(First posted August 24, 2003)
Disclaimer: Not going to bother this time.
Time Frame: Your guess.
Note to the reader: This is actually an older fic, but it came out of storage for a repost when someone posted
a challenge. Just another example of how my brain sometimes takes a right hand turn mid-story.
* * * * *
Crichton could hear the mob gaining and tried to put on another burst of speed. This species was simply too
fast for him. His breath began to rasp and his legs were beginning to burn, but he couldn’t shake his pursuers.
He took a chance, looked back over his shoulder and saw that they were close enough that they were about to
pull him down. He focused his blurring vision on the ground ahead of him, and prayed that he could stay ahead
of them long enough for D’Argo and Aeryn to come to his aid. He could hear his friends nearby and wondered
what was taking them so long to distract a portion of those chasing him.
One hand grabbed his ankle and he went down. A pile of bodies rolled over him, smothering him. One knee
drove into his midsection and he lost the capacity to breathe or call out.
Suddenly, he could hear D’Argo bellowing and Aeryn’s voice ordering those on top of him to clear out. Blessed
daylight appeared and he lay winded on the ground, staring thankfully up at the pair.
“Crichton, you are pathetic.” Aeryn delivered her judgment in disgust and walked away.
“What? This was not my fault this time, D’Argo!”
The luxan shook his head and declined to help him up. “No, she is right John. If you can not get a first down
against this group of children when you taught them this game only yesterday, then it is time to let Aeryn carry
He walked away, shaking his head.
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