Voices Of Reason
Chapter 5
“John? John! Are you all right?” Aeryn was on one knee next to him, one hand gripping his, the other holding
his pulse pistol. The cannon was slung out of the way behind her back. As his vision cleared he saw the relief
flood into her face, color replacing pallor. “Are you all right?” she asked again, more quietly.
“Yeah.” He paused. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He grabbed the edge of the workbench and with her pulling on his other
hand, staggered to his feet. He overbalanced and almost went back down, clutching at the bench for support.
“What’s going on? How long have I been out?” He took the pistol from Aeryn and after two tries it slid with a
click into its holster. He looked around the maintenance bay, which was a mess of scattered tools, parts, and
cargo containers, but was relatively intact. “Is Moya all right?”
“You’ve been unconscious for only two hundred microts or so. Moya is fine so far. Pilot says this felt like a
leviathan-sized case of indigestion, but she’s unharmed. Two of them got past us and are loose on this tier.
Chiana and Rygel have gone after them, and Stark is helping search.”
“Stark?”
She gave him a humorless grin and nodded her head. “We managed to force two of them back into the hangar
bay, but they’ve taken up positions behind the Marauder and we can’t get at them.”
“That’s four.” His head was still ringing from the dual concussion of the explosives. “That was a gutsy move
with the stun bombs, Aeryn. A nice plan.” He returned to the subject at hand. “What about number five?”
“He’d almost reached you; that’s why I had to try the grenades.” John watched as she went pale again thinking
about it, but she turned almost as if to hide her concern, and pointed at the sprawled body only three feet
away. Both of their heads abruptly snapped around in the direction of the hangar bay as a brief exchange of
pulse fire sent several ricochets dancing around the upper reaches of the chamber. “D’Argo and Jool are
keeping the other two pinned down in there, but it’s only a matter of time … ” She looked at him more closely.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” He finished her sentence for her, “ … but it’s only a matter of time till they use their ship’s
weapons to start shooting their way out of the hangar bay.” He had tried shaking his head to clear the buzzing
left over from the grenades but it had set off a wave of dizziness and he stumbled, Aeryn’s firm hand under his
elbow righting him again.
“Destroying half of Moya in the process,” she concluded. Aeryn couldn’t ask him if he was all right a third time,
but she could see that he was having difficulty with his balance. She ached to have the time to take him aside
and force him to tell her what was wrong, to trust her, but instead, she forced the concern out of her mind,
falling back on her rigid Peacekeeper indoctrination to allow her to focus on the larger problem.
They picked their way through the debris and scattered containers and walked to where D’Argo and Jool stood
sentry over the Marauder ship from just inside the inner hangar doors. The intruder squatted in the outer
chamber like some sort of mutated carnivorous beast, waiting but lethal.
* * * * *
Chiana, Rygel and Stark were still on the trail of one of the Peacekeeper officers, running headlong through
Moya’s corridors in pursuit. They had almost lost his trail when they reached an intersection where four
hallways connected, but a DRD had come firing out of the small access hatches, chirping madly, and had sailed
off down one branch. They watched transfixed for a split microt as the DRD rushed away. The motivator
circuits that allowed it to move were making a shrill whine as it traveled at maximum velocity, a piercing shriek
that summoned them to follow.
Stark was the quickest to realize what was happening, “Helping, helping, Moya is helping. We should go --
follow -- go after the little helper.” Before he finished, Chiana’s slim figure was already flashing after the little
mechanoid, shadowed by Rygel’s Throne Sled, also traveling at nearly its speed limit. The Banik’s single eye
widened as he realized that in another microt he would be standing alone and he ran after them.
* * * * *
“What’s the plan, Aeryn? Have we got a can opener big enough for that thing?”
“I was going to try the Tarak Silencer. I’m hoping it will blow a significantly large hole in the side of the ship.”
“Significantly large?”
“Yes.” She grinned at him.
D’Argo interjected, “Can we please just do something before those hataak scum decide to blow a significantly
large hole in us? They are not going to wait forever just because two of their crew are on board Moya
somewhere.” He rolled away from the edge of the door as another volley of shots smashed into the walls and
through the opening to ricochet around the inner area. “They are also not going to wait forever until they try
and get back in here again either.”
“Should we warn Pilot first this time? You know how Moya feels about blowing things up in her hangar bay.”
John took a judicious, fleeting glance into the hangar.
“I have been maintaining an open comms channel on everybody since I became aware of the intruders,
Commander. Moya is willing to have you try to destroy the Peacekeeper ship.”
“If we need to, can we flush the ship out of here? Are we still inside the nebula?”
“We passed out of the nebula some time ago, Commander, while all of you were still firing on the
Peacekeepers. Moya is capable of ejecting the Marauder if you can disable it.”
“All right, Pilot, here we go.”
John drew his pistol and checked the chakan oil cartridge. He shook his head and reholstered Wynona.
Aeryn started to hand him her pistol, but after considering, she lifted the strap from the cannon over her head
and handed it to him. She watched him loop the carrying strap over his head and onto his shoulder as she
began loosing the Tarak weapon from its backpack-style holster.
“You hardly ever let me play with the big toys!” He eagerly swung the oversized pulse rifle into a comfortable
position and began the priming process. “I promise, no pulse chamber accidents.” She glanced at him with a
tolerant smile, forgiving him for his past mishap with a pulse rifle but also leaving him with a fluttering feeling in
his stomach.
‘How in the midst of all this chaos can a single look from her turn me into a blithering fool?’ he wondered. He
dragged his eyes away from her and tried to focus on their problem. “Jool, you’ll need to at least stick that
thing around the corner and pull the trigger. You don’t even need to aim, just send some fire in the direction of
the Marauder to keep their heads down.”
She looked as though she were frightened to the point of not being able to move, but she nodded, red hair
bouncing in all directions, and gripped the rifle more securely, although no less awkwardly.
“Go?” John asked.
“Go!” said D’Argo and they stepped out into danger’s way, laying down cover fire. Jool did just as John had
suggested, sticking the muzzle of her rifle around the corner, holding the weapon at arm’s length and pulling
the trigger without even looking to see what she was hitting. Aeryn stepped around the two men, aimed her
weapon and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
John was astonished. Aeryn didn’t usually make mistakes when it came to buying weapons. “Well, that was
magnificent! I can see you got your money’s worth on that one.”
But no one was looking at John; they were looking at the ship. Jool had joined them to watch as the Marauder
was enveloped by energy strands of red, blue, green and yellow, which were contracting around the ship and
increasing in intensity as they watched. They could see the two remaining commandos on the floor near the
vessel, writhing in agony as they too were encased in the snare.
“Frell,” John breathed.
“Big frell,” she agreed.
“Really big frell,” D’Argo added.
Three figures bolted away from the hangar door, Aeryn yelling, “Pilot! Close the hangar doors! Have Moya
eject the Marauder and move us away from here.” D’Argo looked back and saw Jool transfixed. He reversed
course, grabbed her roughly and dragged her screaming away from the opening.
The inner hangar doors began to close even as they were still scrambling away, air whistling through the
narrowing gap as Moya simultaneously released the gravity field in the hangar and began opening her outer
doors. The explosive force of the exiting atmosphere in the enormous chamber grabbed the now unsecured
Peacekeeper ship and its two crew members and blew them out into space. Moya engaged her drive system
and moved away.
Pilot was the only one who had a chance to observe as the energy strands continued to weave themselves into
a solid, tightening matrix around the ship. As the energy output increased, he was forced to switch from a
direct view of the process to sensor data. A moment later a shock wave rolled through the entire length of the
Leviathan.
Far from the Den, Aeryn and D’Argo managed to grab onto fixtures and maintained their balance. Jool’s
shrieks of indignation came from the floor where D’Argo’s final shove had thrown her. The tremblor threw John
against a table for a moment. He grabbed for it, missed, and went down hard. As the vibrations faded, he
rolled over on his back and looked up at Aeryn.
“What the frell was that?” Chiana’s voice burst over the comms.
“Aeryn’s new toy.” He sat up and looked around, “Can I please have one of those for Christmas, Mom? And
why didn’t you tell me that was how that thing worked?”
“Tarak weapons were always named for how they fired, not for the damage they did. Everybody knows that.”
Jool brushed herself off while looking at Crichton who still sat on the floor. “Well, almost everybody.”
D’Argo glared at Jool, then said, “Pilot, we need to get out of here. Prepare for immediate starburst.”
“Wait … “ A thought skittered through John’s head and he sat silently, pursuing it. He rubbed his forehead
trying to encourage the errant idea to come forward. His hand came away slick with sweat, and he hoped no
one else noticed the trickles running down his face and neck. The image clarified in his mind. “Pilot, how much
wreckage is left from the Marauder?”
“Quite a lot, actually. It appears that very little of the actual mass was destroyed.”
“If we leave that here, other Peacekeepers may find it and know that we were here also.”
“Excellent thinking, John.” Aeryn turned to the clamshell where Pilot’s image had finally appeared. “Pilot, can
the docking web capture all the wreckage and pull it aboard before we starburst?”
“I will do so now, Officer Sun.”
John was back on his feet, and all four stood surveying the chaos in the maintenance bay. “We were lucky,”
Aeryn summed up.
“Yes, but there are still two of those Peacekeeper vermin aboard, and we lost track of them when you decided
to turn Moya into a Toreilian vibrator.” Rygel steered his Throne Sled across the chamber to join them, coming
to a stop near Jool and surveying the devastation around him. “And who exactly is going to pick all this up?”
“We’ll worry about that when we find those last two frelling Peacekeepers.” D’Argo was about to say something
else, but was cut off by an enormous, sustained crashing noise in the hangar bay.
“The remains of the Marauder are aboard.” Pilot’s purple holo-image reappeared. The inner doors slid silently
apart and they turned to see wreckage strewn the full length of the hangar. In an area big enough to
accommodate a half-dozen Prowlers, the entire floor was covered with components, circuits, wiring, and hull
plating. John, Aeryn and D’Argo walked cautiously through the debris, while Rygel floated easily above it.
“What is all that dren? You said you were netting the debris from the Marauder.” Jool hung back at the hangar
doors.
“That Silencer of Aeryn’s dismantled it.” John’s voice was slow with the dawning realization as he knelt and
picked through components that were obviously still intact, but separated from each other. “It just knocked
apart every joint and seam in the ship! Did you know that would happen?”
“If you recall, I was just hoping for a significantly large hole.” Aeryn held up a double handful of bolts, screws
and circuits, showing them to everyone. “What are we going to do with all these parts? This is amazing.”
Pilot’s voice emanated once again from their comms. “I’m … very sorry about the mess.”
John and Aeryn look at each other for a minute, both on the verge of laughing. John was going to ask her if
she thought Pilot was developing a sense of humor, but he didn’t want to offend Pilot who was still listening.
Aeryn also started to open her mouth, but clamped it firmly shut against any laughter and turned away from the
clamshell.
* * * * *
Moya struggled to contain her fear and guilt. When she became aware of the Peacekeeper ship within her
hangar bay, she knew immediately that it was only because she had indulged herself that the ship had
managed to get on board. In that state of distress, she had cried out into the void of space, but there was no
one to answer her call except those within her, and only Pilot was aware of her emotional shout. The lives
within her were now at risk, and yet decisions concerning the intrusion were still being based on how their
actions would affect her well being.
Her guilt rose from the knowledge that before she ever touched the outermost fringes of the nebula, she had
known that all of her sensors would be disrupted, but the temptation had been more than she could resist and it
had all appeared so innocuous. Pilot tried to reassure her that all would be well, that it was not her fault, and
although she calmed down somewhat, a deep core of guilt remained. Leviathans existed to serve and she had
indulged herself instead.
As soon as the docking web finished pulling the wreckage of the Marauder on board, Pilot sent her the
commands to initiate starburst. They had already scanned the quadrant together, and located an area of
space devoid of stars, planets, or other debris that might create a hazard when she exited starburst. It was not
quite half again as far as the longest distance Moya had ever attempted, but galvanized by her emotions she
leapt long and hard away from the scene of near disaster.
Emerging from starburst with polarized materials and energy streaming from her hull like radiant water, Moya
immediately scanned the area, as she always did after emerging from the slipway that ran in the emptiness
between dimensions. The entire area was clear of spatial debris and there were no energy signatures of any
kind for thousands of metras in every direction. Relaxing within the returning sense of safety, she returned her
attention to her internal workings as well as beginning a further analysis of the area of space around her.
* * * * *
Captain Zaisan Hasman finally found a point in the access shaft where he could stop and catch his breath and
would still be able to see if any of his pursuers were coming though the tunnel after him. The engagement had
turned into a rout so quickly he was forced to acknowledge that the reputation of this group of fugitives was well
deserved. The double percussion of the two shock grenades had left one of his men staggering and deaf, an
easy target for the Qualta rifle handled by the Luxan. He and the other three men had been stunned for only a
split microt but it was enough time for the Nebari and what must have been the Peacekeeper traitor to drive
between them and split the quartet apart.
He had taken enough time to note that two of his men had been driven back toward their ship, and he had seen
the flash of Pilot Officer Dai Ekron’s figure escaping through a different doorway before he was forced to retreat
into the corridors. He cursed himself for dropping his weapon while still staggering from the concussion of the
grenades. It was unthinkable for an officer of his rank to be disarmed so easily, he had been trained to not let
this happen.
‘Find a weapon, stay ahead of the pursuers, find a tactical advantage in order to stop this ship from escaping,’
he listed in his mind his most basic priorities. Returning to his uncomfortable crouched position he began to
move through the shaft again, looking for an exit point. He had moved only a short distance when he felt a
lurch, identified it as entry into starburst. ‘Priority number three,’ he modified his list. ‘Now just stop this ship
any way I can, no matter what, without regard to wherever we wind up.’ His career was finished after this fiasco,
he was going to make sure he took this ship and its crew with him.
* * * * *
Ekron had not escaped from the maintenance bay as cleanly as his captain. He had found himself without a
pulse weapon and constantly shadowed by DRDs. He was still trying to lose the mechanoid spies completely,
wondering how long it would be before they led one of the ship’s crew to his location. Each time he managed to
elude one DRD he seemed to stumble into one or two more that would immediately begin to trail him in turn.
He knew he had to keep moving no matter what, until he was unwatched. Stopping at any time now would mean
capture or death at the hands of these fugitives. He followed a sloping corridor that he hoped would lead him
to the center of the tier he was on, looking for a vertical shaft where he might be able to out-climb the tenacious
little tanks.
* * * * *
D’Argo watched Jool’s departing figure as she left the maintenance bay. She had refused to partake in any
search that might result in another encounter with a Peacekeeper commando, and was headed to her
quarters. She still carried a pulse rifle for self-defense, but no one remaining behind knew whether she would
have the courage to kill another being even if it was in self-defense. D’Argo continued to watch her receding
form as he spoke to the others. “We must find the remaining Peacekeepers. Do either of you have a plan?”
“Either? Either of you?” Rygel’s voice exuded angry sarcasm. “I don’t suppose that you would ever assume
that I had a plan for this situation.” The answer from D’Argo was a curt but unequivocal “No.” Rygel’s earbrows
drooped and he turned his Throne Sled away. He didn’t actually have a suggestion, but he just wished that at
least once they would assume that he could be of some help in these situations. It was the sorry position of a
Hynerian to be looked down upon simply because of his stature.
“The two who escaped had to both be officers,” Aeryn announced firmly. “They will have the greatest tactical
expertise of the team, and therefore will be the most difficult to capture.” Her mind began to scroll through the
variations of Peacekeeper tactics that had been drilled into her from childhood, retaining any that might be
used by their quarry.
“How do you know they were both officers?” John wondered how much of the skirmish he had been
unconscious through if he had missed that information as well.
“Simply, the two we trapped in the hangar, and the dead man all wore sergeant’s or trooper’s insignia. There
would have to be a captain and a pilot officer of some sort as part of the team. We’ll need to get Pilot and the
DRDs to help us with the search and start sweeping Moya tier by tier.”
The trio began walking, catching up with Rygel who was moving slowly out of the maintenance bay, still
grumbling over his abrupt verbal drubbing. “This is going to take a lot of time,” John mused, “so maybe we
need to get everyone involved.” He stepped into the corridor, Aeryn and D’Argo on either side of him.
Unnoticed overhead, three DRDs were repairing an inner hull tear, clearing away charred skin from an area
that had been hit by pulse weapons fire during the skirmish with the Peacekeepers. Two units continued their
excavation in preparation for rebuilding the thick golden membrane, but the third little drone stopped moving
and focused its eyestalks on the three figures below. Video and audio signals were shunted to Moya’s massive
data banks, and from there the information was relayed to both Moya herself and to Pilot, who jointly analyzed
the incoming information. They monitored the conversation as it unfolded beneath the DRD, and together they
chose to take a hand in what was occurring.
“What is that appalling smell?” D’Argo burst out. He took a deep breath through his nose, and looked down in
disgust at Crichton. “I’ve been encountering this strange odor most of today, and your usual stench, Crichton,
has disappeared completely … to be replaced by this!”
“What? I showered this afternoon! I mean it’s been a few hours and I’ve been just a little busy, but I’m clean.”
He plucked his shirt up from the center of his chest and gave it a small sniff, noting that wide patches were
damp with sweat. It was a sharp reminder of the fever he was harboring, and once aware of it again his
attention could no longer be diverted from the headache he had been deliberately ignoring, or the shortness of
breath and lightheadedness.
‘But Aeryn is going to be chasing commandos again,’ he objected to himself. He had no intention of letting her
go without him. The last time they had been forced to track down special ops commandos on board Moya had
been the beginning of an avalanche of disasters.
“What is wrong with you, Crichton?” D’Argo stepped closer and took another judicious sniff as John smoothed
his shirt back down.
“I knew there was something wrong in the maintenance bay!” Aeryn’s concern was a sharp accusation, stinging
him for not being completely honest. “Was it the grenades? Have you been hit, are you injured, John?” When
she had seen him stagger and lose his balance earlier, a frightening prescient chill had run through her, and
she still had not been able to dispel the lingering sense of dread.
John opened his mouth to deny everything, but shut it again without speaking. He tried again. “I think
I’m sick,” was all that came out.
“Your head is all wet!” Rygel had maneuvered behind him while his attention was focused on the other two and
was eyeing John’s short soaked hair. “Even a Hynerian never gets that moist. It’s actually rather disgusting,
Crichton.”
“Takes one to know one, Buckwheat.” He looked abashed as he turned back to Aeryn. “I think I may have
caught that uncatchable Saltauri-Sebacean flu.” Aeryn was starting to shake her head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine
once my body starts to fight it,” he added quickly.
“That’s not the problem. You’re of no help to us if you’re sick. We can’t be looking out for you while we’re
trying to capture highly trained Peacekeeper officers.”
“I am NOT going to let you go crawling around this ship looking for a pair of killers without me.” John’s voice
immediately rose to a shout.
“I can certainly look out for myself better without you than with you. You’d only slow me down and become a
liability to both of us. You’re the one who needs someone looking out for him all the time.” Aeryn was surprised
to find herself yelling also, driven by a sense of panic welling up from a place within her that she didn’t
recognize. She tried to get a grip on emotions exploding within her, confused by their appearance when she
didn’t know what was setting them off. She only knew she was afraid for John, she had never seen him ill
before.
Her glare silenced D’Argo who had opened his mouth to speak. She got a tiny grip on her temper. “John.
There isn’t anything you can do right now that the others can’t do as well. If anything else goes wrong, we may
need you at one hundred percent later. Go find Jool and see if she can figure out what is making you ill.”
Watching Aeryn struggle to get herself under control forced him to get a grip on his fears as well. He wanted to
argue with her, but knew deep down that she was right. There was also a scared little voice inside that told him
that if she got hurt because he insisted on helping, he would never be able to live with that mistake. He
nodded, thumbed sweat from his eyebrows and stared at his dripping hand, defeated. “I’ll go to my room and
get some sleep.”
“John, please go find Jool and make sure that you are getting better.” He just nodded and turned to make his
way through the tier. “Please.”
He turned at the single word plea, and finally saw all the concern that was inexpertly hidden. He saw the rigid
muscles and upright stance that weren’t Peacekeeper training -- they were love and fear tangled into almost
unrecognizable strain.
He wanted to reach out physically to reassure that stiff, frightened figure, but as he stepped toward her he
remembered the infection raging inside him. He hesitated, not knowing what effect his human physiology would
have on whatever organism had invaded him. He looked at her and knew he could never take a chance of a
mutated germ infecting her as well. He nodded and turned away again.
“All right, I promise. I’ll go.” The trio watched as he ran one hand along Moya’s inner hull, tracing a slow,
unsteady path away from them.
“D’Argo …” Aeryn couldn’t take her eyes off John but couldn’t bring herself to move after him either. She had
other things that had to come first right now, but she also couldn’t stand to watch him walking away all alone.
The big warrior breathed heavily through his nose, a habit that surfaced whenever he was making a show of
doing something reluctantly, when he really wanted to do it very badly anyway. “You be careful,” he said to her,
glancing between her frozen expression and Crichton’s receding figure. He turned to glare at the Hynerian still
hovering beside them. “And you go with her.”
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chapter 5
“John? John! Are you all right?” Aeryn was on one knee next to him, one hand gripping his, the other holding
his pulse pistol. The cannon was slung out of the way behind her back. As his vision cleared he saw the relief
flood into her face, color replacing pallor. “Are you all right?” she asked again, more quietly.
“Yeah.” He paused. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He grabbed the edge of the workbench and with her pulling on his other
hand, staggered to his feet. He overbalanced and almost went back down, clutching at the bench for support.
“What’s going on? How long have I been out?” He took the pistol from Aeryn and after two tries it slid with a
click into its holster. He looked around the maintenance bay, which was a mess of scattered tools, parts, and
cargo containers, but was relatively intact. “Is Moya all right?”
“You’ve been unconscious for only two hundred microts or so. Moya is fine so far. Pilot says this felt like a
leviathan-sized case of indigestion, but she’s unharmed. Two of them got past us and are loose on this tier.
Chiana and Rygel have gone after them, and Stark is helping search.”
“Stark?”
She gave him a humorless grin and nodded her head. “We managed to force two of them back into the hangar
bay, but they’ve taken up positions behind the Marauder and we can’t get at them.”
“That’s four.” His head was still ringing from the dual concussion of the explosives. “That was a gutsy move
with the stun bombs, Aeryn. A nice plan.” He returned to the subject at hand. “What about number five?”
“He’d almost reached you; that’s why I had to try the grenades.” John watched as she went pale again thinking
about it, but she turned almost as if to hide her concern, and pointed at the sprawled body only three feet
away. Both of their heads abruptly snapped around in the direction of the hangar bay as a brief exchange of
pulse fire sent several ricochets dancing around the upper reaches of the chamber. “D’Argo and Jool are
keeping the other two pinned down in there, but it’s only a matter of time … ” She looked at him more closely.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” He finished her sentence for her, “ … but it’s only a matter of time till they use their ship’s
weapons to start shooting their way out of the hangar bay.” He had tried shaking his head to clear the buzzing
left over from the grenades but it had set off a wave of dizziness and he stumbled, Aeryn’s firm hand under his
elbow righting him again.
“Destroying half of Moya in the process,” she concluded. Aeryn couldn’t ask him if he was all right a third time,
but she could see that he was having difficulty with his balance. She ached to have the time to take him aside
and force him to tell her what was wrong, to trust her, but instead, she forced the concern out of her mind,
falling back on her rigid Peacekeeper indoctrination to allow her to focus on the larger problem.
They picked their way through the debris and scattered containers and walked to where D’Argo and Jool stood
sentry over the Marauder ship from just inside the inner hangar doors. The intruder squatted in the outer
chamber like some sort of mutated carnivorous beast, waiting but lethal.
* * * * *
Chiana, Rygel and Stark were still on the trail of one of the Peacekeeper officers, running headlong through
Moya’s corridors in pursuit. They had almost lost his trail when they reached an intersection where four
hallways connected, but a DRD had come firing out of the small access hatches, chirping madly, and had sailed
off down one branch. They watched transfixed for a split microt as the DRD rushed away. The motivator
circuits that allowed it to move were making a shrill whine as it traveled at maximum velocity, a piercing shriek
that summoned them to follow.
Stark was the quickest to realize what was happening, “Helping, helping, Moya is helping. We should go --
follow -- go after the little helper.” Before he finished, Chiana’s slim figure was already flashing after the little
mechanoid, shadowed by Rygel’s Throne Sled, also traveling at nearly its speed limit. The Banik’s single eye
widened as he realized that in another microt he would be standing alone and he ran after them.
* * * * *
“What’s the plan, Aeryn? Have we got a can opener big enough for that thing?”
“I was going to try the Tarak Silencer. I’m hoping it will blow a significantly large hole in the side of the ship.”
“Significantly large?”
“Yes.” She grinned at him.
D’Argo interjected, “Can we please just do something before those hataak scum decide to blow a significantly
large hole in us? They are not going to wait forever just because two of their crew are on board Moya
somewhere.” He rolled away from the edge of the door as another volley of shots smashed into the walls and
through the opening to ricochet around the inner area. “They are also not going to wait forever until they try
and get back in here again either.”
“Should we warn Pilot first this time? You know how Moya feels about blowing things up in her hangar bay.”
John took a judicious, fleeting glance into the hangar.
“I have been maintaining an open comms channel on everybody since I became aware of the intruders,
Commander. Moya is willing to have you try to destroy the Peacekeeper ship.”
“If we need to, can we flush the ship out of here? Are we still inside the nebula?”
“We passed out of the nebula some time ago, Commander, while all of you were still firing on the
Peacekeepers. Moya is capable of ejecting the Marauder if you can disable it.”
“All right, Pilot, here we go.”
John drew his pistol and checked the chakan oil cartridge. He shook his head and reholstered Wynona.
Aeryn started to hand him her pistol, but after considering, she lifted the strap from the cannon over her head
and handed it to him. She watched him loop the carrying strap over his head and onto his shoulder as she
began loosing the Tarak weapon from its backpack-style holster.
“You hardly ever let me play with the big toys!” He eagerly swung the oversized pulse rifle into a comfortable
position and began the priming process. “I promise, no pulse chamber accidents.” She glanced at him with a
tolerant smile, forgiving him for his past mishap with a pulse rifle but also leaving him with a fluttering feeling in
his stomach.
‘How in the midst of all this chaos can a single look from her turn me into a blithering fool?’ he wondered. He
dragged his eyes away from her and tried to focus on their problem. “Jool, you’ll need to at least stick that
thing around the corner and pull the trigger. You don’t even need to aim, just send some fire in the direction of
the Marauder to keep their heads down.”
She looked as though she were frightened to the point of not being able to move, but she nodded, red hair
bouncing in all directions, and gripped the rifle more securely, although no less awkwardly.
“Go?” John asked.
“Go!” said D’Argo and they stepped out into danger’s way, laying down cover fire. Jool did just as John had
suggested, sticking the muzzle of her rifle around the corner, holding the weapon at arm’s length and pulling
the trigger without even looking to see what she was hitting. Aeryn stepped around the two men, aimed her
weapon and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
John was astonished. Aeryn didn’t usually make mistakes when it came to buying weapons. “Well, that was
magnificent! I can see you got your money’s worth on that one.”
But no one was looking at John; they were looking at the ship. Jool had joined them to watch as the Marauder
was enveloped by energy strands of red, blue, green and yellow, which were contracting around the ship and
increasing in intensity as they watched. They could see the two remaining commandos on the floor near the
vessel, writhing in agony as they too were encased in the snare.
“Frell,” John breathed.
“Big frell,” she agreed.
“Really big frell,” D’Argo added.
Three figures bolted away from the hangar door, Aeryn yelling, “Pilot! Close the hangar doors! Have Moya
eject the Marauder and move us away from here.” D’Argo looked back and saw Jool transfixed. He reversed
course, grabbed her roughly and dragged her screaming away from the opening.
The inner hangar doors began to close even as they were still scrambling away, air whistling through the
narrowing gap as Moya simultaneously released the gravity field in the hangar and began opening her outer
doors. The explosive force of the exiting atmosphere in the enormous chamber grabbed the now unsecured
Peacekeeper ship and its two crew members and blew them out into space. Moya engaged her drive system
and moved away.
Pilot was the only one who had a chance to observe as the energy strands continued to weave themselves into
a solid, tightening matrix around the ship. As the energy output increased, he was forced to switch from a
direct view of the process to sensor data. A moment later a shock wave rolled through the entire length of the
Leviathan.
Far from the Den, Aeryn and D’Argo managed to grab onto fixtures and maintained their balance. Jool’s
shrieks of indignation came from the floor where D’Argo’s final shove had thrown her. The tremblor threw John
against a table for a moment. He grabbed for it, missed, and went down hard. As the vibrations faded, he
rolled over on his back and looked up at Aeryn.
“What the frell was that?” Chiana’s voice burst over the comms.
“Aeryn’s new toy.” He sat up and looked around, “Can I please have one of those for Christmas, Mom? And
why didn’t you tell me that was how that thing worked?”
“Tarak weapons were always named for how they fired, not for the damage they did. Everybody knows that.”
Jool brushed herself off while looking at Crichton who still sat on the floor. “Well, almost everybody.”
D’Argo glared at Jool, then said, “Pilot, we need to get out of here. Prepare for immediate starburst.”
“Wait … “ A thought skittered through John’s head and he sat silently, pursuing it. He rubbed his forehead
trying to encourage the errant idea to come forward. His hand came away slick with sweat, and he hoped no
one else noticed the trickles running down his face and neck. The image clarified in his mind. “Pilot, how much
wreckage is left from the Marauder?”
“Quite a lot, actually. It appears that very little of the actual mass was destroyed.”
“If we leave that here, other Peacekeepers may find it and know that we were here also.”
“Excellent thinking, John.” Aeryn turned to the clamshell where Pilot’s image had finally appeared. “Pilot, can
the docking web capture all the wreckage and pull it aboard before we starburst?”
“I will do so now, Officer Sun.”
John was back on his feet, and all four stood surveying the chaos in the maintenance bay. “We were lucky,”
Aeryn summed up.
“Yes, but there are still two of those Peacekeeper vermin aboard, and we lost track of them when you decided
to turn Moya into a Toreilian vibrator.” Rygel steered his Throne Sled across the chamber to join them, coming
to a stop near Jool and surveying the devastation around him. “And who exactly is going to pick all this up?”
“We’ll worry about that when we find those last two frelling Peacekeepers.” D’Argo was about to say something
else, but was cut off by an enormous, sustained crashing noise in the hangar bay.
“The remains of the Marauder are aboard.” Pilot’s purple holo-image reappeared. The inner doors slid silently
apart and they turned to see wreckage strewn the full length of the hangar. In an area big enough to
accommodate a half-dozen Prowlers, the entire floor was covered with components, circuits, wiring, and hull
plating. John, Aeryn and D’Argo walked cautiously through the debris, while Rygel floated easily above it.
“What is all that dren? You said you were netting the debris from the Marauder.” Jool hung back at the hangar
doors.
“That Silencer of Aeryn’s dismantled it.” John’s voice was slow with the dawning realization as he knelt and
picked through components that were obviously still intact, but separated from each other. “It just knocked
apart every joint and seam in the ship! Did you know that would happen?”
“If you recall, I was just hoping for a significantly large hole.” Aeryn held up a double handful of bolts, screws
and circuits, showing them to everyone. “What are we going to do with all these parts? This is amazing.”
Pilot’s voice emanated once again from their comms. “I’m … very sorry about the mess.”
John and Aeryn look at each other for a minute, both on the verge of laughing. John was going to ask her if
she thought Pilot was developing a sense of humor, but he didn’t want to offend Pilot who was still listening.
Aeryn also started to open her mouth, but clamped it firmly shut against any laughter and turned away from the
clamshell.
* * * * *
Moya struggled to contain her fear and guilt. When she became aware of the Peacekeeper ship within her
hangar bay, she knew immediately that it was only because she had indulged herself that the ship had
managed to get on board. In that state of distress, she had cried out into the void of space, but there was no
one to answer her call except those within her, and only Pilot was aware of her emotional shout. The lives
within her were now at risk, and yet decisions concerning the intrusion were still being based on how their
actions would affect her well being.
Her guilt rose from the knowledge that before she ever touched the outermost fringes of the nebula, she had
known that all of her sensors would be disrupted, but the temptation had been more than she could resist and it
had all appeared so innocuous. Pilot tried to reassure her that all would be well, that it was not her fault, and
although she calmed down somewhat, a deep core of guilt remained. Leviathans existed to serve and she had
indulged herself instead.
As soon as the docking web finished pulling the wreckage of the Marauder on board, Pilot sent her the
commands to initiate starburst. They had already scanned the quadrant together, and located an area of
space devoid of stars, planets, or other debris that might create a hazard when she exited starburst. It was not
quite half again as far as the longest distance Moya had ever attempted, but galvanized by her emotions she
leapt long and hard away from the scene of near disaster.
Emerging from starburst with polarized materials and energy streaming from her hull like radiant water, Moya
immediately scanned the area, as she always did after emerging from the slipway that ran in the emptiness
between dimensions. The entire area was clear of spatial debris and there were no energy signatures of any
kind for thousands of metras in every direction. Relaxing within the returning sense of safety, she returned her
attention to her internal workings as well as beginning a further analysis of the area of space around her.
* * * * *
Captain Zaisan Hasman finally found a point in the access shaft where he could stop and catch his breath and
would still be able to see if any of his pursuers were coming though the tunnel after him. The engagement had
turned into a rout so quickly he was forced to acknowledge that the reputation of this group of fugitives was well
deserved. The double percussion of the two shock grenades had left one of his men staggering and deaf, an
easy target for the Qualta rifle handled by the Luxan. He and the other three men had been stunned for only a
split microt but it was enough time for the Nebari and what must have been the Peacekeeper traitor to drive
between them and split the quartet apart.
He had taken enough time to note that two of his men had been driven back toward their ship, and he had seen
the flash of Pilot Officer Dai Ekron’s figure escaping through a different doorway before he was forced to retreat
into the corridors. He cursed himself for dropping his weapon while still staggering from the concussion of the
grenades. It was unthinkable for an officer of his rank to be disarmed so easily, he had been trained to not let
this happen.
‘Find a weapon, stay ahead of the pursuers, find a tactical advantage in order to stop this ship from escaping,’
he listed in his mind his most basic priorities. Returning to his uncomfortable crouched position he began to
move through the shaft again, looking for an exit point. He had moved only a short distance when he felt a
lurch, identified it as entry into starburst. ‘Priority number three,’ he modified his list. ‘Now just stop this ship
any way I can, no matter what, without regard to wherever we wind up.’ His career was finished after this fiasco,
he was going to make sure he took this ship and its crew with him.
* * * * *
Ekron had not escaped from the maintenance bay as cleanly as his captain. He had found himself without a
pulse weapon and constantly shadowed by DRDs. He was still trying to lose the mechanoid spies completely,
wondering how long it would be before they led one of the ship’s crew to his location. Each time he managed to
elude one DRD he seemed to stumble into one or two more that would immediately begin to trail him in turn.
He knew he had to keep moving no matter what, until he was unwatched. Stopping at any time now would mean
capture or death at the hands of these fugitives. He followed a sloping corridor that he hoped would lead him
to the center of the tier he was on, looking for a vertical shaft where he might be able to out-climb the tenacious
little tanks.
* * * * *
D’Argo watched Jool’s departing figure as she left the maintenance bay. She had refused to partake in any
search that might result in another encounter with a Peacekeeper commando, and was headed to her
quarters. She still carried a pulse rifle for self-defense, but no one remaining behind knew whether she would
have the courage to kill another being even if it was in self-defense. D’Argo continued to watch her receding
form as he spoke to the others. “We must find the remaining Peacekeepers. Do either of you have a plan?”
“Either? Either of you?” Rygel’s voice exuded angry sarcasm. “I don’t suppose that you would ever assume
that I had a plan for this situation.” The answer from D’Argo was a curt but unequivocal “No.” Rygel’s earbrows
drooped and he turned his Throne Sled away. He didn’t actually have a suggestion, but he just wished that at
least once they would assume that he could be of some help in these situations. It was the sorry position of a
Hynerian to be looked down upon simply because of his stature.
“The two who escaped had to both be officers,” Aeryn announced firmly. “They will have the greatest tactical
expertise of the team, and therefore will be the most difficult to capture.” Her mind began to scroll through the
variations of Peacekeeper tactics that had been drilled into her from childhood, retaining any that might be
used by their quarry.
“How do you know they were both officers?” John wondered how much of the skirmish he had been
unconscious through if he had missed that information as well.
“Simply, the two we trapped in the hangar, and the dead man all wore sergeant’s or trooper’s insignia. There
would have to be a captain and a pilot officer of some sort as part of the team. We’ll need to get Pilot and the
DRDs to help us with the search and start sweeping Moya tier by tier.”
The trio began walking, catching up with Rygel who was moving slowly out of the maintenance bay, still
grumbling over his abrupt verbal drubbing. “This is going to take a lot of time,” John mused, “so maybe we
need to get everyone involved.” He stepped into the corridor, Aeryn and D’Argo on either side of him.
Unnoticed overhead, three DRDs were repairing an inner hull tear, clearing away charred skin from an area
that had been hit by pulse weapons fire during the skirmish with the Peacekeepers. Two units continued their
excavation in preparation for rebuilding the thick golden membrane, but the third little drone stopped moving
and focused its eyestalks on the three figures below. Video and audio signals were shunted to Moya’s massive
data banks, and from there the information was relayed to both Moya herself and to Pilot, who jointly analyzed
the incoming information. They monitored the conversation as it unfolded beneath the DRD, and together they
chose to take a hand in what was occurring.
“What is that appalling smell?” D’Argo burst out. He took a deep breath through his nose, and looked down in
disgust at Crichton. “I’ve been encountering this strange odor most of today, and your usual stench, Crichton,
has disappeared completely … to be replaced by this!”
“What? I showered this afternoon! I mean it’s been a few hours and I’ve been just a little busy, but I’m clean.”
He plucked his shirt up from the center of his chest and gave it a small sniff, noting that wide patches were
damp with sweat. It was a sharp reminder of the fever he was harboring, and once aware of it again his
attention could no longer be diverted from the headache he had been deliberately ignoring, or the shortness of
breath and lightheadedness.
‘But Aeryn is going to be chasing commandos again,’ he objected to himself. He had no intention of letting her
go without him. The last time they had been forced to track down special ops commandos on board Moya had
been the beginning of an avalanche of disasters.
“What is wrong with you, Crichton?” D’Argo stepped closer and took another judicious sniff as John smoothed
his shirt back down.
“I knew there was something wrong in the maintenance bay!” Aeryn’s concern was a sharp accusation, stinging
him for not being completely honest. “Was it the grenades? Have you been hit, are you injured, John?” When
she had seen him stagger and lose his balance earlier, a frightening prescient chill had run through her, and
she still had not been able to dispel the lingering sense of dread.
John opened his mouth to deny everything, but shut it again without speaking. He tried again. “I think
I’m sick,” was all that came out.
“Your head is all wet!” Rygel had maneuvered behind him while his attention was focused on the other two and
was eyeing John’s short soaked hair. “Even a Hynerian never gets that moist. It’s actually rather disgusting,
Crichton.”
“Takes one to know one, Buckwheat.” He looked abashed as he turned back to Aeryn. “I think I may have
caught that uncatchable Saltauri-Sebacean flu.” Aeryn was starting to shake her head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine
once my body starts to fight it,” he added quickly.
“That’s not the problem. You’re of no help to us if you’re sick. We can’t be looking out for you while we’re
trying to capture highly trained Peacekeeper officers.”
“I am NOT going to let you go crawling around this ship looking for a pair of killers without me.” John’s voice
immediately rose to a shout.
“I can certainly look out for myself better without you than with you. You’d only slow me down and become a
liability to both of us. You’re the one who needs someone looking out for him all the time.” Aeryn was surprised
to find herself yelling also, driven by a sense of panic welling up from a place within her that she didn’t
recognize. She tried to get a grip on emotions exploding within her, confused by their appearance when she
didn’t know what was setting them off. She only knew she was afraid for John, she had never seen him ill
before.
Her glare silenced D’Argo who had opened his mouth to speak. She got a tiny grip on her temper. “John.
There isn’t anything you can do right now that the others can’t do as well. If anything else goes wrong, we may
need you at one hundred percent later. Go find Jool and see if she can figure out what is making you ill.”
Watching Aeryn struggle to get herself under control forced him to get a grip on his fears as well. He wanted to
argue with her, but knew deep down that she was right. There was also a scared little voice inside that told him
that if she got hurt because he insisted on helping, he would never be able to live with that mistake. He
nodded, thumbed sweat from his eyebrows and stared at his dripping hand, defeated. “I’ll go to my room and
get some sleep.”
“John, please go find Jool and make sure that you are getting better.” He just nodded and turned to make his
way through the tier. “Please.”
He turned at the single word plea, and finally saw all the concern that was inexpertly hidden. He saw the rigid
muscles and upright stance that weren’t Peacekeeper training -- they were love and fear tangled into almost
unrecognizable strain.
He wanted to reach out physically to reassure that stiff, frightened figure, but as he stepped toward her he
remembered the infection raging inside him. He hesitated, not knowing what effect his human physiology would
have on whatever organism had invaded him. He looked at her and knew he could never take a chance of a
mutated germ infecting her as well. He nodded and turned away again.
“All right, I promise. I’ll go.” The trio watched as he ran one hand along Moya’s inner hull, tracing a slow,
unsteady path away from them.
“D’Argo …” Aeryn couldn’t take her eyes off John but couldn’t bring herself to move after him either. She had
other things that had to come first right now, but she also couldn’t stand to watch him walking away all alone.
The big warrior breathed heavily through his nose, a habit that surfaced whenever he was making a show of
doing something reluctantly, when he really wanted to do it very badly anyway. “You be careful,” he said to her,
glancing between her frozen expression and Crichton’s receding figure. He turned to glare at the Hynerian still
hovering beside them. “And you go with her.”
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
