Voices Of Reason
Chapter 13
Crichton was approaching the outlet of the access shaft, could see the light streaming in from the corridor, and
there was still no sound from the comms. He grabbed the edges of the hatch and pulled himself out of the
tunnel, rolling into the corridor and coming back to his feet. He tried one more time. “Aeryn, D’Argo … what’s
going on?”
Aeryn’s voice came back to him, and he stopped running. “Everything’s all right, John.” She didn’t sound
exactly calm, but it was obvious that things were under control. He put his hands on his knees and bent over,
dropping his head as the waves of relief left him feeling momentarily weak and lightheaded.
“What happened up there?” He stood up straight and the loose liquid feeling of fear in his stomach began to
recede. He turned and headed back to the tunnel he had abandoned in such haste.
“We finally found the Peacekeeper officer.” D’Argo’s voice rumbled an addition in the background, and Aeryn
replayed his comment. “Or more correctly, he found us, but we’re all fine,” she assured him again.
“So you killed him?” He lowered himself into the shaft and sat for a moment just inside the opening of the
narrow passageway. He heard Rygel’s voice over the comms next, an arrogant and prideful statement.
“RYGEL killed him?” he asked in astonishment.
Aeryn was standing beside the dead Peacekeeper, looking back at the Hynerian as John’s disbelieving voice
tried to verify Rygel’s statement. She and D’Argo should have been dead right then. The commando officer
had been able to get them exactly where any military expert would want two targets. When she had yelled at
D’Argo, the Peacekeeper hadn’t even flinched, and had taken his first shot at them. D’Argo had still been
helping her out of the shaft, and when the bolt of energy hit his sheathed Qualta blade it had knocked both of
them to the floor in a helpless tangle.
The captain had stepped forward, preparing to shoot them where they lay, and had been hit by a pulse blast
from behind. Aeryn had looked up at his dying face, watching his expression as he turned to see who had
ambushed him. Surprise, disappointment, disgust and finally regret had passed across his features as Rygel
had moved into sight from the outer corridor, holding the small pocket pistol firmly in his free hand.
“Peacekeeper vermin,” he intoned and raised the pistol to fire again. Before he could pull the trigger,
Hasman’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell dead to the floor.
Aeryn dragged her thoughts back to the present and answered John‘s incredulous question. “Yes, it was
Rygel.” She reached down and helped a partially stunned D’Argo to his feet. “Are you all right?” She looked
at the sheath on his back. It was scorched and blackened, but intact, and there didn’t appear to be any
damage to the Qualta blade itself. D’Argo was still breathless from the impact but nodded his head, silently
answering her question.
Rygel was stowing her pocket pistol inside his robes. “A fine weapon. I will enjoy having it in my collection.”
Aeryn started to object but he continued, “I believe it is time for me to get something to eat. Please let me know
if there is going to be any excessive shaking of this vessel so I might avoid dropping any of my food.” He
turned his Throne Sled and whisked out of sight. Aeryn thought about the weapon he had just appropriated,
looked at the dead body, and decided he could keep it. He’d earned it.
Aeryn and D’Argo stood looking at the body for a moment, and then both seemed to remember their other task
at the same time.
“Pilot, how much longer until we hit that rift?” D’Argo called.
“It is almost upon us. I estimate one hundred microts.” The voice was full of anxiety, concern for his large
partner flooding his short statement. “It is not moving toward us at a steady rate, and I believe we should be
prepared to act as soon as possible.”
“John! Stark! Get out of those tunnels. Only a hundred microts left!” D’Argo had been about to call them, but
Aeryn caught his arm to remind him that she had to be the one to talk to John.
Crichton had just gotten back to his position when Aeryn called and told him to get out again. “Give me a
break,” he said to himself and reversed direction again. He scooped up One-Eye and began climbing the
sloping access shaft again, his legs and back burning from the unnatural hunched over position. “Glad you
came along, buddy. This was really necessary. We’ll have to visit this garden spot again some time soon.” He
shifted the DRD to one hand and used the other to help pull himself along a little faster.
“Brace yourselves everyone,” Pilot called. “Sixty microts.”
“Pilot, is the rift still big enough to give us a break from the gravity?” John was still scrambling along with the
DRD tucked under one arm like a football.
“It’s accelerating, it’s going to hit sooner. Twenty microts! Please prepare for the detonation on my signal,
Officer Sun,” Pilot was transmitting his warning to everyone. John couldn’t understand the words, but he heard
the emphasis and the quick words coming from the normally laconic Pilot and knew that their schedule had
somehow just changed.
“John, get out of there quick!” He didn’t need to be told, but he was glad to hear that she hadn’t forgotten
about him in all the confusion.
“Almost there now!” he called. He heard Stark’s quick call and knew the Banik was clear. He was almost out of
the tunnel and tried to move even faster. He didn’t want to be in there when Moya decompensated. He tossed
One-Eye out of the hatch ahead of him, and dove headfirst into the corridor. “Clear!” he yelled as he flopped
onto the corridor floor. The hatch doorway snapped shut behind him with a dull metallic clang.
This time Moya didn’t skip like a stone tossed across a still pond. She seemed to drop like a boulder throne
from a cliff. John found himself prone and airborne for a split second and then the floor came back to smack
him in the chest. He scrambled across the deck, trying to find something to grab onto something, but there was
a sizzling roar throughout Moya and she slid sideways and then accelerated.
He could hear small percussions that he recognized as portions of Moya’s systems exploding from the surge of
unaccustomed energy loads. The hot metallic smell of burned biomechanoid cabling filled the corridor. John
found himself sliding on this stomach down the hallway as the leviathan lurched and clawed her way further
from the singularity. He managed to grab onto the base of one of the heavy ribs just as Pilot yelled a single
word over the comms.
The vibrations from multiple detonations shivered through his stomach, and then his tenuous grip broke loose
and he slid back to the other side of the corridor. The bellow of misdirected energy ceased abruptly and the
whine of starburst echoed through the ship. He managed to get himself jammed into a depression in the wall,
finally braced against the erratic movements. The whine climbed in pitch and he was afraid they had failed.
Then the familiar queasy twist passed over him, and Moya’s gyrations were replaced by the all over trembling of
passage into starburst.
They had made it, and Moya’s usual healthy, internal sounds still rumbled around him, overlaid by the faint
vibrating disturbance of starburst resonating throughout the hull.
* * * * *
John rounded the corner into Pilot’s huge chamber, followed almost immediately by Aeryn and D’Argo, who
entered from another direction. He grinned widely at them, relieved that everyone was all right. “Pilot, how’s
Moya?” He leaned on the wall of Pilot’s station and watched the speed of the four clawed arms moving over the
controls. They weren’t flailing in desperation, and John relaxed even further.
Pilot-->Aeryn-->Scorpy said, “She’s all right. There is a great deal of damage to her normal energy conduits
and several nexus points will have to be replaced, but she is otherwise unharmed. Moya is very happy to be
free and she has asked me to think you all for your hard work to rescue her.”
John reached over and touched the nearest claw, a quick pat of reassurance and pleasure that both Pilot and
Moya were all right.
“Where are we, Pilot?” Aeryn asked.
“And WHEN are we?” As John asked his question he saw that the others had forgotten the second aspect of
their desperate flight. Before Pilot could answer, Chiana and Stark came into the room, chattering and asking
all the same questions. Rygel was trailing behind them, stuffing a final handful of food into his mouth.
“Rygel!” Crichton greeted him. “My man Yoda! There with the warrior spirit just when we needed you most.
I think I’m calling you the Toad Warrior from now on.” He strode quickly to where the Dominar floated and
smothered him in a hug from behind his chair, which he knew Rygel disliked but couldn‘t avoid.
“Crichton, get away from me. I could be tempted to kill one other person this afternoon.” Rygel complained.
As Crichton released him, there seemed to be some sort of look of pride and affection on the Hynerian’s face,
but it was quickly replaced by his normal irritable frown. John started to glance at Aeryn for a repeat, but
thought it over and waved a dismissal to her. He had a good idea what kind of answer Rygel had given, and
he was tired of listening to the voice that had occupied so much of his subconscious lately.
“Pilot, do you know when and where we are?” Aeryn was asking Pilot the question, but it meant John was
immediately assaulted by the voice he had just chosen to avoid. Aeryn was looking at him as she repeated the
still unanswered questions. They had put so much effort into getting themselves out of their trap, now they
needed to know where to go from here.
“We are approximately eighty thousand metras from where we encountered the Marauder.”
Aeryn’s shoulders relaxed in relief. At least they were in known space.
“And I am in the process of doing a comparison of the star positions to determine our chronological placement.
It will take at least two arns before I can make a determination.”
John watched Aeryn’s physical reaction and saw that at least half of the information was positive, and that the
rest was uncertain. In the instant that he was able to understand Pilot’s reply without any help John made a
decision, and deliberately didn’t tell the others before he acted on it. He didn’t care what they thought this
time.
Aeryn turned to tell John what Pilot had said and discovered that he was looking right at her, but he wasn’t
focused on anything nearby. He stayed that way for a longer period of time than usual, just an extra microt or
two. He’d been using the clone so frequently during their work, she was suddenly afraid that he had given it too
much access to his mind. She was only peripherally aware as her hand crept down to rest on her pulse pistol.
“Harvey!” John deliberately summoned the clone.
“Yes, John. I haven’t gone anywhere.” Scorpy appeared from behind a barricade and walked to stand next to
Crichton where he stood looking out of a plate glass window at the airport ramp. Baggage carts and tugs
worked like ants around a jet that was loading up for departure.
John handed Scorpius a folder containing an airline ticket. “Take a break, Scorpy. You deserve a vacation.”
“A vacation? I don’t think this is a sensible time for you to ask me to leave. I believe it would be more prudent
…”
“Take … a … break.” John spaced his words out for emphasis. “I don’t want to get into a pissing contest over
this, Harvey. Just get lost for a while. If I need you, I’ll send out Search-And-Rescue. Go visit a tropical island,
sit on a beach, and try drinking cocktails out of a coconut. Watch out for those little paper umbrellas though.”
He walked away, leaving the speechless clone standing at the door to the jetway.
As his awareness flipped back to his surroundings in Moya, he found Aeryn watching him carefully, like a
mouse watches a cat. Her hand was on her weapon. He immediately shook his head, “It’s all right. Just a little
argument.” She asked him something, and he took his first stab in the dark. “Not to worry, I won. I told Harvey
to take a break. Just me hangin‘ around for a while now that things are calming down. Is that okay with you?”
he smiled at her, knowing the answer ahead of time.
Aeryn felt the tight muscles in her diaphram relax. They could cope with this now that the other problems were
solved. Hand signals would do nicely for a while, she thought as she nodded her approval.
* * * * *
Aeryn had been looking for John for a quarter arn, and finally located him in one of his favorite spots. He was
sitting on a workbench in one of the maintenance bays, looking out at the stars. He had left Pilot’s chamber
very soon after he had sent the clone away. The return of his lack of comprehension had been obvious to
everyone, and Aeryn hadn’t been surprised when he had chosen to abandon the conversation there. She
started to enter the chamber, but stopped when she heard D’Argo’s voice. He was standing in the shadows
next to John and she hadn’t seen him at first. She started to back away, giving them time to finish their
conversation, but she heard D’Argo’s steps coming toward her out of the dark.
“Aeryn!” he was startled when he saw her.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just …” she gestured toward the doorway, indicating that she was going to
leave again.
“No, John and I were done talking. You do whatever you came down here to do.” He seemed almost flustered
to her, unsure of himself for some reason. She didn’t say anything as he headed out off down the corridor.
“John.” She waited until he turned to face her. “Nice chat with D’Argo?” She gestured toward the door where
the Luxan had exited in order to give him an idea what she was talking about.
“D’Argo? I think he was apologizing for what happened on the planet the other day. I wish I could have
understood all of it. It might have been a record breaking event.” John slid to one side, making room for her to
sit next to him. As she hopped up onto the bench where he was sitting, he tucked one foot under his other leg
and half turned to face her. “He’s a little harder to read than some other people around here,” he grimaced.
“There’s always too much going on between the braids and the tentacles and all. I get mixed up.”
Aeryn gave a small laugh, finding irony in John’s concern over getting the interpretation correct. She saw his
recorder in his hand and gestured toward it. “Talking to your father?” She wondered how much he could infer
from an unemotional conversation. He didn’t seem to be making the amazing deductive leaps now that he was
working without safety net offered by the backup of the clone. She suspected that his own emotions were
getting in his way of reading everyone else’s.
“I came down here to talk to my Dad for a little while, but I don’t feel like I have anything to say. Nothing to hear,
nothing to say.” He turned his head away from her, masking some of what he was feeling, but his shoulders
were slumped and his body shrieked of insecurity. Aeryn’s suspicions turned to certainty.
“John, we‘ll cope somehow. Jool is still working. She’s smart; I’m sure she’ll come up with something.” Aeryn
found herself in the unaccustomed position of reassuring him. It seemed like it was usually the other way
around. He still didn’t look at her, and he didn’t respond.
“John?” She waited until he turned to face her again. “Can we … talk about the other day?” She tried to smile
at the word, but it faded almost immediately.
“Aeryn, I don’t think …” He was about to say that this wasn’t the best time for him to have a conversation, but
he watched Aeryn stiffen and her back straighten. It dawned on him that they were back on the subject of why
she was so upset about his getting beaten up by D’Argo. “I don’t think there could be a better time to discuss
this. Just take it slow for me, okay?”
She nodded and looked down at her hands, uncertain how to start. “I shouldn’t have …”
“Officer Sun?” Pilot’s voice interjected over the comms.
“Yes, Pilot.” She looked over at John and he was holding the small metal tape recorder near his head, lightly
pounding his forehead against it in mock frustration.
“Could you find Commander Crichton and ask him to come to my chamber, please? Jool is on her way here
and has something to tell him.” Pilot’s voice sounded tight with hope and expectations.
“Of course, Pilot. We’re on our way. Do you know if it’s good news?” She jerked her head at John to tell him
they were going somewhere and he immediately slid to the floor, ready to follow her.
“Jool did not indicate the nature of her information. The others are eager to hear and are on their way also.”
Pilot closed the comms channel and she hopped down to stand next to John in the silence of the otherwise
deserted maintenance bay.
“News?” he asked. She nodded. “Good or bad?” She shook her head and shrugged at the same time. He
looked out at the blackness, seeing only the emptiness between the stars for once. “Well, no reason to stand
around here just thinking about it.” But he didn’t move. Aeryn waited for several microts and then reached for
his hand and give him a small tug. He let himself be turned and then took the lead. “Remember folks … no
matter where you go, there you are. Might as well get this over with.”
When they entered the Den everyone except Jool was already waiting, their expressions running the full gamut
of emotions. John came to a stop as soon as they were clear of the bridge span across the deep cavern,
Aeryn almost bumping into him as he halted unexpectedly. She stepped around him at the last microt and
continued toward the others. He remained standing a distance away, as if he didn’t want to get close to anyone
just then.
Aeryn returned to stand beside him, surprised but wanting to give him some support even if it was only by being
physically close to him. He looked at her and tried to smile, “It’s going to be fine Aeryn, no matter what Jool
says, we’ll find a way to work this out.” She didn’t think it sounded like either confidence or hope speaking.
Jool came through the doorway at that moment, crossing one of the bridges to join them. John watched her as
she entered and knew immediately that he had some language lessons in his future. Aeryn, standing so close,
was aware of a small change in his posture, a strange mixture of some muscles relaxing and other ones
tensing. She looked at him, and understood for the first time what he had been doing since he had stopped
relying entirely on the clone to translate.
‘She couldn’t find a solution, and you can see it somehow. You just accepted that, which is a relief, but now you
have to cope with it, which makes you apprehensive.’ She kept the thoughts to herself, but John was watching
her reactions as well, and he managed to give her a small smile and a shrug. ‘How do you turn everything into
something positive? Your life falls apart, and you still find hope,’ she thought. She shook her head and finally
put something into words, “How do you do that?”
John took her hand and held it for a moment. “It’ll be all right. At least when I learn Sebacean my stupid jokes
and rhymes will come through right.” He released her and walked rapidly out of the Den.
Jool looked at his departing form with indignation. “Where does he think he’s going?” Rygel’s earbrows shot
up in amazement at the degree of aggravation in her tone. “I haven’t even told him what I found out yet!”
“He already knows, Jool.” Aeryn spoke quietly.
“How can he know? I spent a lot of time and energy trying to come up with a solution, and I think it would show
only the barest minimum of manners if he were to stay here and listen while I tell everyone what I’ve been
through …” She stopped abruptly as Aeryn also turned and left the chamber. “Well!”
“You can tell us.” D’Argo demanded.
“Please Joolushko, we would like to hear what you have determined.” Pilot’s even tone seemed to calm Jool
down and she began to explain.
“I’ve tried everything I know, but I cannot get the translator microbes altered in any way that will stand up to the
antibodies in John’s system without modifying them to the extent that they don’t serve their purpose anymore.
The combination of his species’ ridiculous reliance on the use of antibiotics, the genetic alterations of the
immune booster that I gave him, and the structure of the microbes themselves make it impossible to create an
operative differentiated strain that his body will not destroy.”
“Is there anything you haven’t tried?” Rygel asked slowly.
“If there were something I hadn’t tried, then I would have tried it, wouldn’t I? Troglodyte.”
Everyone stood silently. Finally Pilot sighed and began manipulating controls, “Commander Crichton had
already asked me about compiling information for language instruction from Moya’s database. I have never
needed to create an instructional course of this type but Moya and I will do our best.”
“What language are you going to start with Pilot?” Chiana was the first to ask.
“Crichton asked me to build vocabularies in Luxan,” D’Argo beamed at the others, “Nebari, Hynerian, and
Interion.” They all looked at each other in astonishment.
“He can’t possibly learn all four languages at once,” Jool exclaimed.
“What about your language, Pilot?” Rygel asked, “How is he going to understand you?”
“Frell that, Rygel! What about Sebacean? How is he going to talk to Aeryn?” Chiana practically yelled at the
Hynerian.
“Crichton told me that until he can understand basic terms from everyone else, he is prepared to allow the
neural clone to continue to translate for Officer Sun.” Pilot’s voice was slow and deliberate, almost summoning
a reaction from the assembled group.
“No, absolutely not!” D’Argo’s tone allowed no room for argument, but no one in the Den had any intention of
contradicting him anyway. “That would mean that John would have to let that frelling monster in his mind share
his thoughts every day. Pilot, build just one vocabulary … Sebacean! We’ll start there.” Three heads, even
Rygel’s, nodded in agreement.
* * * * *
Crichton had chosen to sit on the floor in a corner of his quarters. He was listening to some of his earliest
recordings to his father, hearing a voice full of uncertainty as that person on the tape had struggled to adapt to
his new surroundings. The words were familiar and it was nice to hear a language he could understand, but
the voice seemed to come from someone he had never met. He knew how that poor guy felt. He wasn’t sure
how long it was going to take him till he could understand everyone on board again.
He continued to listen to the drone of his own voice, lowering the volume till it was just rhythmic background
noise filled with familiar syllables. He had no idea how he was going to cope with commerce planets and new
species. It had simply never been a problem, not since the first arn he had been on board.
“Can I come in?”
He jumped at the sound of Aeryn’s voice. He hadn’t heard her come up the corridor. He snapped the recorder
off, and looked up at her. He had no context to use in order to figure out what she had said. He only knew that
it had been a question. He settled for waving her into his room and motioning her to sit with him. If she wanted
something more, she’d tell him.
He made room for her in front of him and beckoned to her with a small movement of his head. It wasn’t the first
time he’d let himself lapse into using signals instead of talking. He was finding the sound of his own words a
jarring contrast to the mish mash of unassociated syllables he was hearing from the others, and had begun
resorting to silent indicators.
He watched Aeryn’s limber form sink into a seated position in front of him, ending up in the familiar position
leaning back against him with his arms wrapped around her. He leaned his chin gently against the top of her
head, giddy with the closeness of her, and the smell of her hair. He felt her relax slightly, but there was a core
of tension residing within her.
“John, I’d like to try and get through what I started earlier. I know it’s going to be a while before you can truly
hear what I need to say, but can I just go ahead anyway?” He gave her a hug, not understanding at all what
she was saying, but enjoying the musical rise and fall of her voice.
“John, I would be happy to intercede. I really am getting quite bored 'on vacation’. There isn’t anything to do
on this beach is there?”
John squeezed Aeryn a little tighter and said, “Hang on a microt.” When she spoke a short sentence with the
upswing of a question, he said, “Harvey’s back and he’s being a nuisance, let me get rid of him.”
John stood on the beach, the firing cord of a large cannon in his hand, watching with barely contained laughter
as Scorpius lowered himself into the muzzle of the cannon. The clone was wearing a shiny silver plastic crash
helmet with plastic wings on the side and a silvery metallic jumpsuit. John began humming the opening bars of
The 1812 Overture.
“Are you quite sure this is considered “first-class” flight accommodations, John? It seems a bit cramped in
here. I haven’t found any references of this kind of travel in your mind yet.”
“Trust me Harvey, you are going to love this. Send me a postcard, let me know when you get back.” As
Scorpius’ head disappeared out of sight into the barrel, John finished humming, said “Boom!” and pulled the
cord. With a scream the figure disappeared over the horizon, the faint sound of a splash coming back a
moment later. “Better than the Puffed Wheat commercial! Have a nice swim back Scorpy.”
From Aeryn’s perspective John was silent for only a single microt, then he gave her another hug and said, “Go
ahead.” There was laughter in his voice, which she found reassuring. He had been in almost complete control
of the clone for the last few days. She was happy that he could enjoy the privacy of his own mind from time to
time, and was even more elated that he hadn’t resorted to using the clone to continue their conversation.
She leaned back again into the warmth of his embrace, feeling how thin he had become in such a short time.
His ribs and forearms lay against her back and arms like metal bars, and when she leaned her head back, she
could feel his collarbone hard beneath her skull without any cushioning from intervening flesh. He hadn’t
managed to eat any solid food since they had come back from the commerce planet, and he had just kept
working despite all his set backs and problems. She felt a swelling rush of pride, accompanied by the flooding
concern that she would never be good enough for him.
Aeryn took a breath to begin again, and was interrupted by Pilot on the comms. “Excuse me, Officer Sun?”
When Aeryn paused and then answered the request from Pilot’s voice, John dropped his head on to her
shoulder and shook it in resignation. They couldn’t even talk to each other and they still couldn’t get time to
talk.
* * * * *
D’Argo and Jool had lingered behind when all the others had left Pilot’s Den. They were still discussing the
creation of John’s language lessons. D’Argo found Jool’s manner as haughty and annoying as always, but he
was grudgingly beginning to admire her extensive knowledge concerning educational techniques and learning
methods. She was going to be useful in teaching the human how to communicate, but it was still going to be a
long and irritating process.
Pilot suddenly looked up from where he was manipulating the controls that accessed Moya’s data stores. “I am
receiving a transmission.”
“For us? Who is it Pilot? Peacekeepers again?” D’Argo was immediately on alert.
“Don’t we ever get a little peace and quiet on this barge?” Jool complained, and her hair increased its shade of
red.
“It’s from Talyn!” Pilot looked up in excitement.
“Where is he, Pilot?” D’Argo demanded.
“Talyn has just emerged from starburst approximately three hundred metras from our position. He received
Moya’s cry of panic when we were boarded by the Marauder and has been on his way to this area of space
ever since. They have just arrived.”
“Ever since?” Jool’s eyebrows went up even further, something D’Argo didn’t think possible. “How long ago did
they hear Moya’s transmission?”
“Six solar days. Crais says he felt it was too late to be of help, but Talyn insisted on coming to see if there was
any trace of Moya. I have informed Talyn and Crais of everything that has transpired over the last two solar
days and assured them that we are all fine.”
“Six solar days!” Jool’s voice was filled with relief. “Then we only lost four days while we were stuck.”
“Or lost many more and gained the time back by passing through the distortions as John explained,”
D’Argo grumbled. “I still do not understand this, but it would appear that he was correct.”
“Captain Crais would like to speak to us. Shall I summon the others?”
D’Argo and Jool looked at each other, and then shook their heads. “If we are going to summon the others, we
should call John and Aeryn also, and I think …” D’Argo looked back at Jool for affirmation, and she nodded. “I
think they could stand to be left alone for a while. Go ahead and put him on the clamshell.”
The rippling hologram of Crais appeared to one side of Pilot. “Greeting Pilot, Ka D’Argo, and …”
“Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis” she recited.
“Try using ‘Jool’!” D’Argo offered, and earned himself a glowering look from the Interion.
Crais nodded a greeting. “Talyn and I are pleased that everyone is safe. We do not want to linger in this area
for fear that the Vigilante and the Prowlers will return and continue their search. How long before Moya is
capable of starburst?”
Claws activated displays before him, and Pilot said, “Approximately four more arns. The DRDs are still
repairing systems critical to starburst.”
“Very well. Talyn and I are … dismayed at what has happened to Crichton. Surely not being able to
communicate with those are closest to him is a burden that no man should have to carry. Therefore, Talyn and
I would like to offer some information to which we have become privy.” Crais’ eyes went vague as he
communicated through his transponder to the ship around him. “Talyn and I have been able to gather
intelligence not accessible by normal methods. In addition, I was aware of certain weapons programs being
conducted by the Peacekeepers, which involved modifying various types of viruses and microbes. We have
sent all of this information to Moya’s databanks. Perhaps some of it may be of use to you.”
“Thank you, Crais. Moya and I have received the information and will begin an analysis directly.”
“Talyn insists that we remain here until Moya is prepared to starburst. However, two ships provide a larger
sensor target, and further communications would alert them to our location. We will be nearby if there is a
problem, but you will not hear from us again. You may, however, contact us if you require anything further.”
“Crais,” D’Argo struggled with the words, “thank you.”
The hologram of the former Peacekeeper Captain looked at D’Argo for a long moment, then he bowed his
head, acknowledging respect for the Luxan. “Good fortune.” His image disappeared.
* * * * *
Aeryn led the way into Jool’s lab, Crichton resignedly tagging along. He was a bit surprised to find everyone
gathered there, watching as Jool manipulated several pieces of equipment. Their figures were such a mixture
of emotional stances that he was completely at a loss as to what was going on. ‘Maybe I should send Baywatch
out after Scorpy. Looks like I was a bit hasty with the big gun,’ he thought.
Jool spoke, but her back was turned so again John had no idea what had been said. He looked at Aeryn and
she beckoned to him. He walked over to where she stood by the examining table, and obeyed her gesture to
sit on it.
“All right, I think this might do it!” Jool’s voice was a mixture of exultation and hesitation.
“What has happened, what has changed?” Aeryn asked. “When Pilot called us … me,” she looked at John, “us
… he didn’t tell us what had happened. He just asked me to bring John down here.”
“Talyn is here.” D’Argo held his hand up to forestall any protests or comments from Aeryn. “We’ll tell you
about that later, but the point is, he gave Jool some information that we didn’t have access to before,
information that we think might help John.”
“Would somebody please tell the poor idiot Erp-boy what is going on?” John looked around and still couldn’t
decipher an answer. “Crud. Shouldn’t have given Harvey his pink slip so soon, downsizing is always a bad
idea.”
“One microt, John.” Aeryn placed her hand on his shoulder. Feeling the invisible tremors that ran through her,
he finally realized that he couldn’t figure out what they were thinking because everyone in the room was feeling
uncertain.
Aeryn turned to Jool who stood behind John with an injector and demanded, “Explain what has happened and
explain what that is.”
“Crais gave us some information on Peacekeeper weapons development that involves genetic manipulation of
viruses and microbes. They were experimenting with delivery methods. I took some of that research and finally
managed to encase the translator microbes in proteins that I took from the sample of John’s blood.” She
paused, continuing when Aeryn nodded her comprehension. “In the weapons, the protein would eventually
dissolve and the virus or microbes, or whatever, would take over the host. However, I think I’ve stabilized these
proteins so that they will be permanent, and John’s immune system will identify the microbes as belonging
there.”
“But?” Aeryn took her hand off John’s shoulder, not wanting to transmit the apprehension she felt through the
physical contact.
“But the protein may eventually dissolve or detach.” Her voice was heavy with the possibility that all their work
might be in vain.
“What would happen then?” Chiana asked.
“We’d be right back where we are now. I’ll be able to tell in a matter of arns whether the adjustment is going to
hold up. But there’s also … ” Jool paused as she looked around at the entire group, feeling slightly
overwhelmed by the expressions of both hope and concern. She still didn’t like Crichton because of the price
her cousins had paid for his recovery, but she was beginning to see that there was something about him that
commanded enormous loyalty from everyone on the ship.
“What else?” D’Argo demanded.
“I don’t know what effect the encapsulation will have on the function of the microbes.” Jool felt as if she were
performing her verbal defense of one of her advanced academic ratings, only in front of a very hostile panel of
non-experts.
“Why is everyone in this room so FRELLING NERVOUS?” John couldn’t wait through any more of the rattling
conversation and gave voice to his own growing anxiety.
Aeryn put her hand back on his shoulder and squeezed. “Just another microt, John.” He shook his head and
tried to be patient, forcing himself to focus instead on the clipped, truncated Sebacean words he had just
heard. Some of the syllables were beginning to sound familiar. He wondered how long it was going to take
before he could begin to understand her words again.
“He has a good question.” Aeryn turned to Jool again, “Why are you so nervous about this?”
Jool’s arrogance fought a short battle with her intellect. “I don’t have the equipment I need …”
“Stop with the excuses Queen of Chemicals, and answer the question.” Chiana walked over to John to lend her
support as well. “Hey, old man.”
“Hey Pip. What’s happenin’?” Some statements were easier to deduce than others.
Jool’s inherent sense of responsibility finally won the battle. “All right! I’ve never actually performed this sort of
amino manipulation before, although I’ve studied the theoretical and practical applications of polymerase … ”
“JOOL!” Several voices objected at once. Looking up in surprise, John felt apprehension take a huge breath
and swell to new proportions in his chest.
Jool cut her last thought short and forged forward. “The protein casing I’ve been able to develop is crude by
any standard and it has made these microbes very large. I don’t know what effect they are going to have on his
circulatory system until they migrate to his brain stem.”
“Could they kill him?” D’Argo asked.
“I don’t think so.”
Aeryn walked around to stand in front of where John sat, looked into his eyes, and slowly explained what was
going on. She struggled to free her emotions just enough that he would be able to tell what was going on. He
watched her carefully, and looked at the others in the room for a moment.
“Jool has a solution but there’s a problem with it.” Nods. “Big frelling problem. Death-like size problem.” More
nods. “On a scale of one to ten, what’s the chance this is going to kill me?”
Aeryn looked at Jool, who considered it. “Two, maybe three.” Aeryn held up fingers. John glanced around the
chamber as he considered. Twenty to thirty percent chance was not the figures he wanted to hear.
Hear.
He looked again at the anxious faces and thought about the last two days, about being forced to rely on Harvey
to communicate with these friends -- with this family.
“Let ’er rip.” Jool looked puzzled but Aeryn motioned for her to inject John. He took a firm grip on the edge of
the table, remembering what had happened the last time and nodded to Jool. A quiet hiss was the only sound
in the room as the injector punched through his leather pants, the new microbes flowing into the muscles in his
thigh.
Crichton didn’t have to wait for it this time. The burning pain that streaked up his leg was like an explosion --
a ball of flaming, molten metal flowing through his veins. He gripped the edge of the table until his forearms
ached and just tried to hang on, hoping it would pass as quickly as the last time. The fire spread through his
system, up through his abdomen, through his chest, and burst like a star into his brain.
He felt himself start to topple forward but couldn’t stop it. D’Argo’s hands were on his shoulders, steadying him
as he fought to keep breathing until it was over. The incendiary flood suddenly collected into a central point
and struck like an arrow into the base of his skull. It disappeared as if it had never existed, leaving him gasping
and sweating, his nervous system vibrating like a plucked wire.
No one said anything, giving him time to get his reactions back under control. “Wow, the entire Green Bay
Packers of microbes that time.” His voice was thin and shaky. D’Argo let go of his shoulders as he managed to
open his fingers and release his grip on the bed. The room remained silent as the Luxan moved away and Jool’
s slim hand appeared in front of him holding a damp cloth. He checked to make sure he wasn’t bleeding this
time, and then used it to wipe the sudden sweat off his face, unable to look up at those around him. He stared
at the cloth in his hands and said, “Somebody go ahead and say something.”
It was a microt before Aeryn’s voice answered him. He could feel himself start to shake all over now, and hastily
shook his head. He still couldn’t look at them yet, afraid if he did he would loose control of his emotions
completely. “It didn’t work.”
The chamber was filled with the now familiar babble, the sounds accusatorial and full of distress. He finally
looked up to see that most of the group was facing Jool, who was obviously fighting a desperate battle to
explain the failure.
“Hey, it’s not her fault.” He didn’t want anyone to suffer because of him anymore. “Look, we’ll cope somehow,
all right?” He felt none of the positive emotions that his words indicated. There was only crushing
disappointment and a feeling of hopelessness. His place on this ship had changed forever.
“I’m going to …” He fought for control. “I need some time to think.” He slid carefully off the med bed, making
sure his shaking legs wouldn’t fail him and started for the door. Aeryn touched his arm to get his attention and
spoke to him, a short sentence. “Thanks, Aeryn. I’ll be fine.” He hoped the answer would do, because this
time he felt like he wasn’t even in the ballpark.
The chatter started up behind him again, raucous and disorganized -- six voices all at once. The noise was
adding to a headache and slight dizziness that had suddenly developed. He reached the door and paused,
staring sightlessly into the corridor ahead of him. The mistuned radio station in his head was changing, the
static clearing and the signal growing stronger. He put his hand on the edge of the door to steady himself. The
music and lyrics rose out of the chaos and the moment his mind had been striving for over the last days finally
arrived. The headache disappeared in a blink, leaving his stomach queasy with excitement.
“John, are you all right?” Aeryn asked from behind him.
“Aeryn, he got rid of the clone. He can’t understand you,” D’Argo said, still sounding enormously disappointed.
“No, D’Argo -- I can. Both of you.”
One split microt of silent disbelief and then he was surrounded by yelling and hugging forms. In all the
confusion he was aware that he had been hugged and lifted off his feet by D’Argo at least once, and Chiana
had laid one heck of a kiss on him in her excitement. Stark was trying to help Rygel through an attack of the
Intons, but the Hynerian’s wheezing was only getting worse. He saw D’Argo hugging Jool, the accusations from
only microts ago completely forgotten.
D’Argo was back in front of him again, moving in as Chiana stepped out of the way. Aeryn was next to him, and
he knew that her emotions were out of control because she had her arm around his waist and her head on his
shoulder, just pulling him tight to her side. He looped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her back.
D’Argo grabbed his free shoulder and shook him lightly, barely containing his elation. “It is good to have you
back.”
“I never went away, but you guys were a little tough to hear for a while.” He leaned his head against Aeryn’s,
and just listened to the wonderful confusion of voices around him.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chapter 13
Crichton was approaching the outlet of the access shaft, could see the light streaming in from the corridor, and
there was still no sound from the comms. He grabbed the edges of the hatch and pulled himself out of the
tunnel, rolling into the corridor and coming back to his feet. He tried one more time. “Aeryn, D’Argo … what’s
going on?”
Aeryn’s voice came back to him, and he stopped running. “Everything’s all right, John.” She didn’t sound
exactly calm, but it was obvious that things were under control. He put his hands on his knees and bent over,
dropping his head as the waves of relief left him feeling momentarily weak and lightheaded.
“What happened up there?” He stood up straight and the loose liquid feeling of fear in his stomach began to
recede. He turned and headed back to the tunnel he had abandoned in such haste.
“We finally found the Peacekeeper officer.” D’Argo’s voice rumbled an addition in the background, and Aeryn
replayed his comment. “Or more correctly, he found us, but we’re all fine,” she assured him again.
“So you killed him?” He lowered himself into the shaft and sat for a moment just inside the opening of the
narrow passageway. He heard Rygel’s voice over the comms next, an arrogant and prideful statement.
“RYGEL killed him?” he asked in astonishment.
Aeryn was standing beside the dead Peacekeeper, looking back at the Hynerian as John’s disbelieving voice
tried to verify Rygel’s statement. She and D’Argo should have been dead right then. The commando officer
had been able to get them exactly where any military expert would want two targets. When she had yelled at
D’Argo, the Peacekeeper hadn’t even flinched, and had taken his first shot at them. D’Argo had still been
helping her out of the shaft, and when the bolt of energy hit his sheathed Qualta blade it had knocked both of
them to the floor in a helpless tangle.
The captain had stepped forward, preparing to shoot them where they lay, and had been hit by a pulse blast
from behind. Aeryn had looked up at his dying face, watching his expression as he turned to see who had
ambushed him. Surprise, disappointment, disgust and finally regret had passed across his features as Rygel
had moved into sight from the outer corridor, holding the small pocket pistol firmly in his free hand.
“Peacekeeper vermin,” he intoned and raised the pistol to fire again. Before he could pull the trigger,
Hasman’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell dead to the floor.
Aeryn dragged her thoughts back to the present and answered John‘s incredulous question. “Yes, it was
Rygel.” She reached down and helped a partially stunned D’Argo to his feet. “Are you all right?” She looked
at the sheath on his back. It was scorched and blackened, but intact, and there didn’t appear to be any
damage to the Qualta blade itself. D’Argo was still breathless from the impact but nodded his head, silently
answering her question.
Rygel was stowing her pocket pistol inside his robes. “A fine weapon. I will enjoy having it in my collection.”
Aeryn started to object but he continued, “I believe it is time for me to get something to eat. Please let me know
if there is going to be any excessive shaking of this vessel so I might avoid dropping any of my food.” He
turned his Throne Sled and whisked out of sight. Aeryn thought about the weapon he had just appropriated,
looked at the dead body, and decided he could keep it. He’d earned it.
Aeryn and D’Argo stood looking at the body for a moment, and then both seemed to remember their other task
at the same time.
“Pilot, how much longer until we hit that rift?” D’Argo called.
“It is almost upon us. I estimate one hundred microts.” The voice was full of anxiety, concern for his large
partner flooding his short statement. “It is not moving toward us at a steady rate, and I believe we should be
prepared to act as soon as possible.”
“John! Stark! Get out of those tunnels. Only a hundred microts left!” D’Argo had been about to call them, but
Aeryn caught his arm to remind him that she had to be the one to talk to John.
Crichton had just gotten back to his position when Aeryn called and told him to get out again. “Give me a
break,” he said to himself and reversed direction again. He scooped up One-Eye and began climbing the
sloping access shaft again, his legs and back burning from the unnatural hunched over position. “Glad you
came along, buddy. This was really necessary. We’ll have to visit this garden spot again some time soon.” He
shifted the DRD to one hand and used the other to help pull himself along a little faster.
“Brace yourselves everyone,” Pilot called. “Sixty microts.”
“Pilot, is the rift still big enough to give us a break from the gravity?” John was still scrambling along with the
DRD tucked under one arm like a football.
“It’s accelerating, it’s going to hit sooner. Twenty microts! Please prepare for the detonation on my signal,
Officer Sun,” Pilot was transmitting his warning to everyone. John couldn’t understand the words, but he heard
the emphasis and the quick words coming from the normally laconic Pilot and knew that their schedule had
somehow just changed.
“John, get out of there quick!” He didn’t need to be told, but he was glad to hear that she hadn’t forgotten
about him in all the confusion.
“Almost there now!” he called. He heard Stark’s quick call and knew the Banik was clear. He was almost out of
the tunnel and tried to move even faster. He didn’t want to be in there when Moya decompensated. He tossed
One-Eye out of the hatch ahead of him, and dove headfirst into the corridor. “Clear!” he yelled as he flopped
onto the corridor floor. The hatch doorway snapped shut behind him with a dull metallic clang.
This time Moya didn’t skip like a stone tossed across a still pond. She seemed to drop like a boulder throne
from a cliff. John found himself prone and airborne for a split second and then the floor came back to smack
him in the chest. He scrambled across the deck, trying to find something to grab onto something, but there was
a sizzling roar throughout Moya and she slid sideways and then accelerated.
He could hear small percussions that he recognized as portions of Moya’s systems exploding from the surge of
unaccustomed energy loads. The hot metallic smell of burned biomechanoid cabling filled the corridor. John
found himself sliding on this stomach down the hallway as the leviathan lurched and clawed her way further
from the singularity. He managed to grab onto the base of one of the heavy ribs just as Pilot yelled a single
word over the comms.
The vibrations from multiple detonations shivered through his stomach, and then his tenuous grip broke loose
and he slid back to the other side of the corridor. The bellow of misdirected energy ceased abruptly and the
whine of starburst echoed through the ship. He managed to get himself jammed into a depression in the wall,
finally braced against the erratic movements. The whine climbed in pitch and he was afraid they had failed.
Then the familiar queasy twist passed over him, and Moya’s gyrations were replaced by the all over trembling of
passage into starburst.
They had made it, and Moya’s usual healthy, internal sounds still rumbled around him, overlaid by the faint
vibrating disturbance of starburst resonating throughout the hull.
* * * * *
John rounded the corner into Pilot’s huge chamber, followed almost immediately by Aeryn and D’Argo, who
entered from another direction. He grinned widely at them, relieved that everyone was all right. “Pilot, how’s
Moya?” He leaned on the wall of Pilot’s station and watched the speed of the four clawed arms moving over the
controls. They weren’t flailing in desperation, and John relaxed even further.
Pilot-->Aeryn-->Scorpy said, “She’s all right. There is a great deal of damage to her normal energy conduits
and several nexus points will have to be replaced, but she is otherwise unharmed. Moya is very happy to be
free and she has asked me to think you all for your hard work to rescue her.”
John reached over and touched the nearest claw, a quick pat of reassurance and pleasure that both Pilot and
Moya were all right.
“Where are we, Pilot?” Aeryn asked.
“And WHEN are we?” As John asked his question he saw that the others had forgotten the second aspect of
their desperate flight. Before Pilot could answer, Chiana and Stark came into the room, chattering and asking
all the same questions. Rygel was trailing behind them, stuffing a final handful of food into his mouth.
“Rygel!” Crichton greeted him. “My man Yoda! There with the warrior spirit just when we needed you most.
I think I’m calling you the Toad Warrior from now on.” He strode quickly to where the Dominar floated and
smothered him in a hug from behind his chair, which he knew Rygel disliked but couldn‘t avoid.
“Crichton, get away from me. I could be tempted to kill one other person this afternoon.” Rygel complained.
As Crichton released him, there seemed to be some sort of look of pride and affection on the Hynerian’s face,
but it was quickly replaced by his normal irritable frown. John started to glance at Aeryn for a repeat, but
thought it over and waved a dismissal to her. He had a good idea what kind of answer Rygel had given, and
he was tired of listening to the voice that had occupied so much of his subconscious lately.
“Pilot, do you know when and where we are?” Aeryn was asking Pilot the question, but it meant John was
immediately assaulted by the voice he had just chosen to avoid. Aeryn was looking at him as she repeated the
still unanswered questions. They had put so much effort into getting themselves out of their trap, now they
needed to know where to go from here.
“We are approximately eighty thousand metras from where we encountered the Marauder.”
Aeryn’s shoulders relaxed in relief. At least they were in known space.
“And I am in the process of doing a comparison of the star positions to determine our chronological placement.
It will take at least two arns before I can make a determination.”
John watched Aeryn’s physical reaction and saw that at least half of the information was positive, and that the
rest was uncertain. In the instant that he was able to understand Pilot’s reply without any help John made a
decision, and deliberately didn’t tell the others before he acted on it. He didn’t care what they thought this
time.
Aeryn turned to tell John what Pilot had said and discovered that he was looking right at her, but he wasn’t
focused on anything nearby. He stayed that way for a longer period of time than usual, just an extra microt or
two. He’d been using the clone so frequently during their work, she was suddenly afraid that he had given it too
much access to his mind. She was only peripherally aware as her hand crept down to rest on her pulse pistol.
“Harvey!” John deliberately summoned the clone.
“Yes, John. I haven’t gone anywhere.” Scorpy appeared from behind a barricade and walked to stand next to
Crichton where he stood looking out of a plate glass window at the airport ramp. Baggage carts and tugs
worked like ants around a jet that was loading up for departure.
John handed Scorpius a folder containing an airline ticket. “Take a break, Scorpy. You deserve a vacation.”
“A vacation? I don’t think this is a sensible time for you to ask me to leave. I believe it would be more prudent
…”
“Take … a … break.” John spaced his words out for emphasis. “I don’t want to get into a pissing contest over
this, Harvey. Just get lost for a while. If I need you, I’ll send out Search-And-Rescue. Go visit a tropical island,
sit on a beach, and try drinking cocktails out of a coconut. Watch out for those little paper umbrellas though.”
He walked away, leaving the speechless clone standing at the door to the jetway.
As his awareness flipped back to his surroundings in Moya, he found Aeryn watching him carefully, like a
mouse watches a cat. Her hand was on her weapon. He immediately shook his head, “It’s all right. Just a little
argument.” She asked him something, and he took his first stab in the dark. “Not to worry, I won. I told Harvey
to take a break. Just me hangin‘ around for a while now that things are calming down. Is that okay with you?”
he smiled at her, knowing the answer ahead of time.
Aeryn felt the tight muscles in her diaphram relax. They could cope with this now that the other problems were
solved. Hand signals would do nicely for a while, she thought as she nodded her approval.
* * * * *
Aeryn had been looking for John for a quarter arn, and finally located him in one of his favorite spots. He was
sitting on a workbench in one of the maintenance bays, looking out at the stars. He had left Pilot’s chamber
very soon after he had sent the clone away. The return of his lack of comprehension had been obvious to
everyone, and Aeryn hadn’t been surprised when he had chosen to abandon the conversation there. She
started to enter the chamber, but stopped when she heard D’Argo’s voice. He was standing in the shadows
next to John and she hadn’t seen him at first. She started to back away, giving them time to finish their
conversation, but she heard D’Argo’s steps coming toward her out of the dark.
“Aeryn!” he was startled when he saw her.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just …” she gestured toward the doorway, indicating that she was going to
leave again.
“No, John and I were done talking. You do whatever you came down here to do.” He seemed almost flustered
to her, unsure of himself for some reason. She didn’t say anything as he headed out off down the corridor.
“John.” She waited until he turned to face her. “Nice chat with D’Argo?” She gestured toward the door where
the Luxan had exited in order to give him an idea what she was talking about.
“D’Argo? I think he was apologizing for what happened on the planet the other day. I wish I could have
understood all of it. It might have been a record breaking event.” John slid to one side, making room for her to
sit next to him. As she hopped up onto the bench where he was sitting, he tucked one foot under his other leg
and half turned to face her. “He’s a little harder to read than some other people around here,” he grimaced.
“There’s always too much going on between the braids and the tentacles and all. I get mixed up.”
Aeryn gave a small laugh, finding irony in John’s concern over getting the interpretation correct. She saw his
recorder in his hand and gestured toward it. “Talking to your father?” She wondered how much he could infer
from an unemotional conversation. He didn’t seem to be making the amazing deductive leaps now that he was
working without safety net offered by the backup of the clone. She suspected that his own emotions were
getting in his way of reading everyone else’s.
“I came down here to talk to my Dad for a little while, but I don’t feel like I have anything to say. Nothing to hear,
nothing to say.” He turned his head away from her, masking some of what he was feeling, but his shoulders
were slumped and his body shrieked of insecurity. Aeryn’s suspicions turned to certainty.
“John, we‘ll cope somehow. Jool is still working. She’s smart; I’m sure she’ll come up with something.” Aeryn
found herself in the unaccustomed position of reassuring him. It seemed like it was usually the other way
around. He still didn’t look at her, and he didn’t respond.
“John?” She waited until he turned to face her again. “Can we … talk about the other day?” She tried to smile
at the word, but it faded almost immediately.
“Aeryn, I don’t think …” He was about to say that this wasn’t the best time for him to have a conversation, but
he watched Aeryn stiffen and her back straighten. It dawned on him that they were back on the subject of why
she was so upset about his getting beaten up by D’Argo. “I don’t think there could be a better time to discuss
this. Just take it slow for me, okay?”
She nodded and looked down at her hands, uncertain how to start. “I shouldn’t have …”
“Officer Sun?” Pilot’s voice interjected over the comms.
“Yes, Pilot.” She looked over at John and he was holding the small metal tape recorder near his head, lightly
pounding his forehead against it in mock frustration.
“Could you find Commander Crichton and ask him to come to my chamber, please? Jool is on her way here
and has something to tell him.” Pilot’s voice sounded tight with hope and expectations.
“Of course, Pilot. We’re on our way. Do you know if it’s good news?” She jerked her head at John to tell him
they were going somewhere and he immediately slid to the floor, ready to follow her.
“Jool did not indicate the nature of her information. The others are eager to hear and are on their way also.”
Pilot closed the comms channel and she hopped down to stand next to John in the silence of the otherwise
deserted maintenance bay.
“News?” he asked. She nodded. “Good or bad?” She shook her head and shrugged at the same time. He
looked out at the blackness, seeing only the emptiness between the stars for once. “Well, no reason to stand
around here just thinking about it.” But he didn’t move. Aeryn waited for several microts and then reached for
his hand and give him a small tug. He let himself be turned and then took the lead. “Remember folks … no
matter where you go, there you are. Might as well get this over with.”
When they entered the Den everyone except Jool was already waiting, their expressions running the full gamut
of emotions. John came to a stop as soon as they were clear of the bridge span across the deep cavern,
Aeryn almost bumping into him as he halted unexpectedly. She stepped around him at the last microt and
continued toward the others. He remained standing a distance away, as if he didn’t want to get close to anyone
just then.
Aeryn returned to stand beside him, surprised but wanting to give him some support even if it was only by being
physically close to him. He looked at her and tried to smile, “It’s going to be fine Aeryn, no matter what Jool
says, we’ll find a way to work this out.” She didn’t think it sounded like either confidence or hope speaking.
Jool came through the doorway at that moment, crossing one of the bridges to join them. John watched her as
she entered and knew immediately that he had some language lessons in his future. Aeryn, standing so close,
was aware of a small change in his posture, a strange mixture of some muscles relaxing and other ones
tensing. She looked at him, and understood for the first time what he had been doing since he had stopped
relying entirely on the clone to translate.
‘She couldn’t find a solution, and you can see it somehow. You just accepted that, which is a relief, but now you
have to cope with it, which makes you apprehensive.’ She kept the thoughts to herself, but John was watching
her reactions as well, and he managed to give her a small smile and a shrug. ‘How do you turn everything into
something positive? Your life falls apart, and you still find hope,’ she thought. She shook her head and finally
put something into words, “How do you do that?”
John took her hand and held it for a moment. “It’ll be all right. At least when I learn Sebacean my stupid jokes
and rhymes will come through right.” He released her and walked rapidly out of the Den.
Jool looked at his departing form with indignation. “Where does he think he’s going?” Rygel’s earbrows shot
up in amazement at the degree of aggravation in her tone. “I haven’t even told him what I found out yet!”
“He already knows, Jool.” Aeryn spoke quietly.
“How can he know? I spent a lot of time and energy trying to come up with a solution, and I think it would show
only the barest minimum of manners if he were to stay here and listen while I tell everyone what I’ve been
through …” She stopped abruptly as Aeryn also turned and left the chamber. “Well!”
“You can tell us.” D’Argo demanded.
“Please Joolushko, we would like to hear what you have determined.” Pilot’s even tone seemed to calm Jool
down and she began to explain.
“I’ve tried everything I know, but I cannot get the translator microbes altered in any way that will stand up to the
antibodies in John’s system without modifying them to the extent that they don’t serve their purpose anymore.
The combination of his species’ ridiculous reliance on the use of antibiotics, the genetic alterations of the
immune booster that I gave him, and the structure of the microbes themselves make it impossible to create an
operative differentiated strain that his body will not destroy.”
“Is there anything you haven’t tried?” Rygel asked slowly.
“If there were something I hadn’t tried, then I would have tried it, wouldn’t I? Troglodyte.”
Everyone stood silently. Finally Pilot sighed and began manipulating controls, “Commander Crichton had
already asked me about compiling information for language instruction from Moya’s database. I have never
needed to create an instructional course of this type but Moya and I will do our best.”
“What language are you going to start with Pilot?” Chiana was the first to ask.
“Crichton asked me to build vocabularies in Luxan,” D’Argo beamed at the others, “Nebari, Hynerian, and
Interion.” They all looked at each other in astonishment.
“He can’t possibly learn all four languages at once,” Jool exclaimed.
“What about your language, Pilot?” Rygel asked, “How is he going to understand you?”
“Frell that, Rygel! What about Sebacean? How is he going to talk to Aeryn?” Chiana practically yelled at the
Hynerian.
“Crichton told me that until he can understand basic terms from everyone else, he is prepared to allow the
neural clone to continue to translate for Officer Sun.” Pilot’s voice was slow and deliberate, almost summoning
a reaction from the assembled group.
“No, absolutely not!” D’Argo’s tone allowed no room for argument, but no one in the Den had any intention of
contradicting him anyway. “That would mean that John would have to let that frelling monster in his mind share
his thoughts every day. Pilot, build just one vocabulary … Sebacean! We’ll start there.” Three heads, even
Rygel’s, nodded in agreement.
* * * * *
Crichton had chosen to sit on the floor in a corner of his quarters. He was listening to some of his earliest
recordings to his father, hearing a voice full of uncertainty as that person on the tape had struggled to adapt to
his new surroundings. The words were familiar and it was nice to hear a language he could understand, but
the voice seemed to come from someone he had never met. He knew how that poor guy felt. He wasn’t sure
how long it was going to take him till he could understand everyone on board again.
He continued to listen to the drone of his own voice, lowering the volume till it was just rhythmic background
noise filled with familiar syllables. He had no idea how he was going to cope with commerce planets and new
species. It had simply never been a problem, not since the first arn he had been on board.
“Can I come in?”
He jumped at the sound of Aeryn’s voice. He hadn’t heard her come up the corridor. He snapped the recorder
off, and looked up at her. He had no context to use in order to figure out what she had said. He only knew that
it had been a question. He settled for waving her into his room and motioning her to sit with him. If she wanted
something more, she’d tell him.
He made room for her in front of him and beckoned to her with a small movement of his head. It wasn’t the first
time he’d let himself lapse into using signals instead of talking. He was finding the sound of his own words a
jarring contrast to the mish mash of unassociated syllables he was hearing from the others, and had begun
resorting to silent indicators.
He watched Aeryn’s limber form sink into a seated position in front of him, ending up in the familiar position
leaning back against him with his arms wrapped around her. He leaned his chin gently against the top of her
head, giddy with the closeness of her, and the smell of her hair. He felt her relax slightly, but there was a core
of tension residing within her.
“John, I’d like to try and get through what I started earlier. I know it’s going to be a while before you can truly
hear what I need to say, but can I just go ahead anyway?” He gave her a hug, not understanding at all what
she was saying, but enjoying the musical rise and fall of her voice.
“John, I would be happy to intercede. I really am getting quite bored 'on vacation’. There isn’t anything to do
on this beach is there?”
John squeezed Aeryn a little tighter and said, “Hang on a microt.” When she spoke a short sentence with the
upswing of a question, he said, “Harvey’s back and he’s being a nuisance, let me get rid of him.”
John stood on the beach, the firing cord of a large cannon in his hand, watching with barely contained laughter
as Scorpius lowered himself into the muzzle of the cannon. The clone was wearing a shiny silver plastic crash
helmet with plastic wings on the side and a silvery metallic jumpsuit. John began humming the opening bars of
The 1812 Overture.
“Are you quite sure this is considered “first-class” flight accommodations, John? It seems a bit cramped in
here. I haven’t found any references of this kind of travel in your mind yet.”
“Trust me Harvey, you are going to love this. Send me a postcard, let me know when you get back.” As
Scorpius’ head disappeared out of sight into the barrel, John finished humming, said “Boom!” and pulled the
cord. With a scream the figure disappeared over the horizon, the faint sound of a splash coming back a
moment later. “Better than the Puffed Wheat commercial! Have a nice swim back Scorpy.”
From Aeryn’s perspective John was silent for only a single microt, then he gave her another hug and said, “Go
ahead.” There was laughter in his voice, which she found reassuring. He had been in almost complete control
of the clone for the last few days. She was happy that he could enjoy the privacy of his own mind from time to
time, and was even more elated that he hadn’t resorted to using the clone to continue their conversation.
She leaned back again into the warmth of his embrace, feeling how thin he had become in such a short time.
His ribs and forearms lay against her back and arms like metal bars, and when she leaned her head back, she
could feel his collarbone hard beneath her skull without any cushioning from intervening flesh. He hadn’t
managed to eat any solid food since they had come back from the commerce planet, and he had just kept
working despite all his set backs and problems. She felt a swelling rush of pride, accompanied by the flooding
concern that she would never be good enough for him.
Aeryn took a breath to begin again, and was interrupted by Pilot on the comms. “Excuse me, Officer Sun?”
When Aeryn paused and then answered the request from Pilot’s voice, John dropped his head on to her
shoulder and shook it in resignation. They couldn’t even talk to each other and they still couldn’t get time to
talk.
* * * * *
D’Argo and Jool had lingered behind when all the others had left Pilot’s Den. They were still discussing the
creation of John’s language lessons. D’Argo found Jool’s manner as haughty and annoying as always, but he
was grudgingly beginning to admire her extensive knowledge concerning educational techniques and learning
methods. She was going to be useful in teaching the human how to communicate, but it was still going to be a
long and irritating process.
Pilot suddenly looked up from where he was manipulating the controls that accessed Moya’s data stores. “I am
receiving a transmission.”
“For us? Who is it Pilot? Peacekeepers again?” D’Argo was immediately on alert.
“Don’t we ever get a little peace and quiet on this barge?” Jool complained, and her hair increased its shade of
red.
“It’s from Talyn!” Pilot looked up in excitement.
“Where is he, Pilot?” D’Argo demanded.
“Talyn has just emerged from starburst approximately three hundred metras from our position. He received
Moya’s cry of panic when we were boarded by the Marauder and has been on his way to this area of space
ever since. They have just arrived.”
“Ever since?” Jool’s eyebrows went up even further, something D’Argo didn’t think possible. “How long ago did
they hear Moya’s transmission?”
“Six solar days. Crais says he felt it was too late to be of help, but Talyn insisted on coming to see if there was
any trace of Moya. I have informed Talyn and Crais of everything that has transpired over the last two solar
days and assured them that we are all fine.”
“Six solar days!” Jool’s voice was filled with relief. “Then we only lost four days while we were stuck.”
“Or lost many more and gained the time back by passing through the distortions as John explained,”
D’Argo grumbled. “I still do not understand this, but it would appear that he was correct.”
“Captain Crais would like to speak to us. Shall I summon the others?”
D’Argo and Jool looked at each other, and then shook their heads. “If we are going to summon the others, we
should call John and Aeryn also, and I think …” D’Argo looked back at Jool for affirmation, and she nodded. “I
think they could stand to be left alone for a while. Go ahead and put him on the clamshell.”
The rippling hologram of Crais appeared to one side of Pilot. “Greeting Pilot, Ka D’Argo, and …”
“Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis” she recited.
“Try using ‘Jool’!” D’Argo offered, and earned himself a glowering look from the Interion.
Crais nodded a greeting. “Talyn and I are pleased that everyone is safe. We do not want to linger in this area
for fear that the Vigilante and the Prowlers will return and continue their search. How long before Moya is
capable of starburst?”
Claws activated displays before him, and Pilot said, “Approximately four more arns. The DRDs are still
repairing systems critical to starburst.”
“Very well. Talyn and I are … dismayed at what has happened to Crichton. Surely not being able to
communicate with those are closest to him is a burden that no man should have to carry. Therefore, Talyn and
I would like to offer some information to which we have become privy.” Crais’ eyes went vague as he
communicated through his transponder to the ship around him. “Talyn and I have been able to gather
intelligence not accessible by normal methods. In addition, I was aware of certain weapons programs being
conducted by the Peacekeepers, which involved modifying various types of viruses and microbes. We have
sent all of this information to Moya’s databanks. Perhaps some of it may be of use to you.”
“Thank you, Crais. Moya and I have received the information and will begin an analysis directly.”
“Talyn insists that we remain here until Moya is prepared to starburst. However, two ships provide a larger
sensor target, and further communications would alert them to our location. We will be nearby if there is a
problem, but you will not hear from us again. You may, however, contact us if you require anything further.”
“Crais,” D’Argo struggled with the words, “thank you.”
The hologram of the former Peacekeeper Captain looked at D’Argo for a long moment, then he bowed his
head, acknowledging respect for the Luxan. “Good fortune.” His image disappeared.
* * * * *
Aeryn led the way into Jool’s lab, Crichton resignedly tagging along. He was a bit surprised to find everyone
gathered there, watching as Jool manipulated several pieces of equipment. Their figures were such a mixture
of emotional stances that he was completely at a loss as to what was going on. ‘Maybe I should send Baywatch
out after Scorpy. Looks like I was a bit hasty with the big gun,’ he thought.
Jool spoke, but her back was turned so again John had no idea what had been said. He looked at Aeryn and
she beckoned to him. He walked over to where she stood by the examining table, and obeyed her gesture to
sit on it.
“All right, I think this might do it!” Jool’s voice was a mixture of exultation and hesitation.
“What has happened, what has changed?” Aeryn asked. “When Pilot called us … me,” she looked at John, “us
… he didn’t tell us what had happened. He just asked me to bring John down here.”
“Talyn is here.” D’Argo held his hand up to forestall any protests or comments from Aeryn. “We’ll tell you
about that later, but the point is, he gave Jool some information that we didn’t have access to before,
information that we think might help John.”
“Would somebody please tell the poor idiot Erp-boy what is going on?” John looked around and still couldn’t
decipher an answer. “Crud. Shouldn’t have given Harvey his pink slip so soon, downsizing is always a bad
idea.”
“One microt, John.” Aeryn placed her hand on his shoulder. Feeling the invisible tremors that ran through her,
he finally realized that he couldn’t figure out what they were thinking because everyone in the room was feeling
uncertain.
Aeryn turned to Jool who stood behind John with an injector and demanded, “Explain what has happened and
explain what that is.”
“Crais gave us some information on Peacekeeper weapons development that involves genetic manipulation of
viruses and microbes. They were experimenting with delivery methods. I took some of that research and finally
managed to encase the translator microbes in proteins that I took from the sample of John’s blood.” She
paused, continuing when Aeryn nodded her comprehension. “In the weapons, the protein would eventually
dissolve and the virus or microbes, or whatever, would take over the host. However, I think I’ve stabilized these
proteins so that they will be permanent, and John’s immune system will identify the microbes as belonging
there.”
“But?” Aeryn took her hand off John’s shoulder, not wanting to transmit the apprehension she felt through the
physical contact.
“But the protein may eventually dissolve or detach.” Her voice was heavy with the possibility that all their work
might be in vain.
“What would happen then?” Chiana asked.
“We’d be right back where we are now. I’ll be able to tell in a matter of arns whether the adjustment is going to
hold up. But there’s also … ” Jool paused as she looked around at the entire group, feeling slightly
overwhelmed by the expressions of both hope and concern. She still didn’t like Crichton because of the price
her cousins had paid for his recovery, but she was beginning to see that there was something about him that
commanded enormous loyalty from everyone on the ship.
“What else?” D’Argo demanded.
“I don’t know what effect the encapsulation will have on the function of the microbes.” Jool felt as if she were
performing her verbal defense of one of her advanced academic ratings, only in front of a very hostile panel of
non-experts.
“Why is everyone in this room so FRELLING NERVOUS?” John couldn’t wait through any more of the rattling
conversation and gave voice to his own growing anxiety.
Aeryn put her hand back on his shoulder and squeezed. “Just another microt, John.” He shook his head and
tried to be patient, forcing himself to focus instead on the clipped, truncated Sebacean words he had just
heard. Some of the syllables were beginning to sound familiar. He wondered how long it was going to take
before he could begin to understand her words again.
“He has a good question.” Aeryn turned to Jool again, “Why are you so nervous about this?”
Jool’s arrogance fought a short battle with her intellect. “I don’t have the equipment I need …”
“Stop with the excuses Queen of Chemicals, and answer the question.” Chiana walked over to John to lend her
support as well. “Hey, old man.”
“Hey Pip. What’s happenin’?” Some statements were easier to deduce than others.
Jool’s inherent sense of responsibility finally won the battle. “All right! I’ve never actually performed this sort of
amino manipulation before, although I’ve studied the theoretical and practical applications of polymerase … ”
“JOOL!” Several voices objected at once. Looking up in surprise, John felt apprehension take a huge breath
and swell to new proportions in his chest.
Jool cut her last thought short and forged forward. “The protein casing I’ve been able to develop is crude by
any standard and it has made these microbes very large. I don’t know what effect they are going to have on his
circulatory system until they migrate to his brain stem.”
“Could they kill him?” D’Argo asked.
“I don’t think so.”
Aeryn walked around to stand in front of where John sat, looked into his eyes, and slowly explained what was
going on. She struggled to free her emotions just enough that he would be able to tell what was going on. He
watched her carefully, and looked at the others in the room for a moment.
“Jool has a solution but there’s a problem with it.” Nods. “Big frelling problem. Death-like size problem.” More
nods. “On a scale of one to ten, what’s the chance this is going to kill me?”
Aeryn looked at Jool, who considered it. “Two, maybe three.” Aeryn held up fingers. John glanced around the
chamber as he considered. Twenty to thirty percent chance was not the figures he wanted to hear.
Hear.
He looked again at the anxious faces and thought about the last two days, about being forced to rely on Harvey
to communicate with these friends -- with this family.
“Let ’er rip.” Jool looked puzzled but Aeryn motioned for her to inject John. He took a firm grip on the edge of
the table, remembering what had happened the last time and nodded to Jool. A quiet hiss was the only sound
in the room as the injector punched through his leather pants, the new microbes flowing into the muscles in his
thigh.
Crichton didn’t have to wait for it this time. The burning pain that streaked up his leg was like an explosion --
a ball of flaming, molten metal flowing through his veins. He gripped the edge of the table until his forearms
ached and just tried to hang on, hoping it would pass as quickly as the last time. The fire spread through his
system, up through his abdomen, through his chest, and burst like a star into his brain.
He felt himself start to topple forward but couldn’t stop it. D’Argo’s hands were on his shoulders, steadying him
as he fought to keep breathing until it was over. The incendiary flood suddenly collected into a central point
and struck like an arrow into the base of his skull. It disappeared as if it had never existed, leaving him gasping
and sweating, his nervous system vibrating like a plucked wire.
No one said anything, giving him time to get his reactions back under control. “Wow, the entire Green Bay
Packers of microbes that time.” His voice was thin and shaky. D’Argo let go of his shoulders as he managed to
open his fingers and release his grip on the bed. The room remained silent as the Luxan moved away and Jool’
s slim hand appeared in front of him holding a damp cloth. He checked to make sure he wasn’t bleeding this
time, and then used it to wipe the sudden sweat off his face, unable to look up at those around him. He stared
at the cloth in his hands and said, “Somebody go ahead and say something.”
It was a microt before Aeryn’s voice answered him. He could feel himself start to shake all over now, and hastily
shook his head. He still couldn’t look at them yet, afraid if he did he would loose control of his emotions
completely. “It didn’t work.”
The chamber was filled with the now familiar babble, the sounds accusatorial and full of distress. He finally
looked up to see that most of the group was facing Jool, who was obviously fighting a desperate battle to
explain the failure.
“Hey, it’s not her fault.” He didn’t want anyone to suffer because of him anymore. “Look, we’ll cope somehow,
all right?” He felt none of the positive emotions that his words indicated. There was only crushing
disappointment and a feeling of hopelessness. His place on this ship had changed forever.
“I’m going to …” He fought for control. “I need some time to think.” He slid carefully off the med bed, making
sure his shaking legs wouldn’t fail him and started for the door. Aeryn touched his arm to get his attention and
spoke to him, a short sentence. “Thanks, Aeryn. I’ll be fine.” He hoped the answer would do, because this
time he felt like he wasn’t even in the ballpark.
The chatter started up behind him again, raucous and disorganized -- six voices all at once. The noise was
adding to a headache and slight dizziness that had suddenly developed. He reached the door and paused,
staring sightlessly into the corridor ahead of him. The mistuned radio station in his head was changing, the
static clearing and the signal growing stronger. He put his hand on the edge of the door to steady himself. The
music and lyrics rose out of the chaos and the moment his mind had been striving for over the last days finally
arrived. The headache disappeared in a blink, leaving his stomach queasy with excitement.
“John, are you all right?” Aeryn asked from behind him.
“Aeryn, he got rid of the clone. He can’t understand you,” D’Argo said, still sounding enormously disappointed.
“No, D’Argo -- I can. Both of you.”
One split microt of silent disbelief and then he was surrounded by yelling and hugging forms. In all the
confusion he was aware that he had been hugged and lifted off his feet by D’Argo at least once, and Chiana
had laid one heck of a kiss on him in her excitement. Stark was trying to help Rygel through an attack of the
Intons, but the Hynerian’s wheezing was only getting worse. He saw D’Argo hugging Jool, the accusations from
only microts ago completely forgotten.
D’Argo was back in front of him again, moving in as Chiana stepped out of the way. Aeryn was next to him, and
he knew that her emotions were out of control because she had her arm around his waist and her head on his
shoulder, just pulling him tight to her side. He looped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her back.
D’Argo grabbed his free shoulder and shook him lightly, barely containing his elation. “It is good to have you
back.”
“I never went away, but you guys were a little tough to hear for a while.” He leaned his head against Aeryn’s,
and just listened to the wonderful confusion of voices around him.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
