Voices Of Reason
Chapter 4
John wandered around the maintenance bay, slowly picking up the tools he had left lying on the floor when he
had gone with Aeryn for the Midday Meal he had never eaten. He had expected that he would begin to feel
better as the day wore on, but he continued to feel even worse. He was able to block the sensations out at
first, but each time he leaned over his head began pounding and he became dizzy.
When he leaned over to pick up a laser alignment probe and almost fell over, it finally dawned on him that he
wasn’t hurt. He was sick! He began to shake, shocked by the enormity that after almost three cycles in the
Uncharted Territories, his body had finally been invaded by a truly alien germ. ‘All right, Johnny Boy, calm
down. You knew this was probably going to happen if you stayed here long enough. It’s probably a little bit
overdue, so just relax and don’t freak out. It’s just another damned critter.’
He walked carefully to the doorway that led out of the bay into Moya’s central corridor for the tier, but instead of
leaving, he sat down near the opening with his back against an inner hull member and leaned his head back
against Moya’s wall. He could feel two sets of vibrations -- Moya’s steady pulsing beat that echoed in muted
tones throughout the ship and reassured him, and his own pulse pounding in his ears and through his chest,
which left him feeling a bit scared and lonely.
“You’re a healthy, studly guy John. Just relax and let your body do what it does best and you’ll survive.”
Hearing the words out loud reassured him a bit, but he had always been healthy and the idea of being ill here,
alone, with no other humans who understood how he felt, added to a rapidly mounting depression.
He put his head down into his trembling hands and realized he was sweating all over. Large areas of his shirt
were becoming damp, as was the hair on the back of his head.
“Oh great! In this galaxy the chicken pox probably actually turns you into a chicken.” Making a joke finally
broke the cycle of emotional shock, and he started to laugh as rational thought returned and fear dissipated
like fog before a breeze.
* * * * *
“Officer Sun?” Pilot’s polite inquiry drew Aeryn’s attention to the holographic image being projected in the
clamshell that hung near the ceiling in the Central Chamber. She hadn’t been hungry after leaving Crichton’s
quarters, but her growling stomach had finally driven her into the dining area to find a small substitute for the
Midday Meal she had missed.
“Yes Pilot?” She always reserved a special smile for Pilot, a response to the emotional link between them.
They shared both DNA and the mutual understanding of what it was like to be able to hear and sense all of
Moya in each separate heartbeat for an entire lifetime.
“I have alerted the rest of the crew that Moya is about to enter the nebula, it should be a rather unusual sight
from Command.”
“Thank you Pilot, I’ll join them there immediately.”
“Actually … Aeryn, I thought you might …” His embarrassed pause was longer than usual, but Aeryn knew to
just wait. “I thought you might prefer to join me here. I am reconfiguring one of my displays so that you may
view an enhanced visual representation of what Moya and I experience as we pass through the clouds of
energy and charged matter. We will be entering the outer area in just under one hundred microts.”
“I’d like that very much, Pilot. I’m on my way.” Aeryn hurried out of the chamber, knowing it would take her
almost that long to traverse the tiers to get to Pilot’s den.
D’Argo had enlisted Chiana’s help in finding Stark and bringing him to Command, hoping that the visual
spectacle Pilot had promised them would brighten his mood. Rygel was already waiting there, so he heard the
threesome coming down the corridor.
“Ions? Ions? Plasma and energy. Zhaan is energy now, I was just energy once, floating, floating, molecular
diaspora. Are we going to see Zhaan’s energy, her diaspora coming to surround us?”
“Yeah Stark, that’s it. I’m sure Zhaan will be all around us soon. Why don’t you come watch for her.” Chiana’s
tone wasn’t unkind, it just reflected the absence of understanding that most of them suffered from whenever
they were around the Banik slave. His ramblings were the manifestations of his unusual thought patterns,
twisted by torture and a lifetime of experiencing the pain and death of thousands of beings.
“Where are Aeryn and Crichton?” asked Rygel. “Don’t they want to see this?”
“They’re watching from the Den with Pilot. We passed Aeryn heading that way, and apparently Pilot has
arranged a separate viewing for them.” D’Argo’s opinion concerning the special accommodations was evident
from the disgust in his voice.
“I don’t understand what all the excitement is about,” grumped Rygel. “I thought Moya wasn’t going to be able
to detect anything while she is in this interstellar mud puddle. Why are we all here to stare at a projection of
nothing? It’s absurd -- and it’s boring.”
Jool walked into Command and snapped her fingers at one of Rygel’s earbrows, but he saw it coming in time
and his Throne Sled dipped towards the floor, taking some of his more sensitive anatomy out of harm’s way.
“Her sensors will be blocked from scanning, but we will be able to watch a direct representational display of the
discharge as the ions and charged plasma interact with the minimal electrical charge of Moya’s living
components in her hull.” Jool fired off the explanation with her normal patronizing tone.
“There you go, your Frogness!” Chiana laughed, “what she said!” She forgot about her standing feud with the
newcomer in her enjoyment of the Hynerian’s discomfort.
“Look, look, beginning, beginning. Ahhhh, diaspora flowing around us, energy here, energy there, energy
everywhere, in, out, all about.” Stark ran down as they all fell silent in awe. The coruscating colors shimmered
and leapt all around Moya’s hull, ion exchange charges leaping from Moya’s charged hull out to clouds of
charged particles, and energy returns running back toward her in streams. Sheets of elemental particles
glowed around her like a corona as she dove through clouds of vaporized materials.
In the Den, Aeryn sat on the edge of Pilot’s console, hunched over a bit to avoid the spreading reaches of his
cranial shell. He had reconfigured the largest of his informational displays to provide a view of the light show
for her. He watched the reflection of the colors flash across her face, all the time continuing to adjust controls
with his four arms, maintaining Moya’s intricate systems as he helped guide her through the thickening debris in
the center of the nebula. But his capacity for multi-tasking allowed him ample time to watch the pleasure in
Aeryn’s face and to note that she watched not only the reconfigured display, but continued to scan and
understand the other displays before them.
“About another fifty microts to transition the center, Pilot?”
“Yes, Aeryn, and then an additional one hundred and fifty microts to reach the perimeter on the far side of the
nebula again.”
“It really is very beautiful. Moya has never had a chance to do this before, has she?”
“There are very few nebulas of this type smaller than a Class Four, and transitioning anything much larger than
this current formation would be very dangerous for Moya. The random electrical charges could permanently
desensitize her sensors, and perhaps even erase vast portions of her data stores.”
“But there’s no danger …” Aeryn stopped her alarmed tone midstream as Pilot ponderously shook his head.
“Moya and I would never have entered this area if we didn’t have complete confidence that it would not do any
harm. Moya is quite enjoying the sensation, actually.”
“What does it feel like Pilot? Can you explain it?”
“I’ve never felt this sensation before, but I believe this is what it is like … to be tickled.” Pilot’s eyes widened
and Aeryn detected what passed for his smile beaming at her. “We are passing through the center … NOW!”
“Look at that interaction! That’s amazing. Crichton once described something to me called the Northern
Lights, charged particles striking the magnetic field of his planet. I think this is the same. I hope he’s enjoying
it.”
* * * * *
Ekron was unaware of anything going on around him as the other members of the team prepared for an assault
against the Leviathan. His entire conscious effort was focused on the sensor displays, picking out the huge
mass alongside them as they drove together through the center of the nebula that had concealed the
Marauder. He felt as though his psyche had merged with the controls as he brought his ship up to speed,
matching the velocity of their target and bringing them recklessly close to the flashing hull. There was an
explosive burst of noise as the side hatch was opened and the interior atmosphere was sucked out. He
wavered for only a split-microt and then maneuvered even closer to the beast of burden.
Hasman had watched Moya’s approach carefully for a tenth of an arn while his ship was concealed in the
densest portion of the clutter, and was finally forced to conclude that the fugitive ship was actually going to fly
right through the middle of the plasma cloud. He had never even heard rumors of biomechanoids deliberately
flying through a nebular anomaly of any size, but this creature and its crew had continued to defy expectations
ever since it had escaped. He was finally forced to admit that his secondary plan was going to work. He
ordered the entire team into space suits and had Dai Ekron resume the pilot’s station. Ekron was the newest
member of his squad, but he was by far the best pilot, and his plan required the highest degree of piloting skill.
As Moya passed through the dense center of the swirling mass, the Peacekeeper ship was undetectable by her
sensors. She had no warning at all as they pulled alongside her hamman side hangar door, opened their side
hatch, and fired an electromagnetic pulse at the door mechanism, triggering it to open. Officer Ekron then
needed only to negotiate the entrance of Moya’s hangar bay, a highly risky maneuver, and gently landed the
Marauder inside the vast cavern.
“We’re in!” gloated Hasman to his subordinates. “They’re ours.”
Moya burst out of the dense center of the formation and began to spin along her axis as she headed for the far
edge of the amorphous cloud. Sheets of energized particles were caught by her spreading flanks and then
flung away like spray, a rainbow hued halo of electrically charged elements. Her entranced passengers felt
none of the affects of her playful revolutions, and as they continued to watch it only appeared that they were
diving into a massive swirling vortex of molecular vapor, following the winding tube down into one gaseous cloud
after another.
* * * * *
Once the initial emotional trauma had worn off, John continued to just sit against the wall in the maintenance
bay, listening to Moya’s rhythms, the sounds of life within her. He was concerned about being ill, but the
momentary shattering fear of being sick in a strange place had passed. He laid his head back against the wall
and let the pulses of the ship reverberate through him.
He knew they were about to enter the nebula and that he was missing the light show, but he wanted to be alone
for a few microts to think about what might happen over the next few days. He felt as much as heard the
change in Moya’s propulsion systems when she entered the nebula, the vibration shifting down slightly, which
John knew was from Pilot and Moya modifying the ion backwash flow in order to avoid an interaction with the
charged particles all around them now.
“Northern Lights on the go! A moving, glowing extravaganza of pulsing polarized particles.” There had been a
brief time over a cycle ago when he could not have spoken any of those words, let alone the last three, and he
had recovered from that injury. He could recover from this. “Just a germ, John, you’ll be fine. Ouch!”
He looked down and realized that DRD One-Eye had just rammed into his ankle bone in a last-ditch attempt to
get his attention. Its eyestalks were waving madly and a non-stop stream of clicks, chirps and squeals came
from its enunciator. “Either this is love, or you’d like to show me something.” One-Eye squeaked again and
zipped off across the interior of the maintenance bay and disappeared behind a stack of cargo containers.
John got to his feet and went after it. One-Eye had just led him behind the containers when he heard the inner
hangar doors begin to cycle open.
“Everyone is up in Command, so who the frell is this? The Big Bad Wolf?” He looked up from One-Eye in time
to see the first Marauder commando roll around the edge of the hangar door and take up a covering position,
followed immediately by two more. The pair spread left and right, leapfrogging forward in a classic pattern.
‘Crap, it IS the Big Bad Wolf.’ Crichton ducked behind cover, noting that One-Eye had disappeared. ‘Traitor!
Yellow rat deserts the sinking ship.’ He quietly released his pulse pistol from the holster, but didn’t do anything
else. He knew that commando units almost always consisted of five man teams, which meant he was badly
outnumbered. ‘I could call Pilot, but they’d hear me for sure. Bad idea. Why the heck hasn’t Pilot figured out
that these nasty bastards are on board?’ He took a quick look over his barricade and saw that there were, in
fact, five intruders. He ducked down and tried to think.
* * * * *
Hasman and his team had encountered no resistance at all as they moved out of the hangar bay and into what
appeared to be a maintenance area. This was better than he expected. This ship had such a reputation for
smash-and-grab tactics, he had anticipated having to fight his way in right from the beginning. He held his
team up for a moment while he considered the corridors beyond the doorway out of the bay. Hasman had
learned his tactics from Peacekeeper manuals, and no-resistance advances hadn’t been heavily covered. He
needed to stop and think about their next move.
‘Come on John, think of something. Come up with a plan, blast it! Think outside the box.’ He was still
crouching in the same place, now behind the position taken by the soldiers. ‘Don’t want to drive them out of the
bay into Moya, that would be a bad plan. Need someone to bottle them up in here. Where the frell are Pilot
and the others?’ His thoughts took him no closer to a solution.
Others were, in fact, coming down the corridor, but they weren’t the reinforcements he expected. After running
away from John, One-Eye had summoned as many unoccupied DRDs as his signals could reach, and
simultaneously alerted Moya about the intruders. The DRDs were already on their way to his position, but it
was going to take time for Moya to relay the information and to get the biological residents to come help.
One-Eye waited in plain sight in the corridor outside the maintenance bay. His logic circuits correctly derived
that the intruders would not think it peculiar to see a DRD aboard a Leviathan.
Hasman still hesitated. He could see that the corridor outside the bay branched off in two directions, and
neither one seemed to offer any danger or concealment for a resistance force. He finally decided to treat it as
if there was opposition in both branches and gave the orders for his team to split up and advance in both
directions. The team moved up to the door together and burst into the hallways.
With additional direction now from Moya and Pilot, the squadron of DRDs heading toward One-Eye’s position
had split up, one group gathering in each hallway. They unshipped their tiny laser tools and when the intruders
emerged into the corridors, the little tank-like mechanoids rushed forward into battle, filling the entire junction
with volleys of red laser pulses.
John had started to come out of cover to follow the Peacekeepers, but had to scramble back as the sound of
firing was followed immediately by the team falling back into the maintenance bay.
“What the frell was that?”
“I’ve been hit!”
“How badly?”
“Just a flesh wound, I’ll be all right.”
“Who lost weapons?”
“Anyone spot who was firing at us?”
“All I saw were frelling DRDs.”
“There have to be soldiers behind them, they’re just using the DRDs for cover fire.” Ekron offered this last
comment, and it sounded like a rational strategy. The team righted itself and prepared for a second, more
careful excursion into the corridor.
* * * * *
Aeryn was still with Pilot when the signal from One-Eye alerted him to their intruders. “Officer Sun, there is a
Marauder on board in the hamman side hangar bay! Peacekeeper commandos have penetrated to the
maintenance bay and are preparing to advance into the rest of that tier.”
“How the frell did they get in there without our knowing about it?” Aeryn didn’t actually wait for an answer, but
vaulted lightly over the consoles and ran out of Pilot’s chamber, switching to her comms so that she could
continue talking to Pilot as she ran. “Notify the others, tell them I’m on my way to pick up a pulse cannon and
rifles. Have them get down there now and I’ll bring the weapons.”
* * * * *
“D’Argo, Chiana, everyone, may I please have your attention.” Pilot’s image appeared in Command.
“Go ahead Pilot.” Chiana’s answer was curt as she recognized the distraught tone of Pilot’s voice.
“Peacekeeper commandos have managed to get on board. Officer Sun has gone to get weapons, and wants
you to proceed immediately to the vicinity of the maintenance bay for the hamman side hangar,” he repeated
the bad news.
“We’re on our way, Pilot. How the hezmana did they get on board?” D’Argo didn’t wait for an answer to this
question either, pulling his Qualta blade from its sheath and converting it to its rifle form as he ran from
Command, the others behind him. “And where is Crichton going to be?”
“I assumed that Crichton was with you in Command.”
Rygel pulled his Throne Sled to a stop and faced the clamshell image of Pilot. “We thought he was with you
and Aeryn.”
“Rygel, come on! We’re going to need everyone’s help, even yours!” Chiana’s voice faded down the corridor.
* * * * *
Aeryn was not moving as fast as she would have like for she was weighed down with enough firepower from the
weapons locker to arm everyone. She had taken extra microts to swing by her quarters and pick up the newly
purchased Tarak Silencer as well. She knew beating back a Marauder force was going to take a miracle
considering the untrained fighters she had to depend upon. At least Crichton was becoming somewhat expert
at executing the Peacekeeper methods she had been teaching him. She hoisted the strap of the pulse cannon
a little higher on her shoulder and tried to increase her pace.
As she approached the junction where she expected to meet the others, she could hear pulse weapons firing
somewhere further ahead. She heard another noise firing, but couldn’t identify it. She slowed to negotiate the
turn and almost ran into D’Argo.
“Good, they haven’t had a chance to penetrate very far. We have a chance.” She looked the group over as
she handed out pulse rifles, keeping the larger cannon for herself. “Who’s down there preventing them from
advancing? Crichton?” Her gut tightened as she envisioned him alone, trying to hold his position against a
commando team.
“We don’t know where John is. We thought he was with you in the Den.”
D‘Argo and Aeryn stared at each other for a microt, recalling simultaneously where Crichton had been headed
when they had seen him last. “Frell. Let’s go.”
“Wait, what’s the plan?” Chiana yelled, but Aeryn continued toward the din of weapons fire.
D’Argo grimaced at her as he ran past also. “What has our best plan ALWAYS been?”
Rygel soared past them, carrying two shock grenades, “Break down the front door and shoot anything that
moves, of course.”
Jool stood motionless as the others hustled away, “Wait, that’s not a plan! Stark, that’s not a plan.” He was still
standing next to her, weaponless.
“Plan, plan? We always have to have a plan. I had a plan with Zhaan, it was a Zhaan plan. Would you like me
to come up with a plan?” Jool looked at him in dismay, cradled the pulse rifle with awkward unfamiliarity and
went doggedly after the others.
* * * * *
John listened to the conversation between the members of the PK team, and knew that the reinforcements he
had expected still had not arrived. He had seen the red pulses from repair lasers ricochet into the maintenance
bay and knew what had prevented the commandos from advancing into the corridors. ‘Those little guys have
got the right stuff.’ The tenacious mechanoids were going to need a advantage though in order to hold out
until the others got there, so he began working his way cautiously around the perimeter of the large chamber,
looking for a spot behind the Marauder team where he could get the drop on them.
Leather vest and pants hissing quietly, he squirmed the last four motras on his stomach, reaching a spot
behind a workbench that provided some cover from the Marauder team. They were preparing to move out into
the corridor again, which helped prevent him from being observed. He rocked up onto the balls of his feet and
popped a rapid glance over the top of the bench. They were about to advance. He rose carefully into a firing
position and when the first pair made their move, he aimed at the last man in the group and pulled the trigger.
Wynona misfired.
“Frell, frell, frell, frell, frell!” There was no need to remain silent anymore. The tiny firework had managed to
sail the entire distance and bounced off the bulkhead near his target. The response was a staccato of pulse
rifle fire that smashed and rattled against the workbench. He flipped into a sitting position and worked
feverishly to clear the jam, leaning against the bench while tools were thrown off by the impact of the shots and
fell rattling onto the floor. “Come on, baby. Don’t make me change your name, because you just keep finding
a fine time to leave me, Lucille.”
He dropped the chakan oil cartridge into his lap, pulled the trigger several times to clear the pulse chamber,
and blew sharply into the voided weapon. Aeryn had repeatedly insisted that this had nothing to do with
clearing a pulse chamber malfunction, but he continued to rely on both the recommended method plus the little
extra human touch. ‘It can’t hurt,’ he reasoned.
He slapped the cartridge back into place. “Don’t fail me now, darlin’.” The workbench was still being pounded
from the same angle, so he knew he wasn’t being flanked by that soldier yet. He wormed his way to the far end
of the bench, gave the pistol a kiss, and tried again. The Peacekeeper scrambled for cover as Wynona fired
true this time.
The earsplitting crack of the pulse cannon filled the maintenance bay. “The cavalry has arrived! Thank you,
John Ford!” he shouted in relief. An increasing crescendo of pulse fire was matched by ricochets and energy
blasts filling the chamber. John could only hunker down behind the bench and wait now. He was pinned down
by the shots coming from Aeryn and the others, who were on the far side of the Peacekeepers.
The tempo of his headache increased abruptly along with the din in the chamber, and a part of his mind
acknowledged that his fever was rising. ‘Just great. Did Quickdraw McGraw ever get a headache in the middle
of a shootout? I’ll bet Clayton Moore never said, Hey Tonto give me an ibuprofen out of those saddlebags.’
He forcefully put his condition out of his mind and waited for another opportunity to fire.
“John!” Aeryn’s voice cut clearly through the din.
“Aeryn?”
Aeryn felt like her pounding heart was going to tear loose from its mounts inside her chest. Her back was
against a support column, providing cover against the spray of fire from the besieged Peacekeepers.
Intermixed with the noise of pulse fire she could hear the shuffles and thuds as the five man team maneuvered
behind their covering fire. She knew instinctually that they would be setting up a multi-pronged counter attack,
and that if she couldn’t find a way to throw them into disarray now, all might be lost in the next few microts.
She neatly fielded one of Rygel’s shock grenades, then looked to where Chiana stood by the Dominar, ready
for their next move. She prepared to throw the explosive but hesitated. If she did this wrong she could wind up
injuring John, possibly maiming him permanently. But John was trapped on the other side of the Peacekeepers,
and she knew she had to try something desperate if she was going to get him out of there without getting killed
-- or captured -- which would be just the same as dead.
She stared at the weapon in her hand. It looked to her like a sphere of despair. D’Argo was waiting impatiently,
shielded from fire by one of Moya’s supporting ribs, the second globe ready in his hand. She called upon the
tattered remnants of her self-control and nodded.
“Cover up John! Incoming from Rygel.”
John started to glance over the barricade, but saw the twin arcing silver and black globes as they were
launched in his direction. It all connected in a flash. ‘Rygel? Grenade! No time for the holster, Hickok.’ He
dropped Wynona carelessly to the floor and rolled up into a ball, his forearms clamped tightly over his ears.
The entire maintenance bay shook with the concussion, John’s curled body rattling around on the floor like a
marble in an earthquake.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chapter 4
John wandered around the maintenance bay, slowly picking up the tools he had left lying on the floor when he
had gone with Aeryn for the Midday Meal he had never eaten. He had expected that he would begin to feel
better as the day wore on, but he continued to feel even worse. He was able to block the sensations out at
first, but each time he leaned over his head began pounding and he became dizzy.
When he leaned over to pick up a laser alignment probe and almost fell over, it finally dawned on him that he
wasn’t hurt. He was sick! He began to shake, shocked by the enormity that after almost three cycles in the
Uncharted Territories, his body had finally been invaded by a truly alien germ. ‘All right, Johnny Boy, calm
down. You knew this was probably going to happen if you stayed here long enough. It’s probably a little bit
overdue, so just relax and don’t freak out. It’s just another damned critter.’
He walked carefully to the doorway that led out of the bay into Moya’s central corridor for the tier, but instead of
leaving, he sat down near the opening with his back against an inner hull member and leaned his head back
against Moya’s wall. He could feel two sets of vibrations -- Moya’s steady pulsing beat that echoed in muted
tones throughout the ship and reassured him, and his own pulse pounding in his ears and through his chest,
which left him feeling a bit scared and lonely.
“You’re a healthy, studly guy John. Just relax and let your body do what it does best and you’ll survive.”
Hearing the words out loud reassured him a bit, but he had always been healthy and the idea of being ill here,
alone, with no other humans who understood how he felt, added to a rapidly mounting depression.
He put his head down into his trembling hands and realized he was sweating all over. Large areas of his shirt
were becoming damp, as was the hair on the back of his head.
“Oh great! In this galaxy the chicken pox probably actually turns you into a chicken.” Making a joke finally
broke the cycle of emotional shock, and he started to laugh as rational thought returned and fear dissipated
like fog before a breeze.
* * * * *
“Officer Sun?” Pilot’s polite inquiry drew Aeryn’s attention to the holographic image being projected in the
clamshell that hung near the ceiling in the Central Chamber. She hadn’t been hungry after leaving Crichton’s
quarters, but her growling stomach had finally driven her into the dining area to find a small substitute for the
Midday Meal she had missed.
“Yes Pilot?” She always reserved a special smile for Pilot, a response to the emotional link between them.
They shared both DNA and the mutual understanding of what it was like to be able to hear and sense all of
Moya in each separate heartbeat for an entire lifetime.
“I have alerted the rest of the crew that Moya is about to enter the nebula, it should be a rather unusual sight
from Command.”
“Thank you Pilot, I’ll join them there immediately.”
“Actually … Aeryn, I thought you might …” His embarrassed pause was longer than usual, but Aeryn knew to
just wait. “I thought you might prefer to join me here. I am reconfiguring one of my displays so that you may
view an enhanced visual representation of what Moya and I experience as we pass through the clouds of
energy and charged matter. We will be entering the outer area in just under one hundred microts.”
“I’d like that very much, Pilot. I’m on my way.” Aeryn hurried out of the chamber, knowing it would take her
almost that long to traverse the tiers to get to Pilot’s den.
D’Argo had enlisted Chiana’s help in finding Stark and bringing him to Command, hoping that the visual
spectacle Pilot had promised them would brighten his mood. Rygel was already waiting there, so he heard the
threesome coming down the corridor.
“Ions? Ions? Plasma and energy. Zhaan is energy now, I was just energy once, floating, floating, molecular
diaspora. Are we going to see Zhaan’s energy, her diaspora coming to surround us?”
“Yeah Stark, that’s it. I’m sure Zhaan will be all around us soon. Why don’t you come watch for her.” Chiana’s
tone wasn’t unkind, it just reflected the absence of understanding that most of them suffered from whenever
they were around the Banik slave. His ramblings were the manifestations of his unusual thought patterns,
twisted by torture and a lifetime of experiencing the pain and death of thousands of beings.
“Where are Aeryn and Crichton?” asked Rygel. “Don’t they want to see this?”
“They’re watching from the Den with Pilot. We passed Aeryn heading that way, and apparently Pilot has
arranged a separate viewing for them.” D’Argo’s opinion concerning the special accommodations was evident
from the disgust in his voice.
“I don’t understand what all the excitement is about,” grumped Rygel. “I thought Moya wasn’t going to be able
to detect anything while she is in this interstellar mud puddle. Why are we all here to stare at a projection of
nothing? It’s absurd -- and it’s boring.”
Jool walked into Command and snapped her fingers at one of Rygel’s earbrows, but he saw it coming in time
and his Throne Sled dipped towards the floor, taking some of his more sensitive anatomy out of harm’s way.
“Her sensors will be blocked from scanning, but we will be able to watch a direct representational display of the
discharge as the ions and charged plasma interact with the minimal electrical charge of Moya’s living
components in her hull.” Jool fired off the explanation with her normal patronizing tone.
“There you go, your Frogness!” Chiana laughed, “what she said!” She forgot about her standing feud with the
newcomer in her enjoyment of the Hynerian’s discomfort.
“Look, look, beginning, beginning. Ahhhh, diaspora flowing around us, energy here, energy there, energy
everywhere, in, out, all about.” Stark ran down as they all fell silent in awe. The coruscating colors shimmered
and leapt all around Moya’s hull, ion exchange charges leaping from Moya’s charged hull out to clouds of
charged particles, and energy returns running back toward her in streams. Sheets of elemental particles
glowed around her like a corona as she dove through clouds of vaporized materials.
In the Den, Aeryn sat on the edge of Pilot’s console, hunched over a bit to avoid the spreading reaches of his
cranial shell. He had reconfigured the largest of his informational displays to provide a view of the light show
for her. He watched the reflection of the colors flash across her face, all the time continuing to adjust controls
with his four arms, maintaining Moya’s intricate systems as he helped guide her through the thickening debris in
the center of the nebula. But his capacity for multi-tasking allowed him ample time to watch the pleasure in
Aeryn’s face and to note that she watched not only the reconfigured display, but continued to scan and
understand the other displays before them.
“About another fifty microts to transition the center, Pilot?”
“Yes, Aeryn, and then an additional one hundred and fifty microts to reach the perimeter on the far side of the
nebula again.”
“It really is very beautiful. Moya has never had a chance to do this before, has she?”
“There are very few nebulas of this type smaller than a Class Four, and transitioning anything much larger than
this current formation would be very dangerous for Moya. The random electrical charges could permanently
desensitize her sensors, and perhaps even erase vast portions of her data stores.”
“But there’s no danger …” Aeryn stopped her alarmed tone midstream as Pilot ponderously shook his head.
“Moya and I would never have entered this area if we didn’t have complete confidence that it would not do any
harm. Moya is quite enjoying the sensation, actually.”
“What does it feel like Pilot? Can you explain it?”
“I’ve never felt this sensation before, but I believe this is what it is like … to be tickled.” Pilot’s eyes widened
and Aeryn detected what passed for his smile beaming at her. “We are passing through the center … NOW!”
“Look at that interaction! That’s amazing. Crichton once described something to me called the Northern
Lights, charged particles striking the magnetic field of his planet. I think this is the same. I hope he’s enjoying
it.”
* * * * *
Ekron was unaware of anything going on around him as the other members of the team prepared for an assault
against the Leviathan. His entire conscious effort was focused on the sensor displays, picking out the huge
mass alongside them as they drove together through the center of the nebula that had concealed the
Marauder. He felt as though his psyche had merged with the controls as he brought his ship up to speed,
matching the velocity of their target and bringing them recklessly close to the flashing hull. There was an
explosive burst of noise as the side hatch was opened and the interior atmosphere was sucked out. He
wavered for only a split-microt and then maneuvered even closer to the beast of burden.
Hasman had watched Moya’s approach carefully for a tenth of an arn while his ship was concealed in the
densest portion of the clutter, and was finally forced to conclude that the fugitive ship was actually going to fly
right through the middle of the plasma cloud. He had never even heard rumors of biomechanoids deliberately
flying through a nebular anomaly of any size, but this creature and its crew had continued to defy expectations
ever since it had escaped. He was finally forced to admit that his secondary plan was going to work. He
ordered the entire team into space suits and had Dai Ekron resume the pilot’s station. Ekron was the newest
member of his squad, but he was by far the best pilot, and his plan required the highest degree of piloting skill.
As Moya passed through the dense center of the swirling mass, the Peacekeeper ship was undetectable by her
sensors. She had no warning at all as they pulled alongside her hamman side hangar door, opened their side
hatch, and fired an electromagnetic pulse at the door mechanism, triggering it to open. Officer Ekron then
needed only to negotiate the entrance of Moya’s hangar bay, a highly risky maneuver, and gently landed the
Marauder inside the vast cavern.
“We’re in!” gloated Hasman to his subordinates. “They’re ours.”
Moya burst out of the dense center of the formation and began to spin along her axis as she headed for the far
edge of the amorphous cloud. Sheets of energized particles were caught by her spreading flanks and then
flung away like spray, a rainbow hued halo of electrically charged elements. Her entranced passengers felt
none of the affects of her playful revolutions, and as they continued to watch it only appeared that they were
diving into a massive swirling vortex of molecular vapor, following the winding tube down into one gaseous cloud
after another.
* * * * *
Once the initial emotional trauma had worn off, John continued to just sit against the wall in the maintenance
bay, listening to Moya’s rhythms, the sounds of life within her. He was concerned about being ill, but the
momentary shattering fear of being sick in a strange place had passed. He laid his head back against the wall
and let the pulses of the ship reverberate through him.
He knew they were about to enter the nebula and that he was missing the light show, but he wanted to be alone
for a few microts to think about what might happen over the next few days. He felt as much as heard the
change in Moya’s propulsion systems when she entered the nebula, the vibration shifting down slightly, which
John knew was from Pilot and Moya modifying the ion backwash flow in order to avoid an interaction with the
charged particles all around them now.
“Northern Lights on the go! A moving, glowing extravaganza of pulsing polarized particles.” There had been a
brief time over a cycle ago when he could not have spoken any of those words, let alone the last three, and he
had recovered from that injury. He could recover from this. “Just a germ, John, you’ll be fine. Ouch!”
He looked down and realized that DRD One-Eye had just rammed into his ankle bone in a last-ditch attempt to
get his attention. Its eyestalks were waving madly and a non-stop stream of clicks, chirps and squeals came
from its enunciator. “Either this is love, or you’d like to show me something.” One-Eye squeaked again and
zipped off across the interior of the maintenance bay and disappeared behind a stack of cargo containers.
John got to his feet and went after it. One-Eye had just led him behind the containers when he heard the inner
hangar doors begin to cycle open.
“Everyone is up in Command, so who the frell is this? The Big Bad Wolf?” He looked up from One-Eye in time
to see the first Marauder commando roll around the edge of the hangar door and take up a covering position,
followed immediately by two more. The pair spread left and right, leapfrogging forward in a classic pattern.
‘Crap, it IS the Big Bad Wolf.’ Crichton ducked behind cover, noting that One-Eye had disappeared. ‘Traitor!
Yellow rat deserts the sinking ship.’ He quietly released his pulse pistol from the holster, but didn’t do anything
else. He knew that commando units almost always consisted of five man teams, which meant he was badly
outnumbered. ‘I could call Pilot, but they’d hear me for sure. Bad idea. Why the heck hasn’t Pilot figured out
that these nasty bastards are on board?’ He took a quick look over his barricade and saw that there were, in
fact, five intruders. He ducked down and tried to think.
* * * * *
Hasman and his team had encountered no resistance at all as they moved out of the hangar bay and into what
appeared to be a maintenance area. This was better than he expected. This ship had such a reputation for
smash-and-grab tactics, he had anticipated having to fight his way in right from the beginning. He held his
team up for a moment while he considered the corridors beyond the doorway out of the bay. Hasman had
learned his tactics from Peacekeeper manuals, and no-resistance advances hadn’t been heavily covered. He
needed to stop and think about their next move.
‘Come on John, think of something. Come up with a plan, blast it! Think outside the box.’ He was still
crouching in the same place, now behind the position taken by the soldiers. ‘Don’t want to drive them out of the
bay into Moya, that would be a bad plan. Need someone to bottle them up in here. Where the frell are Pilot
and the others?’ His thoughts took him no closer to a solution.
Others were, in fact, coming down the corridor, but they weren’t the reinforcements he expected. After running
away from John, One-Eye had summoned as many unoccupied DRDs as his signals could reach, and
simultaneously alerted Moya about the intruders. The DRDs were already on their way to his position, but it
was going to take time for Moya to relay the information and to get the biological residents to come help.
One-Eye waited in plain sight in the corridor outside the maintenance bay. His logic circuits correctly derived
that the intruders would not think it peculiar to see a DRD aboard a Leviathan.
Hasman still hesitated. He could see that the corridor outside the bay branched off in two directions, and
neither one seemed to offer any danger or concealment for a resistance force. He finally decided to treat it as
if there was opposition in both branches and gave the orders for his team to split up and advance in both
directions. The team moved up to the door together and burst into the hallways.
With additional direction now from Moya and Pilot, the squadron of DRDs heading toward One-Eye’s position
had split up, one group gathering in each hallway. They unshipped their tiny laser tools and when the intruders
emerged into the corridors, the little tank-like mechanoids rushed forward into battle, filling the entire junction
with volleys of red laser pulses.
John had started to come out of cover to follow the Peacekeepers, but had to scramble back as the sound of
firing was followed immediately by the team falling back into the maintenance bay.
“What the frell was that?”
“I’ve been hit!”
“How badly?”
“Just a flesh wound, I’ll be all right.”
“Who lost weapons?”
“Anyone spot who was firing at us?”
“All I saw were frelling DRDs.”
“There have to be soldiers behind them, they’re just using the DRDs for cover fire.” Ekron offered this last
comment, and it sounded like a rational strategy. The team righted itself and prepared for a second, more
careful excursion into the corridor.
* * * * *
Aeryn was still with Pilot when the signal from One-Eye alerted him to their intruders. “Officer Sun, there is a
Marauder on board in the hamman side hangar bay! Peacekeeper commandos have penetrated to the
maintenance bay and are preparing to advance into the rest of that tier.”
“How the frell did they get in there without our knowing about it?” Aeryn didn’t actually wait for an answer, but
vaulted lightly over the consoles and ran out of Pilot’s chamber, switching to her comms so that she could
continue talking to Pilot as she ran. “Notify the others, tell them I’m on my way to pick up a pulse cannon and
rifles. Have them get down there now and I’ll bring the weapons.”
* * * * *
“D’Argo, Chiana, everyone, may I please have your attention.” Pilot’s image appeared in Command.
“Go ahead Pilot.” Chiana’s answer was curt as she recognized the distraught tone of Pilot’s voice.
“Peacekeeper commandos have managed to get on board. Officer Sun has gone to get weapons, and wants
you to proceed immediately to the vicinity of the maintenance bay for the hamman side hangar,” he repeated
the bad news.
“We’re on our way, Pilot. How the hezmana did they get on board?” D’Argo didn’t wait for an answer to this
question either, pulling his Qualta blade from its sheath and converting it to its rifle form as he ran from
Command, the others behind him. “And where is Crichton going to be?”
“I assumed that Crichton was with you in Command.”
Rygel pulled his Throne Sled to a stop and faced the clamshell image of Pilot. “We thought he was with you
and Aeryn.”
“Rygel, come on! We’re going to need everyone’s help, even yours!” Chiana’s voice faded down the corridor.
* * * * *
Aeryn was not moving as fast as she would have like for she was weighed down with enough firepower from the
weapons locker to arm everyone. She had taken extra microts to swing by her quarters and pick up the newly
purchased Tarak Silencer as well. She knew beating back a Marauder force was going to take a miracle
considering the untrained fighters she had to depend upon. At least Crichton was becoming somewhat expert
at executing the Peacekeeper methods she had been teaching him. She hoisted the strap of the pulse cannon
a little higher on her shoulder and tried to increase her pace.
As she approached the junction where she expected to meet the others, she could hear pulse weapons firing
somewhere further ahead. She heard another noise firing, but couldn’t identify it. She slowed to negotiate the
turn and almost ran into D’Argo.
“Good, they haven’t had a chance to penetrate very far. We have a chance.” She looked the group over as
she handed out pulse rifles, keeping the larger cannon for herself. “Who’s down there preventing them from
advancing? Crichton?” Her gut tightened as she envisioned him alone, trying to hold his position against a
commando team.
“We don’t know where John is. We thought he was with you in the Den.”
D‘Argo and Aeryn stared at each other for a microt, recalling simultaneously where Crichton had been headed
when they had seen him last. “Frell. Let’s go.”
“Wait, what’s the plan?” Chiana yelled, but Aeryn continued toward the din of weapons fire.
D’Argo grimaced at her as he ran past also. “What has our best plan ALWAYS been?”
Rygel soared past them, carrying two shock grenades, “Break down the front door and shoot anything that
moves, of course.”
Jool stood motionless as the others hustled away, “Wait, that’s not a plan! Stark, that’s not a plan.” He was still
standing next to her, weaponless.
“Plan, plan? We always have to have a plan. I had a plan with Zhaan, it was a Zhaan plan. Would you like me
to come up with a plan?” Jool looked at him in dismay, cradled the pulse rifle with awkward unfamiliarity and
went doggedly after the others.
* * * * *
John listened to the conversation between the members of the PK team, and knew that the reinforcements he
had expected still had not arrived. He had seen the red pulses from repair lasers ricochet into the maintenance
bay and knew what had prevented the commandos from advancing into the corridors. ‘Those little guys have
got the right stuff.’ The tenacious mechanoids were going to need a advantage though in order to hold out
until the others got there, so he began working his way cautiously around the perimeter of the large chamber,
looking for a spot behind the Marauder team where he could get the drop on them.
Leather vest and pants hissing quietly, he squirmed the last four motras on his stomach, reaching a spot
behind a workbench that provided some cover from the Marauder team. They were preparing to move out into
the corridor again, which helped prevent him from being observed. He rocked up onto the balls of his feet and
popped a rapid glance over the top of the bench. They were about to advance. He rose carefully into a firing
position and when the first pair made their move, he aimed at the last man in the group and pulled the trigger.
Wynona misfired.
“Frell, frell, frell, frell, frell!” There was no need to remain silent anymore. The tiny firework had managed to
sail the entire distance and bounced off the bulkhead near his target. The response was a staccato of pulse
rifle fire that smashed and rattled against the workbench. He flipped into a sitting position and worked
feverishly to clear the jam, leaning against the bench while tools were thrown off by the impact of the shots and
fell rattling onto the floor. “Come on, baby. Don’t make me change your name, because you just keep finding
a fine time to leave me, Lucille.”
He dropped the chakan oil cartridge into his lap, pulled the trigger several times to clear the pulse chamber,
and blew sharply into the voided weapon. Aeryn had repeatedly insisted that this had nothing to do with
clearing a pulse chamber malfunction, but he continued to rely on both the recommended method plus the little
extra human touch. ‘It can’t hurt,’ he reasoned.
He slapped the cartridge back into place. “Don’t fail me now, darlin’.” The workbench was still being pounded
from the same angle, so he knew he wasn’t being flanked by that soldier yet. He wormed his way to the far end
of the bench, gave the pistol a kiss, and tried again. The Peacekeeper scrambled for cover as Wynona fired
true this time.
The earsplitting crack of the pulse cannon filled the maintenance bay. “The cavalry has arrived! Thank you,
John Ford!” he shouted in relief. An increasing crescendo of pulse fire was matched by ricochets and energy
blasts filling the chamber. John could only hunker down behind the bench and wait now. He was pinned down
by the shots coming from Aeryn and the others, who were on the far side of the Peacekeepers.
The tempo of his headache increased abruptly along with the din in the chamber, and a part of his mind
acknowledged that his fever was rising. ‘Just great. Did Quickdraw McGraw ever get a headache in the middle
of a shootout? I’ll bet Clayton Moore never said, Hey Tonto give me an ibuprofen out of those saddlebags.’
He forcefully put his condition out of his mind and waited for another opportunity to fire.
“John!” Aeryn’s voice cut clearly through the din.
“Aeryn?”
Aeryn felt like her pounding heart was going to tear loose from its mounts inside her chest. Her back was
against a support column, providing cover against the spray of fire from the besieged Peacekeepers.
Intermixed with the noise of pulse fire she could hear the shuffles and thuds as the five man team maneuvered
behind their covering fire. She knew instinctually that they would be setting up a multi-pronged counter attack,
and that if she couldn’t find a way to throw them into disarray now, all might be lost in the next few microts.
She neatly fielded one of Rygel’s shock grenades, then looked to where Chiana stood by the Dominar, ready
for their next move. She prepared to throw the explosive but hesitated. If she did this wrong she could wind up
injuring John, possibly maiming him permanently. But John was trapped on the other side of the Peacekeepers,
and she knew she had to try something desperate if she was going to get him out of there without getting killed
-- or captured -- which would be just the same as dead.
She stared at the weapon in her hand. It looked to her like a sphere of despair. D’Argo was waiting impatiently,
shielded from fire by one of Moya’s supporting ribs, the second globe ready in his hand. She called upon the
tattered remnants of her self-control and nodded.
“Cover up John! Incoming from Rygel.”
John started to glance over the barricade, but saw the twin arcing silver and black globes as they were
launched in his direction. It all connected in a flash. ‘Rygel? Grenade! No time for the holster, Hickok.’ He
dropped Wynona carelessly to the floor and rolled up into a ball, his forearms clamped tightly over his ears.
The entire maintenance bay shook with the concussion, John’s curled body rattling around on the floor like a
marble in an earthquake.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
