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 Cricht