difficult choices." Aeryn nodded slowly, her face was 
tense, her eyes reflecting a hundred swirling emotions. "You're his family and I 
have to respect that."

"We're his family," Jenny cried plaintively. 

"Jennifer," he growled in warning. "John's been gone for almost five years. He 
has another life now, family and friends, obligations we don't know anything 
about. God, I don't want John to leave, but it's his decision and he's already 
made it."

"It's just that--"

Jack cut Jenny off sharply, apparently he wasn't in the mood to even entertain 
the thought of some sort of argument in this. " Don't you think I want _my son_ 
to be safe? I don't want him to live this kind of life," he nearly shouted. 
"But, it's not my life."

"I know. I'm sorry," Jenny mumbled. She tried for contrite but the words came 
out more defensive than she'd wanted so she glanced over at Aeryn and offered 
her a weak half-smile. 

"I think . . ." Jack continued almost to himself. "I think this is what John was 
meant for. He was always looking for something else. He's a dreamer." Aeryn 
smirked and nodded. "I was damned if I knew what it was he was looking for. He 
probably didn't even know, but it was there. You remember how he was, Jenny," he 
glanced over at his daughter, drawing her into his monologue and she cocked her 
head inquisitively in his direction, giving him her attention. "There one minute 
and a million miles away the next. Open and outgoing and then like lightening 
he'd be somewhere so deep inside no one else could see it. Always, always 
looking. At IASA, I thought maybe he'd found it, but even then . . . He was so 
damn proud of that module, but I could tell. I could tell right up to the moment 
of the launch, he was still weighing himself down."

"I remember," Jenny offered gently and she truly did remember. John was 
everybody's buddy, fun, cheerful, that kind of slap-on-the-back-buy-you-a-beer 
guy. But sometimes that guy would be gone and he'd be so deep in some thought 
you couldn't dig him out with a backhoe and twenty pounds of TNT. "Figures he'd 
have to go to the other side of the universe to find it."

Jack laughed then. "All my kids are overachievers."

Jenny waived him off airily. "Ah, you know you love us."

"'Course I do, but you're pretty hard on your old Dad."

"Least I didn't turn into some kind of intergalactic Hell's Angel."

"You're still young." Jack smiled as Jenny puzzled over that, trying to decide 
if she was annoyed or not. He turned back to their guest and tapped his fingers 
gently against the back of her hand. She looked up sharply at that, a small 
frown creasing her brow, but her lips quirked up in a smile. "Hungry? What say 
we go see if the boys have left us any of that pizza?"

"Pizza," Aeryn said slowly, as if trying out an unfamiliar word. "Do you suppose 
if I eat enough of it, I can get John to stop talking about it for a while?"

"I doubt it, Aeryn," Jack told her sincerely and Jenny smothered a laugh.

They adjourned to the front porch, catching the tail end of some wild story of 
John's that had DK giggling like a 9 year old. The pizza had arrived and John 
quickly ditched DK and slapped a piece on a plate for Aeryn. Jenny watched, 
amused, as John watched Aeryn take her first bite. She couldn't quite tell which 
of them was more nervous about it, but the grin on his face when she nodded her 
approval of the meal was easily a million-watter and Jenny felt immeasurably 
better for knowing that he could still smile like that. 

There was some easy conversation, an unspoken agreement kept the stories light 
and humorous, but all too soon the evening faded into early morning and Jenny 
could tell John was wearing down. DK had fallen asleep on the porch swing and 
Jenny helped her father clear away the remains of their dinner, leaving John and 
Aeryn alone together on the porch steps, staring out into the night.

Jenny was about to go back out when she heard the murmur of their conversation 
and she couldn't help herself, she stopped just inside the screen door and 
listened.

"How'd it go?" John asked.

Aeryn shrugged slightly, "They're worried about you, but I think they 
understand."

"So what did you tell them?"

"I told them what they needed to know," she said vaguely.

John turned his head to one side, glancing at her almost sideways. "Which is?"

"I've said the things you can't say. I told them about John Crichton."

John snorted dismissively and leaned back on the porch, kicking his feet out in 
front of him and dropping his head back to stare up at the sky. "Told them he 
was a big ol' flag salutin', savin' the universe hero, huh? Fought the good 
fight, died with his boots on and his woman brought his shield home."

Jenny frowned at his coldly condescending tone and silently rooted for Aeryn to 
smack him. What a jackass. After everything Aeryn had just done for him, telling 
his family -- people she didn't know -- about the nine kinds of hell his life 
was and then making sure that they knew he was being looked out for, he goes and 
turns into a moody bastard. 

"Stop it, right now," Aeryn snapped, "I'm not in the mood for any of your 
frelling self-pity. I've told them about John Crichton, all of him. I told them 
what he died for and what he lives for."

"As you know it."

"Of course, as I know it. They don't want you to protect them John, they want to 
know. I think they would have preferred hearing most of what I told them from 
you."

"What am I suppose to tell them, Aeryn?"

"The truth."

"That I'm a complete lunatic."

"You are not insane, John. Though you are driving me to the brink." She nudged 
his shoulder, lessening the voiced irritation with the gentle contact. John 
chuckled lightly and they sat quietly for another long moment.

Aeryn stirred first and seemed to be peering around into the dark. "I thought 
you said the house would be watched. You've been out here all night, they must 
know we're here."

"Yeah, they know." John responded tersely. 

"Well where are the commandos or whoever. Why haven't they done anything?"

John simply shrugged. "They broke the rules first."

Aeryn looked at him quizzically but John ignored her look and stood, holding a 
hand out to her. "It's time to go. It'll be dawn soon. We should be in the air 
before then."

Aeryn accepted his hand up, but held on for a long moment, staring him in the 
eyes. "We will come back."

He simply looked at her, his face almost sad, then he walked past and started up 
the porch steps. "Let's say good-bye."

Jenny stepped back from the screen door but she was a split second too late and 
John caught her. "Sis?"

"You're leaving now?"

"Yep. We've got guests up on Moya. It'd be down right inhospitable of us to 
leave åem up there all on their own."

Jenny cocked her head and took another step back, letting him into the house. 
"You don't trust them."

"Trust who?" Aeryn asked, stepping into the room after John.

"The, um, guys from Earth you've got on your ship," Jenny clarified.

Aeryn made a noncommittal sound and reached for her coat, pulling it on quickly 
before turning her gaze and looking expectantly at John. When he didn't say 
anything, Aeryn sighed and shook her head at Jenny. "We've had some bad 
experiences with guests onboard Moya."

"Oh, uh, okay, sure."

John, it seemed, wanted nothing more to do with this conversation and he called 
out to his father. "Hey Dad?"

Jack appeared from the kitchen and walked over to the trio. "You guys ready to 
go?"

"Yeah, it's getting pretty late."

Jack nodded. "You, uh, you want to go out the front door or back out the back?"

John looked at Aeryn briefly and then back at his father. "May as well go out 
the back. I'd hate to make easy."

Jenny and Jack followed them out back, the mood once again turning melancholy. 
Jenny and Aeryn hung back a bit, letting Jack and John say their good-byes. 
Though Aeryn swore to Jenny that they'd see John again, there was a 
heartbreaking finality about the departure. Jenny supposed it had a lot to do 
with already having lost him once. That looming sense of mortality, knowing that 
so much could happen in the space of an instant, and a stupid little accident or 
a moment of selfless heroism could take him away from them forever. It made this 
moment an incalculable gift -- a chance to say the things they regretted not 
saying the last time he left.

It wasn't a moment either Jack or Jenny was willing to let pass and Jack pulled 
John into a fierce embrace. "I love you, John."

"Love you, too," John mumbled against his father's jacket. 

"And I am so proud of you, son. I want you to know that."

John tried to pull away at that, but Jack didn't let him get very far. "No, I'm 
. . . I haven't done a whole hell of a lot to be proud of, Dad." He managed to 
step away and while absently adjusting his coat he stared intently down at the 
ground. "The other guy was the hero. Died to save the universe, you know? I'm 
pretty sure I was drunk when he did it." John gave a little, self-effacing laugh 
and took another step back. 

Jack scowled and grabbed John's arm in one hand and his head in the other, 
keeping him from backing away any further. "You listen to me. I know you, John, 
and I could see you in every word Aeryn spoke. I'm sure she didn't tell us 
everything, but she said enough. She told us that you do the best you can, is 
that true?"

John frowned and answered cautiously. "Yeah, that's all I can do, I mean--"

"That's what heroes do. They do the best they can. They don't go out looking for 
that blaze of glory, they just get on with their lives and try to do what's 
right. You can't tell me that's not what you do." John rolled his shoulders 
uncomfortably. "Right. That's what I thought." Jack grinned and hugged him 
again. "You're a good man and I'm damn proud of you."

John submitted to his father's grip for a long moment before he pulled away 
again. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered. 

Jack patted his shoulder and nodded firmly, then he turned to Aeryn and quickly 
pulled her into a similar hug. Aeryn's eyes widened comically and she awkwardly 
returned it. "Thank you for bringing my son home, Aeryn."

"You're welcome."

Jenny almost laughed at Aeryn's desperate look and moved to pull her out of her 
father's arms. "John's gonna get jealous, Dad."

Jack's face burned red but he lifted his chin and managed a haughty smile. 
"That's what he gets for letting this beautiful lady out of his reach, then."

Jenny smirked and walked over to her brother. "Don't disappear on us, John."

"I won't," he told her solemnly. 

"Okay." Jenny put her arms around him and squeezed then stepped away. John gave 
her a wry grin and motioned to Aeryn. "Time to go."

"Call us tomorrow, John," Jack ordered.

"Yes, sir."

Jenny rested her head on her father's shoulder and watched the pair silently 
disappear into the darkness. She didn't know what to say, it had been such an 
intense night, so many thoughts, so much emotion, so many things to think about. 
She settled for kissing her father gently on the cheek and heading back in to 
the house. She turned once at the back door and watched him stare into the black 
early morning then she slipped back inside and wearily made her way to bed. 

>>>>><<<<<<

14.

It started gnawing at him gently at first. A bitter little ball of 
unidentifiable uneasiness that bounced lazily around his gut. John ignored it. 
He ignored everything, in fact. Aeryn's voice trying to coax him into 
conversation on their return trip to Moya was a barely distinguishable murmur 
above the hum of the Prowler. The shooting pain above his left eye was little 
more than a mild irritation. And for once he managed to be very nearly 
completely oblivious to Harvey whispering in his ear. Instead of paying 
attention to anything immediately around him, John concentrated on the stars. He 
pondered their composition, he wondered at their distance, he contemplated the 
empires that circled them, and he drifted numbly through vast, inky space. 

It gnawed at him a little more insistently when they silently docked with Moya, 
the giant ship blocking his view of the stars and snapping his wandering mind 
back into his body. He frowned slightly, puzzled by the silence and puzzled by 
his own puzzlement. John wasn't really sure when exactly Aeryn had given up 
trying to talk to him, but he was both grateful for it and saddened by it and it 
seemed to feed the prickly little bastard careening around in his belly. 

When the Prowler came to a halt, John jumped out and watched, with almost 
surreal detachment, as Aeryn climbed out after him. Graceful. She'd always been 
so damn graceful. Lethal elegance. God, she was beautiful. She walked up to him 
and with a nod of his head he strode out of the landing bay with her at his 
side. It was right, they matched so well, all unconsciously their movements 
mirrored each other, and the steady thump of their boots on the deck beat a 
martial tattoo. And none of it touched him; the observations flowed transient 
through his mind, skillfully dodging that bundle of nameless tension. 

His serene detachment didn't last as long as he hoped it would, though. The 
little ball of unease grew with each step and cracks, then gaps, then veritable 
fissures started to open up, letting in thoughts he didn't want any part of just 
then. He viciously squeezed them back out of his mind, slapped a patch or two 
over the cracks, weak promises to visit those thoughts later, and he sat back 
stubbornly in his apathy. The thoughts didn't seem willing to take him at his 
word though, and as he and Aeryn marched down Moya's golden halls, the closer 
they got to command the tighter those thoughts crowded up against his unwilling 
mind. They raged and pounded against his numb shell, and it creaked and groaned 
under their assault. He managed to hold them at bay and watched them curiously, 
almost as though watching fish in an aquarium. He paused for a moment when he 
wondered which side of the glass he was on. 

Aeryn's voice came to him again, out of the muzzy fog that surrounded his mind 
and he squinted his eyes, allowing his ragged concentration to fall on her for 
just a moment. She stood there with her eyebrows raised questioningly, 
expectantly, anxiously. He noticed with some surprise that he'd actually paused, 
not just mentally, in the middle of the hall. He shrugged his shoulders, it 
seemed an appropriate response, and then started back down the corridor. Aeryn 
fell in at his side again, but his battle with the thoughts, momentarily 
interrupted, began to rage once more and he paid her no attention. It was taking 
all his questionable mental strength to shore up the walls against the assault 
now. But it had to be done--he needed to be alone when he squared off against 
these hellish musings.

They stepped onto command and the hastily patched fissures gave way completely 
to an all-consuming chasm, reality standing triumphant on the other side. 

"What the hell is going on?" He grated slowly, fiercely. 

D'Argo's head snapped around and he gave John and Aeryn an irritated glare. "And 
just where the frell have you two been?" John ignored him and walked further 
into the room. 

Standing next to D'Argo was Colonel Kaminsky, and next to him, dressed in a 
simple blue IASA jump suit was the object of John's sudden cold fury. Alex stood 
with her arms crossed and her chin held up defiantly, but most importantly and 
most irritatingly there was no hazmat gear to be found. 

John looked the blond woman up and down slowly and pointedly. "What do you think 
you're doing?" He whispered harshly, the tendons in his neck standing out 
sharply and his face was slowly turning red. A bewildered frown crossed Alex's 
face as she felt the effects of John's icy ire. He took another step towards 
her.  

D'Argo put a restraining hand on John's shoulder, stepping between the two 
humans. "John, we have a problem."

"Just one?" He replied snidely.

D'Argo squeezed his hand slowly until John winced and shook him off. The Luxan 
gave him a warning glare then nodded his head at the woman. "Go ahead, Alex."

John bristled and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Oh, Jesus god, you gave 
her translator microbes?"

"She requested them," Kaminsky spoke up. "She is already contaminated, I did not 
see how they could do her further harm."

John's lips pulled back in a snarl. How was this all okay? Hey she's already 
contaminated, double or nothing, what do you say? One more person, god, one more 
person, every second, every choice made everything worse. What control he had 
over anything was slipping through his fingers, grain by grain. He squeezed his 
eyes shut tightly and took a deep shuddering breath, trying to at least control 
himself. "What is the problem?" He rasped. The room remained silent and he 
peeled his eyes open just enough to watch them all staring at each other and 
darting looks his way. "What is the goddamned problem here?"

D'Argo sent a venomous glare John's way and put a gentle hand on Alex's 
shoulder. "Go ahead and tell us what you saw."

Alex's glare matched D'Argo's for pure hostility but she nodded and crossed her 
arms. "I was in the lab module working with some of the translator microbes."

"Kinda late to be working," John interrupted, almost pointlessly, but he was 
impatient and not in the mood for a long, drawn out drama. What was the problem, 
how much damage was done, and who did he shoot? Was that so hard?

"I was having a hard time sleeping, it's not everyday I'm on an alien 
spaceship," Alex fairly snarled back at him. "Should I continue or did you want 
to make anymore comments?"

"Nah, go ahead, I'm done for now," John replied coolly.

She gazed at him evenly for a moment before beginning again. "I heard somebody 
in the airlock. Nobody was scheduled out for at least another ten hours so I 
went to check to make sure it wasn't somebody trying to, uh, get in." She gave 
an embarrassed little shrug and smile. "The inner hatch was closed but I could 
see Commander Preston through the window, err, view port, or whatever. He didn't 
see me, I don't think, but I watched him open the outer hatch and come onto 
Moya."

"That doesn't explain why you're out here without a suit," John pointed out 
tersely and he flinched slightly when he felt Aeryn's knuckle dig into his 
kidney.

"Preston wasn't in a suit. He had a small bag with him and he looked pretty 
intent on something."

"So you decided to follow him," D'Argo stated gently. "That was dangerous."

"I, uh, I heard him say something, but it was weird, garbled, I think he was on 
a radio. I thought," she sighed heavily, "I don't know what I thought. There was 
just something very wrong and somebody needed to know."

Kaminsky made a small rumble of disapproval. "I must agree with Ka D'Argo, 
following him was a most dangerous course of action."

"Well she's out now," Aeryn observed reasonably. "Where did you follow Preston 
to?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably. "Actually I lost him before I even got off the 
shuttle. I decided to try and find John instead."

"I discovered her outside the infirmary," Kaminsky said. "I saw no sign of 
Commander Preston, but if he is free on the ship I believe we must find him as 
quickly as possible."

D'Argo nodded his agreement and looked over at John. "What would he want on 
Moya? Sabotage?"

Kaminsky laughed. "American intrigue. They are probably spying. Trying to steal 
technology." Alex rolled her eyes, while D'Argo and Aeryn just looked puzzled. 
The Russian shrugged. "Regardless, we should find him promptly."

"Agreed," D'Argo growled. "Pilot!"

"Yes, Ka D'Argo?"

"One of the humans is loose on Moya. Have DRD patrols start a search."

"Right away."

"You're not gonna find him," John said grimly. His breath was coming slightly 
faster and he felt the beginnings of that surge of adrenaline that accompanied 
panic. Crossing the deck he licked his lips and stared out at Earth. "Hey, 
Pilot."

"Yes, Crichton?"

"Better have those DRDs keep an eye out on the neural cluster nodes, we'll do 
the search for the guy. Oh, and keep an ear out for any strange signals."

D'Argo protested immediately, "We'll find him more quickly with the DRDs, John."

He shook his head emphatically. "D, I'm telling you, they won't find him."

Aeryn frowned deeply, but she seemed to have a suspicion. "Why not?"

"He's a Peacekeeper," he forced out through clenched teeth, never turning around 
from his contemplation of Earth. Command fell ominously silent and then erupted 
into a din of angry voices and John found himself dropping back into his little 
bubble of apathy, the clamor fading to a soft murmur. 

He'd failed. He'd known it all day. He'd looked his father in the eye and tried 
to pretend he was happy to be home, knowing the whole time that he'd failed 
everyone. He felt the hot sting of tears burn behind his sinuses and his 
eyelashes became heavy with moisture. God, he was just the biggest fuck-up the 
universe could muster, wasn't he? Couldn't even get the right one killed.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and pulled him around, yanking him out of his 
quiet bubble. He struck out wildly and pushed an angry D'Argo back. "Do not 
touch me," he hissed.

"How do you know he's a Peacekeeper?" D'Argo asked, his voice low and fierce.

"You think I'd make that up?" John returned just as fiercely. 

"No," D'Argo said fairly, "but I think sometimes you see things that aren't 
there."

John gritted his teeth and looked back out the view port. "He tripped over a DRD 
and swore in Sebacean. I didn't catch it at first, but Harvey did."

D'Argo growled in impatience and crossed his arms. "How do you know Harvey isn't 
just frelling with you?"

John turned a baleful eye to D'Argo. "I heard him, too. I just didn't notice it 
until Harvey pointed it out."

"Who's Harvey?" Alex's bewildered question rang softly through the room when the 
heated discussion hit a lull, but John wasn't in the mood to answer that 
question. In fact, he was getting pretty damn sick of questions.

"Look," John turned back around and leaned comfortably against a bulkhead. "I 
told you to get that shuttle the hell off Moya, but nobody wanted to listen to 
me and now you've got a Peacekeeper loose on her. You guys might want to do 
something before he signals his buddies."

D'Argo waved his hands and tossed his tentacles in frustration. "You frelling 
tresnark. You've known all day and you didn't want to mention this to us?"

"I told you--" John's voice climbed to a yell, stopping only when he felt 
Aeryn's cool hand slid up to the back of his neck. John stilled but stared the 
Luxan down stubbornly and pointedly refused to look at anybody else. "Better 
catch him before he does something."

D'Argo hissed and stormed out of command, gesturing to Kaminsky but the Russian 
was already jogging out after him. Alex, Aeryn and John stood in a moment of 
awkward, heavy silence. Well, awkward for Alex and Aeryn, John was concentrating 
on trying to steady his fraying nerves; the reality of the situation wasn't 
going to go away anytime soon.

"John, if there were Peacekeepers in this system, they wouldn't send a lone 
commando up on one of your shuttles. They wouldn't need to." Aeryn told him.

John shrugged and brushed his hand across his eyes. "Not unless their commander 
had a falling out with the High Command and had to leave PK space in a hurry. 
Leaving all the big guns behind."

He felt Aeryn go rigid beside him. "Scorpius is dead," she said quietly, firmly.

John gave her a weak smile. "Guess not."

"How can you be sure?" 

John's shoulders slumped wearily. "God, Aeryn, how could I not be sure about 
this? He knew. He was the only one who knew."

"Fine, then." Aeryn crossed her arms. "How did he get here? He said it would 
take, what? 60, 70 cycles?"

"I don't know." He moved away from her. "I don't know, alright?" He caught sight 
of Alex standing behind a console, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, 
struggling to understand what was going on. John watched her, feeling a small 
surge of guilt, one more person caught up in the chaos. "You should get Alex 
some quarters," he told Aeryn softly. "Then go help D'Argo look for that big bad 
Peacekeeper."

"And what are you going to do?" John glanced back over at her; he knew that 
tone. It said that whatever this was, they weren't done yet. She'd do as he 
asked because it suited her for now, but he'd owe it to her and she'd be back. 

"Just go, Aeryn." He was floundering now, and he absolutely, desperately needed 
to be alone to get this all out of his head before he did something, said 
something, that he could never take back. "Please."

She acquiesced quietly, pulling Alex out with her. He could hear their muffled 
conversation as they disappeared. Alex demanding answers and Aeryn refusing to 
supply them. Oh yeah, they were a fun pair. John laughed wearily and finally let 
himself relax slightly, the muscles in his neck and shoulder were painfully 
bunched and he spent a few moments getting them to ease. 

He shrugged out of his coat and draped it across a console, a solid clunk of 
glass on metal reminding him that he'd raided his father's liquor cabinet. John 
pulled out the bottle of Kentucky bourbon and set it down carefully, regarding 
it dispassionately for a time. The quiet in the room became suddenly oppressive 
and he reached past the bottle to the control panel, starting a search through 
the radio signals from Earth. 

ä in Southern India. The Red Cross is reporting that nearly three million people 
have been displaced by the rising waters.

In Washington D.C. yesterday, an estimated thirty thousand demonstrators 
gathered on the mall to demand full disclosure of all communications with the 
Leviathan Moya. NPR's Clarice Welling reports from Washington ‚

Members and supporters of the International Society for Enlightened Contact 
gathered yesterday in Washington to request that the U.S. government release all 
documents and materials it has collected since the alien craft Moya first 
appeared in orbit one month ago.

Albert Kho of the ISEC insisted that the main aim of the demonstration was to 
draw attention to the potential of the technological advances that may 
presumably be made available by the extraterrestrials.

"We simply wish to ensure that the full benefits of these technologies are 
shared among all the peoples of Earth and not kept to those few members of the 
Military Industrial Complex and their unacknowledged special access projects. 
There is a very real possibility of a misuse of power, something to be strongly 
resisted."

While mostly peaceful, there were reports of sporadic clashes throughout the day 
with a number of anti-alien groups. The most vocal of the protestors . . .

John shook his and started scanning the radio again, as interested as he was in 
how his arrival was affecting Earth, he wasn't in the mood to endure the irony 
of so many people on the planet pinning their hopes of a better world on a ship 
full of fugitives. For now, he just wanted some music, something he didn't have 
to think too much about. 

Lying on the roof counting 
The stars that fill the sky I wonder if
Someone in the heavens 
Is looking back down on me--I'll never know

He stopped, his hand hovering above the controls, and listened for a few 
seconds. It sounded fairly safe, not downbeat enough to make him want to eat his 
gun, not that he was suicidal but he really didn't need the help being 
depressed. Besides, Harvey'd probably like it. He shook his head with a smile--
damn, he was just too considerate. 

So much space to believe
Funny when you're small
The moon follows the car
There's no one, but you see
Hey, the moon is chasing me.

John closed his eyes and grabbed the bottle of bourbon. He remembered that. 
Remembered being a kid on a car trip and watching the moon follow them. Up 
front, driving the car, was his Dad, that guy who'd actually walked on the moon, 
on that other world. He swore he met the Man on the Moon personally and John 
used to stare out the window and imagine what it would be like walk on her 
surface. Man, that was so far away when he was a kid, the ultimate adventure. He 
wished he could still dream about the moon. 

He left the radio on the station and took his purloined bottle of booze over to 
the view screen and sat down in front of it. He watched Earth intently, and for 
a moment he imagined that if he fixed his eye on her long enough, he could 
pierce the distance and find what he was looking for. Like a god from above, 
looking into every life. Somewhere down on that planet was the cadaverous 
bastard who'd haunted his life for three long cycles, somewhere on that sphere 
was his nightmare. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought and he twisted 
the cap off the bottle and took a long pull, savoring the slow, sweet burn. 

What you got?
What you got in your hands?
Father said to son
I got the whole world here, Daddy
Between my fingers and my thumb

As the alcohol slid down his throat, its warm glow chasing the chill in his 
soul, his gaze never wavered from Earth. Over and over again he saw a world 
overrun by brutal Peacekeeper forces. His family was slaughtered, the life and 
breath draining out of everything that was precious to him. 

John took another swallow, this one a little too large, and he broke into a fit 
of coughing, his eyes finally squeezing shut. Each convulsion seizing his lungs 
was a pulse blast tearing through the theater of his mind. D'Argo went down 
first, an angry, defiant roar echoing through the blasts. Another cough and Jool 
fell, then Chiana, Rygel, Pilot, his Dad, his cousin Beth, his little nephew 
Dennis. Aeryn. 

The fit subsided and taking a deep breath he looked down on the planet again and 
then took another, more cautious, drink. When he moved to brush the tears off 
his face, his eyes slipped closed again and swarms of Peacekeepers flowed into 
the room. There was so goddamned much blood, no matter how hard he pressed 
against the wound, it continued to pump thick and hot through his fingers. åI've 
never felt better.' She went so still, her beautiful face slack. This time he 
didn't fight the sobs that racked his body, and he dropped his forehead down 
onto his knees, letting all that pain out in one emotional deluge. 

When the grief receded he raised his head and felt the stirrings of other, 
deeper emotions and for a short time he stared grimly out at that blue and white 
sphere and hated it with all the passion in his soul. Eventually that faded as 
well, and he wasn't quite sure what he was left with. The rubble of grief, 
crumbling walls of pain, a wavering dark face of fear, a vast uncertainty and a 
new forged determination. He was almost afraid to look too closely, afraid that 
when these emotions settled, if they settled, they'd trickle out of him and he'd 
be left with just a frigid void. There was so far to go before he found . . . 
god, did he even know? He brought the bottle back up to his lips and took a long 
pull while he thought. He was searching for something to counter the hurt or 
anger, some balm, some forgiveness, both from himself and for himself. Weariness 
lay heavy on his soul, it was such a long damn way to that peace.

Look at this big eyed fish swimming in the sea
Oh, how he dreams to be a bird swooping diving through the breeze
So one day caught a big ol' wave up onto the beach
Now he's dead you see beneath the sea is where a fish should be

A gentle, pale finger traced down his damp cheek, and soft gray lips tasted his 
salt tears. He'd never heard her enter, not that that particularly surprised 
him, but he wondered briefly how long she'd been there, a small flash of shame 
raced through him at the thought she might have seen his breakdown. Her presence 
was too bright, though, and she'd seen him lower than that, so he shrugged it 
off and instead opened his arms to her, feeling her settle against him. That 
threatening bitter emptiness shuddered in the face of the warmth of affection 
and he cupped her cheek tenderly to him, burying his face in her hair. 

No words were spoken between them, there was little need. Chiana's embrace was 
fierce, her head was tucked comfortably under his chin and she didn't seem to be 
in any hurry to move anytime soon. He took a slow, deep breath, tightening his 
own grip on her. The ponderous press of life lessened with her undemanding 
presence. For now there was one person in the universe who expected nothing from 
him but that he let her sit with him, and that was too precious a gift to be 
spoiled by words. The comfort of that was everything to him.

She finally took one arm from around his waist when he offered her the bottle of 
bourbon. She sniffed at it without raising her head, and tipped a small quantity 
of the liquor into her mouth. Making a disgusted noise, she handed it back to 
him and slipped her arm back around him, resuming her crushing grip. He smiled 
and tenderly stroked her hair before taking another swallow. The pleasant warmth 
of the alcohol singing through his blood and Chiana's company were both working 
their magic on his tense body and frayed nerves and he let out a soul deep sigh. 
Content in that one instant.

Excuse me please one more drink
Could you make it strong 
åCause I don't need to think
She broke my heart 
My grace is gone
One more drink and I'll move on
One more drink and I'll be gone

Chiana shifted suddenly and pulled back from him just enough to slide around and 
straddle his legs, looking him squarely in the eyes. With an amused grin on his 
lips he watched her cock her head to one side and study him. Giving him an 
insolent smile she took the bottle from his hands again and tilted her head 
back, exposing the long column of her slender throat as she took a long swig of 
bourbon. A chuckle rumbled through his chest when she brought her head back 
down, shaking it wildly, and gasping at the unfamiliar burn of the drink. She 
giggled with him and stared down at the bottle for a moment, as if trying to 
decipher the label, when she got bored with that she set the bottle back down 
next to them and hooked an arm around his neck, resting her forehead against 
his. 

John closed his eyes once more, hesitantly, but this time there was nothing 
waiting for him in that darkness. He sighed again and concentrated on feeling 
Chiana's warm breath against his face, her soft hair tickling his forehead, her 
embrace tight around his neck. He didn't open his eyes again, not even when her 
soft lips brushed tenderly against his, or when they moved away and came to rest 
again against his temple. He even kept them shut when her weight disappeared 
from his legs and her warmth disappeared from his arms. He didn't hear her leave 
the room but he could feel her presence go and he reached a hand out for the 
alcohol, his eyes popping open when his hand met empty air. She'd snurched his 
damn booze. 

"Subtle, Pip," he muttered and pulled legs back up, propping his chin on his 
knees and turning his forlorn gaze back on Earth. 

>>>><<<<

15.

Moving quickly down a golden hued hallway, Aeryn made sure to get herself a 
decent distance from the cell holding their newest guest before she slumped 
against the wall and slid slowly to the deck. Rubbing her hands wearily over her 
face, she swore silently to herself that she would start shooting if Crichton 
brought one more human on board Moya. 

Goddess, it had been a long day. Morning felt weekens ago and every muscle in 
her body protested at the long arns of stress. 

"Watcha doing?"

Aeryn dropped her head back against the bulkhead and threw a harassed gaze at 
the intruder upon her thoughts. "Contemplating murder."

Chiana nodded sagely and stepped up to her. "Sounds like fun. Any luck finding 
Commander Preston?"

Aeryn snorted. "No, I've been too busy keeping Crichton's friend amused." She 
peered up at the young woman. "Where have you been?"

"Keeping Crichton amused," Chiana told her with a saucy grin and dropped down to 
the floor next to the ex-Peacekeeper. She set a heavy glass container on the 
deck and pushed it towards Aeryn.

"What's this?" Aeryn asked, taking the proffered bottle.

"What was keeping Crichton amused before I got there," the Nebari said gravely. 

Aeryn unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. She jerked her head back and wrinkled 
her nose. "That smells ä unpleasant."

"Tastes worse, but he was drinking it like water."

Aeryn nodded absently and peered at the label trying to make out the symbols 
there. 

Chiana interrupted her study of the bottle. "What are we gonna do?" 

Aeryn shook her head and took a small sip of the liquid. She licked her lips, a 
frown of distaste creasing her brow, and carefully set the bottle back down. "I 
wanted him to see his family. I think it only made things worse," she mused 
quietly.

Chiana let out a soft sigh and propped her chin on one gloved hand. "Can we 
leave now?"

"Not if Scorpius is on Earth," Aeryn replied quickly, shaking her head. 

"You think Crichton's right?"

Aeryn looked over at the young Nebari and met her jet black gaze. "It doesn't 
matter what I think, John believes he's down there. We're not going anywhere 
until we have answers."

"Fek." Chiana muttered.

Aeryn nodded her agreement to that succinct but accurate statement and let her 
head drop back against the wall. "Did you see his quarters?"

"Yeah. Last time he was this tinked . . ." Chiana let the thought trail off 
quietly, apparently regretting the direction that statement was going.

Aeryn, however, was willing to mention the taboo. "He killed me."

Chiana nodded thoughtfully. "But he didn't even want to come to Earth to begin 
with. He was scared before we even got into orbit. He couldn't have known 
Scorpius was here."

Aeryn shrugged her shoulders, the single gesture conveying her weary frustration 
at just how much she didn't know. "Stubborn man," she murmured softly.

"Want some advice?"

Aeryn met Chiana's open gaze squarely for a long moment, gauging the other 
woman's sincerity before finally shrugging again. "Sure, why the frell not?"

"You said he doesn't trust you, right?" Chiana prodded. 

"Right."

"Which is a total load of dren, by the way."

"Chiana -- your advice?" Aeryn prompted impatiently.

Chiana moved closer to Aeryn, her body language stilling, capturing the ex-
Peacekeeper's full attention by intensity and proximity. "You want to get him to 
tell you what's got him so scared?" She cajoled quietly. "You're going to have 
to tell him what's got you so scared. All of it."

Aeryn opened her mouth, prepared to hotly deny that she was afraid of anything, 
but the words died on her lips. Chiana was facing her with complete candor. It 
wasn't an accusation that needed defending against, it was a simple truth and 
Chiana had spotted it. "You're right."

Chiana blinked slowly, taking a moment to recover before sitting back and giving 
Aeryn a small grin. "'Course I am."

Aeryn returned the grin with a weary half-smile of her own and climbed to her 
feet. She picked up the bottle and stared at the label again. "Chiana, I ä" She 
stopped and struggled for a moment with words that wouldn't come. She finally 
settled on a simple, "thank you."

"Just do me a favor, huh? Don't let him make you angry, 'cause uh, he probably 
will. Well actually probably not probably, but pretty much totally. But, anyway, 
he's just a little tinked and you know how he gets."

"Yes, I know how he gets." Aeryn confirmed softly and then she gave the other 
woman a polite nod and started down the hallway again.

Her stride was purposeful, she hoped to find some resolve in that determined 
pace, but her footsteps faltered as she neared his cell. Pausing, she drew in a 
deep, steadying breath, readying herself for the known and unknown, and opened 
the door, slipping past the curtain and into the darkened room. 

A quick glance around told her the room had been tidied, Chiana most likely, she 
thought absently before letting her eyes fall on the man she'd sought out. 
Through the gloom she could see his shape, oddly small. She cocked her head 
slightly to one side and studied his form. He was curled on his side in bed, 
fully dressed, his back to the door and his knees drawn up to his chest. It was 
a painfully vulnerable position and Aeryn swallowed back a bitter swell of 
regret. 

"I'm tired. Not in the mood for chit-chat."

She couldn't help the small smile that touched her lips at his surly grumbling. 
"Why aren't you asleep than?"

He twitched his shoulders slightly, hunching his back. "I've got this thing 
about people staring at me. Kind of makes me nervous," John muttered.

"I'll stop staring," she told him amiably. 

"I'm serious, Aeryn," he snapped. "I'm not up for a battle with you tonight."

Aeryn ignored his hostile rumbles and took another step into his room, her gloom 
adjusted eyes making a better survey of the surroundings. The room had indeed 
been tidied but the remnants of the earlier destruction were still evident. His 
game board sat in pieces on the table, the bits pushed together in the rough 
shape of the board and the pieces listed drunkenly, brokenly on their squares or 
lay around their mock battlefield; casualties in a brutal war. She walked over 
to the table and picked up one of the sad little soldiers, fingering the bent 
metal idly.  "Why didn't you tell me you thought Scorpius was on Earth?"

"You don't believe me?" He questioned softly.

"I didn't say that," she replied equally softly. "Answer the question."

"You don't believe me," John repeated, weary resignation in his voice. 

Aeryn sighed heavily and lay the game piece back down before crossing the room 
to sit at the edge of the bed. "I do believe you." John snorted softly and 
brought his knees up closer against his chest, tucking his forehead down against 
them. "I do," she repeated gently but firmly. "You don't trust me."

"Maybe."

The soft sincerity of that word was an almost physical blow and Aeryn flinched. 
"I'm so sorry, John."

John uncurled slowly and rolled onto his back, draping one arm across his eyes. 
"What do you want from me, Aeryn?"

She found she didn't have a ready answer to that and fumbled again with thoughts 
and words. "I want . . . I miss John Crichton."

"I haven't gone anywhere," he told her in a carefully measured tone.

"You used to talk to me," she said as she was suddenly hit with some unexpected 
clarity. "You used to talk to me and I could never get you to shut up. Now 
you're silent." She stared at his rigid form waiting, with no little 
trepidation, for his response. 

"Aeryn, whatever this is, I can't deal with it. It's too hard, it hurts too much 
and I just can't do it right now. It's been a frelling long day and all I want 
to do is sleep." And just like that she was dismissed. 

She could feel his attention turn from her, though he didn't move, and the 
silence she was coming to hate, rang in her ears. The temptation to give into 
that hurt, and that fear, and even that spark of anger, was great. To lash out 
might bring momentary satisfaction but the damageä she shifted slightly on the 
bed and tentatively reached out one hand, laying it flat and still on his 
stomach. 

"When I left Moya," she began slowly, her voice a barely audible murmur, "I 
needed to find who I was. In Peacekeepers I knew how I was meant to be, I knew 
how that all worked. Then here, everything was different and everybody thought I 
should be different things. Pushing me to feel and talk and be the opposite of 
what I spent a lifetime learning was the right way to be. There was always that 
part of me that was still the Peacekeeper, though. I could fall back on that and 
not think, just react. But that was getting harder and harder to do and then you 
died and I felt like I'd been hollowed out. A shell around this unimaginable 
pain. There wasn't anything else inside anymore and I didn't want there to be. I 
tried to be the Peacekeeper again but I couldn't do that even. The command 
carrier told me how far from that I was. I was so different from that world, but 
I didn't know what I'd become. I needed to leave for a while. I just needed to 
leave."

"Leave me," he said flatly, no accusation, but she still gritted her teeth 
slightly against the words.

"Yes. Partially," she confirmed. "I didn't know who I was without you. I didn't 
like being that vulnerable."

"That's part of the deal."

"I'm realizing that. I needed perspective. Can't you grant me that?"

"Grant you that," he said evenly. "Yeah Aeryn, I can grant you that. What I 
can't quite manage is getting over the fact that you blew me off to do it." His 
voice rose with every word and he took his arm down from his eyes and propped 
himself up on his elbows, staring at her fiercely. "Did you really expect me to 
be here waiting for you again? And now I'm supposed to do what? Just shake that 
off and accept the new and improved Aeryn Sun? Tell you what ‚ next time you 
need to find some perspective maybe you'll grant me the chance to cover up the 
boys before you kick me again," he finished the rant with a snide and angry 
twist to his lips.

"Frell you, Crichton," she said softly, no real heat in it.

His chest shook with a harsh laugh and he dropped back onto the bed, draping his 
arm over his face again. "Been a long time, baby."

He was trying to make her angry and it was working. Her hand curled into a fist, 
gathering the material of his shirt in her fingers. But she otherwise held 
herself steady and studied him in silence. His deep even breaths, the warmth of 
his body and the firmness of his torso all acted together to remind her why she 
was there. "I'm not leaving again, John."

He made a noise low in his throat, a strange, soft growl, and turned onto his 
side again, back towards her. She released her grip on his shirt as he moved but 
she didn't take her hand off of him. She needed to feel him, needed a physical 
connection with him. "I'm not leaving," she repeated more firmly. 

"That's great Aeryn. We'll have a party. Invite a band. Get some cheetos. Spike 
the punch. Hire a stripper." He paused for a moment. "Maybe two strippers. 
Dunno. Anything you want babe."

Aeryn shook her head at his weary ramble. "What do you want John?"

"I want to sleep."

"You won't sleep," she pointed out reasonably. 

"I might."

"I doubt it." She was sure he was absolutely exhausted but he seldom slept 
anymore. An arn or two here or there if he was lucky. She knew. She always knew; 
there was no doubt in her mind that she knew more about him than he would ever 
be aware. 

"It could happen," he argued petulantly.

She grunted softly and refused to yield. "Unlikely."

"Where did you go?"

Aeryn didn't even blink at the sudden change in subject, but rather she welcomed 
it. It was a conversation she'd been waiting for. One she had never figured out 
how to start, but, with a mixture of hope and dread, she'd been anticipating it 
for monens. "I found ex-Peacekeepers."

"Assassins. Mercenaries."

She nodded and replied readily. "Yes."

"How I spent my summer vacation, by Aeryn Sun. Slaughter any good hordes?" 

Aeryn took a deep breath and tried to repress the impulse to be both irritated 
and defensive. "It's not like that. They fight for causes they believe in. They 
try to hold to the original ideals of the Peacekeepers. Not to conquer but ‚"

"Spare me the after school special," he muttered with a snarl. John sat up then, 
moving away from her, sitting back up against the wall. Her fingers slipped off 
of his torso and she curled her hand into a fist, bracing it on her thigh 
instead. "It'll just come back to the same thing. What stops them from being 
like the Peacekeepers?"

"Choice. I did what I believed was right."

"Including becoming an assassin."

The blatant accusation in his voice was more than she could take. "Is that 
really what you want to know?" She snapped.

"Yes."

"Then yes."

He grimaced and looked away from her. "Great Aeryn. Just great."

"It is what it is," she told him hotly. "What gives you the--"

John turned back and pinned her with an almost feverish look, interrupting her 
righteous anger. "Were you pregnant?"

Aeryn felt an icy chill ripple down her spine. She had most certainly not been 
prepared for this part of the conversation. "What?"

John scrambled out of the bed quickly and walked to the other side of the room. 
"Where you pregnant?" He asked loudly, impatiently. He spun around and fixed a 
cool, unflinching eye on her.

Aeryn raised her chin determinedly and met his gaze, fire for ice. "Yes."

She watched as his body went completely still, but she could sense the dangerous 
tension coiling beneath his skin. "What happened to the baby?"

"It doesn't work like that."

He stared at her his face blank but his eyes sparked. "There're bad jokes about 
this on Earth, Aeryn. Never thought I'd actually live one." He let a heartbeat 
pass before demanding again, "WHAT doesn't work like that?"

"Pregnancy. Peacekeeper pregnancy."

His lips tightened into a thin line. "Tell me."

She opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out. Possible ways to say what 
was needed and a desperate search for where to start, tumbled through her head, 
and she momentarily cursed the emotional attachments that made situations 
involving John a hundred times more complicated than they ever would have been 
in Peacekeepers. 

Aeryn caught the sudden slump of his shoulders at the corner of her vision while 
she contemplated what to say and she could feel him pulling away. She would lose 
the moment if she didn't speak up soon and she wasn't sure if they'd ever be 
here again ‚ and then what would she lose?

"You know that Peacekeepers are subject to strict birth control." She paused, 
waiting for him to acknowledge her, but no response came. She straightened her 
shoulders and stood up, pacing to the doorway. "High Command can't take the 
chance of any of their soldiers coming down pregnant at an inconvenient time and 
yet they need to make sure we can still fill out the breeding requirements." She 
turned and glanced over at him, the innocent confusion on his face almost broke 
her and she found herself, quite against her will, approaching him. For all he'd 
seen and done, he was still struggling to understand so much of this world. 
"They found a way around it," Aeryn told him softly. "A fertilized egg is viable 
for up to seven cycles, it can be released from stasis at any time by a surgeon, 
or at the end of seven cycles it will go to term."

John stared at her dumbfounded and then he let out a weak laugh. "So you're 
sorta pregnant? Damn, Aeryn, there had to be a better story than that somewhere. 
Maybe some pirates, a lot of alcohol, some of those special Delvian 'shrooms, an 
ex-Peacekeeper dare involving a hose and a--"

"John," she interrupted testily. 

"Did you know before you left?"

She tried to meet his eyes but he turned his gaze past her towards the wall. 
"Yes." The breath seemed to go out of his body in a rush and his head dropped 
down. She took a step towards him but he backed away. Aeryn gave him the space 
he seemed to need and walked back over to sit heavily down on the edge of the 
bed. "I didn't know what to say. I found out on the command carrier and then I 
didn't know ä I didn't know what to say."

"You've been back for more than half a cycle, Aeryn."

She shrugged and rubbed a hand across her face. "It never seemed like there was 
a right time. I wanted to tell you," she said with absolute sincerity. 

Their eyes met again and they held the gaze for a long, intense moment. Aeryn 
blinked first, looking away when the deep pain of betrayal in his eyes became 
too much. 

"Seven cycles," he murmured. "So, who's the lucky dad?"

"John Crichton," she said simply. 

"Did you know that before you left?"

"No," she assured him quickly. "I found a surgeon while I was gone."

"So, what? Six cycles, five and half, before ä"

"Or about three."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "You don't know how long?"

"I didn't ask," she said.

For a long moment he was absolutely silent and absolutely still as he stared at 
her in naked incredulity. When she finally couldn't take it anymore she stood up 
again and walked back over to his table, inspecting his vanquished army one last 
time. She ran her finger across the broken edge of the shattered board and 
shared with him something she'd only recently allowed herself to realize, "We 
both lost a part of John Crichton when he died. But I know who you are. I know 
exactly who you are."

"I can't do this now, Aeryn. I don't have anything," he rumbled raggedly.

She looked over at him and then let her gaze fall back onto the table. "I just 
want you to talk to me, John. You don't have to do this alone."

"What if I do, Aeryn?"

"You don't." 

"Aeryn--"

"No," she said sharply, forestalling any argument, "if our positions were 
reversed you'd do the same for me. In fact, you have done the same. Don't be a 
stubborn bastard this time, Crichton," she growled fiercely. 

He watched her for a time, brushing his thumb across the small smile playing on 
his lips, before closing his eyes and letting his head drop down slightly. "No 
promises, Aeryn," he whispered and made his way back to his bed. 

Aeryn looked on as he climbed back onto the bed and curled himself up again. She 
sighed inwardly at the return of that withdrawn form. Had they made any progress 
tonight or had they slipped backwards? Goddess, she had no clue. She was no good 
at this, no good at sorting through what she was feeling, sorting through what 
he was feeling, sorting through the landmines history had laid between the pair 
of them. Sometimes she figured it would be easier just to toss it all, to curl 
up as he'd just done, and shut out all that confusion of thoughts and feelings. 
But it seemed that once tapped they weren't so easily controlled. It was all 
beyond frustrating. 

She let her eyes linger on him for a moment longer, before she finally acceded 
to his silent wish and slipped out the door and down the hallway towards her own 
room. With luck she'd manage an arn or two of sleep before one long day gave way 
to another. 

>>>><<<<

16

"Their pass defense means little if they cannot stop the run."

"I didn't say it made up for their lack of 'D' there, I'm just saying they've 
got some frelling good guys downfield. That's a kick ass secondary and you can't 
say it isn't." 

"I simply cannot force myself to be impressed by any aspect of a team that can 
allow 237 yards on the ground to a team ranked twenty-fourth in running." Harvey 
slapped his hand down on his thigh indignantly. "It's appalling."

John smirked and glanced over at the peeved neural clone. Sitting in Moya's 
hallway, talking football with Harvey, while orbiting Earth. Life was good. 
Well, except for the talking to Harvey part. He was used to him, even kind of 
fond of him, but John wouldn't mind having Harvey gone and his brain all to 
himself again. 

The impatient tapping of immaterial leather clad fingers on an immaterial 
leather clad thigh brought John back to the conversation. "Well, yeah, they 
suck," he agreed reasonably. "But nobody ever said you had to be a Panthers 
fan."

The wraith regarded John with a comically shocked expression. "They're your home 
team. Have you no loyalty to your roots?"

John snorted softly. "They're not my team, man. Mom was a Steelers fan, Dad's a 
Dolphins fan. I liked the Pack. It was ugly growing up," he laughed while Harvey 
continued to regard him with something close to disgust. "What?"

Harvey turned up the force of his glare and with a snort turned back to his 
contemplation of the hall. "They need to try a corner blitz more often. Pressure 
needs to be applied up front more consistently." 

John eyed the clone suspiciously, but after a swift internal check, he decided 
he didn't actually care what Harvey's problem was, so he settled for nodding 
companionably. "What they really need is a defensive line that moves faster than 
a bloated Sheyang."

"That too," Harvey agreed morosely. "With the reasonable application of 
selective reinforcing punishments ‚"

"Harvey," John cut him off quickly. "You can't shoot your players. It looks 
bad."

"They will continue to play appallingly bad football than, I suppose."

"Guess so." John relaxed back against Moya's warm walls, feeling her soothing 
hum deep in his bones. He let his eyes slip closed and held himself still for a 
moment. Yesterday he'd been so tense he was sure he'd shatter into more pieces 
than a bottle of super glue could save, today he felt ä tense, okay, he felt 
tense, but not nearly as tense. The early morning talk with Aeryn must have ä 
the knots in his shoulders tightened in warning. Nope, not going to go to the 
talk with Aeryn. 

Harvey shifted next to John and sighed heavily. "When are we going down to 
Earth?"

John kept his eyes closed, trying to hold on to the moment of relaxation he'd 
almost had. "We've been down to Earth. We had pizza and beer. Remember?"

"Bah. I want to go to see your monuments, your museums, a ä a Bruce Springsteen 
concert."

"Harv, sometimes," John held up his hand and then curled his fingers into a 
fist. "I swear to god it's like having a two year old in my head."

"I need variety, I crave it, I hunger for it, all I have in your head," Harvey 
jabbed a finger at John's temple, "are a few spotty memories and some quantum 
physics."

John jerked his head away from Harvey. "Knock it off."

"Fine," Harvey huffed petulantly. 

The semi-pair sat silently in the hallway, the light mood had been pretty 
effectively killed, and tension bristled around them. John could hear the sounds 
of the search for the rogue Peacekeeper echo towards them, but he paid them 
little attention. "Why would Scorpius come to Earth?" 

Harvey snarled, impatient and disgusted. "Safety. And familiarity. He knows 
Earth as you know Earth."

"So he didn't come for some sort of revenge," John murmured.

"Of course not," the clone replied sharply, clearly vexed. "That's not to say he 
wouldn't take advantage of you or your connections on Earth. In fact I'm certain 
he already has. I would."

"Great," John bit out harshly.

"You would, too."

John didn't argue, instead he glared down the hall and sat in stubborn silence. 
He didn't like how easily he'd agreed with Harvey's assessment. He didn't 
particularly like what a cold, callous bastard that made him. Sometimes the 
universe just sucked.

Harvey clasped John's shoulder companionably. "If you were in Scorpius' placeä"

"Shut up, Harvey," he growled.

"It does not reflect badly on you that you would make the best use of advantages 
placed before you," the wraith persisted. "How else could you have survived for 
so long?"

"Shut up," John barked fiercely. What he really didn't need right now was a 
goddamned guidance counselor in his head.

"John?"

John clinched his teeth and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. Great, 
he thought, caught talking to myself; that always looks good. "Hey Alex," he 
gritted out.

The blond woman approached him slowly, cautiously. "Are you alright?"

John glanced up and choked on a bitter laugh, she looked like she was trying to 
sneak past a rabid dog. "Yep, never been better."

She nodded slowly, then looked down the hallway. "I, uh, I thought I heard you 
talking to somebody."

"Got a clone of Nosferatu in my head, we were just talking football." Why lie 
when the truth was so much better? He sneered at himself then immediately tried 
to shake off the self-loathing. 

Alex stared at him uncertainly. "Oh."

"Pull up a piece of deck," he invited with slightly more cheer, slapping his 
hand down on the floor.

Alex lowered herself down next to him warily, her eyes never leaving his face. 
"We haven't talked really, since you've been back."

"Nope. Not really," he agreed flatly, not quite sure he was up to another 
personal interrogation. 

She watched him closely, and he fought the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. 
"How are you?"

"Right now or in general?" He queried evasively. 

He saw the raised eyebrow out of the corner of his eye and his lips twitched 
with humor. "In general," she told him coolly. 

"I ä hm, not bad I guess," he told her with a vague shrug of his shoulders. 
"Could be worse."

When she replied, her tone was dry, as if she didn't quite believe him. "Glad to 
hear it. I suppose." 

John could feel the force of her intense study and he was finally force to turn 
and meet her gaze fully. "I'm not what you expected am I?"

Narrowing her eyes, her regard didn't let up, instead she seemed to be trying to 
dig deeper, searching for something. "John, you were dead. I didn't expect any 
of this."

"Good point," he noted with a small frown.

"I'm glad you're not dead," she told him gently with a tiny smile. "I'm glad 
you're here and that you're not bad."

"Not dead, not bad and not lost." John gave her a slow grin. "That about covers 
me. So, how are you?"

"Not bad," she replied smoothly.

John laughed and shook his head. "I guess I deserved that."

A sudden soft voice broke into their conversation. "Hey old man?" 

John looked up and watched the young Nebari approach. "Yeah Pip?"

Chiana stepped up next to him, and stared down, her head cocked to one side. 
"You haven't seen Preston, have you?"

John gave her a simple head shake. "Not in the last arn."

"Oh. Okay," she nodded thoughtfully and started to walk away only to stop after 
a couple of steps. She turned back to John and crouched down. "Anything, uh, 
weird?"

"Harvey thinks the 'Cains are gonna win the Stanley cup this year," he told her 
helpfully.

Chiana frowned in confusion and then rolled her eyes when she caught the 
mischievous twist to his lips. She thumped him lightly on the arm with her fist. 
"Trak. So ä are you good?"

John grinned and grabbed her hand, giving it a small squeeze. "Yep. Just hanging 
out."

Chiana grinned back at him and then looked up, and greeted the other woman with 
a nod of her head. "Hi Alex."

A simple soft, slightly dazed, "Hi," was about the best Alex could manage and 
John's grin grew broader. Aliens, they take some getting used to.

Chiana reclaimed her hand from John and stood up. "Okay, I'm just gonna go look 
for Preston some more."

John called after her, "Hey Pip." She turned around and looked at him 
expectantly. "Good luck," he smirked. She regarded him curiously for a moment 
before shaking her head and turning to slip out of sight down the hall.

John pressed a thumb to his lips and watched her go, smiling at her retreating 
form.

"Your friends are worried about you," Alex observed quietly, braking him out of 
his reverie.

"They do that a lot," he told her. "I've been worse, Alex. I've been a lot 
worse." He stopped and brushed a hand across his eyes, catching Alex's troubled 
frown when he opened his eyes again. "I'll be alright. I just ä I just have some 
things I need to work out."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked, a hopeful lilt to her voice. 

John heard the tone and almost immediately began to shut himself off. It was 
great that people wanted to help him out, really it was, but he needed to figure 
himself out before he was going to let everybody who thought they knew him give 
him their own dose of pop-psychology. "Not really."

Alex stiffened next to him and raised her chin slightly. "I think we're going to 
talk about it."

John's voice was dangerously flat, "We are, are we?"

"Yeah, we are," she countered firmly, but some of the resolve had gone out of 
her posture.

He watched her for a long minute, relenting with a weary sigh when he saw just 
how uncomfortable she'd become with his suddenly cold presence. "Look, I messed 
up," he explained tiredly. "Something I tried to keep from happening for almost 
four cycles happened anyway."

"The Peacekeepers on Earth?" John glanced up at her in surprise and she returned 
his earlier cold glare full force. "When did I ever give you the impression I 
was stupid, John?"

He acknowledged her point with a slight nod and absently played with a fastener 
on his vest. "Right, PKs on Earth. That's not good," he muttered. "Worse it's 
Scorpius." 

"Scorpius?"

"Nosferatu."

"Clone of Nosferatu inä," Alex repeated softly, her eyes growing wide with 
alarm.

"That's the one," he admitted with a good bit of reluctance. He hated when the 
conversation went round to Harvey. How do you convince people you're sane when 
you hear voices? It wasn't something most people had a whole lot of experience 
with. 

"How‚"

John cut her off quickly, chopping a hand through the air. He'd put up with some 
interrogation but reliving the chair wasn't on his list of things to do today. 
"That, I really don't want to talk about."

She evidently got the hint that she'd be pushing her luck if she pressed him on 
that so she let it go. "Fair enough."

"Thank you."

They lapsed into a long silence. John tapped his fingers idly on his knee and 
pretended that he didn't notice Alex glancing over at him every couple of 
seconds nervously licking her lips, obviously trying to find a way to restart 
the conversation. 

Curiosity inevitably overwhelmed her caution. "Is Preston really a Peacekeeper?" 
She blurted. "I mean maybe you misheard him or‚"

"He's really a Peacekeeper," John snapped a little more defensively than he'd 
meant to, but Jesus, why would he make that up? "I might not have caught what he 
said, but Harvey didn't miss it."

"Okay, you keep mentioning Harvey. Who is that?" There was a healthy dose of 
frustration mixed with her curiosity now.

John didn't answer verbally, settling instead for tapping his temple lightly. 

"His name is Harvey?" Alex asked incredulously. 

"Babe, I'd give anything if he was a giant rabbit."

She seemed to be struggling with the concept of a whole other entity in John's 
head. Her forehead was creased in confusion and, maybe just a little bit of 
revulsion. John felt his defenses go up at that and he struggled to hold himself 
still and not lash out. She didn't get it, he reminded himself, and it's not 
frelling judgement day, besides, it wasn't like he was a whole lot happier with 
the idea himself. "And you trust ä it-him?" She asked finally.

"No reason not to," he bit out coldly.

Pressing together her lips she pulled back from the wall and shot him a vicious 
glare. "You could really be a moody, difficult bastard to talk to when we were 
together," she spat, "it's nice to see some things have stayed the same."

"Ouch," he replied blandly and tried to insulate himself from her aggravation 
with indifference. It wasn't working very well. It never seemed to, damn it.

"I'm just trying to talk to you, John, do you have to be this difficult? I mean, 
really." her voice climbed steadily in both volume and irritation. "I haven't 
seen you in five years, I thought you were dead, and everything else aside, you 
were a part of my life for a long time." Now she was really getting worked up, 
he noticed with a little bit of amusement. And when she started to punctuate her 
words with a pointed jab of a finger, his anger gave way completely to humor. 
"When you came back ä when I called your father and he asked if I'd go into the 
program, I couldn't get to Florida fast enough. No, John, you're not what I 
expected but things change. I won't hold it against you. I came here to see you, 
to make sure you were okay. I obviously didn't need to go to the trouble since 
you went down to the planet anyway, but since I did go to the trouble, I want to 
know and I don't want to have to pry it all out of you or wade through a ton of 
your bull-- "

"Okay, okay." He caught her hand before she could poke him again. Her fingers 
were damn sharp, he was going to have a frelling bruise. 

Alex took a deep breath and stared at him expectantly. "So?"

"So? So, it's been a long time." Even after her rant, he couldn't quite bring 
himself to launch into his own tale of woe. Answering questions, or rather, 
evading questions, was a damn sight easier than trying to figure out where to 
start and where to go.

Alex looked like she was about to put her rage on again when they were 
interrupted one more time. "Crichton!" D'Argo roared down the hall. 

"A really long time," John repeated and sent up a silent 'thank you' for the 
reprieve. "'Sup, big D?"

D'Argo clomped heavily up to them and he frowned at John, obviously curious as 
to what he was doing sitting in the middle of the hallway. John waited for the 
inevitable question but apparently D'Argo decided to leave his curiosity 
unsatisfied, instead getting to the immediate problem. "DRDs found a small 
transmitter on this tier." 

"Cool," John said neutrally. 

D'Argo glowered slightly. "Have you seen anything?"

"Not since Chiana asked me about a quarter arn ago," John told him with 
exaggerated patience and an ingratiating smile.

D'Argo rumbled in frustration and stalked off without another word or even a 
glance down at Alex.

"He's charming isn't he? Gotta love that Luxan savoir faire."

She rolled her eyes and poked at him again. "You're a jerk." He swatted her hand 
away and gave her a frosty scowl. "So, saved by the alien," she started again, 
conversationally. "Until the alien walked away. A long time, huh?"

John sighed wearily and cast a hopeful glance down the hall. They'd been 
interrupted twice, odds were good somebody else would come along. The sooner the 
better. Anytime guys. Guys? Damn it. "Not gonna let it go."

"No."

"You're as bad as Aeryn. Only you don't have any weapons to back you up here, 
you know," he told her lightly, trying once more to derail any serious 
conversation. 

"I don't need weapons, John," she replied ominously.

John ground his teeth and glared down at his boots. "I should just write a book 
or make a recording or tell my life story to a DRD. I'm getting a little bored 
with the sound of my own voice."

"Humor me."

"Alex," John took a deep breath and glanced over at her. "I appreciate that you 
came all this way to check on me. It means a lot to me, really. I'm just not 
real sure what you want me to tell you."

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment and searched his face slowly. "You are 
okay, right?"

"Yeah," he confirmed softly.

She reached out and ran a finger down his cheek. "You look so different," she 
murmured. "Not older, really, just more mature I guess."

He looked away from her and commented flatly, "That seems to be the consensus."

"Hm. Hard travelling, huh?"

John smirked, still not looking at her. "Lot of miles."

"Why am I tempted to say 'only you'?" John laughed at that and shook his head. 
"Well, you got to go out into space. You got your interstellar travel. Was it 
worth it?"

"I can't change what's happened and I can't say I regret ending up where I did," 
he told her as sincerely as he could. "I wish ä I wish some things had been 
different. I wish, sometimes, it hadn't hurt so damn much."

"That's life."

"Ahh, platitudes. I missed those so much."

"It's what you always wanted. To be the spaceman. You got it."

John didn't miss the tinge of anger in her words, that little bit of bitter 
history rearing up between them. He'd done it, he'd chosen space over her and 
she hadn't quite forgotten that. Except that wasn't exactly fair, was it? She'd 
gone off to Stanford and he was supposed to give up his career for her. Nobody 
won that one, maybe nobody was supposed to, but even with that allowance, he 
couldn't keep his own irritation in check. "End of story, huh?" 

"No, not end of story," she snapped. "Clearly there's more to the story and 
clearly you're going to be a reticent bastard about it."

"Boy, twice in one conversation. You've got a few more to go before you'll catch 
up to Aeryn for the number of times I've been called a bastard in one sitting, 
though."

"She knows you pretty well, then," Alex spat angrily.

John replied bitterly, "Aeryn knows parts of me I don't even know."

"Do you love her?"

The question came at him suddenly and the words tumbled past his lips before he 
could stop them, "More than my next breath." It was instinct, it was truth and a 
cold shock tore through him. He squeezed his eyes shut at the intensity of his 
feelings. Christ Jesus that hurt. That was ripping the bandage off an open 
wound, kind of hurt. John gritted his teeth at the stinging and fought to clear 
his head.

"She doesn't seem your type," Alex's reply was just about an even mix of 
petulance and astonishment. 

John let out a weak laugh. "I became a firm believer in fate when I ended up out 
here. I think maybeä" he stopped and took a steadying breath and damned the 
truth. It was clarity and confusion all at once. "I don't know. It's so hard, 
Alex. But I give anything, do anything, for those moments when it works. It's 
the blood in my veins." He barely registered the surprise on her face at the 
vehemence of his declaration, or the soft "Oh", that was her only reply. "I wish 
it worked more often," he muttered tiredly.

"She's ä interesting," Alex offered equitably.

"You don't like her?" For some reason he didn't expect that and he couldn't 
quite figure out why. He'd noticed the tension between them yesterday, but he'd 
blown it off as just a crappy night for everybody. 

"I don't know." It was Alex's turn to shrug evasively. "She's just not what I 
picture for you. She's a little macho, isn't she?"

John leered at her. "I like it rough."

"You're a jackass," she snarled.

John leaned back against the wall and thought for a moment. Eventually he tossed 
up his hands in frustration, not sure where to start or how. "She's ä she's 
Aeryn. She was born into this military world; brought up to be a soldier and 
nothing else. She didn't play with Barbie or wear dresses or have tea parties or 
whatever it is little girls do. She's been trying to break out of that commando 
mindset for four cycles. Just watching her learn who she is, who she really is, 
it's amazing."

Alex managed a tiny smile. "Sounds like you're far gone."

"I guess I am," he said. And he was. He knew he loved her, that wasn't the 
surprise, the surprise had been that it truly was as automatic as breathing. 
Frell, he'd told her he couldn't do it, but it looked like he didn't get a say 
in the matter. Nothing was ever easy, and it didn't look to be getting any 
easier any time soon. Their last conversation that morning, before he fell into 
a few arns of fitful sleep, had not been the warmest, fuzziest talk they'd ever 
had. She'd been trying to fix things, but he hadn't been in the mood to listen. 
He'd been too wrapped up in his own hurt and too busy freaking out at the idea 
of Scorpius on Earth and then there she went bringing up a cycle of heartbreak 
and, well, it just turned damn ugly.

"Well, I'm happy for you." The words were sincere, and John was pretty sure that 
for the most part she was happy for him, but there was that history and that 
uncertainty there, too.

"I didn't expect it either, Alex. I sure as hell didn't go up on that mission to 
find it, but ä fate."

"Fate," she echoed faintly. 

They sat together quietly again, but this time the anger was spent and they were 
able to share a companionable silence. 

Alex was once again the one to break the moment. "What are your plans, John?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "That's one of the things I've got to work on."

"You should be safe enough on Earth now," she pointed out. "When they lift the 
quarantine, I mean."

"I'm not staying."

"You're not‚" she stopped herself. "I guess, I just thought that you were home. 
For good."

"God, I wish that ä I wish that I could. There were times out here where I 
missed home so much I didn't think I could make it through another day. But that 
hope, that hope that the way home would be just past the next star kept me 
breathing. I don't know when that changed. I've been trying to figure it out."

"Is it her?"

"Part of it. I can't let her go even when I try," his lips crooked into a wry 
smile. "She doesn't belong on Earth. None of them do. It's a bad fit. And I'm 
starting to think I don't belong there either. But damn it feels good to watch a 
football game, to see other humans who know what the frell I'm talking about."

"Sometimes," Alex nudged him in the ribs gently.

He acknowledged her attempt to lift his mood with a weak chuckle, but he wasn't 
done making his point yet. "This is my world now too, though. I can't shake it."

"I can see that. You're not the same John Crichton I knew." 

John blinked back the sting of those words. "Good or bad?"

"Neither, I guess. I ä you've just changed. Really, I don't mean it as a 
criticism or anything, I'm sure I've changed too. I'm just trying to fit the two 
John Crichtons together." John flinched at her choice of words and she frowned 
at his reaction. "What?"

"Nothing. Just ä my life is a little schizophrenic. Just a little." He held up 
his thumb and index finger close together. 

"You know, I don't think I know much about your life out here. I've been too 
busy getting over the surreal reality of seeing you alive again and, I've just 
got to say, the aliens are a little distracting." She gave him a wry, teasing 
smile and he laughed at that, a little laugh but a real laugh nonetheless. "What 
do you do out here?"

"Run. Hide. Run some more. Duck occasionally. Sporadic ass kickings -- sometimes 
mine, sometimes the other guys'. Run. Get regularly mind-frelled by a wide 
variety of aliens. And recently we've been smuggling weapons and supplies to the 
good guys of the moment in an ugly little war going on out there. The fun never 
stops."

"Very Han Solo," she observed dryly.

John couldn't stop the loud guffaw that burst from his chest. God, somebody made 
an Earth pop culture reference and it wasn't him. Hallelujah! "I even got me a 
vest. You like?"

She made a show of scrutinizing his attire before nodding her head in approval. 
"Nice."

"John!" 

John's head snapped up and he glowered at the approaching Luxan. Was it entirely 
too much to ask to have a half-a-second of a good mood? Where the frell had 
D'Argo been when he needed rescuing from the inquisition? Now things and going 
pretty well and, bam, he shows up. Great frelling timing. "What do you want, 
D'Argo?"

D'Argo seemed oblivious to John's darkening mood. "We have searched every tier. 
Preston is nowhere to be found. Are you sure you haven't seen anything?"

"Dunno," John shrugged with massive indifference. "Have you checked that cell 
over there?"

"The cell?" D'Argo asked puzzled.

"Yep. That one right over there," John nodded across the hallway, then looked 
back up at D'Argo expectantly.

D'Argo frowned and watched John with a suspicious eye. "Why?"

"Why not?" John countered.

D'Argo narrowed his eyes and gave the human a hard glance before finally walking 
over to the cell and peering in. "How frelling long has he been in there?"

"Couple arns, I'd guess."

Alex got up and walked over to the cell, peeking around D'Argo curiously. The 
Luxan put a hand on her shoulder and hissed angrily. "I am tempted to kill you, 
Crichton."

John gave him a cocky grin and slumped back against the wall. "Nah, it'd feel 
good now, but you'd regret it later."

"I doubt it." D'Argo growled and Alex seemed to silently echo the sentiment, she 
stood next to the Luxan with her arms crossed, glaring down at John.

He started to open the cell, but John stopped him. "You may as well just leave 
him there. He's not going anywhere."

D'Argo gave an exasperated head shake. "Why didn't you tell us you'd found him? 
We've been searching all day."

"Nobody said the magic word."

"Frell you, Crichton."

"D'Argo, I've told you before, you're not my type."

D'Argo glared murderously at John. "You're lucky I promised Chiana I wouldn't 
hurt you."

John gave in, holding up his hands up and trying for contrite. "Sorry, D'Argo. 
I'm sorry. I ran into him, we had a little scuffle and, well, damn, they don't 
make PK commandos like they used to. Then I got a little side-tracked."

D'Argo frowned down at him. "Are you injured?"

"No. He went down pretty easy. I wasn't all that impressed. He's lucky it wasn't 
Aeryn that ran into him."

D'Argo growled again and activated his comm. "We've found Preston. He's on tier 
nine."

Alex walked over to Crichton and kicked his boot. "You are unbelievable," she 
said, clearly disgusted.

He shrugged unrepentantly and climbed to his feet. "Guess my work here is done," 
he said grandly. "Play nice with the little commando, I'll be ä someplace else 
if anybody needs me." He slipped quickly down the hall before they could stop 
him. 

Not really having anyplace he needed to be or anywhere he needed to go, he 
wandered aimlessly for a while before finding himself outside the work room. He 
sat down at his bench and fingered one of his half finished projects. Reaching 
out blindly he grabbed a tool and started tinkering.

"You're embarrassed by me, that's it isn't it?"

John gritted his teeth and focused on the object in his hands. "Harvey, go haunt 
somebody who cares."

Mercifully the clone didn't respond and John rolled his shoulders, trying let 
the tension there bleed away. He turned back to his project and lost himself in 
circuits and wires for a time.

17

"Dishavoo." Aeryn walked dully down Moya's golden hued corridors with D'Argo. 
Again. She seemed to be walking down Moya's golden hued corridors endlessly. As 
much as Aeryn loved the leviathan, she was feeling unusually claustrophobic and 
was longing for a little variety. Something less golden maybe.

"Aeryn, are you paying attention to me?"

Aeryn nodded her head absently at D'Argo's sullen complaint and brushed her hand 
through her hair. "Preston is a peacekeeper. I'm sure of it," she told him.

"Frell," D'Argo sighed heavily. "No chance he's a colonist who used to be a 
Peacekeeper?"

Aeryn gave him a steady look. "I wouldn't know that, would I? And he's not 
talking."

"Well, somebody had some rotten food cubes for breakfast this morning, didn't 
they?" The Luxan commented with what was certainly an unacceptable amount of 
cheerfulness. Aeryn gave him a sour look for it but refrained from comment. "I'm 
just saying," D'Argo spoke slowly, punctuating each word with a small, placating 
gesture, "this may not be as bad as we're thinking."

"Oh for the love ä," Aeryn snorted, exasperated by both the situation and the 
Luxan. "Things are never as bad as we think. They're almost always worse."

D'Argo froze in mid-gesture and, after a brief moment, gave a small nod. "You're 
probably right."

They continued silently down yet another of Moya's corridors, and Aeryn resigned 
herself to her currently jaded response to the nature of her environment. 
Goddess this ship was huge. And so very golden today. How could she never have 
noticed how gold it truly was before? Usually she thought of it as more of a 
nice warm brown, not quite so yellow, but it was just shrieking gold today. 
Maybe the DRDs cleaned.

"So then," D'Argo interrupted her apathetic observations of their surroundings, 
"am I right in thinking things are as bad as they seem between you and Crichton 
then?" He frowned thoughtfully and added, "Or would that be worse than as bad as 
I think?"

Aeryn couldn't help but admire the complete lack of subtly with which D'Argo 
introduced the subject of Crichton. With a small, soft laugh of bitter 
amusement, she stopped and leaned against the extraordinarily golden wall. "He 
hasn't spoken to me in three days," she informed him with more than just a hint 
of exhaustion. "I can't tell if he's angry or upset or scared or just being more 
Crichton than usual. He seems to be avoiding me just a little bit."

"He has been spending a lot of time with the other humans," D'Argo observed. 
"He's been away from his own kind for quite a while, Aeryn." 

"I know. Which is why I haven't said anything."

"Oh. Right." D'Argo turned to continue on his way down the hall when he stopped 
and his face became clouded with worry. He took a step closer to Aeryn and 
lowered his voice. "Did he ever talk to you about what happened to him after we 
all left Moya?" Aeryn shook her head and looked away, any conversations she and 
John had about that time tended to end quickly and without much detail. 

D'Argo took a deep breath and rubbed his hand absently on his thigh. "I was the 
first to find him. Well actually, we found each other and Moya at the same time. 
Aeryn," he stopped and stared down at her intensely. "Oh Aeryn, he was so ä I 
thought we were going to lose him." Aeryn met D'Argo's eyes briefly and only 
just managed to not flinch away from him. "Did you know he'd been taken by the 
Peacekeepers?" Cold shock numbed her mind quickly and she shook her head dumbly. 
"They had him for weekens. He told me a lot about what happened to him in those 
first few days back. I'm sure he doesn't remember telling me, he wasn't very 
coherent most of the time, and I'm not going to bring it up with him, but when 
he's ready, when he has the opportunity, I will see to it that he gets his 
vengeance." D'Argo's voice took on a cold menace he rarely allowed. Aeryn found 
herself suitably alarmed.

"What happened to him?" she demanded.

"I can't tell you that, I'm sorry." Aeryn's expression darkened dramatically and 
D'Argo hurried on, "But I'm telling you what I can because he's starting to look 
a lot like he did when I first saw him again." 

Aeryn rubbed roughly at her temple and squeezed her eyes shut. "What do you 
expect me to do about it?"

D'Argo cleared his throat and spoke with some guilty hesitance. "At one point 
while you were gone, I told him he had to let you go. I thought that part of it 
was him torturing himself over you." Aeryn bit her lip and crossed her arms 
defensively. With an apologetic look, D'Argo continued, "I was wrong. Well, not 
really wrong, he was torturing himself over it, but I didn't understand when he 
said he couldn't just let you go. I understand now. You saw how he was when you 
came back Aeryn. And comparing then to now? Well, he's better with you than 
without you." D'Argo sighed and cast an embarrassed glance up and down the hall. 
"I'm hardly the best to give relationship advice, I'm not John's Dr. Root."

Aeryn managed a tiny chuckle. "The only way Crichton's getting rid of me is if 
he throws me out the air lock."

D'Argo smiled in relief. "Good. Good. Excellent."

The pair started down the exceedingly golden hall again. Aeryn was lost in 
thought, now only vaguely aware of her gold tinged surroundings and unwisely 
trying to imagine just what the Peacekeepers could have done to John for however 
many weekens it was they had him. Her mind was going places it shouldn't. He 
wasn't physically damaged, at least not anyplace visible, but that didn't mean 
anything. Peacekeepers were adept at all manner of torture. Well whatever it was 
it had been bad enough for D'Argo to want to make sure John got revenge. 

She'd just started in on the Aurora chair when she caught D'Argo repeatedly 
glancing at her. "What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, looking away.

"No. Tell me."

"It's nothing, really," he told her again with an airy wave of his hand. "It's 
just ä your hair looks very nice. Shiny and ä and ä shiny." 

Aeryn gaped at the Luxan. "I ä um, thank you?"

"And bouncy."

"Err ä"

The endlessly golden hallways mercifully came to an end and the pair crossed 
onto Moya's command deck. Aeryn watched D'Argo suspiciously as he hurried away 
from her and over to Crichton and Colonel Kaminsky. The two humans were laughing 
loudly. 

"Upside down? And backwards?"

"Yes. He never touched my boots again," Kaminsky croaked between guffaws, 
sending Crichton into his own spasm of laughter.

Aeryn stopped next to a console and made a show of checking the systems while 
covertly watching John. A small smile appeared on her lips in response to his 
lightened mood. The smile faded some and she looked blindly down at her hands. 
D'Argo was right; despite his laughter, John seemed to be looking more than a 
little worn. He'd clearly decided personal grooming wasn't as important as it 
usually was ‚ his hair was getting longer and once again he was growing a beard. 
What was it with that man and his facial hair? The moodier he was, the furrier 
he got. 

She ran her fingernail absently along the edge of one panel, picking at it 
slightly, while she tried to come up with a course of action. Truthfully, while 
she longed for a change in their routine of the past few weekens, she was also 
feeling a rather odd sense of lethargy. This was the longest they'd spent in any 
one place for ä well she couldn't really remember a time they'd simply sat in 
orbit around a planet for so long. Staying in one place tended to be dangerous, 
and wasn't any less so now. Idleness and boredom were dangerous enemies battled 
fiercely in Peacekeepers, but now, so long out of that regime, Aeryn found 
herself drifting listlessly from one task to another. She shook her head 
sharply, sought to find some focus.

She was so intent on her struggle to clear her mind she didn't immediately 
notice John's appearance at her side. Mercifully her pride was spared when she 
neither jumped nor struck out, and though she silently chastised herself, she 
was able to take some small satisfaction in the fact that it served to 
illustrate the point that her senses were dulled by inaction.

"Hey."

"Hey," she replied, still trying to get her heart rate back to normal.

"Buy you a drink?"

Raising one quizzical eyebrow, she waited for him to make some clarification of 
that statement. Why would he need to buy her a drink on Moya? No, wait, it never 
helped trying to puzzle out anything he said and he clearly wanted to talk so 
she'd go along with whatever bizarre human ritual he felt he needed to perform. 

He jerked his head towards the door and smiled at her. Taking that rather vague 
hint, she nodded and pushed away from the panel. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever."

"Well, where will I find this drink you're promising?"

He leaned closer to her, his breath hot against her ear. "Wait and see, baby."

John led her back through the unyieldingly golden corridors to the workroom, his 
current sanctuary, and, after moving some of his projects and motioning her to 
sit, he produced a bottle. 

"Water?" Aeryn gave him an amused look and settled herself comfortably at the 
work bench. 

John shrugged and placed a cup in front of her before seating himself. "Yeah, 
well, Kaminsky drank all the raslak."

Aeryn snorted. "I doubt Kaminsky's ever tasted raslak."

"You noticed that, too?"

"He plays a good drunk," she observed, "but he watches more than he drinks."

John nodded his agreement and studied his own cup. "He's sharp. Gotta admire a 
guy who lets himself get knocked unconscious by a Luxan several times a day just 
to get a lay of the land."

Aeryn fiddled with her own cup and studied John carefully. She felt tired when 
she looked at him. Tired and sad and there was this odd sort of deflated feeling 
in the middle of her chest. It was remarkably uncomfortable. She shifted 
slightly, not that it really helped that feeling, but sitting still always made 
it more pronounced. Her movements attracted John's attention though and he 
glanced up, meeting her eyes. She stilled and cast about for some conversation. 
"Do you trust him?"

John chewed on his lip, took a long drink from his cup, idly traced his index 
finger through a small puddle on the table top and when he got bored with that, 
went back to chewing on his lip. Aeryn found herself unaccountably drawn to that 
action. All things considered it was a nice lip and really, he could be doing 
better things with it than chewing on it. She pulled her eyes away from him, 
wishing he'd stop before she did something completely out of character, and 
found something less intriguing to look at. Water. Water was good. Life 
sustaining. Wet. Wonderful water.

"Yeah, actually I do," John interrupted her contemplation of the water after a 
few, too long moments.

"So do I," she pronounced, glad to be back on safe ground. "He's the only one."

John nodded and pushed his cup back and forth between his hands. "Tsang's too 
by-the-book. He'll do what Earth tells him to do."

"Harrington may be a fine biologist, but she and Chiana have too many of the 
wrong things in common," Aeryn offered.

"Everybody on the shuttle has an agenda."

"Including Alex."

John smirked at that but didn't look up. "Including Alex," he agreed. "We need 
to get them off Moya."

"Will we take the Russians' offer?"

John laughed and shook his head. "God, that would piss off the boys at IASA." He 
fell silent and started chewing on his damn lip again. If he didn't stop, she 
was going to either kiss him or hit him and neither was really acceptable just 
then. He let go of the lip just in time. "Can I ask you a question?"

Thank god. "Of course."

"The time's wrong, isn't it?"

"The time?"

"Yeah. Preston. There's no way in hell he made shuttle commander in just one 
cycle ‚ year. He's been here for a long time, hasn't he?"

"I don't know, John. I know he is, or was, a Peacekeeper."

"And, you know, we may look alike, but the IASA doctors wouldn't miss the 
differences. How long have they been here?" 

"I don't know," she repeated softly, knowing he wasn't really hearing her now.

"They were here before I left. They had to be. I don't remember Preston, but 
that doesn't mean anything. And ä Jesus ‚ Jesus how did Scorpius get that 
picture of Earth? God." John's knuckles were turning white as he gripped his 
cup. "God damn son of a bitch. He knew."

Noticing the cup starting to crumple under his fierce grip, Aeryn reached across 
the table and pried it from his hands. She clasped his hand firmly while he 
closed his eyes and tried to right himself. 

"Sorry," he murmured.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I wish I had these answers for you, John. 
They may have been here for decades or they may have infiltrated recently. I 
don't know. Either is possible. Or something else all together." She loosened 
her grip on his hand, intending for a brief moment to let him go completely, but 
she found herself reluctant to do so. Tightening her hand instead, she tugged 
slightly at him, trying to get his attention. "We've been in orbit around Earth 
for weekens. We're not going to get anymore answers just sitting here."

He shifted his hand around in hers, twisting their fingers together, but still 
he wouldn't look up at her. "I know."

"We should take the Russian offer. At least we can be on Earth for a while. Come 
and go more freely. We'll be closer to the answers you need."

"My dad will have a coronary."

"Your father will understand."

"Asylum. In Russia." He stopped and laughed again. "You don't get how weird this 
is Aeryn. You just don't get it."

"And I never will. You won't explain it to me. Who should I ask? Your sister? Do 
I ask Kaminsky? Is it a secret? Should I call your high command?"

"President," he mumbled half-heartedly. 

"I don't understand, John, that's true. But don't you dismiss me like that 
again. Explain it to me."

John threw her hand away from him and his nostrils flared in irritation. "You 
know what, Aeryn? Call my damn sister. Call Jimmy Carter. Call Rush Limbaugh, I 
don't care. Have a Cold War pow-wow," he shouted hoarsely. "Just stop expecting 
me to explain every god damn single thing. I am not a frelling encyclopedia. 
This is barely my world anymore. I don't fucking know anymore. Russia ä frell, 
they'll give us a warmer welcome than the States. That is ä god, Russia."

Aeryn sat back, her eyes wide in surprise at his outburst. "Are you done?"

John looked up and met her gaze with shocked eyes of his own. "Oh god, Aeryn, 
I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I ä I don't know where that came from." He buried his 
face in his hands. 

Aeryn got up from the bench and moved around to him. "We don't have to go to 
Russia." She put what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder and leaned 
down next to him. "It's just, it's time to do something, John."

He brushed at his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's not Russia, Aeryn. Russia 
is fine. Good, great even. Probably best bet right now. I can't wait to see 
D'Argo in a big, furry hat."

"What is it, then?"

"I can't go home, Aeryn," his voice cracked painfully. "They won't let me. And 
even if I could, I can't." He broke down again, resting his forehead on the 
table and grabbing the edge with pale, cold hands. 

Aeryn rubbed her hand across his shoulder, trying to give him what she could, 
though at the moment she wasn't sure it was much at all. She'd just placed her 
other hand on his arm, squeezing the tense and quivering muscles, when he let 
out a wordless howl and stood up suddenly, his grip on the table tightened and 
one end lifted. Aeryn threw an arm across his chest and tried to pull him back 
before he upended the table. The pair stumbled over the bench as it tangled in 
their feet and Aeryn kicked it aside viciously while she sought more stable 
footing. John fought her hold for a few long microts before the strength seemed 
to drain from his body and his muscles slackened. Aeryn fell to her knees under 
his weight and only just managed to catch him before he pitched forward.  

"Goddess, John," her voice broke in an agonized whisper.

"I'm tired," he mumbled.

She brushed his hair back from his forehead and traced her finger down the side 
of his face, across one rough cheek. "I know."

He let his head fall heavily against her chest and gasped for breath. "I'm so 
tired."

Aeryn held him as tightly to her as she was able. "Shhhh."

"I wish ä I wish I could go home," his voice was little more than an exhalation 
of breath and Aeryn had to strain to hear him.

She pressed her lips together and felt tears slip down her cheek, tickling the 
skin as they went. She couldn't free a hand to brush them away and the sensation 
was almost maddening. "I know, John, I know."

"ätired."

"I'll get you home, John. I will."

John fell quiet, his breathing seemed to ease, deepening and slowing, and his 
body became still in her arms. She rested her damp cheek on top of his head and 
thought of nothing at all until a voice broke into the silence.

"Aeryn?"

She closed her eyes against the voice. "What is it, Stark?"

"Earth wants to talk to Crichton."

"Not now," she gritted angrily.

"They're insistent."

"That's too bad."

"What shall we tell them?"

"Frell off."

"Okay."

"Wait," she sighed. "Have Harrington or Tsang or Alex or ä whoever, I don't 
care, tell Earth to take some frelling translator microbes. They'll talk to us 
directly from now on or not at all. Then tell D'Argo and Kaminsky to meet me in 
the tier three workroom."

"Alright. Do you want me to come, too? I could come down."

"No. I want you to keep the humans busy."

"Busy how?" Stark asked, sounding both excited and intrigued. 

John shifted in her arms and sat up. He pulled away from her and pressed the 
tips of his fingers to his eyes. Aeryn brushed her hand through his hair and 
down to massage his neck gently.

"However you want, Stark. However you want."

>>>>><<<<<

18

"Russia?"

Jenny tugged irritably at her collar and glared at DK. "Yes, DK, Russia. It's 
still Russia. It was Russia an hour ago. It'll be Russia an hour from now and 
repeating the name of the country every ten minutes isn't going to change a god 
damn thing."

DK glared back at Jenny and turned to the elder Crichton. "Jack, what do you 
think?"

"I think I need to talk to my son and I think you two need to keep it down. Is 
that clear?" Jack snapped, just and tense and irritable as the younger pair 

"Yes, sir," DK mumbled and slumped back in his seat. 

"Ten minutes," an annoying, bright, cheery and otherwise strangle-worthy voice 
chirped at them from the door. Jenny looked up and forced a smile on her face. 
The peppy PA frowned back at her. "Have you been in makeup yet? You should have 
been in makeup."

"I've been in makeup," Jenny replied defensively. 

"Well you don't look like it. Don't move," the PA ordered firmly, and turning 
briskly on her heel, disappeared back down the hallway. 

"That littleä" 

"Jennifer."

"What?"

"Don't say it," Jack warned. "Look, I know this is not the most comfortable 
thing in the world, but remember why we're doing this."

"For our lords and masters?" DK replied under his breath.

Jenny shot him another glacial glare. He'd been in a funk since they'd been 
asked onto Larry King Weekend, and the closer they got to going on the air, the 
bigger the pain in the ass he became. The briefing with the stiff government 
suits that morning hadn't helped anybody's mood but if he didn't zip it soon, 
Jenny was going to feed him one of the green room chairs.

Jack gave DK his own steady look; a look that was probably considerably more 
intimidating than any glare Jenny could have mustered. "Like I said, this isn't 
going to be easy, it's not going to be fun, but John is back, he's coming down 
to Earth and there are going to be a lot of people asking a lot of --"

"John got himself into this, he's a big boy, why do we have to try and do damage 
control for him?" DK snapped.

Jack's control gave a bit, then. "Because we're his family, damn it," he barked. 

DK's mouth shut with a click and he stared at Jack. "I'm sorry."

Rubbing his hands over his face and scrubbing them back through his hair, Jack 
let out a long sigh. "It's alright, son. I'm not a whole lot happier about this, 
but we're who the press has to talk to until John comes back down. And you know 
how these talking heads like to rattle. We need to take the opportunity to get 
our story out there, too, before the nuts have too much of a say."

"Well, we're a little late with that," Jenny groused. "Have you actually turned 
on a news channel since John came back? On the one side you've got the pundit 
think tank -- and I use the word 'think' extremely optimistically -- who think 
Moya's about as friendly as a ship full of Taliban strapped with C4 and serin. 
On another side you've got the pundits who think they can demand John and Co. 
negotiate all diplomat-like because they'll issue sanctions against them or sic 
the French on them or something equally terrifying, if they don't. Then you've 
got the pie-eyed pundits who are sure that this technology John's got will be 
'just the thing' for saving the whole damn world, and John will be happy as 
anything just to hand it all over in the name of humanity." Jenny stopped and 
took a deep breath. "God, I'd go to Russia, too. Or the moon. Yeah, the far 
freaking side of the moon," she ended longingly.

The perky PA swept back into the room and pointed a makeup woman at Jenny. "Her. 
Her nose, it's too shiny," she fairly shrieked at the horror of it then abruptly 
turned and left the room again.

DK snickered, Jack stood up and crossed to the other side of the room, out of 
harm's way most likely, and Jenny did everything in her power to keep her mouth 
shut, instead thinking happy cruel thoughts about things she could do to her 
brother. Sure it wasn't his fault her nose was extra shiny today, but that 
didn't mean she couldn't and wouldn't blame him.

"Hold still, hon," the makeup woman said, reaching out a long, claw like hand 
and gripping Jenny's chin in a no-nonsense grip. "And don't flare your nostrils 
like that." DK coughed, covering another laugh and quickly got up to join Jack. 
Jenny tried to turn her head to look at him, but the makeup woman's vice like 
grip wouldn't let her. "Almost done. You've got a pretty face, hon, I'm just 
going to touch it up so all those people out there in TV land, can see how 
pretty."

Jenny gritted her teeth against the condescending tone in the woman's voice. She 
wasn't five years old, for Christ's sake. She wouldn't even let her mother talk 
to her like that when she was five. 

"That's got it." A final flourish and the woman stood back. "Beautiful. You can 
take the tissue out of your collar now."

"Thank you," Jenny croaked. She narrowed her eyes and made sure the woman left 
the room before she let out a long breath and pulled a piece of tissue paper out 
of her collar and straightened her jacket. 

"Much better," the PA sighed, appearing once more, rather like a recurring 
nightmare. "Ready to meet Larry?"

"Oh am I ever," Jenny said brightly.

"Jennifer," Jack rumbled at his youngest child.

Jenny pursed her lips then gave the uncertain PA a toothy grin. "Let's get this 
show on the road."

***
 
"Welcome to a very special edition of Larry King Weekend. For countless eons 
mankind looked up and wondered. Six weeks ago the eternal question 'are we 
alone?' was finally answered. With the shocking return of lost astronaut, 
Commander John Crichton, and the arrival of the craft, Moya, and her 
extraterrestrial crew, our perceptions of the universe have been forced to 
undergo some unexpected and fundamental shifts, both theologically and 
politically."

Twisting her coffee cup around restlessly, Jenny listened to the rhythmic drone 
of Larry King's voice, and tried to calm her nerves. This was more surreal than 
she wanted her life to be. Aliens, okay; live national TV, not so okay. Her 
father sensed her tension and put his hand on her back, rubbing gently. 

"Later tonight we'll be talking to Vatican astronomer, Monsignor Albert Bode, 
who'll share with us the Vatican's position on the arrival of these 
extraterrestrials. Also with us, in Washington, Senator Robert Michaels from the 
Senate Science Committee and in Moscow, General Viktor Koslov, the Russian Space 
Research Institute representative to the Kremlin. Senator Michaels and General 
Koslov will talk with us about the political and scientific ramifications of 
Commander Crichton's decision to return to Earth, first stop, Russia."

God, Russia. This was not the hot seat she wanted to be in. She had to represent 
the Air Force while the U.S. Government was screaming bloody murder and it was 
just like John to stick her in the middle. Damn him. She glanced over at DK, who 
looked rather like he'd swallowed something that tasted fairly nasty and had 
lodged at the back of his throat. Good.

"But first, in the studio tonight, the family of John Crichton, his father, 
Colonel Jack Crichton, IASA advisor, his youngest sister, Major Jennifer 
Crichton, currently an Air Force liaison to IASA, and Dr. Douglas Knox, JPL 
engineer and childhood friend. 

"They'll be talking to us about Commander Crichton and what his return means to 
them, to the United States, and to the world."

Larry's host demeanor relaxed slightly and taking a deep breath, he leaned over 
his desk, a small smile on his face. "In my job, I've been very privileged to 
meet amazing people and see some truly remarkable things. I would have to admit, 
though, that the most shocking, terrifying and ultimately exhilarating moment of 
my professional career came just six short weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime 
ago, and I have to say I look up at the night sky much more often now.

"Colonel Crichton," he said briskly, Jack's chin snapping up at his name. "How 
does it feel to have your son back home?"

Jack allowed a small smile. "Well, I'd say the day he came home was probably 
only second to the day he was born, for a pair of the best days of my life."

Larry nodded back at him. "Pretty miraculous, isn't it?"

"You'd have to ask the Monsignor if it was a miracle," Jack said, and next to 
him the portly little Monsignor, who'd joined them in the studio, chuckled and 
nodded his head. "I couldn't say with any authority, but yes, that's as much of 
a miracle as I've ever seen."

"How about you, Major Crichton." Jenny felt her stomach start to burn. "How does 
it feel to have your big brother back home?"

"Big brothers are supposed to make your life difficult aren't they?" She asked 
with a humorous twist to her lips. Her mission today was going to be trying to 
keep it light. Keeping it light, kept her out of trouble, kept John out of 
trouble, saved on court martials and other similarly painful things. 

Larry laughed. "Yes, yes they are."

"It feels good to have him home," Jenny said honestly. "I missed him."

"Were you close to John?"

"Yes, we were really close. I think I probably bugged him when we were younger, 
but as we got older, we had a lot of the same things in common. I've missed him 
a lot," Jenny repeated.

"And you, Dr. Knox?" Larry turned his interrogator's gaze on DK.

"He's my best friend," DK told him with a shrug. "We worked together on the 
Farscape project and when he was lost, that was hard."

"Did you blame yourself?"

"Well it was both of us, our project," DK clarified uncomfortably, "but yeah, I 
wondered what went wrong, what I could have done differently. Manned space 
flight is dangerous, John knew the risks, I knew them, but you always do 
everything you can to minimize those risks and when something does go wrong ä 
well it's pretty hard to deal with."

"Good to finally have some answers?"

DK nodded slightly and gave a quick smile. "Yes, there's more work to be done 
now, but having an idea, yeah, that's good, feels good."

"Major Crichton," Larry turned back to Jenny, and she took a deep breath, 
bracing herself. "You found out about John's return first, I believe."

"Yes, sir. He called me around 3 a.m." She paused and Larry seemed to want more 
of an answer than that. "It certainly wasn't anything I ever expected."

"Must have been a pretty strange call." Understatement, Larry, Jenny thought to 
herself. "What did you do?"

"When I got off the phone I spent a while trying to decide if I was awake or 
not. Then I called my sister and DK."

"DK is Dr. Knox, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Jenny confirmed briskly. "DK had some pretty creative suggestions 
about the state of my mental health when I told him John had called me."

DK frowned at Jenny. "I can't even imagine what you would have said to me if our 
positions had been reversed."

Jenny grinned back at him, unrepentantly. "Probably wouldn't have been any worse 
than what I said to John."

Larry leaned forward even further and tapped his pen on the desk. "Did it take 
you a while to realize it was him?"

Jenny stared at Larry with a considering frown. Why no, I get phone calls from 
the dead all the time. "Of course. I thought it was some sick joke. I asked him 
some questions, to prove who he was, but, even then, I don't think I really 
believed it until the ship appeared."

"So you got the call at 3am and the ship appeared in orbit at 8am --"

"Three Mountain Time," Jenny clarified.

"Ah, okay. So 6am. You knew about this for a good three hours before the rest of 
the planet. Did you alert your superiors?"

"Alert them to what?" Jenny asked with a thin little laugh. "That I had a weird 
dream that my brother came back from the dead and was orbiting Mars in a big 
space ship? No, I wanted to wait until I actually had something to report and as 
soon as the ship appeared, I contacted my superiors and reported the call."

"What did you do while you waited for John to show up?"

"It was a long few hours of doubting my sanity," she told him with a cold smile. 
"And he was an hour late, which only made things worse. I made my phone calls 
and I was going to go out and fly to try and clear my head, but I ended up 
calling my dad instead and going into the lab."

Larry nodded his head towards Jack. "What time was it when you found out, 
Colonel Crichton?"

Jack rubbed his chin for a moment before he answered. "Jenny called me probably 
an hour and a half before the ship arrived. I'll be honest, I thought she'd just 
had a very vivid dream. But she told me to go into Kennedy early and try and 
listen in on the space station, and I didn't see any harm in going in."

"What did you think when you got that first transmission back from the station?"

"I don't think I remember a lot about that first day." Jack shook his head. "So 
much happened so quickly. I think my initial thoughts were to go through a 
mental checklist of what easily explainable objects it could be. But the more we 
got back, the pictures, the readings, it was mind-boggling."

"And that was just the ship. When did you realize that was your son up there?" 
Larry pressed again and Jack took a deep breath.

"Jenny told me John was on the ship but I don't think I was ready to accept 
that, at least not until I actually saw the video feed relayed from the station 
of their contact with Moya."

"Too much to hope?"

"I buried my son, Larry," Jack told him with just the slightest hint of a cool 
edge to his voice. "I mourned him and I couldn't let my heart hope on something 
that unlikely. When we got those images back of him ä I really can't describe 
how that felt. I guess the closest description I can manage is that it was like 
this weight that had been on my chest for five years was suddenly gone and I 
could breath free again."

Larry relented and sat back slightly. "Have you had the opportunity to talk with 
John?"

"We've talked a few times in the past couple of weeks."

"Dr. Knox? Have you spoken with him?"

DK looked a little startled that the conversation was back to him and he only 
just managed to mumble a reply. "A couple of times."

"How does he sound to you? Any different?"

"Quite a bit different," DK told the host, shaking off his earlier surprise and 
warming up to the subject. "John was always a pretty open, easy-going guy. He's 
a lot quieter now. I can tell he tries to keep things light, but there's 
something really dark inside of him. Things he's keeping back."

"Any idea what that is?"

"No. He doesn't talk about it. At least not to me."

"Colonel Crichton, how about you? How do you think your son sounds?"

"John's been someplace I don't think any of us can really imagine," Jack offered 
neutrally. "He's tried to explain some of it to me, but it's so far outside the 
realm of my experience, I have a pretty hard time taking it in."

"Is he, as Dr. Knox said, darker?"

Jack frowned, pressing his lips together tightly. Jenny could tell he wanted to 
glare at DK but was trying to be on his most diplomatic behavior. "I wouldn't 
say that. I'd say he's had some hard times. I'd say that life hasn't been very 
easy for him out there and it shows. But he's done the best he can."

"In your opinion, have his actions since his return been in keeping with his 
general character? As you knew it?"

Jack's frown faded and his face turned coolly blank. "I think he has his reasons 
for the things he's done."

"Including holding two astronauts and a cosmonaut captive for over a month?" 
Jenny felt herself going still as Larry's line of questioning was obviously 
hitting the core of what he wanted to know ‚ or expose. Jenny bit the inside of 
her cheek to keep herself from opening her mouth at such a landmine filled 
moment.

"They left the station and went over to Moya knowing full well they'd end up 
quarantined in accordance with IASA's Planetary Protection Policy," Jack pointed 
out firmly. "The real hang up hasn't been John, but the dozen different 
committees down here arguing about how best to bring them back."

"And what about the shuttle commander, Daniel Preston?" 

Jack met Larry's gaze evenly and replied calmly. "The crew claim they caught 
Preston committing acts of espionage against them and the ship. Both Colonel 
Kaminsky and Commander Tsang have agreed with the charges leveled against 
Preston."

Larry changed direction again and fired out another quick question. "How do you 
feel about his decision to go to Russia first?"

Jack seemed to be prepared for the change in direction and answered without 
hesitation. "I certainly can't say that it makes me very happy, and I can't say 
that it would be my choice, but I'd like to speak with John about it before I 
make any judgement."

"Dr. Knox, how do you feel about the trip to Russia?"

DK tapped his finger on the lip of his coffee cup and stared down at the dark 
liquid. "Well, if nothing else, John knows how to shake things up." He glanced 
sideways at Jenny before raising his eyes to Larry. "I don't think it's the best 
choice, I don't like the idea of having to wade through a couple of 
bureaucracies to see my friend. But, like Jack said, I want to talk to John 
before I make any guesses about why he did it."

Larry accepted that, or seemed to. "This must put you in an interesting 
position. All of you. Working with IASA and the government as you do. Major 
Crichton, how much of a conflict of interest is your position of Air Force 
liaison to IASA and the fact that it's your brother you're dealing with?"

Jenny sighed; they hadn't even been on air for fifteen minutes at it already 
felt like a millennia in the Chinese water torture level of hell. "Technically, 
sir, I'm only temporarily assigned to IASA. But, yes, I have to admit that it's 
a little tricky trying to deal with John and both the Air Force and IASA. I have 
an obligation, a duty, to do my job to the best of my ability but at the same 
time I do have obligations to my family. It hasn't been a particularly easy 
thing to balance."

"What kind of challenges are you facing?"

"The biggest seems to be the complete lack of policy in this case. How do I 
uphold the views and legislation of IASA, the military, and the government at 
large when dealing with John and the crew of Moya and how can I make decisions 
in my contact with John when I have no guiding policies?"

Jenny shifted in her chair, her uniform suddenly seeming unusually constricting 
and heavy. "There are things in place already, like the UN's Outer Space Treaty 
and IASA's Planetary Protection Policy, both of which exist to protect the Earth 
from possible contamination by extraterrestrial organisms. That, of course, 
encompasses the crew of Moya. They are effectively quarantined until they're 
deemed safe to Earth's ecosystem. That one is easy enough to point at and 
enforce. But politically, diplomatically, there are no guidelines. These aren't 
microbes from Europa, these are sentient beings and they're making contact with 
us."

Having vented some of her own frustrations, she allowed herself to relax 
slightly. "Ultimately, I think we've handled this as well, or maybe even better 
than could be expected. This was such a surprise; there was really no way of 
planning for this. IASA, the United States government, and various other world 
bodies have been in almost daily contact with Moya, and we're acting as 
cooperatively as possible in our discussions."

"It seems like you've done a pretty good job so far. We're going to take a break 
but when we come back I want to talk about the crew of Moya and we'll bring in 
Monsignor Bode to offer his views on this new alien life. Don't go away."

Jenny heard the production staff call out the break, but she ignored them and 
was already turning towards DK. "Darker?" She hissed. "What the hell is that 
supposed to mean?"

DK looked past Jenny and she glanced over her shoulder, following his gaze. Jack 
and Larry were in deep conversation with the Monsignor and nobody seemed to be 
paying any attention to the two of them. 

DK's eyes briefly met Jenny's before bouncing away. "Look, Larry wanted an 
honest answer, I gave him one. You can't tell me there's not something up with 
John. It's not just the clothes, it's inside."

Jenny ground her teeth. "I'm not disagreeing with you, but telling the entire 
world he's one step from a serial killer isn't helping."

"I didn't say that," DK protested with a harsh whisper.

"Darker and hiding something? You may as well have."

They both cut off angrily when they were interrupted by the makeup woman. 
"You're doing great, hon," she told Jenny brightly while touching up her makeup. 

Jenny mumbled her thanks but continued to send a silent cold wave towards DK. 
The chill remained, with Jack sending them a puzzled frown, until the countdown 
back to the show.

Larry gave them each a considering look and then turned to face the camera when 
the count got to two. "Welcome back. We're talking tonight with the family of 
Commander John Crichton. And also in the studio with us, Vatican astronomer, 
Monsignor Albert Bode. 

"We've talked a little bit about Commander Crichton and your initial reactions 
and impressions of his return, as his family and as representatives of IASA. You 
three have a pretty impressive resume in space research, Colonel Crichton you've 
spent the better part of three decades in the exploration of space, Major 
Crichton you have a doctorate in physics, and Dr. Knox you're an aerospace 
engineer. Quickly, give me your impressions, as explorers and scientists, both 
of the return of John and the arrival of these aliens. Dr. Knox we'll start with 
you."

"John's return? The odds of that were almost impossible," DK shook his head and 
replied with a mixture of disbelief and scientific certainty. "First that he 
survived the initial electromagnetic wave, then that he survived the tidal 
forces of a wormhole and then that wormhole deposited him in the one place in 
infinite space inhabited by sentient beings and where he could be picked up by a 
ship. The odds against any one of those things happening were long enough, but 
for all those to happen one after another? Just about as close to impossible as 
you can get. But, really, if anybody could buck those odds just based on being a 
stubborn SOB, it'd be John."

"And how about that ship and these aliens?"

DK brightened at that question. "I can't wait to get a look at that ship. The 
potential advances in aerospace technology are phenomenal. I can't even begin to 
guess how that craft operates, but if they give us access," Jenny looked up 
sharply at the unnecessarily stressed 'if'. Was he trying to piss her off? "I 
can imagine we'll see some significant leaps forward in terms of speed, 
efficiency, and safety in aerospace design. The practical applications are 
limitless. As far as the aliens go, well, that's pretty far outside my 
expertise. I never was much good at biology. I'm just as stunned as anybody 
else, and trying to work out what it means for me and for my world."

"Major Crichton?"

Jenny chewed on her lower lip for brief moment. "I more or less agree with DK's 
statement on the odds. For each individual event the odds were, sorry, 
astronomical. But for a confluence of events, as part of a larger system we may 
not know the workings of, or hell, even the barest hint of, the odds may not 
have been that close to impossible at all. Still, it's pretty hard to work the 
brain cells around. That's right up there with trying to picture infinity, if 
you ask me. That coupled with the mere fact of alien visitationä" She shrugged 
her shoulders and gave Larry a wry smile. "I've always been pretty open minded, 
I didn't figure extraterrestrial life to be impossible, but it's a big universe 
and we are pretty far from the center of things, I certainly never expected them 
to come knocking at our door. Bottom line, though, these people have been good 
to John, they've taken care of him, they're his friends."

"In your contact with John, have you talked to any of them?"

Jenny's chin dipped slightly and she answered carefully, "Most of them don't 
speak English. But I have talked to Aeryn Sun, the Sebacean, she speaks a some 
English ‚ or as she says, Human."

Larry's eyebrows raised in interest. "What kind of things do you talk about with 
an alien?"

"Flying mostly. The ship, methods of propulsion, things like that. I can't say 
I've figured out how any of it works, even after talking to her, but it's all so 
interesting in theory. I can't wait to take a look at that ship, either."

Larry crossed his arms comfortably and turned to Jack. "Colonel Crichton, how 
about you?"

"As you pointed out, I've spent a good part of my life being part of the 
exploration of space in one way or another. My son has been farther than I could 
even dream of going." A small, proud smile appeared on Jack's lips. "As an 
explorer, I want to see what he's seen. I really want to sit him down for a few 
weeks and talk with him about the planets he's been to, what the universe looks 
like from the inside of a nebula, if he's been up close and personal with a 
pulsar. Then I want to meet his friends and ask them the same questions, see 
what it all looks like from their point of view."

"Have you had a chance to talk to Aeryn Sun?"

"Yes, I have." Jack's smile turned into a full Crichton grin. "We talked mostly 
about where John's been. I owe all of his friends a debt of gratitude for taking 
care of my son."

Larry pointed towards a small monitor by the camera. "I've got some pictures of 
the aliens here. Ka D'Argo, Chiana, Jool, the ship's Pilot, of course Moya 
herself, and this is Aeryn Sun." The images flicked by on the small screen 
quickly, and Jenny found herself swimming in the surreal once again. How was it 
possible that there were aliens on Earth? The last image, Aeryn's picture, came 
up and zoomed in on her face. "It's interesting to me, that of the six I've got 
pictures of here, four of them, though a few are a little bizarre looking, 
definitely alien, they're mostly humanoid. But I was pretty surprised when I saw 
Aeryn Sun. She could easily blend in in any city in America. Unless there's 
something I'm not seeing, she looks completely human, and yet, we're told she's 
not. She's," Larry consulted his notes, "Sebacean. What do any of you make of 
that?"

"Well setting aside mysterious systems we don't know anything about," DK 
started, "I think there's more here than just coincidental, nearly identical 
evolution. That's almost too much to believe. There's got to be some common 
ancestry here."

"In an infinite universe, I suppose it's possible that two separate sentient 
species could have evolved along parallel lines," Jenny offered equitably, 
trying to match DK's declaration in an effort to keep things from spinning too 
far one way or another. "But, I have to agree that that's unlikely, but until 
we're able to do genetic testing on Aeryn, I couldn't make any pronouncement. 
Even more than proof of extraterrestrial life, a common ancestry between humans 
and Sebaceans is going to rewrite every book on biology, archaeology, 
paleoarchaeology, archaeoastronomy, exobiology, not to mention astronomy, 
physics, and just about every other branch of science. That'll ripple through to 
everything."

Finding the opening he seemed to have been looking for, Larry shuffled the cards 
in front of him and glanced up at the camera. "Maybe even more than science, 
theology is being forced to look within and find answers to the new and profound 
questions these extraterrestrials raise. Joining us now is Vatican astronomer, 
Monsignor Albert Bode. Monsignor, welcome to the program."

The Monsignor, a small, round man with a wiry cap of gray hair and a thick 
German accent, nodded cordially at Larry.  "Thank you for having me, Larry and I 
quickly want to thank the Crichton family for allowing me to sit with them this 
evening."

Larry nodded back and briefly consulted his notes again. "The foundations of 
theology for a lot of people were shaken when Moya arrived. Protesters have 
claimed the aliens are everything from demons to harbingers of the end times. 
While still others have claimed they're angels or other mystical beings sent to 
lead us into a new enlightened age. What is the Vatican's position on these 
aliens?"

"First off, I believe we can say with some certainty that these beings are not 
demonic," the Monsignor said sternly, "but neither are they angels. Based on an 
admittedly short study and some contact, they are no more good or evil than any 
human being. 

"This is actually not the first time the Vatican has addressed the possible 
reality of life on other planets. The possibility of a multiplicity of worlds 
has been a struggle for the Church to reconcile with its teachings for quite 
some time. In the thirteenth century it was declared heresy to say that God 
could not or had not created other worlds like Earth. God's omnipotence cannot 
be limited by our senses, or to our planet. It comes down to trying to remove 
the geocentric view from our faith. 

"In Christianity there are specific points that have to be addressed, and the 
answers may not come before decades or even generations of study with these 
beings. The main points are the Fall, the Incarnation and the Redemption. Are 
extraterrestrials subject to original sin? From what I've seen, yes, as much as 
humans are. If so, are they part of the resurrection of Christ?"

"That's the big sticking point it seems," Larry said. "As I understand it, quite 
a lot of people claim that the redemption only applies to humans."

The Monsignor's demeanor relaxed slightly, and his voice took on a lecturer's 
tone as he found his comfort zone. "St. Paul's hymns do make mention that the 
resurrection applies to all of creation, everything in the heavens and 
everything in the Earth. The real problem here isn't necessarily the 
resurrection and the redemption, but the event leading up to it, the Incarnation 
‚ the standard definition being Jesus Christ. Jesus existed on Earth at a 
specific time for a specific reason. If aliens do experience original sin, do 
they need or have either a Christ or Christ Himself? The Vatican's current view 
on the Incarnation, as supported by John's Gospel, is that the Incarnation, The 
Word, existed at the beginning of creation, it is woven into all things, and 
therefore the Incarnation encompasses all of creation. We on Earth experienced 
the Incarnation directly in the life of Jesus Christ. Extraterrestrial 
civilizations would likely experience the Incarnation in a way specific to 
them."

"So they experience their own salvation?"

"It's possible. As I said, this is something that will require lifetimes of 
study. But I believe that an omnipotent Creator would shepherd all of His 
creations equally. St. Aquinas taught us there was only one Truth ‚ our ways of 
searching for and understanding that Truth may be myriad, but that does not 
limit the entirety or the all embracing totality of that Truth. In other words, 
we may not be walking the same path, but we are all moving toward the same 
goal."

"And what about these Sebaceans?" Larry asked, the picture of Aeryn Sun 
appearing on the monitor again. "They seem to look an awful lot like us."

Monsignor Bode's eyes widened and he smiled. "They absolutely do. It's 
remarkable. I'd love to study their culture, history, theology. I think we can 
learn a great deal from a species that is almost certainly cousin, if not 
brother, to our own, children of God as we all are. In terms of creation, well 
who is to say that one form is better than another form, and perhaps ä who is to 
say that some children of Earth may not have been sent forth into the Universe? 
I don't know the answer to that, I don't know that anybody does. It's certainly 
fascinating though."

"How about some claims that say they may be one of the lost tribes of Israel?"

"Well I don't know about that," the older man said carefully. "Again, that's 
something that will take careful study to see if traces of early Judaism can be 
noted in their cultures and faiths. As I understand it, the Sebaceans seem to be 
a people who have spread out across their part of the Universe into myriad 
cultures and belief systems. It will have to be seen if there are any traces of 
Earth systems to be found among them."

"Now as a theologian, you have some knowledge, or you're familiar with the 
teachings of other faiths. How do they handle this new theological reality?"

"I can't claim to be an expert or speak on behalf of these faiths, but as you 
know, since the arrival of these aliens, religious leaders and scholars have 
been meeting in near constant interfaith conferences around the world talking 
about just this thing. Many of them do fairly readily, if not easily, embrace 
these aliens as cousins in creation. It's not an easy thing, of course, as we've 
illustrated with the Catholic Church; there are questions now that will take 
decades to answer. It's no different for other faiths."

"Can you give us some examples of how these faiths are viewing this?"

The Monsignor pursed his lips and considered for a moment before finally 
allowing a small nod. "I can try. Judaism, the Talmud is concerned with God's 
people on Earth, but does, in places, acknowledge that God created other worlds. 
According to my Jewish colleagues, meeting these creatures does not diminish 
humans in God's creation but rather humbles us to see this aspect of the 
vastness of God. Likewise in Islam, it is mentioned that Allah created seven 
heavens and seven Earths ‚ seven, as I understand it, being used as a rather 
indeterminate number, meaning more on the order of several than seven 
specifically. It is also mentioned that there are numerous kingdoms of heaven ‚ 
as there are numerous kingdoms on Earth."

"And how about the Eastern religions?"

"Well I am even less an expert there," the Monsignor warned. "They tend to be 
very inward looking ‚ how we live with this Earth, how to lead good lives, how 
to govern ourselves and our obligations. Humans should strive to live in balance 
with the universe, and with what are referred to as the ten thousand things. Ten 
thousand being, again, not meant literally, but rather as a large indeterminate 
number that reflects the vastness of nature. The ten thousand things do, I 
believe, as in most faiths, encompass heaven and Earth, in other words the whole 
of creation."

"So most religions seem to be willing to accept these extraterrestrials?"

"Well change is difficult," Monsignor Bode sighed. "And change must come from 
within each of us. While our faiths may have aspects of openness to these 
beings, the true acceptance must come from us. That is the hard part. Change is 
not only difficult, it is terrifying. I would be lying if I said that the 
potential changes coming did not frighten me. But now is when I have to hold 
most closely to my faith and while I study my Bible and look for the truth, I 
try to avoid being blind to it in my fear. It's not easy. And you cannot force 
people to accept things. I have seen what some of the more extreme are saying, I 
can see their fear and I understand it, I have the same doubts and worries. But 
I do have faith, I believe that these beings are here for a reason, I believe 
that we can learn from them and that they can learn from us, I believe that they 
are children of God as are we, and I believe that God will protect us."

"Quickly, John Crichton, how do you see his return?"

The grin returned to the old priest's lips. "I think it really was quite 
miraculous. That young man has an angel or two at his side. As Major Crichton 
and Dr. Knox pointed out, the odds against his survival were enormous, but as 
Major Crichton also said, his survival may have been part of something larger 
that we just don't know the details of yet."

"Some divine plan?"

"I could argue that the whole of the Universe is part of a diving plan, and all 
things and all events in the Universe are part of that plan." The Monsignor 
chuckled. "However he was brought back to us, it's certainly something to 
celebrate and the opportunity for increased understanding of our Universe is a 
true gift to all of mankind."

"Thank you for being with us tonight, Monsignor."

"Thank you, Larry. 

"We'll take a break and when we return we'll talk to Senator Robert Michaels 
from the Senate Science Committee and General Viktor Koslov from the Russian 
Space Research Institute. We'll also talk to the Crichton family again and take 
some of your phone calls."

Jenny took a deep breath, relaxing slightly. Somehow, she'd thought the 
religious aspect of tonight's show was going to end in fire and brimstone 
damnation for John and his friends. Nothing in the Monsignor's aspect had 
indicated that that was going to be the case, he'd been unfailingly cordial and 
even sympathetic to them, but Jenny hadn't been all that big on religion since 
her mother died, and it seemed that the bible thumpers were on the we-hate-
aliens bandwagon more than just about anybody else. Humans and God, any God, 
were just too unpredictable of a combination for Jenny. 

A gnarled hand closed over her clenched fist. "I don't bite."

Jenny looked up, startled, into the eyes of the Monsignor. She hadn't realized 
just how tense she'd become. "I'm sorry--" she stammered, blushing slightly.

"Don't apologize. I understand this is a difficult time for your family." The 
Monsignor sighed and waved his hand. "So many people demanding, demanding, and 
who has answers for them? Not even I."

Jenny rubbed her free hand across her eyes. "Thank you for coming on tonight, 
sir, and thank you for notä" Jenny trailed off, unsure how to voice what she was 
feeling.

"For not judging?" The Monsignor offered. "It is not my place. This is a vast 
universe and the mind of God is greater still. It is not for me to say what can 
or cannot be." He let go of Jenny's hand when the sound engineer came over to 
remove his microphone. "I've spoken with your brother, he is a troubled young 
man, but I do not believe either he or his friends bring harm to us. Any harm 
done will be our own doing. His friends seem to want nothing more than to 
protect him and I believe he simply wants peace and a home to come to."

"I think so, too," Jenny muttered.

The old priest placed a firm hand on Jenny's shoulder and squeezed. "Have faith. 
In your family, if nothing else."

Jenny met his gaze. "Thank you, Monsignor."

He squeezed her shoulder again, and then grinned widely. "Aliens, Major. Just 
think what a marvelous time we live in. A miraculous time. Those lost are found 
and a new aspect of the universe shows itself to us. A glorious time. Change is 
difficult, but with the grace of God, the race of Man shall meet the change with 
courage and hope." Jenny couldn't help but chuckle with him. "Courage and hope."

The Monsignor turned and shook her father's hand and patted DK on the shoulder 
before leaving the studio. Staring after him, long after he'd disappeared, Jenny 
considered his words, and hoped against hope that more people than the good 
Monsignor could see what he saw in John and his friends.

"Welcome back," Larry's resonant voice pulled Jenny's attention back to her 
surroundings and the unpleasant knowledge that she was still on TV. God, would 
this night ever end? "If you're just joining us, tonight we're talking about the 
return of Commander John Crichton and the arrival of the extraterrestrial ship 
Moya and her crew. With us now from Washington, Senator Robert Michaels and from 
Moscow, General Viktor Koslov. In the studio the family of John Crichton, 
Colonel Jack Crichton, Major Jennifer Crichton and Dr. Douglas Knox. 

"Yesterday afternoon in an announcement that stunned and frustrated IASA and US 
government officials, Commander Crichton informed the UN that he would be 
accepting the Russian offer to host the crew of Moya on their first trip down to 
the planet."

"Senator Michaels what's your reaction to this announcement?"

The Senator, a thin-faced man in his fifties, frowned. "I am, understandably, 
disappointed in Commander Crichton's decision for a number of reasons. Not the 
least of which is that he is an American astronaut, an American citizen, and 
really, an American hero. I, along with the rest of America, was hoping to 
welcome him home," he intoned gravely.

"How much of that disappointment has to do with the technology he's bringing 
down?" Jenny pursed her lips and tried not to laugh at Larry's pointed question. 
Sure the Senator could be as disappointed as he wanted in the big hero, what he 
really wanted was the tech. Good one, Larry.

"We, of course, would like to make sure that we had access to that technology," 
Senator Michaels countered smoothly. "And to these extraterrestrials. As the 
Monsignor pointed out earlier, we can stand to learn a lot from them."

"And you will still learn it," the Russian General spoke up suddenly. "It is 
going to be in Russia, not the Andromeda Galaxy. The Russian Space Research 
Institute and IASA have a very close working relationship, there is absolutely 
no reason to think that that is not still the case."

The Senator's diplomatic mask slipped momentarily at the interruption. "I have 
heard of no scientists that have been given visas to visit Russia for the 
opportunity to study the technology or the aliens."

"The announcement was made only yesterday and we have received many requests," 
the Russian replied tightly. "There are only a limited number of scientists who 
can come, it will take us some time to decide who has priority."

The Senator chose to ignore that statement, sending up another protest instead. 
"There's also, and undoubtedly the most important point to make ‚ this is a 
clear violation of the UN Outer Space Treaty ‚ which Russia has signed, I would 
like to point out. One of the treaty's main purposes is to protect the Earth 
from extraterrestrial contamination. Nobody on Moya has been cleared to come 
down to Earth."

General Koslov shook his head impatiently. "Cleared by the UN. Your scientists 
aboard the vessel determined that there were no detectable biological threats."

"Full reports have not been made yet."

"Dr. Ellen Harrington, an IASA exobiologist, has been on board that vessel for 
over a month. She ‚"

"And she will be quarantined, along with Commander Tsang and the shuttle's crew 
when they return to Earth."

The General smiled a humorless little smile. "Of course, we would do the same. 
In fact we will do the same when Colonel Kaminsky returns with the crew of Moya. 
It will be some time before they are out painting Moscow red at night."

Jenny snorted into her coffee cup, trying desperately not to inhale the hot 
liquid on national television. Koslov was almost a picture perfect Hollywood 
interpretation of a cold war Russian General. Thick necked, hard eyes, wide 
Slavic features, and more medals pinned across his broad, barrel chest than 
could be counted. Jenny found herself, quite unaccountably, liking him. It was 
something of an anathema to her position as an officer in the US Air Force; she 
wasn't sure how to reconcile that other than to just toss it onto the pile of 
'weird' that had overtaken her life. 

The joke seemed to take the fight out of Senator Michaels, and instead of 
getting his back up, as most politicians on the defensive would, he simply 
sighed a rather tired sigh. "That still doesn't excuse the fact that the UN 
Office on Outer Space Affairs has not cleared these extraterrestrials for entry 
into Earth's biosphere."

Larry dove into the momentary pause while the General drew a long breath, 
prepared, no doubt, to make an equally long reply. "The Space Shuttle Endeavour 
left Moya this morning, and is preparing to return to Earth tomorrow. How long 
do you expect, Senator, before a full analysis of the data collected during 
their time on Moya will be available to the UN?"

"That really depends on what is discovered; it's almost impossible to say."

"So it could be more weeks, or even months before the contaminated astronauts 
are allowed out of quarantine and before Commander Crichton is allowed down to 
the planet, is that correct?"

"It's really difficult to say," the Senator repeated. "When these 
extraterrestrials arrived, the member nations of the UN decided that in the 
interest of not only global knowledge but also global protection, we would allow 
the resolutions of the UN Office of Outer Space Affairs to guide our actions. So 
far they have not deemed the aliens safe to Earth."

Once again, Larry turned his attention back to his guests in the studio. 
"Colonel Crichton, how do you feel about John's decision in regards to this 
treaty?"

Jack took a deep breath and raised his chin. "As I said before I'd really like 
to talk with my son before I make any judgements."

"As an IASA advisor," Larry pressed quickly.

Jack was silent for a heartbeat. "As an IASA advisor I believe that our 
Planetary Protection protocols are in place for very good reasons and as an 
astronaut John should be not only aware of those reasons but he should respect 
them and follow them to the very best of his ability."

"Do you believe he has followed them?"

"I certainly hope so. I don't believe that John would come down to Earth if 
there was a serious risk of contamination."

"There's a problem right there," Senator Michaels interrupted, holding up one 
stern finger. "We are almost five years out of date on the psychological profile 
of John Crichton. Our astronauts on Moya have reported that he's given to 
extreme mood swings, fits of anger, lapses in concentration. I don't know that 
he's sound enough mentally to make that call for an entire planet."

The General 'harrumphed' in a remarkably unsubtle manner. "Colonel Kaminsky's 
reports state that he is a sane enough fellow who has been put through quite a 
lot of mental stress. The Colonel is a very good judge of character and if he 
believes Commander Crichton is competent, than I will take that as strong 
endorsement."

"And how about the UN Office of Outer Space Affairs, General?" Larry jumped in 
again before the Senator and the General lapsed into another argument. "How does 
Russia justify disregarding the UN in this case?"

"We are not disregarding the UN," the General replied adamantly. "We respect and 
honor the Outer Space Treaty, but we believe, and it is confirmed by scientific 
studies on Moya, that the ship and her crew represent no significant biological 
threat to Earth. We would be fools to allow them down if we were not as certain 
as we can be. Despite what the US seems to think, we do live on this planet, as 
well."

"Why not simply wait until the UN clears them?"

"How long will they stay in orbit while diplomats argue over landing sites, and 
legal protocols, and who gets what access to potential technological research? 
Now? That is what this is. It is bureaucratic nonsense. Posturing and politics."

"The safety of this planet is not bureaucratic nonsense," the Senator insisted 
heatedly.

"I don't believe that it is," Koslov replied just as hotly, "but then I do not 
believe that Earth is in danger. Not from these beings. Not from John Crichton. 
And certainly not a more significant biological threat than the astronauts 
returning to Earth tomorrow. I do not seem to recall if they were cleared by the 
UN."

"They were," the Senator replied tightly.

"Ah, I must be getting old. My memory is going," the General replied flatly. 
"But, regardless, these astronauts, who were on Moya for over a month, exposed 
to all possible contagions there, are being let back down. Yes, they will be 
quarantined. That is no different than Commander Crichton and these aliens."

Larry seemed to have had enough of the bickering politicians. "Major, Colonel 
Crichton, do you believe, as scientists, explorers, that there is a significant 
biological threat to Earth?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Not from John or anybody on Moya."

"Colonel?"

"I honestly don't think, in talking with my son, that he would hurt Earth in any 
way. He wouldn't come down if it were too dangerous. The fact that he's stayed 
in orbit for so long is saying something. They have shuttle-type craft on Moya 
that could easily bring them down to Earth. John's shown remarkable restraint."

"So you think the Russians are right in this?"

Jack shook his head slowly. "I'm disappointed that John's chosen to make his 
first trip to Earth a trip to Russia. I was looking forward to seeing him, and I 
really didn't expect this. On the other hand, our shuttle Commander was caught 
in an act of espionage, which probably made him a little wary. Understandably."

"That hasn't been proven," the Senator piped up. 

"What was he doing off of the shuttle without a suit?" Jack asked sharply. When 
the Senator didn't immediately respond, the Colonel continued, "I think a lot of 
the hang up, is, as I said earlier, committees arguing about process and 
procedure and who gets what. I can't say if a country is right or wrong in how 
they choose to act, that's not my job, but as an IASA advisor and former 
astronaut, I'm pretty comfortable saying that I don't believe John or his 
friends present a significant biological threat."

"General," Larry looked back at his monitor. "How are you planning on handling 
the Commander and his alien crew mates when they come down?"

"They will get a very warm reception, I assure you. Commander Crichton may be an 
American hero, but he is also an Earth hero, we look forward to welcoming him. 
But, as I've said a time or two, they will be confined to quarantine until our 
scientists and our scientist guests, are able to confirm that they are clear of 
any hazardous contagions."

"Quarantine's not exactly a warm welcome," Larry said. "Do you have any idea how 
long they'll be confined?"

"They will be quite comfortable in their quarantine, we've taken all steps to 
ensure that. As for time," the General shrugged, "I don't know. I do not 
anticipate that it will be too terribly long. They've been under study for 
several weeks already with no alarms sounding."

"Those are controlled conditions on Moya," the Senator found his voice again and 
barked out at his Russian colleague.

General Koslov's jaw hardened. "We are very good at quarantine, Senator. Earth 
is safe in Mother Russia's hands."

Larry's eyes widened slightly at that and a dubious look flashed across his 
face. "When is Commander Crichton planning on coming down, General?"

"He is scheduled to land at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning."

"Is that Sunday morning Moscow time?"

"Yes. I believe one in the morning eastern America time?"

"Thank you, General. CNN will carry the landing of the craft live." Larry turned 
to the camera once more. "Stay with us, we're going to be taking your calls when 
we come back."

Jenny dropped her head back and stared up into the studio's rafters. Never going 
to end. It was never going to end, was it? Now phone calls. From people out 
there. Oh lord, this was going to be interesting. 

"How you doing, sweetheart?"

Jenny kept up her intense contemplation of the ceiling. "I'm going to hurt 
John."

"No you're not."

"No, I'm not. But I'll dream about it tonight and feel better."

"That's my girl." 

Jenny shifted her eyes to glance sideways at her father. He had a small, tired 
smile on his face. "How are you?"

"I'm just thinking of the long talk I need to have with your brother."

Jenny sighed and dropped her head back down, staring at her coffee cup while she 
thought a moment. "The moment he came back, everything changed."

Jack tilted his head slightly and regarded his daughter solemnly. "It did."

Jenny looked up. "I don't mean for us. I mean for him. I'm not really mad at 
him; I can't even be irritated with him. I'm frustrated by this situation but ä" 
She paused and tried to sort out what she was feeling. It seemed to center 
around this seed of melancholy that had formed in her chest the first moment she 
saw her brother again, the night he appeared at the house, so hesitant, so 
uncertain, so lost. Talking about him in the abstract with politicians, priests, 
reporters, answering questions about him, about the wonder of his return, wore 
on her and made for a deeper ache in her heart. "He can't come home. He can't 
come home because just the simple fact of his survival changes everything. It's 
not home anymore, is it? He changed the world. And I don't think he ever meant 
to. Not like this."

Jack dipped his head and stared down at the desktop in front of them. "I don't 
know. I wish ä" He reached a hand out blindly and grabbed one of Jenny's. "I had 
so many dreams for all of my children. So much hope." He dropped his voice and 
searched his daughter's face intently. "I'm scared for John. Scared of what this 
world will be and scared of what it will do to him. Scared of what it will do to 
you."

Jenny saw the raw fear in her father's eyes and felt her stomach burn in 
response. "Dad?"

The cry of the production staff broke the moment, reminding them where they 
were. "Fifteen seconds back!"

Sighing heavily Jenny dropped her father's hand and turned back to the desk. 
Larry was sitting down again, having just returned from somewhere or other and 
makeup and sound people were buzzing around. 

"We're going to get some strange calls, we try to screen them out but a few 
usually get through," Larry told them briskly while he settled back into his 
chair. "Don't feel that you need to answer the questions if they're too bizarre. 
I'll take them." They nodded at him and he turned his attention back to the 
camera. "We're back with the family of astronaut John Crichton and we're taking 
your phone calls. We have a lot of calls, so please, be brief and to the point 
with your questions. 

"Kansas City, hello?"

Jenny swallowed heavily, dreading whatever the voice on the other end of the 
line was going to say. Didn't Larry usually make slightly longer introductions 
back than that? Shouldn't she get a couple of seconds to mentally gird herself 
for battle with all the wackos of the world? This was vastly unfair. 

"Good evening, Larry, I love your show."

"Thank you, caller. Do you have a question for the Crichton family?"

"Colonel Crichton, do you think John's going to stay now? And are these just the 
first aliens with more to follow?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what John's plans are. And I don't know what his 
friends' plans are either. I think they're just here for John right now."

"If John stays do you think they'll stay?" Larry asked.

Jack shrugged. "I really don't know."

"Racine, Wisconsin, hello?"

"Hello. I have a question for Colonel Crichton."

Jack nodded. "Go ahead."

"You must be incredibly proud to be the father of an Ascended Master."

"I'm sorry?" Jack frowned in confusion. "I don't think I understand the 
question."

"Commander Crichton's return, as an Ascended Master, a human ascended to the 
next level of enlightenment, is the sign of a renaissance in human society."

"Is that a question?" Jenny asked dubiously. Somehow she was relieved though, 
two questions in and the mystery of when the first wingnut would pop up was 
solved. "That doesn't sound like a question."

"Well are you aware that he's an Ascended Master? It's an important thing to 
acknowledge and really, are you proud of him? You must be proud of him?" The 
caller pressed, almost desperately. 

Jenny rolled her eyes, took a deep, tired breath and tuned out the caller as he 
continued to ramble on about the Archangel Gabriel, some Commander Motok or 
something, prophecies, resurrection. Blah, blah, blah. She noticed her father's 
face darkening with each new word. He was grinding his teeth slightly and no 
doubt struggling to keep his jaws clamped shut. He'd always been impatient with 
any of that 'new age, crystal-toting rigmarole', as he called it. 

"Thank you caller." Larry must have sensed Jack's impending eruption and jumped 
in. "Well that didn't take long," he noted, echoing Jenny's earlier thoughts. 
"There seem to be as many 'out there' theories on what John's return means as 
there are people. We've seen the pictures of the demonstrations and vigils 
outside the neighborhood the Colonel lives in, where I believe both you, Major, 
and Dr. Knox are staying. As well as similar rallies outside the Kennedy Space 
Center. How are you dealing with that?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow and replied with a tiny hint of amusement, "The Air 
Force has a very secure perimeter around my father's house and the space center. 
We've been fortunate enough to escape a lot of that."

"And any that get through are scared away by Jenny," DK smirked. 

Jack shot an amused sideways glance at DK. "We have managed to insulate 
ourselves pretty well. Of course we can't escape it when we read a newspaper or 
turn on the TV. We're just trying to focus on what we do know and learn as much 
about John's return as we can."

Larry nodded and turned back to the task at hand. "Eugene, Oregon, hello?"

"Yes, I'd like to know if Commander Crichton will be coming over to the US at 
any point or if he's going to be in Russia the whole time he's here."

DK, in an apparent act of contrition, fielded that one. "I'm sure John will come 
to the States at some point. It might be a while before he can come, but, hey, I 
don't think they have two a.m. pizza delivery in Moscow and, well, I'm not sure 
how he's survived without that for almost five years already."

"Any idea how long that might take?" Larry asked.

"Depends on the amount of red tape his little trip to Mother Russia generates, I 
guess," DK offered blandly. 

"Marblehead, Massachusetts, hello?"

"Major Crichton, I have a question regarding the physics of this."

Oh, finally, a physics question. Jenny felt on stable ground for the first time 
all evening. "Go ahead."

"The theory of negative energy seems to suggest that a wormhole couldn't stay 
open for very long and certainly couldn't be anywhere near large enough to allow 
a ship like Moya through. According to the science, any sort of wormhole open 
for any length of time would have to be submicroscopic."

This was a good question, or rather a good question-like statement, maybe too 
good. "There's never a quantum physicist around when you need one," Jenny joked 
mildly before attempting to answer the question. "There are a lot of problems 
with the theory of wormholes and the negative energy involved in their 
structure. Negative energy comes with some inherent restrictions according to 
current theory ‚ um, quantum inequalities." 

"Which means what?" Larry asked insistently and Jenny resisted shooting him a 
dirty look.

She cleared her throat and cast about her brain for the appropriate information. 
The quantum physics side of her education wasn't as developed as it needed to be 
to fully answer this question. John was the theoretical geek in the family. "As 
I understand it -- and you have to understand quantum theory is not my field -- 
as I understand it the theory of these quantum inequalities means that the band 
of negative energy surrounding the throat of a wormhole has to be contained in a 
volume thinner than the radius of a proton. The larger the throat of the 
wormhole the larger the negative energy density. It seems to come down, very 
simply, to the more negative energy required the more unstable the system. A 
small, submicroscopic wormhole will be more stable than a wormhole a mile 
across."

Larry digested that information, or appeared to, and tossed another question at 
her. "So, any theories on how John's been able to overcome those restrictions? 
Twice?"

Jenny sat back and held her hands up. "I don't know. The closest other 
cosmological theoretical objects with that sort of narrow-volume, high-density 
energy are cosmic strings. But that's positive energy, not negative. Or, I'm not 
sure, but I guess it could be phantom energy."

Larry looked at her suspiciously, as though he suspected she was just making 
things up now. "Phantom energy?"

"Highly theoretical," Jenny qualified. "A strong, bizarre, repulsive force. It 
could be enough to counter the quantum inequalities, allowing for a large 
wormhole to be stable over a much longer period." She squinted thoughtfully for 
a moment before finally shaking her head. "This is John's field. He, 
undoubtedly, has a pretty solid, enlightening theory on the phenomena."

"Think he'll share?"

"I'm pretty sure it's not physically possible to shut up a physicist with a 
theory, Larry," Jenny told their host lightly. Jack chuckled and DK nodded 
emphatically at the sentiment.

Larry accepted that with a smile. "Next caller," he stopped suddenly and 
laughed. "Appropriate. Jupiter, Florida, hello?"

"I'm finding it hard to believe that Commander Crichton miraculously ended up on 
the other side of the galaxy and just happened to find all these aliens. Now 
here he comes along, like a hero, with these aliens on their 'peaceful' ship and 
they're all hailed as a positive force. Isn't it much more likely that 
Crichton's disappearance was engineered? Engineered to make us more receptive to 
the appearance of aliens who have been here for decades if not centuries?"

"No," replied Jenny shortly. Larry looked at her expectantly but she simply 
raised an eyebrow and remained silent.

"There you have it," Larry said with a touch of humor in his voice. "Next 
caller. Chicago, do you have a question for the Crichton family?"

"My question is for Dr. Knox. Dr. Knox, do you think we're going to be seeing 
the birth of human interstellar exploration now? Are we going to have more 
advanced spaceships, I mean, capable of taking us to the places Commander 
Crichton has been?"

DK blew out a long breath. "Well, it looks like it's all much more likely now. 
We're going to have to figure out the physics and mechanics before we can safely 
send anybody anywhere using this new technology."

"Years of reverse engineering?" Larry asked.

"God yeah. Decades. But, I do think, that as we start to put the pieces 
together, little by little, we're going to see tremendous advances. Really 
exciting stuff," DK said. "I think we'll be seeing much more economical space 
flight and, well, just shorter flights. Trips to the other planets in our own 
solar system, cut from months or years, to weeks or even days."

"Winnipeg, Manitoba, hello?"

"Hello. This is absolutely fascinating."

"Thank you. Do you have a question?"

"Yes, I want to know what IASA or the US Government are planning to do if, in 
fact, these aliens are carrying some sort of plague."

"Colonel Crichton," Larry said, directing the question to a frowning Jack.

"We've had biologists on that ship for over a month. They've detected nothing. 
And I have every reason to believe the Russians will quarantine these 
extraterrestrials as effectively as possible."

"But if there is a contagion?" Larry pressed.

"Well, I imagine that individual nations will in turn quarantine themselves. 
Restrictions on travel and trade will undoubtedly be put in place. And our best 
scientists will be put to the task of containing any outbreaks," Jack said 
carefully. "I said it before, and I stand by what I said, I don't believe these 
aliens represent a significant biological threat."

"Alright. Carmel, California, hello?"

"This is sort of a more personal question, I guess, but I haven't heard anybody 
actually ask it."

"Go ahead, caller."

"This is all a lot to take in for all of us down here on Earth, but, it's got to 
be a lot for Commander Crichton to take in as well. Okay, my question is ‚ is 
John glad to be home?"

Jenny exchanged a glance with her father, while DK studiously looked down at the 
desktop. 

"Who wants to field this one?" Larry asked. "Major, I think you've had more 
contact with your brother."

"Yes." Jenny took a deep breath and wondered if she even knew the answer to that 
question. "He seems, uh, he seems really happy to be home. He's missed a lot," 
she said and immediately mentally kicked herself for the lameness of that 
response. "He talks about sports, and food and fishing and the holidays. He's 
pretty big on talking about when we were kids. He just wants to know everything 
that's happened since he's been gone. And I do know that he really does want to 
come down. He's missed Earth and, yeah, I'd say he's happy to be home."

"Alright, it looks like we've got time for one more call. Fairplay, Colorado, 
hello?"

"Hello, Larry. Question for Colonel Crichton. Colonel, would you have encouraged 
your son to go into IASA if you'd had any idea something like this could 
happen?"

Jenny snorted softly. What the hell kind of question was that? How could anybody 
have any idea this sort of thing could happen? 

Jack seemed to take the question a good deal more seriously than Jenny, though. 
"Alan Shepard told me once that every time we light the candle, it can blow 
out."

"'Light this candle' is what he said during that first Mercury launch, wasn't 
it?" Larry asked, and Jenny marveled at the fact that he knew that. 

"Yes it was," Jack confirmed solemnly. "Ask any astronaut Larry, any one, and 
they'll tell you that if they die in the pursuit of knowledge, in the 
exploration of space than they'll have died doing what they loved. There's a 
peace in that. When they 'light that candle' there's no real fear, not of death. 
You're in God's hands then. My son is an astronaut and that's what he wanted. 
That's what drove him for all of his adult life. I thought we lost John to the 
stars, but I, at least, had the peace of knowing it was while he was doing what 
he loved most. If I'd somehow had foreknowledge? I wouldn't have changed 
anything. That would have meant trying to change John, and I couldn't have done 
that. He needed to be who he was going to be."

"That's all we have time for tonight," Larry said finally and Jenny sighed in 
relief. She'd survived. Halle-fricking-lujha. 

"My thanks to Monsignor Albert Bode, Senator Robert Michaels, General Viktor 
Koslov and the family of John Crichton for being our guests this evening. A 
reminder and programming note, CNN will be carrying the landing of the alien 
shuttle live from Ekatrinasberg, Russia, Sunday morning at 1am Eastern Time, and 
10pm Saturday night for those of you on the West Coast. Good night and have a 
pleasant weekend."


19

John Crichton was ä a coward. Yes, a complete and total coward. A lily-livered, 
yellow-bellied, chicken. Bock. He dropped his head down to the console with a 
groan and slapped a palm down on the control panel, silencing the transmission. 

Six times through and he didn't think he'd found what he was looking for. There 
was something he wanted, no needed, to pull from that transmission, he just 
didn't know what the frell it was. Some clue about an Earth he didn't know 
anymore? God, like he was going to get it from an episode of Larry King. Yes, 
we've reached a new level of pathetic ladies and gentlemen. 

So what had he really been doing? Searching for some elusive excuse to put the 
brakes on the trip to Earth? Maybe. Maybe that was really it. He felt like 
they'd been in orbit forever and at the same time the minutes were flying past 
him faster than he could handle. Everything was careening out of his control. 
And almost at the point of pure panic, he'd buried himself in that one 
transmission from Earth, looking for any excuse not to go down. Which, went 
right back to the lily-livered, yellow-bellied, chicken assessment. 

John knocked his forehead against the console a few times for good measure. 
Nothing like a little self-abuse to make a man realize just how miserable his 
life was.

"Hello, Crichton."

Raising his head and shooting a guilty over his shoulder, John greeted the 
intruder on his thoughts. "Hey, Stark."

"What are you doing?" The Banik asked curiously.

"Nothing. Listening," he mumbled. "Staring."

"At?"

John waved airily at the view screen. "Earth."

"Oh," Stark replied wisely. "You do that quite a bit."

"Yep."

Stark crossed the room quietly, his one eye locked on Earth as he moved. "What 
are you looking for?"

John flinched slightly away from the question and hoped Stark hadn't noticed. 
"Just looking."

"There must be something," Stark insisted, stopping next to John and looking 
back and forth between the human and the planet.

"No," he growled defensively but relented after a moment. Lying to himself was 
one thing, lying to everybody else just to get them to shut up was too much 
work. "I don't know." 

Stark nodded slowly and hoisted himself up onto the table. John turned and tried 
to actually stare at Earth, but he couldn't help but watch the Banik out of the 
corner of his eye. 

"You'll find him. Or he'll find you," Stark told him flatly and without 
preamble.

John gave up pretending to watch Earth, facing Stark instead. "And if I do?"

Stark offered him a half smile. "I don't know."

It was John's turn to nod slowly, and then crossing his arms, he stared down at 
the tips of his boots. "Yeah. Damn."

"On the other hand," Stark chirped brightly, "you'll get a trip home and when 
you do meet, maybe you'll finally get a chance to end it. For both of us."

"Is that what you want?"

Stark tugged at the sleeves of his jacket and swallowed heavily. "Not really. 
And yes. And no. Sometimes. Sometimes. Sometimes I want him to burn. I want him 
in the chair for a hundred cycles. Screaming like I screamed. Like we screamed. 
I want him to live every microt of that a million times over." His voice grew in 
volume and hysteria and cut off suddenly as he drew a deep, hiccuping breath. He 
straightened his mask in an oddly self-conscious gesture and continued more 
softly. "Other times, I don't care. He's none of my concern anymore. I want 
other things, other places, other worlds. I don't want his shadow to follow me 
anymore."

"Neither do I," John sighed and went back to staring at the planet below them. A 
sudden, enlightening recollection of Stark's panicked pleas when the astronauts 
first came over to Moya flashed over him. "This what you were afraid of?"

"Maybe."

John frowned sourly at the Banik. "You're a lot of help, Astro."

"I know." Stark grinned broadly. 

"So, you gonna come down with us? See the sights?"

Stark kicked his feet absently against the table leg and stared off over John's 
shoulder to the sapphire globe below. "No," said firmly.

John raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side. "You sure?"

"Extremely. Pilot and I will keep each other company."

"He's gonna make you watch cricket. You know that, right?"

Stark's one eye widened and his mouth thinned in displeasure. "I'll keep myself 
company," he corrected.

John smirked and pointed a finger at him. "No joyriding with Moya. Got it?"

Half Stark's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "No."

"Yeah, well, Pilot wouldn't let you get away with it anyway. Don't know what 
we're going to have to do to pry him away from this planet when it's time to 
go," John mused, half to himself. "Gonna have to stage an intervention or 
something." He caught Stark's bewildered look and settled for a simpler, "Don't 
break anything."

"Oh, right," the Banik's confused mien faded into an impish grin. "I wouldn't 
dream of it."

John's lips twitched as he tried to give Stark a suspicious glare. It came out 
fairly weak, though, and the effect was ruined even more when the pair started 
snickering.

"John," D'Argo's voice boomed from the entrance and Stark yelped in surprised 
and jerked spasmodically, almost falling off of the table. He grabbed John's 
shoulder to keep from tumbling to the deck. 

John steadied the Banik and rolled his eyes. "Subtle, D'Argo."

The Luxan frowned. "What?"

"Never mind. Lo'la, ready to go?"

A quick, proud grin flashed across D'Argo's face. "Yes. The others are waiting. 
Are you ready?"

John kicked a bag at his feet and nodded. "Yep."

"Well, let's go then. Wait," D'Argo stopped and pointed a stern finger at the 
human. "Did you remember your coat? Kaminsky says it gets cold in Russia."

"Yeah, D'Argo," John sighed, trying to suppress a smile. "I got my coat. Got my 
toothbrush. Got a change of underwear. I'm all set."

"A toothbrush?"

John ignored D'Argo and picked up his bag. "Hey Astro. Do me a favor?"

"Hmm?"

"I still don't know what Preston did. If he managed to even do anything. But, if 
anything strange happens you give a holler, got it?"

Looking intrigued, Stark slipped clumsily off the table and moved towards one of 
the consoles. "If anything happens like what?"

Waving a hand about in a vague gesture, John shrugged. "Just keep an ear out. 
Weird signals, creepy noises, malfunctioning DRDs."

"DRDs," Stark murmured thoughtfully then fired a sharp, yet suspiciously 
humorous look in the human's direction. "How will I know if they've been 
tampered with by somebody other than you?"

D'Argo guffawed and grabbed John's bag from his hand, trying to start them both 
out of the room. "If they shoot at you, they're John's."

"Hey!" John barked indignantly. "I don't mess with the DRDs."

"What about the red and blue one?" D'Argo argued back, pausing at the door. "Oh 
and the green one with the numbers on the side?"

"Painted. Painted. Not the same as reprogramming," he defended wearily. 
"Everybody needs a hobby." Sighing he pulled his coat on and tried to take his 
bag back from D'Argo. The Luxan grinned and shook his head, disappearing out the 
door, forcing John to follow. "I'll check in when we get settled," John told 
Stark over his shoulder. "Just don't, you know, steal the ship or ignore any big 
fires or anything. Hell, I don't know. Any problems, call."

"Moya will be safe in my hands," Stark assured him with a wide grin. "Have a 
safe trip. Enjoy Earth. Kill Scorpius if you see him." 

John hesitated in mid-step at the Banik's chipper and yet mildly morbid goodbye, 
but a low, persuasive growl from the looming Luxan, kept him moving. 

"You know, we're going to Earth for you, John. Listening to that transmission 
twenty more times isn't going to make this any smoother if you don't want to go 
down. And if you really don't want to go down, just frelling say something, and 
we'll leave."

"What happened to 'you're going down, even if I have to strap you into that damn 
module myself'?" John snapped irritably.

"Ah, well that changed to, 'I'm worried about my friend and I don't want to see 
him in unnecessary pain'." D'Argo replied evenly, letting his friend's ill humor 
pass.

John's pressed his lips together tightly and stared sullenly at the floor. "I'm 
not a charity case, D'Argo." He thrust a finger at his friend. "And you don't 
have to go down to Earth, either. Don't need a goddamned Luxan babysitter."

D'Argo stopped in the middle of the hall and reached a hand out, grabbing John's 
arm. John let him stop him, shrugging his shoulders in defeat; he couldn't seem 
to find even the barest ounce of fight left. "What?"

"I'm serious, John. We don't have to--"

"I do."

"Then we go together," D'Argo pronounced firmly.

Nodding dumbly, John cast his eyes on the floor again and started walking again. 
He was trying to deal with all of this, really he was, and to be honest he was 
just as sick of his own mood swings as everybody else, but he was damned if he 
knew what to do about it. He had to go to Earth, resolve ä whatever it was he 
had to resolve. He just couldn't guarantee that he was going to be at all 
pleasant during the resolution of whatever it was that was being resolved. 

With inane mental babblings to keep him occupied, the silent trip to the landing 
bay was quicker and more painless than it had any right to be. John shook his 
head and tried to effect a quick personality repair as he stepped into the bay. 
It wasn't a long trip to Russia but it was a small ship and unless he kept it 
zipped he'd probably find himself breathing vacuum.

"He was listening to that talking dren again," D'Argo rumbled somewhat 
incongruously. 

John looked up, puzzled, and sighed when he saw Aeryn waiting just inside the 
door. "What? Did you draw straws?"

"I was scissors, he was rock."

"Aw, Aeryn, he's always rock," John moan in disappointment. "C'mon."

"Ha, not this time. I was paper first, and so was she, thinking to take 
advantage of my general rock strategy, but being more clever than any Sebacean," 
D'Argo teased with a broad, toothy grin, "I threw paper to throw her off and 
then threw rock when I knew she'd try to counter." He ended with a sharp nod of 
his head and a loud bark of triumphant laughter. 

"Congratulations, D'Argo, you beat me at a stupid game," Aeryn replied, trying 
to sound irritated but failing rather miserably. She wasn't really the best 
actor when it came to these sorts of things, John noted with some amusement. 
"Well done. I'm sure you're very proud."

"A game of mental acuity and strategy," D'Argo corrected dryly. "And I am very 
proud. Can we leave now?"

She nodded and jerked a thumb at the bag in D'Argo's hand. "Is that John's bag?"

"Yes."

"Does he have everything?"

"I believe so," D'Argo mused, looking down at the bag. "He said he packed clean 
underwear and he has his coat ‚"

"I am standing right here, you know," John pointed out patiently.

"And a tooth äbrush?" D'Argo continued, oblivious to his human friend's protest.

Aeryn smirked and waved him off. "Fine, put it on the ship, I want to talk to 
him for a moment."

D'Argo eyed her doubtfully. "You have a hundred microts and if you're not on the 
ship by then I'm coming back here and I'm carrying you on."

John laughed and gave Aeryn a meaningful once over. "I'd love to see you try 
that." D'Argo shot him a haughty look and stomped towards his ship. "Seriously. 
I would sell Rygel to see that."

Aeryn smiled. "Fortunately for Rygel, he's not here. I don't think he'd 
appreciate that."

John shrugged and leaned back against the wall. "Of anybody, he'd appreciate it 
most."

"You miss him?"

"Don't you?"

"Oddly enough," she confirmed. "It's too quiet. Despite Chiana's best efforts."

"I wonder how he's doing," John mused absently.

"He's fine, I'm sure. He is terrifyingly resourceful."

"Yeah." John gazed over Aeryn's shoulder, chewing his lip and tapping a finger 
against the bulkhead, his eyes going slightly out of focus as he thought. "You 
know," he said quietly, "we should probably check on him."

"When we're done here."

John's eyes dropped back to her, snapping into focus again and a small smile 
touched his lips. "Yeah. When we're done."

"Are you alright with going down?"

"No." He stared at her intently and brushed a thumb across his lips. "But, I 
have to."

"You'll be fine."

"You know, I've been thinking." He took a step closer to her, his gaze 
intensifying. "Maybe you shouldn't go down."

She raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Oh really. Why is that?"

Reaching out a tentative finger, he brushed the tip across her stomach and drew 
away quickly. "The baby," he whispered hoarsely. "Maybe," clearing his throat he 
looked past her and tried again, "Maybe, you'd be safer."

Narrowing her eyes, and staring at him with an ever-darkening expression, she 
replied with an icily calm voice. "Excuse me?"

John cleared his throat again and stepped even closer to her, dropping his head 
down to look at her. This wasn't quite how he'd meant this to go but it had been 
a nagging concern for a while and he couldn't fight it back. What if they found 
out she was pregnant? What if they found out it was a human hybrid? What would 
they do? Frell, what wouldn't they do? "You don't know what could happen. It's 
justä"

"Neither do you," she whispered back fiercely.

"Aeryn, listen to me."

"I will. When you make sense," she snapped. "Don't you dare use this child like 
this."

He ran a finger across her stomach again and winced when she stepped back. "It's 
dangerous."

"Life is dangerous, John Crichton. And if Earth is too dangerous for me, it's 
too dangerous for you." John took a deep breath at her words and shook his head. 
Grabbing his chin in one hand, she squeezed hard enough to grab his attention. 
"Do you understand me?"

They stared at each other for a long moment while John searched desperately for 
a way to back away from what was rapidly shaping up to be a glaringly stupid 
strategic error. A throat clearing behind them gave John the out he needed.

"Are you two done?" D'Argo asked softly. John could tell by the uncomfortable 
expression on his friend's face that he'd heard more than he'd wanted to.

"Yes," Aeryn said sharply. She let go of John's face and turned away, briskly 
crossing the deck towards D'Argo's ship.

John stared after her, still trying to assess how much damage he'd done and 
wondering how frelling long it would take him to fix it. He looked down at the 
deck when D'Argo stepped up next to him. "Sorry we took so long," he mumbled.

"She's pregnant?"

"Apparently."

"Is ä uh, that is ä" D'Argo stumbled for a moment. "Whose is it?"

"Mine. Apparently."

"Congratulations." John made a noncommittal grunt and started towards the ship. 
D'Argo followed next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "It will all work 
out fine." John grunted again. "I promise," D'Argo pressed.

"I hear you, D'Argo," John bit out with barely suppressed hostility.

"I don't think you do, but that's okay. For now."

John shot him a sullen look and shrugging off D'Argo's hand, stomped up the ramp 
into the ship without another word. He brushed silently past the others in the 
cabin, threw himself down into the co-pilot's chair and kicked his feet up. 
Alright, going down. Going down was good. So long as there weren't flames. No 
flames. But going down to the planet. This would be great. Fun. Beer. Russians. 
Cold. Crap. No, no, that's okay; this would all be good. D'Argo was right; this 
would all work out fine. It would work out fine if it frelling killed him or if 
he had to frelling kill somebody else. And he'd be happy while he did it. Damn 
it. 

"Get your frelling feet off the control panel." D'Argo swatted at his boots and 
John swung his feet to one side, out of the Luxan's reach. "John."

John ignored him, ignored the very hard to ignore icy chill radiating from the 
ex-peacekeeper right behind him, ignored the girls' chatter and ignored the 
monotonous chant -- and piquant odor -- drifting over from grandma. Yeah, this 
was going to be a whole world of fun, a fresh level of hell for all to enjoy. 

D'Argo reached across him and shoved his feet off of the panel. "John," he 
growled menacingly.

John didn't hear him, though, didn't even feel D'Argo's forceful shove or his 
boots hitting the deck, and this time it was more than just active, self-
preserving oblivion. John was distracted by the black clad figure squeezed up 
against the bulkhead next to him. 

"This will be fun, John. Can we go to the Hermitage? The Bolshoi? The Kremlin. 
Oh, I would most especially like to see the Kremlin."

John ground his teeth painfully and glared out the window, refusing to answer. 
He couldn't quite tell just where in his head they were and he wasn't up for 
having a conversation with his imaginary wraith in front of everybody else. It 
was one thing when Harvey pulled him into the landscape of his mind, but 
sometimes that line between mind and reality would blur and he couldn't tell 
which was which. When it happened and he wasn't alone, the best course was 
usually to just shut up and hope Harvey would get the hint. 

"Perogies. That old woman who lived next door when you were, how old was it? 
Ten? She made perogies for you and your sisters. You enjoyed those. We should 
get the Russians to get you some perogies. And borscht, though hopefully better 
than your mother's."

John felt his body go rigid with irritation and the beginnings of a good mad on. 
"Get lost," he snarled softly. 

"No," Harvey snarled back.

Balling his hands into fist, John held himself completely still. 'Not now, damn 
it, not now,' he chanted silently, furiously. 

"If not now, when? You need me, John. You need me now, on Earth. I can help you. 
I can help you find him." Harvey moved closer, his dry, twisted lips almost 
brushing against John's ear and John shuddered in revulsion. "I can tell you 
where he'd go, how he'd work, what he wants. I'm the only one who can help you, 
John. You can't ignore me and I'm not going away. We're ä partners."

John's nostrils flared and he took a few long, deep breaths, trying to keep down 
the bile building in his throat. 'Get this straight,' he thought furiously, 
'you're in my head. My head!'

"Our head."

"No," John barked out loud. He swore mutely and shrugged at D'Argo's questioning 
gaze. "Nothing." Silently he directed a wave of bitter ire at the neural clone. 
'You do not get to play with my neurons like they're your own personal jungle 
gym. I will put you back in the dumpster and I will leave you there.'

"I'd like to see you try," Harvey whispered, his voice like an oil slick in 
John's head. "I'd sell ä hmm ä Aeryn to see you try."

John's eyes widened, sick terror building in his gut, and he finally turned his 
head to look at the clone, only to find that the bastard had vanished back into 
the dark and acrid corners of his mind. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. He 
brought up a shaking hand and pressed the pads of his fingers against his eyes, 
rubbing until he saw bright explosions of light behind his eyelids. "Son of a 
bitch."

***

20

Beginning is the most difficult aspect of any campaign. You can plan and 
strategize and study your environment for cycles, but once begun, that all 
becomes, at best, a rough guide. The comfortable embrace of speculation and 
projection is an especially difficult comfort to rouse oneself from when 
confronted with the realization that the only hard truth that can be drawn from 
such study is that uncertainty and unpredictability govern any action. That 
said, there is a tremendous relief to be had once an action, however long 
anticipated, finally began and an incalculable satisfaction at facing, weapons 
and mind primed, the gaping maw of the unknown. 

And it was with that relief that Aeryn stepped out of D'Argo's ship and onto 
Earth soil again. Well, that and the absolute, pure relief of escaping the tiny 
confines of the ship and its other passengers - a pair of chattering girls, a 
leering Russian, a snarling Luxan, a babbling old woman and a fiercely muttering 
Crichton. Somebody was very lucky it was a short trip. 

A bitterly cold wind blasted across the broad clearing, howling and tugging at 
the visitors, forcing Aeryn to draw her coat more tightly around herself and 
rousing unpleasant memories of the last time she'd faced cold this severe. She 
quickly tamped down those memories and let her instincts take over in the new 
environment. Scanning the area surrounding the ship, she took in the dark forest 
encircling their landing field, the wide strip that led to a collection of 
buildings roughly a quarter metra away and the cluster of humans gathered there, 
and of course, she couldn't help but notice the numerous vehicles that 
surrounded Lo'la microts after they touched down. Figures clad in the 
containment suits similar to those the shuttle astronauts had worn, clambered 
out of the vehicles and approached them; some warily and some with more 
confidence and some took up positions that were clearly defensive. Aeryn took a 
deep breath and braced herself for the charge of the unknown. 

"He's not well."

"I noticed," Aeryn said shortly, irritated at being drawn from her survey, when 
D'Argo came up to stand beside her, his boots crunching loudly on the frozen 
ground. She spared him a brief glance, noting the way his wary gaze concentrated 
on the approaching humans as well. "Harvey?"

"I couldn't tell."

Aeryn adjusted her coat and kicked her heel irritably against a small, crusty 
drift of snow. "He's becoming a pest."

"We should do something about it."

"I wish I knew what."

"I've got a few ideas." D'Argo paused and glanced down at her. "Wait. Who are we 
talking about?"

"Harvey."

"Oh, right." D'Argo scratched his nose and rocked back on his heels. "Harvey."

Aeryn was interrupted from her thoughts once again and her muttered conversation 
with D'Argo came to an abrupt halt when John brushed brusquely past them. He 
moved to stand a few paces away, facing their approaching hosts, his legs spread 
in a ready stance and his hands on his hips. Aeryn shared a guilty look with 
D'Argo and wondered how much they were to blame for the open and worrying 
aggressiveness of his posture. In an effort to repair her own tactical error, 
she looked past D'Argo and caught Chiana's attention with a subtle flick of her 
eyes. The young Nebari gave her an answering nod and slipped up to Crichton, 
tucking her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. Aeryn watched 
with some small satisfaction as Crichton's stance relaxed somewhat.

"I could knock him out," D'Argo whispered helpfully.

Aeryn pressed her lips together. "Let's save that for an emergency."

"This could be an emergency," he insisted.

"If he pulls his pistol, that'll be an emergency," she told him, "so far he's 
just glaring."

D'Argo sighed heavily. "Fine."

"Tell you what," she offered with an exasperated smile, "if he looks like he 
might be thinking about maybe, possibly going for his pistol, you can knock him 
out."

D'Argo gave a small, rumbling chuckle. "Excellent."

"But, let's see how this goes, first," Aeryn cautioned quickly. She was almost 
certain he was joking, but that certainty was somewhat tainted by the fact that 
Crichton had seen to it, in his own very special and always unique way, that the 
trip down had been more irritating than it needed to be, by refusing to remove 
his feet from the controls of D'Argo's ship. D'Argo was very particular about 
his ship and Aeryn wasn't one hundred percent convinced that he wouldn't knock 
John out if he had even the tiniest excuse. 

"There's no harm in being prepared," D'Argo grumbled somewhat defensively. 

"None at all," she agreed and, motivated by her own keen interest in being as 
prepared as possible, she took a few steps closer to Crichton to stand just 
behind and slightly to one side. Conveniently and not terribly subtly, she 
positioned herself at a point that just happened to fall directly between the 
irritating human and the irritated Luxan. Spreading her legs, she balanced her 
weight on the balls of her feet, bouncing slightly, readying herself for 
whatever was to come.

Colonel Kaminsky broke the tense moment of waiting by simply ignoring the 
tension and striding to the front of their small group, cheerfully greeting the 
approaching humans. There was some saluting, posturing, shaking of hands and 
then the turning of expectant eyes towards them. Aeryn tensed and watched John 
closely, but to her rather tremendous relief the old woman chose that moment to 
finally prove herself, if not useful, at least a well timed distraction. She 
took a bit of the burden of the moment off of Crichton by pushing him out of the 
way and introducing herself to the human's leader. Annoying, but useful. 

"Greetings, I am Uta Noranti Pralatong." Crichton turned his head and meet 
Aeryn's eyes, silently mouthing the old woman's name. His lips quirking into a 
small smile and, returning the grin, she shook her head slightly, just as 
bemused by the old woman's timing as he was. "Healer, diplomat, practitioner of 
the ancient art of--"

"Erm, Madam, they don't have translator microbes," Kaminsky pointed out with a 
small flick of his hand towards the staring humans. 

"Well, do they want some? That really would make this all so much easier. Oh, 
and I brought along a special little mix," she started to dig through her myriad 
pockets, "I think just might ease the --" She broke off with a small yelp when 
Crichton wrapped his fist in the back of her jacket and gave a tug, pulling her 
back and away from the Russians. He shoved her behind him with a warning glare. 
"I'm trying to be helpful. I could negotiate the bark out of a raloga --"

Crichton interrupted her again and hissed, "You can be helpful by being quiet."

"Humph." The old woman tossed her head and stomped away from him to stand with 
her arms crossed at the base of D'Argo's ship. 

Cocking her head to one side, as if she could get a better measure of him, Aeryn 
studied Crichton again. And once again he was a puzzle. One moment he was amused 
and then quick as anything he was fairly trembling with barely contained rage. 
How far was she supposed to go to be supportive of the man? How much was she to 
allow before he was unmanageable? At what point did she finally just throw up 
her hands and let D'Argo knock him flat? And why, why was he her responsibility 
at all?

Kaminsky moved quickly again, stepping up and averting trouble. He quickly 
introduced the crew to his superior, General Koslov, and a wiry, shifty looking 
diplomat called Zherdev. Zherdev gave them each a brisk nod and promptly 
launched into a long-winded speech that most of the crew tried their best to 
ignore; preferring instead to let their eyes wander to new sights, studying the 
humans and their odd machines. Though, for her part, Aeryn was more engrossed in 
standing tensely, while watching her own human for any signs of sudden madness. 

Shifting uncomfortably next to Crichton, Kaminsky looked vaguely embarrassed as 
Zherdev droned on and the crew continued to studiously ignore him. He cast 
pleading glances at the General and Koslov finally took pity on them, clearing 
his throat loudly and announcing that perhaps the guests were chilled. Zherdev 
smiled graciously and promised them he'd finish his speech when they were all 
warm and comfortable. Kaminsky muttered something colorful under his breath and 
ushered the crew away from the ship and towards a waiting transport. 

Aeryn paused a few paces away and examined the transport with a critical eye. It 
was small, she thought, extremely small, a very confined space and when they 
were all in it, it would be a remarkably convenient target. She had no doubt 
that Kaminsky was as good has his word, that they would all be well protected in 
his country, but that didn't make her any less wary. Crichton had a rather mixed 
opinion of his fellow humans and if they were half as unpredictable as he was 
she was sure her time on Earth was going to be far more adventurous than she 
wanted. In the face of a planet full of Crichtons (as D'Argo loved to put it), 
she was determined to embrace caution and avoid as much excitement as possible.

Realizing suddenly that the rest of the crew were already in the transport and 
waiting on her, she shook herself and took the last few reluctant steps towards 
them. "Wait a microt," D'Argo barked furiously, jumping out of the vehicle and 
pushing past her. Turning quickly, ready for some threat, Aeryn followed the 
Luxan's gaze and saw a swarm of humans at the base of Lo'la, erecting a metal 
frame around the ship. "Kaminsky, what are they doing to my ship?" he roared.

Kaminsky stepped down from the vehicle and ran to place himself in front of 
D'Argo, trying to stall a rampage. Aeryn winced and hoped for the Russian's sake 
D'Argo managed to hold his temper, otherwise, that was going to hurt. "It's a 
quarantine tent. They won't touch your ship. I already warned them."

"Quarantine tent," D'Argo repeated uncertainly and somewhat unhappily. 

"It's safe. I promise," Kaminsky assured him with a forced smile and a semi-
jovial clap on his shoulder. "Come. The President is waiting for us."

"President?"

"Our leader. Come on," Kaminsky urged. "He's waiting. And so is the press. Those 
people down there?" He waved his hand towards the other end of the field. "They 
want to see you. Come on." He waited only long enough to make sure D'Argo would 
follow before he ran back to the transport, hopped on and slid back into his 
seat, letting out a long, slightly shaky breath as he did so. 

Crichton reached back over his seat and punched Kaminsky on the shoulder. "We 
wouldn't have let him hurt you." Kaminsky gave him a weak smile. "Much." The 
smile fell away immediately and was replaced by a surly glare.

"Oh thank you," he grumbled, warily watching as D'Argo heaved himself back onto 
the transport. Chiana giggled softly and leaned over to whisper something in the 
Russian's ear. Aeryn couldn't make out what it was but the effects on the 
Colonel were immediate and when he finally stopped choking, he gave Chiana a sly 
wink. Well, at least somebody was having a good time, Aeryn thought sourly. She 
still had her eye firmly fixed on Crichton who had turned away from Kaminsky to 
stare moodily out the window, fiddling with the clasps on his coat. 

The ride was anything but smooth, the frozen ground was brutally unforgiving, 
but fortunately it was a short ride and soon enough they were being funneled off 
the transport, down a clear tube and into a large building. The building was 
vast and quite open ‚ a work bay or hanger, Aeryn assumed. They were directed 
further down their tube to the far half of the open space and into what was best 
described as a large clear cage. Aeryn bristled at the confinement and felt 
entirely too vulnerable. D'Argo didn't seem any happier about the situation and 
he hissed furiously when a thousand quick explosions of light suddenly blinded 
them. Aeryn stumbled back from the onslaught and dropped her hand to her weapon. 

"Relax," John muttered quietly, catching her hand and pushing them all back 
slightly with a wave of his arm. "It's the press. They're just taking pictures. 
Relax."

"I'm sorry," Kaminsky said quickly. "I should have warned you." He turned and 
waved over a man in a green uniform on the other side of the glass. "Tell them 
to stop. We're being blinded here." The man offered a shrug and half a salute 
and hurried off. "Idiots," Kaminsky growled darkly. 

Shielding her eyes against the continuing pulses of light, Aeryn noticed that 
the other side of the building was completely open and gathered at the opening 
was an intimidatingly large crowd of humans. Several hundred at least. Many 
armed with the obnoxious flashing objects. 

She turned her head away from the crowd and looked over her friends instead. 
D'Argo's initial irritation had fled it seemed, and he was close up against the 
glass watching the humans with a curious and somewhat amused look on his face. 
Jool was next to him, and was actually preening under the attention. Chiana, 
oddly enough, didn't seem to be taking to the regard very well; she hovered 
nervously behind Crichton, darting occasional tense and wary looks around his 
shoulder. 

Aeryn let out a tired sigh when her gaze finally landed again on Crichton, who 
had returned to his aggressive stand -- legs spread, hands on his hips. 
Fortunately he'd replaced his glare with a flatly neutral expression. Aeryn did 
notice that his eyes were darting quickly around the room, no doubt taking 
everything in and weighing the possibility of actual threats against his own 
deep paranoia. 

Aeryn looked away from Crichton and let her eyes wander to the final member of 
the crew present -- the old woman. Apparently oblivious to the scrutiny, she was 
busy digging through her pockets. After a microt she pulled a bag out of her 
skirt, she sniffed at it curiously and then dumped its contents into her mouth. 
She spent a few more microts gagging and choking before giving a happy sigh and 
leaning back against the wall. Aeryn closed her eyes and wondered briefly why 
they hadn't left the old crone at any number of other planets. 

What happened next was a blur of tedium. Speeches, speeches, some more speeches 
and as threatened, Zherdev not only finished his speech but he started all over 
again from the beginning -- in case any of them had forgotten it. The day was, 
she allowed, an important day in Earth history. Having been at one other first 
contact in her career, and having spent many long arns of her youth studying 
Peacekeeper history, she knew just how much this changed a civilization, a 
people. Granted with the Peacekeepers first contacts could tend to be brutal 
affairs, moments of conquest or destruction, but the change from being a 
civilization alone to being one of millions was sure to be startling -- even 
when it came peacefully. That didn't really excuse the interminable speeches, 
though, and after about two arns, she was starting to come around to the idea 
that maybe the Peacekeepers had this part right all along. 

Eventually the whole thing drifted to an end. John made a short speech, thanking 
the Russians for hosting them, expressing his great joy at being home, and 
pronouncing that he was looking forward to sharing with his fellow human 
scientists all the remarkable things he'd seen and done. As far as speeches 
went, it was actually very good, and Aeryn realized he must have been working on 
it for quite a while. She imagined him wandering the halls of Moya in the early 
hours, chasing the DRDs and making speeches to imaginary Earthmen. It would 
explain quite a lot of his muttering. She thought, however, that the final, real 
speech probably would have been more impressive if he'd delivered it with any 
sort of actual enthusiasm or even something slightly more upbeat than his almost 
toneless inflection and tense, forced smile; she'd heard prisoners give cheerier 
confessions. 

Mere microts after John finished his speech, containment-suited figures appeared 
at the far end of the crew's little glass cage and ushered them through a door 
and down another long tube.  

"Well, that was fun," D'Argo commented softly as they walked.

"No it wasn't," Aeryn told him flatly.

"You're right, it wasn't."

They continued on a few more paces before Aeryn finally gave a small sigh and 
shrugged. "I don't know what I expected but somehow it wasn't this."

"Jool says Kaminsky says the Russians say there're tests next."

"Tests. Wonderful."

"Gee, I forgot to study," John muttered, dropping back to walk with them. "Hey 
Aeryn, can I copy off your paper?"

"Are you in a better mood now?" D'Argo asked severely.

"I dunno, D'Argo, are you?" John shot back with an obnoxious, impudent sneer.

"Well, I wouldn't have been in a bad mood to begin with if you hadn't--"

"Can we not do this now?" Aeryn asked in a low hiss. 

"Yeah, yeah," John waived a hand and slowed down, catching Aeryn's arm. "D'Argo, 
I need to have a little chat with Aeryn. Do you mind?"

"Do I mind?" D'Argo asked, confused. John jerked his head towards the rest of 
the crew who had made it to the end of the tube and were going through yet 
another door. "Ohh, right. Okay." He bobbed his head and clomped off down the 
tube.

Aeryn gave John an expectant look but he was watching D'Argo walk away. 
"Crichton?"

"Um, yeah. Look, if there are tests, physical tests, don't agree to do any 
without asking me about them first."

"Wait a --"

"I'm serious, Aeryn," he cut her off abruptly and met her eyes with an intense 
gaze. "It would be great to say åhey check it out, humans and Sebaceans are 
related, isn't that groovy, let's all go dancing through the damn tulips.' But 
that is not what's gonna happen. They're gonna freak, because it frells up 
everything." He reached out and took a lock of her hair gently between his 
fingers and stared at it. "If they want some hair, want you to spit on a slide, 
take some skin samples ä if you're up for it, fine. I don't care about that and 
they deserve to know, even if they will freak. But no blood. No x-rays. No cat 
scans. No other fluids. No damn needles. None of that."

She nodded her head slowly as she realized where his concern was directed. She 
appreciated and found herself warmed by his concern. She wasn't sure what to do 
with that warmth or even how to address it, but the concern behind it, as 
pleasant as it was, wasn't necessary. "It's in stasis, John. They won't find--"

"No," he bit out furiously. "Please, Aeryn."

"I'll ask you," she said assured him quickly and rather defensively. She wasn't 
stupid; she most certainly wasn't going to let some human stick a needle in any 
part of her body. "I would have anyway. This is your world; you understand what 
they're trying to find in these åtests'. We need you to tell us these things."

He took a deep breath and stepped back from her. "Thank you."

Giving him an absent nod and a small frown, she started walking again. "Will 
they let me out of quarantine if I don't give them those samples?"

"God," he sighed heavily. "Most of this is just for show. They know we're not 
carrying anything. They've had a frelling astrobiologist on Moya for weekens. 
Not to mention the damn shuttle."

She gave a weary shake of her head and brushed her fingers across her eyes. "You 
humans love to make things complicated."

John paused at the door, sliding it open with a slap of his hand, and turned to 
face her, his brow furrowed. "Aeryn, you're aliens," he told her simply and 
stepped through. 

Aeryn stood for a moment, watching him walk away, and gave his back a long, 
level glare. Halfway down the short corridor he stopped in mid-step and shot her 
a curious look over his shoulder. She gave him a dark look and let a low, 
irritated growl break from her throat before she stepped through the doorway and 
followed him deeper into the building.

Several more arns were sacrificed to a haze of bemusement, irritation and 
finally resignation. The tests turned out to be an endless series of questions 
about the most absurd things. Aeryn had no idea what a årabbit' was, let alone 
why she should ever wish to torment one. To make things even worse, none of the 
containment-suited scientists asking the questions would agree to take 
translator microbes, meaning that everything had to be translated by Crichton 
and Kaminsky and by mid-day both men were extremely surly and determined to see 
that everybody else was as miserable as they were.

Eventually, after an intense, hushed conversation of desperation, Aeryn and 
D'Argo came up with a plan to ease their misery -- they sat back in their chairs 
and flatly refused to answer any more questions about anything at all. That 
seemed to fluster their human examiners, who weren't quite sure what to do with 
recalcitrant aliens. They gathered in a tight little knot in a far corner of the 
room and while waving their hands about and darting puzzled looks at the crew, 
engaged in their own fierce and desperate conversation. The impromptu conference 
ended as abruptly as it began and the scientists quietly gathered their 
equipment and meekly slipped out of the nearest door. 

Later, after their evening meal -- an assortment of foods she wasn't sure what 
to make of, though they were of a quality and quantity not even Rygel could have 
complained about -- Aeryn retreated to her small room on the base. Small, she 
snorted softly and surveyed the room. It was larger than any room she'd ever had 
as a Peacekeeper. Her relatively large cell on Moya had spoiled her, clearly. 
This room was more than large enough and seemed to her at least, to speak of 
just how graciously these Russians were willing to treat their guests. It 
contained all the necessities, a large bed, a small lavatory, a table and two 
chairs, a cabinet for storage, a black box she hadn't identified the purpose of 
yet, and her favorite feature and the one that made her the most uneasy -- a 
large window occupied the middle of the far wall. 

The window was a luxury that had surprised her. Her battle-honed instincts told 
her the window was a dangerous weakness in the defenses of the base, but a 
rebellious part deep in her mind was drawn to the feature and she had difficulty 
pulling her attention from it. She'd grown up in space, on a command carrier, 
and in her entire life, she'd only spent a bare handful of days planet-side 
anywhere. Windows were a rarity, unnecessary for much of her life. Her window 
looked out across a wide tarmac and past a few stout buildings, into the dark 
forest beyond. Now that the base had gone quiet for the evening, Aeryn let 
herself indulge in the extravagance of the window. She left the lights off in 
the room and drifted over to it and stared out into the night. Sometime, late in 
the afternoon, a bitter wind had picked up and carried a storm in with it, 
bringing a thick fall of snow.

Soft orange lights dotted the base here and there, and through the storm Aeryn 
could just make out the lone sentinels slipping in and out of the pools of pale 
light. Watching the guards patrol, she let out a relieved shudder. As a 
Peacekeeper, she'd embraced all of her duties, no matter how loathsome, but she 
was incalculably relieved that guard duty in a blizzard wasn't a duty she needed 
to embrace. What a thoroughly miserable job. Grot work. 

A howling gust of wind blasted across the tarmac, blowing the snow in great 
billows and obscuring the distant, shadowed figures. Aeryn shivered in sympathy 
but couldn't keep herself from enjoying the warm, comfortable feeling of being 
sheltered while that storm raged just denches away. 

She wasn't certain how long she stood by her window, mesmerized by the fat, 
swirling flakes of snow, before she was pulled from her reverie by a soft 
tapping at her door. She turned and watched John slip into the room and close 
the door with a soft click. 

"Hey," he greeted quietly, bracing his back against the door. 

Aeryn gave him a small smile. "Hey."

"It's dark in here."

"Yes it is."

"Okay." He pushed himself away from the door and crossed the room to stand just 
in front of her, staring over her shoulder out the window. "That's one hell of a 
storm."

She turned back to the window and cocked her head to one side, studying the 
fierce gale. "Odd, but I rather like it."

Aeryn felt him step up closer behind her, not more than a dench away, his almost 
unnatural heat warmed her back and his soft breath puffed across her neck when 
he laughed. "'Cause you're not out in it."

"Of course," she agreed. "Have you been drinking?"

"Kaminsky had them bring in some beer. Estonian," he laughed again when he said 
the name. "I only had a couple, saved the rest for you. Want some?"

"Not now, but thank you."

"Sure."

They stood silently, John not moving closer than that dench, and Aeryn not 
moving back into him, though she had only to lean slightly. The moment stretched 
into a long handful of microts but Aeryn continued to hold herself quiet, 
waiting for him. He'd come to her, late, something on his mind, but the last 
time she'd tried to get him to talk it hadn't gone well at all, so she was 
determined to wait him out, let him do what he needed to do. It was almost 
unbearably frustrating, but for now it would have to do. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a handful of 
microts, he moved up against her and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. She 
brought her arm up, slipping her fingers through his short hair, and holding his 
head to her. He slipped one arm around her waist, pulling her even closer to 
him, and lifted his head slightly, nuzzling her neck gently. She closed her 
eyes, relaxing into the sensation, enjoying his presence and trying not to think 
about how awkward this could be. 

To Aeryn's great disappointment their quiet moment didn't last long before John 
pulled away, muttering a soft apology. "Damn. Sorry, Aeryn, sorry." 

Aeryn took a deep, steadying breath and let her eyes slip closed for a microt. 

"Can I sit?"

She turned to see him standing by her table, his finger running absently across 
its smooth top. "Of course."

For a moment she thought he hadn't heard her, when instead of sitting, he 
grasped the back of the chair and stared down at his hand. Frowning, she watched 
him closely for a microt longer before his head jerked once and he pulled out 
the chair abruptly and dropped down onto it. 

"Are you alright?"

He flattened his hands against the table, pressing the palms into the wood and 
stretching long fingers out as far as they would go. "No."

Pulling out the second chair, Aeryn sat down next to him and joined him in his 
contemplation of his hands. "I'm not very good at this, John."

 "It's okay, Aeryn, you don't have--"

She reached slowly across the table and lightly brushed a finger against the 
back of his hand.  "I'm just saying. I'm not very good at this, but ä I'm 
trying. I don't know how much is too much, how much is not enough. I ä I'm not 
very good at this," she sighed.

 "Not much call for this in Peacekeepers, I'm thinking," he murmured after a 
moment.

"No," she agreed evenly. "Personal relationships, close friendships, aren't much 
encouraged."

"They can fracture a small crew."

She barked out a dry, cynical laugh at hearing him quote old words and old 
theory back at her. "I suspect it has more to do with keeping down the chances 
of rebellion, than with strategic concerns."

"Oh, I don't know."

 "No, no, I've thought about this," she said seriously. "If we were a 
Peacekeeper team, they would have broken us up long ago. We're too dangerous as 
a crew. Too independent but too tied together. And really, why would a Delvian, 
a Luxan, a Hynerian, a Nebari, a Human, and a Peacekeeper, serve with each other 
if there weren't some other connection? Why should we each have cared? Nothing 
short of close friendships could have held us all together. That's what makes us 
a threat, if indeed we are one." He made a noncommittal noise and continued to 
stare at her fingers as they stroked his. "No comment? I just told you, after I 
don't know how many cycles, that you were right, and you're silent? I think I'll 
inform Pilot to note that in the log."

"Funny. You could take that show on the road," he grumbled.

"I think I'll stay where I am."

He twisted his hand suddenly and caught her wandering fingers.  "It's hard," he 
breathed softly, barely audibly. "Earth -- Earth is, well, it's scaring the hell 
out of me. Aeryn, I don't know this place anymore, I don't know these people. I 
don't fit and I'm so, so damn scared of what they're going to do to you. I am so 
scared."

"John--"

He pulled away and clasped his shaking hands together tightly, the knuckles 
turning white and the tips turning livid. "I know, I know. I -- we'll be 
careful. It'll be okay. Everybody's watching. Nobody'd do anything. I know all 
that but I feel it." He unhooked his fingers and grabbed a handful of his shirt 
at his chest, thumping his fist lightly. "I feel it, like I can't breathe, my 
heart freezes and I am so scared."

"Is there anything at all I can tell you, anything I can say that will make this 
easier?"

"No, probably not," he sighed and gave her a weary smile. "Unless it's word that 
we can catch the next transport out of here."

"You won't leave."

He reached across the table for her hands again. "No."

"Than I can't tell you that."

"I had a dream after the command carrier," he started conversationally, "we came 
to Earth and you all died. All of you. You ä you died." He frowned and brushed 
his thumb across the back of her hand. "Peacekeepers came and you died. I held 
you; I felt your blood on my hands. I can still feel it." He looked up, his eyes 
pleading and desperate.

 "John."

"Don't tell me it'll be okay," he cut her off bitterly. "Because what if it's 
not?"

"I ‚," she faltered, not sure exactly what to tell him. Every day, every planet, 
was a risk. Earth was not terribly different in that respect for the rest of the 
crew, but for John it was the end of a cycles long journey. Probably not 
something he'd ever spent much time looking past and now it towered in front of 
him, not some ethereal dream but a solid, unmistakable reality. "I don't know, 
John."

"Scorpius was on Earth, too," he mumbled, almost an afterthought.

"That's why you were so upset when you realized Preston was a Peacekeeper," she 
said, more to herself, finally getting a clear picture of his behavior since 
their arrival at Earth. "You thought it meant Scorpius beat you here."

"And you died."

"And I died." She turned her hand over and squeezed his fingers, tugging on his 
hand slightly, trying to get him to look at her. "In a dream. I'm not dead yet," 
she informed him firmly. 

"I know. I know," he said, his voice barely more than a breath. He reclaimed one 
hand and wearily rubbed it across his eyes. "Aeryn?"

"Hmm?" 

"Are we okay?"

She frowned, confused. "Are we okay?" 

"Yeah. You and me. I ä uh, I know I said some things when we came back from my 
dad's that weren't ...  well I'm sorry. I'd just -- just spent the night looking 
into my father's eyes and lying to him. Lying to myself, trying to pretend 
everything was going to be okay and knowing the whole time that the Peacekeepers 
were here. God," he broke into a whisper. After a moment he cleared his throat. 
"Anyway, I wasn't ä um, I was a jackass and, uh, right before we came down ä I 
am so sorry. You didn't deserve that."

Aeryn stared at him for a long microt, searching his face in the dim, orange 
glow. "Tell me something."

"What?" He asked hesitantly.

"I was gone for, how long? Half a cycle? Little bit more?"

"Yeah."

She nodded thoughtfully and kept her steady gaze on him. "And I've been back 
about that long."

"'Bout that," he confirmed, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd been in Peacekeeper custody?"

"Frell," he hissed and pulled back from the table, slumping down in his seat. 
"D'Argo."

"He told me they held you for several weekens. I'm not blind, John," she told 
him, exasperated when he remained silent. "I've seen that there's something 
wrong. I saw it when I first came back and I can still see it."

"You didn't tell me you were pregnant," he told her coldly.

Her eyes narrowed but she didn't flinch from his words. "I did when you asked," 
she bit out tersely. He remained silent but started to get up, pushing himself 
away from the table. Aeryn moved quickly, grabbing his arm. "I didn't bring it 
up to be cruel, John. But I know there's more going on with you than just Earth. 
Something had you upset long before we got here and this is all just making it 
worse."

"I appreciate your concern," he growled softly. He shook her off and paced to 
the far side of the bed. 

Aeryn got up and followed him. She grasped his shoulder and turned him to face 
her. "Stop it." She shook him lightly and leaned closer to him, their noses 
denches apart. His eyes shifted and he stared over her shoulder at the window, 
his face closed, all expression dulled against her. Sighing in frustration she 
let him go and went back to the table. "I guess I have no right to ask you this 
but I don't know what to do. How do I do this? I can't ä can't watch you fall 
apart. I can't do it." She took a deep breath, trying to steady her 
exasperation, and scowled down at her clenched fists. "You make this so 
difficult. Everything is difficult with you. Hezmana!"

Lowering himself down onto the end of the bed, he braced his elbows on his knees 
and looked up at her. "I never asked--"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped furiously. "Of course you didn't. Just like I 
never asked the hundred times you wouldn't let me alone or you did something 
ridiculously stupid for me." She gave him a withering glare and crossed her 
arms. 

"I didn't come in here to argue," he muttered petulantly, looking down at his 
clenched fists. "I just wanted to see ä see how you were. Big day and all."

"I'm fine," she told him not unkindly. "And?"

"That's it."

"Okay. Well, I'm here."

"Yeah. Great."

"Great."

He stood up slowly and stared at her, a hesitant yet frustrated look on his 
face. Shaking her head helplessly, she turned and walked back to the window, 
bracing her hands on the sill. Her body tensed, waiting for the click of the 
door as he left, but long microts passed and it never came. She turned slowly 
and leaned back against the edge of the window, her eye picking him out in the 
dark room. He stood with his back to her and his forehead braced against the 
door.

"So, I'm not just crazy and a coward, I'm a liar, too," his voice drifted to 
her, soft and muffled. She didn't respond -- she was tired of responding to his 
jabs, to his attempts at dodging her concerns, to whatever these stupid games 
were that he was playing with her and with himself. 

He pushed away from the door and walked back into the room, dropping onto the 
edge of the bed again. "I just wanted to see you. Be here, tonight. Just ä just 
not be alone. Don't want to be alone."

Closing her eyes, she rocked her head back against the glass and said softly, 
"Trust me."

"I'm scared," he said in a small, distant voice.

"Of me?"

"Of me."

The strange orange lights outside, their brilliance softened and muffled by the 
driving snow, cast an ethereal glow over the room. John's face was swathed in a 
mixture of shadow and the odd light, making him look years younger and so 
painfully wounded. Aeryn bit her lip and held out her hand to him. He hesitated 
for a long moment, staring down at her hand and then looking up at her, 
scrutinizing her face. She felt more than a little self-conscious, wondering 
what he was looking for, but she didn't withdraw her hand and after a moment he 
stood up and took it. 

"Trust me," she repeated.

"I do."

Tugging him closer, Aeryn pulled him into a tight embrace. She gritted her teeth 
against the heavy sigh that threatened to rush past her lips when he returned 
the embrace. "I've missed you," she whispered roughly.

He pulled back slightly and brought up one hand to stroke her cheek. His mouth 
opened, as though he was about to speak but he closed it again with a snap and 
leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers instead. 

Aeryn wasn't sure how long they stood like that in that strange, pale light, but 
every microt was the mending of another wound, the narrowing of so many 
distances, she soaked up his heat, and his feel, and his smell and let them 
sooth so many fears. She turned her head and brushed her lips against his cheek, 
lingering over the rough stubble that darkened his jaw. It was, apparently, too 
much for him, and he took a step back, radiating uncertainty and something akin 
to real fear.

Aeryn bit back her own uncertainty and slipped her hands up his arms, holding 
them gently. She furrowed her brow and stared at him intently, questioning 
silently. 

He cleared his throat and looked back out the window. "I don't know how long 
they had me. D'Argo figures about three or four weekens. I don't ä remember. 
åLeast not while I'm awake." He gave her a wry smile and crossed the room to sit 
on the bed again, pushing himself back to rest against the wall. 

"It's weird ä strange ä frelled. I remember one thing and then I remember 
something completely different." He worked his jaw for a moment and then licked 
his lips and dropped his head back against the wall. "I am almost positive I saw 
Scorpius, but when I try to remember where I saw him, he's gone," John growled 
in frustration and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "He's not in anything I 
actually remember." He scratched his forehead with a thumbnail and gave Aeryn a 
puzzled frown. "I'd almost say it was just him frelling with my memories, except 
what I do remember, just, I guess, an impression, is that he wasn't any better 
off than I was. But, I don't know." He squeezed his eyes shut, appearing to 
concentrate, and chewed on his lip.

Aeryn crossed her arms and sat back against the table. "How did they capture 
you?"

"They didn't capture me, they bought me," he replied, his voice dripping with 
contempt. "You know Moya got sucked down a wormhole right after you left, 
right?"

"Pilot mentioned that to me," she muttered softly. "Moya's not fond of 
wormholes. We'll be hard pressed to get her back through the one that brought us 
here when it's time to leave.'

"One thrill ride too many, I guess," John agreed. He paused and seemed to be 
collecting his thoughts. Aeryn waited patiently, disturbed by how hesitant and 
upset he seemed but so frelling relieved to finally know what the frell his 
problem was. "I'm a little vague on what happened next," he continued. "Harvey 
did something, kept me from using up all my oxygen, but I also lost a day or 
two. Next thing I remember is waking up in crew quarters on a salvage ship."

"They recognized you?"

"Not until we got to our first port. Wanted beacon. I hate those things," he 
said dispassionately, rubbing at a small scuff on the knee of his trousers. "The 
crew jumped me and sold me and my module to the PKs stationed there."

He fell silent for another handful of microts and Aeryn felt herself compelled 
to give him a little nudge, "And then?"

"They stuffed me in a cell, chained me to a wall, and left me there for a couple 
of days while they sent a message off to whoever they sent it off to."

"They just left you?" She asked, appalled. The Peacekeeper in her was outraged 
by the crass lack of professionalism in the picket's handling of a high-profile 
prisoner. It must have been a last stop picket. The ugly assignments they sent 
Peacekeepers who were just barely a step above forced retirement. Worse than 
grot work. 

"I wasn't complaining. Wasn't able to get away, though. Luxan strength chains, I 
guess." He drew his knees up as she had done and stifled a yawn. "After a couple 
of days they packed me up and shipped me off to a larger PK garrison and from 
there on to a Command Carrier." 

"Whose?"

"Grayza and her little lap toad, Braca." Aeryn bit back a bitter oath at that 
news and stared fixedly at her boots. "Things get a little fuzzy after that," he 
sighed wearily. 

 "What do you remember?"

He let out another long, slow breath and straightened his back, trying to pop 
out the kinks, and when the last pop was twisted out of his back he leaned 
forward, bracing his forearms on his legs. 

"She ä uh ä Grayza," he practically choked on the name and in the dim orange 
light his face looked pinched and ill. "She-she. Fuck, Aeryn, I don't think I 
can ä I justä" he seemed to run out of words and his jaw snapped tight. 

Aeryn stepped over to the bed and gingerly sat down next to him. Lifting a hand 
to touch his back, she worked her fingers gently down his spine, trying to sooth 
him. "Take your time."

"Things weren't looking good for the Peacekeepers and she was trying to either 
swing a deal with the Scarrans or find that one thing that would counter the 
threat. With Scorpius gone and his research with him, she figured she'd get me 
to make them their weapon." His body was tense and he spoke in low guttural 
snarls. "See now, Scorpy at least had the decency to just be good and 
straightforward about it all. He'd just rip my head apart or drive me crazy. 
Grayza," he coughed around the name again, "she tried to, seduce me; get me to 
give it up willingly. When I wouldn't, she ä frell."

John looked like he might be ill and Aeryn was almost certain she was going to 
join him. "You don't have to say it," she said quickly. "It's alright."

Shaking his head slowly back and forth, when he spoke again his voice was so 
thick, so broken, she almost couldn't hear it. "I couldn't stop her."

She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead down to his shoulder and wondered 
how she could possible offer him any solace. Aeryn wasn't entirely convinced it 
was possible, and the best she could manage was a change of subject. "How did 
you get off the command carrier?"

"I ä I really have no idea how long ä I remember flashes, pieces here and there. 
I remember making it to my module once, I don't remember how. They beat the dren 
out of me when they grabbed me. That was ä that was probably the best couple of 
days. She couldn't ä it didn't work on me. They had me doped to the gills and 
she couldn'tä" He faltered again and wiped at his eyes. "I really don't remember 
much. Not much."

"How'd you get off?" She asked again, gently, trying to at least get him through 
it. She had enough of an idea of what he went through now; she didn't want to 
make him relive things he wasn't ready to.

"She took me off," he laughed halfheartedly. "Frell. Don't remember how I did 
it. I think I did it," he muttered, confusion heavy in his voice. "She had to 
stop at a commerce station. She wasn't happy but the carrier ä had to be 
somewhere ä I don't remember. We got off on the station and the carrier was 
gonna come back for us. She went off to do something, I was ä working," he said 
slowly, fighting to remember. "It was a special area of space, I think. Uh, or 
that's what I told her. Don't remember. Subspace disruptions, moth eaten 
spacetime," he made a small sound Aeryn took to be a rather ill laugh. "I picked 
another fight with my PK buddies and when they took me off to the healer, I 
snurched half his drugs. She couldn't control me when I was on the stuff but I 
let her think ä I don't know how long but I waited and waited and one night." He 
took a few deep breaths, and he seemed calmer or maybe it was just a tiny bit 
less tense. Aeryn rubbed her hand down his arm and pressed her cheek against his 
shoulder. "That night's probably the reason why I don't remember much ä she was 
too close and I couldn't take it anymore. I took the rest of the drugs. It would 
be enough that I'd either get away or they'd kill me, either way no super-soaker 
for the Peacekeepers and I'dä" 

Aeryn felt icy claws of fear and guilt dig viciously into her chest and her hand 
shook when she reached up to brush her fingers through the short hair at the 
back of his neck. Now she knew. Now she understood. And now, unfortunately, she 
felt woefully unequipped to help him, to heal him. She kept her chin on his 
shoulder, one hand caressing the back of his skull and blindly reached around 
with the other for his hand. "I'm sorry, John, I'm so sorry."

"Funny thing is, this is where I remember Scorpius," he continued over her 
softly spoken words, making no indication he'd heard her. "When I was getting 
away. Heading towards my module. It's just bright flashes, here and there. I 
remember him but I don't remember him. Hell, maybe he was just a bad trip, but 
I'd swear it was more than that. I can't picture him but I can feel him. If I 
turn my head quickly enough he'll be right there."

"Maybe it was Harvey," she suggested quietly.

"No. No, Harvey was ä there, but Harvey feels different. Well he did feel 
different. God Aeryn. I can't describe it. This is where my brain just cries 
uncle. It's like I've got two different memories and one's covering up the other 
so I can only just make out the edges of it. And stuff changed, Aeryn. Things 
are different," his voice became almost inaudible again. "Harvey ä he's not what 
he was, Aeryn. He's got more control."

"What do you mean?" Aeryn's heart froze in her chest and she sat up straighter, 
her grip on his hand tightening. Now her own flashes were running through her 
mind -- flashes of a John Crichton controlled by a monster. She fought back yet 
another greasy swell of fear. 

"I don't know. I don't know. He just fights me more now, it's harder to make him 
go away."

Aeryn didn't know what to say to that, she didn't know how to get rid of Harvey, 
she couldn't offer him anything to make that less worrisome. They fell into 
silence, John rubbing at his eyes, and Aeryn leaned back against him, pressing 
her cheek to his shoulder blade and watching the snow continue to fall. When his 
jaws cracked with another yawn she pulled away pushed herself off the bed.

"Take your boots off," she ordered gently.

A small, crooked grin touched his lips. "Sorry baby, I'm not really in the mood 
tonight."

She scowled at him and gestured to his boots. "I want you to sleep but you need 
to take your boots and trousers off."

He yawned again and climbed wearily off the bed. "S'alright," he mumbled, almost 
dispiritedly. "I'll head back to my room."

"No, John, you won't." She stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulders. "Boots 
and trousers off," she ordered. 

"Aeryn," he shook his head slowly, smiling slightly.

"You don't want to be alone, I don't want you to be alone. Stay here tonight. 
Sleep."

He stared at her for a long microt and finally nodded tiredly. When he'd removed 
the proscribed items, she pulled aside the bedding and motioned him in. He 
slipped between the sheets and dropped to his back with a long sigh. "You gonna 
join me?"

"Do you promise to behave?" She asked him, amused, and started to pull off her 
own pants.

"I'll be good. Scouts honor."

"Alright then."

She climbed into the bed next to him and settled herself on her side, looking 
down at him. He looked so tired, so deeply weary; it caused her heart to tighten 
uncomfortably in her chest. Reaching out a long finger, she trailed the tip 
across his brow and down the side of his face. "Sleep."

He turned his face into her hand and brushed his lips across her finger. "Don't 
sleep much."

"You need to be as sharp as possible if we're going to deal with all these 
humans."

"You got a problem with humans?" He rumbled in mock indignation.

"They're very silly. They love to make things difficult and they all have an 
agenda. I think that covers it, right?" She ticked off each item with a gentle 
tap on his jaw. 

"Yeah, that's about right," he agreed, his voice fading into a tired murmur. 

"So we all need to be rested and alert. You especially."

"Dad might be here tomorrow," he said softly, struggling past another yawn, and 
seeming to try to fight off sleep.

"Good, I like your father."

"He likes you, too."

"Good. Go to sleep."

"Maybe DK and Jenny, too. Don't know about Joey."

"Wonderful. Go to sleep."

"When they lift the quarantine, we should take them all up to Moya."

Aeryn rolled her eyes and drew a knuckle down his cheek. "John, would you 
frelling go to sleep?"

"Bad dreams, Aeryn. Bad dreams."

"Not tonight, I'm here."

Opening his eyes, he looked up at her and raised a hand to capture a long lock 
of her hair, caressing it gently. "I wish that was enough."

Perhaps she couldn't fight the nightmares for him, but she could make sure when 
they gripped his mind, he wouldn't find himself alone when they shook him from 
sleep. Laying back, she pulled his head to her shoulder and stroked her fingers 
across his scalp. "Sleep, John. I'll be here."

His shoulders shook with a heavy sigh and he rolled onto his side, draping an 
arm across her stomach and burying his face against her neck. "Dad might be here 
tomorrow," he muttered.

"So I heard." She continued to message his head gently and held him close 
against her until his muttered attempts at conversation petered out and his 
breathing slowed and deepened. Aeryn lay awake deep into the night, watching 
over John as he slept and sorting in her mind all he'd told her. There were 
things to be done, plans to be made, and now she silently joined D'Argo in his 
vow to see that John got his revenge against the people who'd made him fall so 
far and so hard. And if he couldn't or wouldn't do it himself, she would 
frelling well do it for him. 

>>>><<<<


21

John Crichton was a lot of things on Thursday morning, quarantine day seven. He 
was a sullen human, an obstinate astronaut, an arrogant scientist, and according 
to Chiana, not a hell of a lot of fun -- of course, she'd used her own colorful 
vocabulary and a few words not even the translator microbes could manage, but he 
got the gist of her little breakfast rant. 

What John really, truly was -- and without a doubt the source of all of the 
above -- was tired. Deep, damn, dog weary. It seemed over a cycle of sleep 
deprivation had caught up to him. One decent night's sleep and his body finally 
rebelled against the abuse his mind had put it through. He dropped like a rock 
into bed every night and if the sleep wasn't entirely free of nightmares at 
least there was a hand to sooth him and he'd drift back off in the time it would 
take to roll over. 

A week of hard sleep had some benefits, but a cycle of abuse took longer to 
overcome. Feeling exhausted, unfocused, and downright belligerent, John stumbled 
his way through politics, red tape, and admittedly half-assed attempts at 
diplomacy. He knew he needed to be sharp, needed to be focused, but the million 
and one things he felt he should be dealing with kept slipping away from him in 
his exhaustion. Which made it all worse. There were pressures building, demands 
increasing, and prying, repetitive questions heaped onto him every, single, 
frelling time he turned around. It was enough to drive a sane man nuts, and a 
less than sane man? Well, stand the hell back. 

So Thursday morning, quarantine day seven, found John Crichton slumped over a 
cup of coffee in the base cafeteria trying to pretend the word around him didn't 
exist. He hadn't moved much after breakfast, only straightening up enough to 
grab the coffee pot or reach for another slice of toast he'd tear to pieces 
rather than eat. The rest of the crew had gone about their business for the day 
-- tests or interviews or cultural education or whatever the hell -- while John 
lingered at the table, reluctant to really start the day. 

Cupping his hands around the top of the cup, enjoying the warmth and rich smell, 
he lowered his head down to rest on his forearm. His jaws cracked with a huge 
yawn and he sat up only long enough to take a sip from his mug and lay his head 
down again. 

The quiet tap of soft-soled shoes, approached him. He tried to ignore them, but 
the shoes stopped next to his table. "Commander Crichton?"

Rolling his head to one side he looked up at the intruder. "Tatyana."

The young engineer smiled broadly and set down a small piece of machinery next 
to his mug. It took him a moment, but he eventually recognized it as a piece of 
a hetch drive. He sat up slowly and leaned back in the hard plastic chair.

"Yeah?"

"It's a regulator of some kind?"

"Yep," John confirmed with a nod. 

"I cannot figure out what kind," she murmured thoughtfully and chewed her lip, 
staring down at the brown bit of technology. "The drive you gave us is not the 
whole." She shifted her gaze to him. "Is it?"

He met her eyes, unflinching. "Why do you ask?"

Sighing, she picked up the piece, turned it over in her hands a couple of times 
and set it back down. "Theoretically--"

"Stop," he said sharply. "Screw theory." He was damn sick of theory. Everything 
was theoretical this, theoretical that. Theoretically faster-than-light was 
impossible. Theoretically pulse pistols should explode before you could fire a 
shot. Theoretically D'Argo shouldn't have so many tentacles. Screw theory. He 
had been to one side of the universe and back, alive; he'd only blown up one 
pulse rifle, once; and D'Argo could have as many damn tentacles as he wanted. 
Screw theory. 

"Commander?" She asked, perplexed.

"You heard me. Screw theory," he repeated vehemently. "You get bogged down in 
theory and you'll never figure this out."

"You're not going to help, are you?"

"Everything I know about hetch drives is in a file. A file you should have."

"But, there is a difference between being given a hunk of machinery and a 
spanner, and actually using the technology," she protested, her voice almost 
choked with frustration.

John nodded and slowly turned his coffee cup in his hands. "That's true."

"And?" She demanded.

"Ask me tomorrow." He shrugged and drained his mug in one long swallow.

"Doctor Borodin--"

"Can ask me tomorrow, too," he said with another shrug. 

Tatyana stood in quiet consternation and John felt a small twinge of something a 
bit like regret about the whole technology situation -- the situation being what 
he'd tell them and what he wouldn't tell them. But not regretful enough to speak 
up with some reassuring words or secret insight to tech beyond anything the 
young engineer had ever imagined. He could vaguely remember that time so many 
cycles ago when he'd been in a similar situation, he could almost remember what 
it was like to have this type technology thrust at him -- the awe, the 
amazement, the brain-spinning potential, and the overwhelming puzzle. And she 
was right, there was a difference between theory and application. He'd learned 
the tech by necessity, thrown into the deep-end as he was, and he still didn't 
quite have the theory behind it all down. He'd given them what he could. They 
might not like that they kept hearing it from him, and he sure as hell wasn't 
enjoying saying it repeatedly, but the real truth was that they were just have 
to figure it out on their own.  

"Sorry, Tatyana," he offered wearily.

The engineer stood stiffly next to him for another moment, then she snatched up 
the modulator, mumbled something he didn't quite catch, and darted out of the 
room. 

He shook his head, scratched an eyebrow, yawned again and reached for the pot of 
coffee only to be disappointed when he found it empty. He stared at the empty 
pot for a long minute and then stood with a heavy sigh and headed to the kitchen 
for a fresh supply.

On his return with the new pot, he was intercepted by a harried looking flunky 
in a hazmat suit. John recognized the man as one of Zherdev's assistants. Poor 
bastard.

"Commander Crichton, Secretary Zherdev says you have not replied to his emails 
and he sends me to present you with these papers." The fellow fumbled with the 
case under his arm, struggling to undo the clasp with his gloved hands. 

John sighed and went back to his table. He'd been avoiding Zherdev for the past 
couple of days. Or, maybe avoiding wasn't the right word. Ignoring. Yeah, 
ignoring. The diplomat had taken on the mantel of publicist and his emails 
usually consisted of requests for interviews, reports to comment on and fax 
back, and selected correspondence from various people who thought they were very 
important. It was boring and fairly annoying. Nobody else could really make 
sense of much of it, so the responsibility fell to him and whatever interest he 
may have had in any of that wore off after about an hour when he got an idea of 
the shear volume of dren that was about to be funneled his way.

"If you can review these requests," the flunky said, dropping a sheaf of papers 
on the table in front of him. 

"Fine." John eyed the papers but made no move towards them, choosing instead to 
pour himself another cup of coffee. When the man didn't leave, John looked up. 
"What?"

The man swallowed heavily and gestured to the papers. "Secretary Zherdev was 
most insistent that you attend to these today."

"Look ä what's your name?"

"Under Secretary Pavel Artemenkov."

"Pavel. Okay. Look, I'll get to it, but I'm not going to go through those right 
now and I am sure as hell not going to do it with you looking over my shoulder. 
Alright?"

Pavel sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Yes, Commander. But please let 
me point out that some of them are time sensitive. If you'd like I'll go through 
the stack and shuffle those to the top for you."

"Not necessary. I'll go through them, but right now, I want to finish my coffee. 
Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've had coffee?"

Pavel glanced at the full pot of coffee and frowned. "Over four years years, 
Commander?"

"Over four frelling years," John agreed. He and Pavel stared at each other for 
another long moment before Pavel broke and heaved yet another sigh. The Russian 
grabbed back the papers and leafed through them as quickly as he could in the 
thick gloves. John watched him balefully and sipped his coffee.

Pavel drew out a packet of pages from somewhere in the middle of the stack, 
almost dropping the sheaf and only just managing to crush them to his chest 
before they spilled across the floor. He swore softly and John continued to 
watch dispassionately while savoring his coffee. 

"This one," Pavel said finally, getting control of the papers and slapping the 
packet down in front of John. "This is the list of interview requests. You must 
go through them today and decide who you will grant interviews to. Secretary 
Zherdev believes quarantine will be lifted shortly, when it is, he believes it 
is for the best to have these interviews ready."

John ground his teeth but picked up the packet to show he was paying attention. 
He skimmed the first page quickly -- The Wall Street Journal, Itar-Tass, The 
Moscow News, The Guardian, Die Welt, and a half dozen other publications he 
wasn't certain he'd ever heard of. That was just the first of what had to be at 
least ten pages. God.  

"Commander?" 

"Yes, fine, got it, Pavel," he ground out. "I'll go through it later. I'll need 
to talk to the others about it, too."

"Very good, Commander." Artemenkov gave a sharp bow and turned on his heel, just 
as eager to leave as John was for him to go. 

John didn't pay much attention to his leaving, though, he was too busy staring 
hatefully at the papers. Responsibility got the better of him and with a bitter 
oath he grabbed at the stack, pulling the papers across the table and not caring 
much when they crumpled. He thumbed through them quickly. An email from the 
Pope, go figure. One from the Prime Minister of Japan. And one from a Norwegian 
school teachers' association of some sort. That one looked a little bit 
interesting. An environmental impact report from IASA. Oh boy. If he had any 
trouble sleeping tonight, he'd just have Aeryn read that to him. Or, better yet, 
the UN Committee on Space Research preliminary evaluation of the social and 
economic impact of the extraterrestrial presence in Eastern Europe. The title 
alone was enough to put him into a coma. 

He really didn't want to go through those papers just then. He'd had a similar 
stack a few days ago and that's what had really prompted his decision to dodge 
Zherdev at all possible cost. The time it would take to go through those papers 
would eat up a good ninety percent of his day, nothing would get done, and 
tomorrow there'd be another stack. If he gave in now, he'd be reduced to paper-
pusher in a matter of microts. That's not what he came back to Earth to do. 

He shoved the pages away. He'd put out the big fires later, maybe pursue the 
proposals that looked like they could be interesting, and forget the rest. That 
was probably Zherdev's plan, anyway. A couple of pages, no matter how important, 
are easy to ignore; a couple hundred, less so. 

Sipping at his coffee while pointedly ignoring Zherdev's papers got boring 
fairly quickly, and the papers didn't seem impressed at all. Leaning over, John 
pulled out his journal from another pile of work -- files and discs stacked on 
the chair to his right. It just kept piling up. If ever there was a good time to 
have a twin, now was it. Too bad the bastard had to up and die on him. 

He flipped open the journal to the first available blank page and tapped his pen 
on it. It was kind of funny, he used to address these to his dad, but other than 
the tapes and a few charts and observations he wrote down during his first cycle 
out there, he didn't think he'd ever be able to hand them over. He could imagine 
the look he'd see in his dad's eyes if he really knew what the past four cycles 
had been. It wasn't a look he wanted to see in this life.

"Commander?"

John looked up from his contemplation of the blank page. "Yeah?" He squinted at 
the approaching man, trying to decide if he remembered him or not.

The man pulled out another piece of a hetch drive and John started shaking his 
head. "Oh, no, no. I already told Tatyana I've given you guys what I can."

The man's face fell. "But, commander --"

"No. Not now. I wrote it all down, handed it over. You're an egghead, put the 
pieces together." John remembered the man now, a researcher from Penn State. He 
had some shiny credentials. Unfortunately, he wanted John to take him by the 
hand and lead him. That just wasn't going to happen. Given the nasty arguments 
going on about who got what tech, John was starting to have a deeper 
understanding and appreciation of the Ancients' 'if you can't make it work on 
your own, then you're not smart enough to use it,' philosophy. Nobody was 
getting a free pass on this. 

The man, Joe something-or-other, glared at him. "You know, this tech is so far 
beyond anything we've ever seen."

"Yeah, I do know." John bent back over his journal, pretending to prepare to 
write down his deep, profound thoughts on the universe. He scratched out a few 
characters, the date in Sebacean, and silently willed Joe to take a hike. 

"It could take generations to work this out."

"Yep," John agreed and made a quick note in the journal on the irritating nature 
of lazy scientists. 

Joe stood silently for a moment, looking over John's shoulder. "What language is 
that? I don't recognize the alphabet."

John put his pen down and turned to face the other man. "Joe? Back off," he 
growled softly.

Joe's eyes widened in surprise at John's tone, and then narrowed angrily. John 
gave him a flat, cool look, daring him to say a word. Joe, proving to be as 
smart as his shiny credentials said he was, turned and left silently. 

John took a deep breath and picked up his pen again.

"Making many new friends, I see," yet another new voice, this one amused, 
interrupted his morning. 

John threw the pen down, slumped back in his chair, and screwed his eyes shut 
tightly. "Oh for frell's sake."

"Your sister's use of the language is similarly colorful."

"I've got two of them and they both have a pretty sharp grasp of the language."

"The younger Crichton. Major Crichton."

At a rustle of cloth and the squeak of a chair leg against the linoleum, John 
pried one eye open to watch the unsuited Russian lower himself into a seat 
across from him. General Viktor Koslov was as big a fan of the quarantine as 
John was. He'd taken translator microbes the day before and had hoped that would 
lend some weight to the idea that the quarantine had more than served its 
purpose. The world wasn't so sure.

"Did she scare you, General?" John asked with a smirk.

"She most certainly did not, Commander," Koslov sniffed and settled himself into 
the chair. He set a phonebook-sized file down on the table in front of him. "She 
did, however, traumatize my aide."

John let out a short laugh. "So how's the red tape today?" He asked, eyeing the 
file suspiciously. 

"Red, white and blue."

"Bullshit," he snorted. "I think that tape's probably more colorful than my 
sister's language."

"Perhaps," Koslov allowed easily. "It was reflex."

"Cold War's over."

"Some wars don't end. The battle-lines are simply redrawn."

"I don't want to know about it," John snarled. He really didn't want to know. 
Earth's politics when seen from a thousand light years had an uncanny 
resemblance to two-year olds fighting over a toy truck. There were uglier things 
in that universe than bickering over whose diplomat called whose diplomat's wife 
a scurvy, mangy, bow-legged camel. 

Koslov rumbled softly to himself for a moment before speaking again. "Major 
Crichton's second appeal for clearance has been denied."

"Well, that's gonna make her happy," John observed dryly.

"Yes. I'm routing all future communications from her to Zherdev."

"Good call."

"So how are you this morning, Commander?" Koslov asked conversationally. 

John opened his eyes and gave the Russian a considering look. "I'm great," he 
said with false and intentionally annoying brightness. "How're you?"

Koslov didn't even blink at John's attempt to annoy him, he just smiled back, 
equally brightly. "Very well. I am enjoying these translator microbes. Very 
educational."

"Aren't they just?" John grunted and picked up his pen again, tapping it 
absently on the table. "What's in the folder?" He asked sharply. "I'm guessing 
you didn't lug it over here with you just to tell me my sister wasn't coming."

Koslov flipped open the front cover and pushed aside two thick, plastic sheets 
filled with CDs. He turned the folder in John's direction, showing him a 
photograph on the first page. 

"What is that?" John asked, staring at a dark, blurry image. 

"A UFO."

"Right," John laughed. "It looks like a crappy picture of a street lamp."

"It was taken outside of Riga last spring. And this," he flipped to the next 
page, "was taken near St. Petersburg four months ago." This image was slightly 
clearer. It looked like a green, glowing top, suspended above squat, gray 
buildings. 

"And what?"

"Can you identify that craft?"

"I don't know. A child's toy? A balloon? Street lamp? Flashlight? Hoax? You're 
kidding me, right? You want me to go through that file and I.D. blurry pictures 
of Venus and helicopters and frelling meteors?" 

Koslov looked at him steadily but didn't say another word, just pushed the 
papers towards him. "Clearly there is life out there."

"Oh god, you're serious," John groaned. "I don't think you understand just how 
much nobody cares about Earth, out there. It's small. It's on the ass-end of the 
galaxy. You're not a threat, you don't have anything anybody could possibly 
want." John spread his hands wide and gave the general a sarcastic nod.

Koslov seemed to ignore John. He returned the CDs to the folder and closed the 
cover. "I wonder," he mused softly, "why it is, we look so very much like 
Sebaceans. Or they, like us." He looked up at John and pushed the folder towards 
the other man again. "Especially if we are, so very uninteresting, and, as you 
say, on the ass-end of the galaxy. A puzzle, I think."

"A puzzle a sinister picture of frisbee will solve?"

Giving John a humorless smile, Koslov stood and prepared to leave. "Many are 
undoubtedly sightings of everyday, boring, Earth objects. But there are so many. 
Perhaps a few are something else."

John glared at the file and then back up at the General. Damn him. If there 
really were Peacekeepers on Earth, what were the odds that some farmer in the 
Ukraine had snapped a picture of a prowler? Frell. And was it just a coincidence 
that the General clearly shared his suspicions about other extraterrestrial 
visitors? Or did he know something John didn't know? 

Intrigued in spite of himself, John put a hand on the file, accepting it. "Fine. 
I'll have Aeryn look through it, too."

"Thank you, Commander. That is very good of you. Regretfully, I cannot stay and 
talk any longer, I must prepare for our meeting with General Tereschenko, this 
afternoon. You will be there, correct?"

Tereschenko would be coming to let them all out. At least, that was the hope. 
"Yes, I'll be there."

"Very good. Commander," Koslov nodded his head.

"General," John nodded back somewhat distractedly, and Koslov disappeared. 

John took stock of the table in front of him. An arn ago it had held only his 
mug and the pot of coffee, now it was covered in paper. He was collecting 
paperwork faster than his grandma's mantel collected dust. He glanced down at 
the blank page of the journal and sighed. Standing up, he grabbed his files off 
the chair, stacked them on Koslov's UFO reports and stacked that on top of 
Zherdev's dren. He stuff them in his room for later review. Right now, he just 
really needed a few microts to sort his brain out and clearly the cafeteria was 
not the place to do that.
 
A quarter arn's search for a quiet hiding spot uncovered a little-remembered 
supply closet on the second floor. John dove in quickly before he could be 
spotted, and tucked himself behind boxes of supplies, wedged up against the 
chilly, cinderblock wall. It was quiet and instead of making him claustrophobic, 
the tight space with the towering boxes made him feel kind of snug and secure. 
He closed his eyes and took a few long, deep breaths, letting himself relax. 

Despite massive consumption of coffee, the quiet and security of the little room 
went to work on John's weary body and in microts he nodded off into dreamless 
sleep. When he woke some time later, he had a crick in his neck and a stiff 
back. He was beginning to realize he wasn't quite so young anymore and cycles of 
abuse were starting to take their toll. He yawned until his jaw cracked and he 
rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. 

In the quiet room, with sleep lifting from his mind, John's thoughts turned to 
the things he frequently tried so hard not to think about. He pulled his 
notebook out and propped it on one knee. Grinning wryly at the scientist comment 
he'd made earlier, John set his pen to paper. And then he stopped as an earlier 
thought sought completion. He used to write these to his dad, and now he didn't 
even write them in English. Who were they for? Sure, he was a scientist, trained 
to record thoughts and observations for later analysis, but his entries were a 
mish-mash of languages and writing systems, quite possibly indecipherable to 
anybody but him. And he didn't find himself much inclined to go back and read 
them. At least, not now. 

Maybe they were for tomorrow, for his children. Kids. Jesus. He felt a sick 
twist of fear in his gut and he swallowed heavily. Aeryn was pregnant and the 
remnants of a dream from a cycle ago wouldn't let him rest. A dream where the 
Peacekeepers had found this little planet on the ass-end of the galaxy. A dream 
where Aeryn died. A greasy swell of panic rose in his chest and he felt his mind 
slip and his body tense.

"Crichton?"

The soft call shocked him back. Grinding his teeth at yet another interruption, 
no matter how timely, he dropped his head back against the cold wall with a soft 
_thunk_ and closed his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't there. At that very 
moment, he just flat out didn't want to see or be seen. He wanted to hide away, 
sort those thoughts, bleak as they might be, maybe find a cave and a case of 
bourbon and forget what the sun looked like. Yeah, that was a good plan, a solid 
plan. 

"Old man?" Chiana stuck her head around the side of the boxes hiding him from 
view and stared down at him, ruining the first part of that good, solid plan. 
"Watcha doing?"

"What do you want, Chiana?" He asked brusquely, not in the mood to discuss the 
broken bits of thought and dream he was struggling to piece together. Or small-
talk. The small-talk could go, too. 

Her eyes widened slightly at his tone and she nudged his boot with hers. 
"D'Argo's looking for you. That other General's here."

John let out a long, soft sigh. "Alright. Tell him I'll be there in a few 
microts." He opened his eyes and stared down at the blank page of his journal. 
No thoughts sorted today. They'd just have to ramble 'round his brain for 
another day, like the pieces of a hundred puzzles all thrown in together. With 
every fifth piece missing, of course. He snarled at the blank page and watched 
absently as his hand came down on it and he pulled his fingers together, 
scrunching up the page under his palm.  

Chiana squatted at his feet and grabbed his hand before it could tear the page 
from the journal. She stared into his face, black-eyes reflecting worry and 
maybe a touch of fear back at him. "If you want, I can tell him I couldn't find 
you."

"As if he'd believe it." A small, very forced, smile briefly touched John's 
lips. "Nah, it's good. I just need a microt." He patted the page down, tried to 
straighten the curled edges, and fought off the compulsion to ball it up again, 
crushing it in his fist, squeezing until it disappeared. He closed his eyes 
again, licking his lips as he struggled through a wave of irrational rage. Rage 
at a blank sheet of paper. God help him. 

"Aeryn and D'Argo can handle this guy. Maybe you should take a break." Chiana 
suggested softly. She flattened her hand on top of his on the journal and 
grabbed the other, still agitatedly pen-tapping hand. It was obvious he was 
struggling, and unfortunately Chiana felt totally out of her depth. She didn't 
understand what he was going through, but, frell, maybe she didn't need to 
understand. It was pain, wasn't it? There were ways to get rid of pain, at least 
for a while. Even if his ways weren't as much fun as her ways -- she thought 
with a small smirk -- she could give him what he needed.

"And what? Make this all take even frelling longer?" John shot back bitterly, 
unable to contain the bleeding edges of his paper rage. "I am so tired, Chi, I 
just want this over with." He drew his knees up under him and stood. 

And sometimes, Crichton just didn't realize, or refused to accept what he 
needed. Then the sorry, son of a tralk, had to have it shoved down his throat 
until he did realize it. That, she could do, too. She stood with him, pushing 
him back against the wall, holding him in place with a knee between his legs. 
Getting his attention was key. 

"You need to let us help," she told him coolly.

"What are you talking about?" He tried to push past her, but she shoved him back 
and hiked her knee higher, making him wince. The wince was more at the thought 
of where her knee was, than any discomfort -- or, rather, any pain. Discomfort 
was there in spades.

"You're such a fekik," she hissed, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a hard 
shake. "Pretend this is some other planet."
 
He shifted his hips, trying to get her knee away from sensitive parts of his 
body. She had a point she was trying to make, he figured he'd go ahead and let 
her make it, but he wasn't in the mood to sing soprano. "This isn't some other 
planet," he argued distractedly. She wouldn't move her knee.

"Pretend it is," she whispered seductively, pushing up even closer to him, 
running her hands down his shoulders and across his chest. "Are you pretending?"

"Sure," he choked as she slithered and writhed against him. There were rules on 
Earth about torture; could he charge Chiana with war crimes? It might be worth 
looking into.

"When the frell," she breathed slowly, "did we become too stupid to deal with 
this dren?" She enunciated each word sharply, biting them off with small, 
vicious, white teeth. John stared at her mouth mesmerized by the force of each 
word. His lack of response earned him a forearm in the gut. "Well?"

"This is Earth, Chiana." Another forearm in the gut. He caught her arm this 
time, and held it firmly. "Your point?"

"My point, Crichton, is that if this were any other planet we'd all figure this 
out. On this planet, you seem to think we've all turned into