Don't Pick the Flowers

by Chameleon2

StargateFarscape X-over. SG-1 literally bumps into Moya on a mission and has to work together with the crew to save the Tok'Ra from a terrible disease introduced by Anubis.

Disclaimer: Farscape, its characters and all related material are owned by Henson, SciFi and various other people; Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is situated after Farscape Season 4 (I called the weird multi-eyed assassin a Fein Assassin) and halfway season 7 of Stargate SG-1. On board of Moya are not Stark and not Noranti, because I dislike them. In SG-1 Daniel is still remembering bits of his life after his Descend. This is the first, un-beta-ed version. I'm in dire need of both a Scaper and a Gater, so if you feel annoyed at any mistakes I make, please feel free to drop me a line.

DONT PICK THE FLOWERS

First, there had been a deafening crash that had thrown everybody to the ground and Jacob through the crystal cage that protected the Cacouilla flowers. Then, there had been several minutes of ticking silence in which Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c had picked themselves dazedly from the ground and wondered what the hell they'd run into.

            "Dad!" Sam had called, and staggered to his side. Jacob had been unconscious, bleeding profusely from several head wounds, one arm lying twisted beneath his body. 

            "Is he o…?" Daniel had asked, and then two…persons had entered the crushed pilot chamber and screamed, "Hoarrrrggh! Rakh!" and "Sdnah pu ni eht ria! Won!" or something that sounded like it while they aimed two different kinds of fire weapons on the stunned team.

It had been a bad day before the crash—hell, it'd been a bad week! First a meet and greet with yet another agricultural race that had been almost made extinct by the Goa'uld; then that crazy hunt for the Cacouilla flowers that, according to Thor, were an important component for the antidote for the disease the Goa'uld had let loose on the Tok'Ra on Phaenis; then another race with some Snake with the charming name of Persephone, this time in a stolen Tel'tak, and finally today, when SG-1 had been promoted to flower deliverer. One bad day after another. Today had worsened spectacularly with the crash. Jack thought that it might turn out to become a whole of a shit-load worse.

"Daniel?" he asked softly, slowly raising his hands in the air, "What on earth are they saying? Not that I don't get the general idea…"

            "Uh, don't know," Daniel murmured back. "It doesn't sound like anything I…"

            "Maggg!" one of the two…persons barked. At least he wasn't a goa'uld, that was for sure. He was huge and he had…tentacles. In his beard and on the back of his head. And a toadstool for a nose. Combine that with a bunch of tattoos, a physique more impressive than Teal'c's and a whopping big sword-gun aimed straight at Jack's vitals and you got something no well-thinking and vain goa'uld would ever want to inhabit. At least, O' Neill hoped so. Nirrti might feel different about that. Unfortunately, the other definitely was Goa'uld. He'd never seen a scarier woman, made even more scary by the fact that she looked very human (brunette, quite attractive even, if you liked the tearing, ripping kind) and dressed in tight leather. That, and…

            "Where are her Jaffa?" Carter, still kneeling next to her father, moved her head marginally so she could look at him.

            "Sir, I don't think she's Gao'uld."

            "Tuhs pu!" the female snapped. She took a step closer, spat out a few questions no one understood, pushed the barrel of her gun against Daniel's neck and ripped Jack's P-50 away. Carter gave up her own weapon freely, hoping that Jacob would be left alone. Teal'c needed some more persuasion, which was given in the form of more gun-against-Daniel's-neck-pushing, and Daniel suggested cooperating because he sure as heck didn't want to find out whether he could breathe through more than one air pipe in his neck. Teal'c gave in and gave up his staff weapon, which the tentacled giant immediately claimed.

            "Thgir," the woman said with a gesture of her gun, "won evom ti. Taht yaw. Evom ti!"

            "I think she wants us to move," Jack said sarcastically. Carter shook her head. Her hands protectively cupped her father's shoulder.

            "I'm not leaving him." She froze as the woman stalked back to her, squatted down next to Jacob, pressed her fingers against his neck and said, "ll'ew ekat erac fo mih retal. Ll'eh eb enif." Her voice was a little less aggressive now, and the push she gave Sam in the direction of the huge hole in the hull was almost gentle. Carter gave her a hard stare, met eyes that made Teal'c's look like warm cocoa and subsided. A moment later they were standing, unarmed, hands in plain view, in the middle of some ship's bay.

            "So that's what we hit," Jack mused. He looked at the sloping ceiling and the strange pipes running along the wall and frowned. "This doesn't look like a Goa'uld ship at all."

            "It might be some form of Arabic," Daniel muttered next to him to no one in particular. "No, can't be. It's more like Russian, but the pronunciation's…Armenic? No, wrong intonation. Maybe if I heard more of it, I could…" He touched his head with one hand, stared at his fingers as they came away bloody. Jack stared as well.

            "You okay?" Daniel nodded.

            "Yes, bit dizzy but fine, it just bugs me that I can't…"

            "Gwarrr Magg!" the tentacled guy growled. The brunette was talking into something that reminded Jack strongly of a Star trek communicator, her gun no longer aimed but still ready in one hand.

            "You know," Daniel discovered, "She sounds as if she's speaking backwards." The Tentacle man hissed.

            "I think he wants us to be silent," said Jack. Daniel shrugged, winced and brought his hand back to his head.

            "Without communication they'll never find out who we are, and neither will we find out if we…I think I'm going to be sick and do you think they'll mind me throwing up right here?"

            The two aliens stared at each other. Carter had the unpleasant idea that they knew exactly what O'Neill and Daniel were saying, although she could not imagine how they could. Finally, the tentacle man shrugged and growled something that ended in the word "John."

            "John?" Daniel had heard that as well. She was glad he noticed. Alertness diminished the chance that he had a concussion. From where she was standing Carter could see a thin stream of blood steadily creeping down his neck, which was already red-wet all the way to his shirt. She shot an anxious look to Teal'c, who answered her look with that minim raise of his eyebrow that meant, 'I know, but what can we do about it?'

Nothing, it seemed, but then the train of visitors arrived.

            The first was a man who looked human—and whose face was so curious that he probably even WAS a human. The second was less hope-giving: it was a girl that seemed to be completely grey. Behind her came another girl, this one more healthy of tint but with strange red blotches on her skin and disturbingly green eyes. Sauntering after her, keeping some distance from the rest, came someone who looked a hell of a lot like Anubis's drones, but then with his face exposed. To make up the end of the row, a small, green alien zoomed in on a flying sledge. Jack moaned.

            "Oh great," he muttered beneath his breath. "A Goth-girl gone extreme, a push-up fan…with scales?, some kind of god-ugly bondage slave and a frog in a wheel chair…I don't even wanna know where we've landed this time."

            "Uh, sir…" Carter said softly as she saw the mouth of the human man twitch near the corners—just like that of the black-haired woman and the tentacled guy—"I think they can understand what we're saying."

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, still keeping his hands in plain view.

            "Oh?" he said, "Really? How come we don't understand them, then?"

            "Translator microbes," the human man said with a perfect American accent. "They used them on me too."

            "English!" Daniel gurgled happily.

            "Indeed," said Teal'c. Jack and Carter only raised their eyebrows, but Daniel was already plowing ahead with his 'I am Daniel Jackson of the Tau'ri, we're explorers from Earth' speech. At least he had taken the word 'peaceful' from his repertoire; it kinda lacked conviction when the rest of the team stood behind Daniel in front of a lot of unarmed natives pointing a whole bunch of weapons. Then again, the word Tau'ri didn't improve matters either, Sam thought. The human male, who had been curious and even eager until now, stared at SG-1 with a brooding expression on his face.

            "The Tau'ri, you're sayin'?" he said. Jack pushed Daniel aside, then automatically steadied him as he wavered.

            "Well, yeah, that's what the Goa'uld and the Asgard call us," he said airily. "Which I assume you aren't." He shot a look at the brunette, but she only looked confused. Way to go, Carter! Why was it that he never knew when a Goa'uld was near even after he'd had a snake in his head? He shook his head. Don't go there now.

            "I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill," he went on, "that's Major Samantha Carter. The big guy over there's Teal'c and you already know Daniel."

            "You mentioned translator microbes?" Carter piped up, but Daniel was already rattling on about Virginia and accents and how did this man come here, and was his name John? because that was all he'd been able to make out from the tentacle man's words…"

            "Whoa," the man interrupted him, "Slow down there, pal."

            "Don't mind Daniel," Jack advised. "He gets carried away when he meets people he can't understand."

            "Sir, my Dad…" Carter reminded him, and the brunette slapped herself on the forehead and rapidly spoke to the human male, pointing first to Carter and then to the wreck of the ship. The man sighed, puffing out his cheeks, then let his breath escape slowly.

            "Your Dad?" he asked. "Aeryn tells me there's a fifth man on board."

            "Yes," Carter began quickly, "He's still inside. He was injured during the crash."

            "Okay. Now, first things first." He waved at himself, "I'm John Crichton, and if you're from Earth you've got a lot of explaining to do. We—I—haven't had many good experiences with earth since I came out here, and you might say I just closed the door to get here, so don't take it personally if we lock you up for a while."

            "I damn well would…" Jack began, but Crichton paid him no attention.

            "This is Aeryn," he continued, waving at the dark-haired woman, "that's D'Argo, the two girls over there are Chiana and Sikozu, the frog in the wheelchair, as you called him, is Rygel. Don't give him anything. Specifically no chocolate. It makes him high. The," he grinned, "bondage slave's called Scorpius. He won't bother you, and if he does, use the coms." He turned to Carter. "We'll take care of your father, as long as you cooperate, which basically means you do as we tell you and don't try to wreck the ship."

            "Translator microbes?" Daniel begged. He still had one hand pressed to the left side of his head. "It's really…frustrating not to be able to…"

Crichton neatly stepped aside as he fell to his knees and vomited on the floor.

            "All in due time," he said as a small, bug-like robot rolled over to where Daniel was kneeling and stuck a kind of sensor into his arm. "I think we should have a look at your head first. Anyone else hurt? No? Okay.

            "D'Argo, Aeryn, you take the others to the tier eight containment cell. Chiana, Sikozu, let's have a look at Daniel and the other guy. Scorpy?"

The sharp-toothed S&M slave canted his head with, to Carter, unnerving intelligence.

            "Sey, John?"

            "Go and water the plants, will ya?"

***

            "And?" asked Crichton. Sikozu shrugged. She looked up from the microscope.

            "Well, you know I'm not all that good with this equipment…"

            "Yes, I know. Lucky for you you're a genius. You'll learn. Tell me about his blood." Another shrug, and a long, slender finger poked at a red curl falling into her eyes.

            "It looks a lot like your blood. Not exactly the same, but still, fairly alike."

            "So?"

            "So what?"

            "Is he human?"

            "Oh yes, definitely."

            "And the others?"

            "The man and the woman? Human."

Crichton closed his eyes, so relieved he was surprised his bones didn't melt right out of his body and leave him in a liquid heap on the ground. He didn't know how it was possible but they really were humans from Earth…no dreams or drug-concocted images, but real, human humans.

            "Although the old man," Sikozu went on with a nod to the balding man lying on the medic bay bed, "and the large brown one are different."

            "What do you mean, different?"

            "Well…" More curl-poking. "For one, he," pointing to the bed, "has some sort of creature curled around his vertebrae. Looks like a sneel, and I think…"

            "A what?"

            "A sneel. Snake." She tapped on the scanner, where a body scan still flashed dully on the display. "I don't know what it is."

            "Do you think it's, you know, malevolent? A parasite?" Sikozu wound the curl around her finger.

            "I don't think so. If it's anything, I'd say it's some kind of symbiote. It doesn't seem to harm him; on the contrary, he heals much faster than this Daneel Jaksen."

            "Daniel," Crichton corrected. He traced the shape of the snake-thing around the scan's back bone. "It's Daniel. Common name, on Earth.

            "What about the other guy? You said he's different too, apart from that blatant tattoo on his forehead."

            "Blatant? I don't find it very blatant. Quite elegant, in fact." She frowned her red-flushed, glittery brow. Crichton made a gesture that told her to leave it and get on with her analysis. "Anyway, he displays the same amount of haplo cells in his cortex, and some sort of substance I've never met before, but which Zhaan labeled naquadah."

            "Which means?"

            "That he either has a sneel like the old man has, or…well, or something else. Whatever it is, it keeps him healthy, but at the same time it has largely dispatched of his immune system. In short," she said as Crichton fixed her with a gaze, "He doesn't have an immune system of his own. Instead, the sneel takes care of producing antibodies." She stared at the vial of blood marked 'Teelk' with something rather like hunger. "I'd love to get my hands on him." Crichton snorted.

            "Yeah, well, he might disagree with you there." He patted her shoulder. "Good work. Well done."

She inclined her head, accepting if not particularly caring for his praise, and Crichton sighed. Zhaan'd been scary at some times, but on the whole she'd been kind, her calm and poised demeanor soothing whenever someone needed aid. Jool had been neither calm nor poised, but at least he'd known that beneath her spoilt little princess façade and screaming fits was a sweet, gentle person that appreciated Crichton's support. The old woman, Noranti, who'd disappeared as abruptly as she'd appeared, had been odd but caring too, in her own self-centered way. With Sikozu he never knew where he was standing. One moment he thought he could almost like her, the next moment she showed her agenda was still her own, and entirely different from everyone else on Moya.

            Still, she was brilliant, and he was glad she knew (or at least pretended to know) how Zhaan's stuff worked. God knew he'd never find out, no matter how much of a tech he'd become.

            Crichton ambled back to where the unconscious man was lying and studied him from a short distance. Carter, that was the woman's name. She'd told him her father's name was Jacob. Something about that rung a bell, Jacob Carter, but the man's face didn't trigger a memory. It was a plain, gentle face—but whatever was inside of him probably wasn't gentle, and it sure as frell wasn't plain. Neither were the clothes he'd been wearing. The four others wore a uniform that reminded him of the air force ground troops, but Jacob Carter had been dressed in some kind of Bedouin drapes with several strange crystals tucked away in his pocket. Not exactly your standard army garb.

            Behind him, Sikozu heaved a deep, dramatic sigh.

            "So why don't you go and talk with them instead of staring at him? It'll be at least another arn or two before he comes to, and you're dying to talk to them. And, I might add, they're probably looking forward to talking with you too. More, at least, than watching Chiana strip and the Luxan stroking his blade. Or Aeryn watching them as if she can't wait to have them for lunch. Or Rygel. Besides, I thought that's what you wanted all along, a couple of humans to chat with."

Crichton drummed his fingers on an unknown piece of equipment.

            "Yeah," he mused, "that's what I was pretty much hoping for. But doesn't strike you as odd that less than six monens after I crash the wormhole leading to Earth whoppa! five humans bump into us with their space ship? We'd just established that Earth would never be able to build ships fit to travel further than their own system. I mean, wasn't that the whole reason for collapsing the wormhole?"

            "I've seen stranger things," Sikozu shrugged, thus dismissing him. "Besides, there are only three humans. The other two are something different. Human-like, yes, but not human. Fastest way you'll find out exactly what they are and what they are doing here is ask them. Or…" she shot him a mocking grin, "could it be that you are afraid?"

            "No way in hell," said Crichton. He took one last look at Jacob Carter, nodded to himself and turned around.

            "Give me a sign the moment he wakes up, will ya?"

            "Naturally."

Crichton left the medical rejuvenation.

Half-hidden behind the door-bars, Aeryn studied the four humans within the cell. It was a comfortable cell with four beds in it if little else; it was warm, they had all been checked for injuries and the man called Daniel had had his head bandaged. He and the man he called Jack (hadn't John's father been called Jack as well?) were both lying on a bed, the woman called Carter was looking at the door, and the large dark-skinned man with the thing on his forehead was standing in the corner looking rather much like a statue. However, she could feel his eyes upon her, and for the third time in as many microts she revised her opinion of who the most dangerous of them was.

            Her first guess, upon hearing that they were humans, was that the man with the glasses was the one she should watch out for most. He made her think of John; he displayed the same kind of nonsense-spouting, quasi-dumb behaviour that—in the beginning—had made her think John was a nurfer. When he puked on the floor at John's feet she had almost shot him, convinced it was a ruse to kill her beloved Earthling—but when Chiana'd brought him back from Zhaan's quarters, head swathed in bandages, attempting to start a conversation with the Nebari girl while holding on to one of her shoulders to keep from falling over she'd dismissed him. Daniel might be like John, but he was too dependent. She scratched him as a possible threat.

            The one most likely to be dangerous then, she'd considered, was the leader of the team, Colonel O'Neill, or Jack to Daniel. (She wondered why Daniel called him Jack. Even when she'd left Crais to go mad in the Aurora Chair she'd called him Crais, never Bialar. Frell, when he tried to come on to her she'd still called him Crais. Perhaps this Daniel wasn't part of the military.) He certainly seemed to be the eldest of the group, not counting the old man that was unconscious. The woman addressed him with 'sir', he seemed to be in charge, and although his hair was greying the muscles on his arms were well developed and swollen to hard balls as he leaned his head on his wrists. Now and then she saw his eyes flick in her direction and then his mouth thinned, but for the rest he didn't seem about to jump up and commence to take over the ship. No, O'Neill might be a good soldier, and he probably was a lot smarter than he pretended to be, but she could still floor him with a good kick.

            The woman then? Carter? She was the only one who didn't stay put; instead she walked around constantly, studying the doors, the lights, the hidden panels. Another Tech girl? Aeryn wondered. She was blonde…but she lacked the hardness that had made Aeryn such an outstanding Peacekeeper and even if she was the Tech of this team she wouldn't be hard to take out.

            That left the big bald man, Teelk, who reminded her so much of D'Argo. He was massive, arms almost as broad as her waist, shoulders rivaling the Luxan's. He rarely talked, and if he did she noticed that his speech was strangely formal, as if he'd never learned to make contractions. Also his use of names was odd. The woman was Major Carter to him, the Colonel O'Neill, and the be-spectacled man he addressed as DanielJackson.

            Part of the team, Aeryn decided, but not human. Not Sebacean either, though. Possibly the most dangerous.

            She looked up as Chiana slid down next to her.

            "He's…interesting, don't you think?" she breathed with a clicking giggle. "The big guy, I mean. Smooth like chocolate. I keep wondering what he tastes like if I lick him."

Earthen chocolate had obvious made a great impact on Chiana.

            "I really wouldn't know," Aeryn said, making sure to keep her voice as devoid of emotion as possible. "I thought you and D'Argo were back together."

Chiana quirked her head.

            "We are," she said, "for the moment…" Aeryn sighed, foreseeing lots of trouble including an enraged Luxan, a chocolate-coloured (and possibly –tasting?) human and a long-tongued Nebari.

            "Tell me about this Daniel," she said in an attempt to diverge Chiana's mind.      "What did he say to you when you came back here? I assume he's alright?"

            "He's cute, yeah." She rolled her eyes.

            "Not that kind of alright." Chiana chuckled.

            "He's got a mild concussion," she said, "nothing to worry about. A few days of tender loving care and he'll be up and about."

            "I take it that you're more than willing to provide that care."

            "Perhaps…On the other hand, if D'Argo sees him as a rival I doubt Daniel would be able to defend himself. Now Teelk…"

            "Chiana."

            "Right, right. Well, as a matter of fact he didn't say very much. Something about how great it was to be on another space ship and the lack of…Goolds, or something like that." She glanced at Aeryn from the corner of her eyes. "Did you notice that he looks a lot, and I mean a lot like Crichton? Same build, same…"

            "Entirely different way of expressing and carrying himself, talking, moving, not to mention an entirely different face and voice?" Aeryn interrupted her before Chiana could finish her thoughts for her, "Yes, I noticed." The younger woman pouted.

            "You're no fun." Aeryn grit her teeth.

            "I lost John one time, I almost lost him a second time, I don't feel inclined to find a substitute for him." And I'll be sure to keep that blonde-haired Tech far away from him, she added to herself. Then she laughed at her own vehemence. As if John Crichton would betray her for a mere human after all they'd been through.

***

            "I think they're talking about us," said Daniel. He rolled his eyes to the left, meeting Teal'c's. "You and me, that is."

            "It seems to be so," Teal'c replied. He looked faintly disturbed. "And they are laughing."

            "How come you know they aren't talking about me?" Jack asked petulantly. Most of the time people were discussing SG-1 and laughing, they were talking about Jack O'Neill.

            "Maybe they are, but if they are they haven't mentioned your name yet. Whereas my name is on everybody's lips already. As usual." Daniel grimaced. "I wonder when I'll be shot, kidnapped, tortured or sold as a sex slave."

            "I haven't seen the bondage slave yet," Jack said, making Daniel look even more uneasy. "But if he comes, Crichton said we could use the coms."

Outside, the grey girl laughed loudly. Her laughter sounded like crystal bubbles popping in the bath. Jack couldn't help grinning a little too.

            "That one at least doesn't seem all that threatening."

            "Chiana." Daniel closed his eyes, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "No, I think she's okay."

            "Her name's Chiana?"

            "For god's sake, Jack, don't you ever pay attention when people are introduced?"

            "No. I have you and Carter to remember their names for me.

            "Speaking of, Carter, what the hell are you doing over there?"

Carter turned around from where she was tapping the wall.

            "Nothing in specific, sir."

            "Then what, unspecifically, are you doing?"

Aeryn, too, perked her ears to hear what she would say.

            "I'm…well," she grinned. "I'm trying to determine of what kind of material the ship is manufactured, and so far, I have no idea.

            "Sir, this ship is totally different from all other ships we've seen before. The shape of it, the material, the feel. And it's warm, sir. It almost feels as if it's made of organic tissue."

            "You couldn't be more right, there," John Crichton said, startling them all with his unexpected and rather loud voice. He tapped the wall with his knuckles.

            "This is a living ship. A Leviathan. Her name's Moya."

Carter's hands were back on the wall within a second.

            "A living ship?" she panted. Crichton frowned.

            "Don't you watch television?" he asked. "About seven monens…months ago we were on Earth—caused a hell of an international panic too, as far as I know. We were…well, it wasn't exactly on Opera but we were all interviewed and analysed on TV—you can't tell me haven't seen that."

            "You've got a living ship?" Carter repeated. Jack had to check himself to keep from hitting her on the nose and telling her to go down, doggy! He stood up, walked to the door and hooked his thumbs in the belt.

            "I don't know what you're talking about," he said calmly. "Where I come from, we're the only ones bringing home aliens. Then again, we've also run into a couple of whatchamacallems, alternate realities."

            "After we passed through those mirrors," Daniel argued from where he was lying.          "I haven't seen any mirrors last time I checked."

Carter tore herself away from the living ship long enough to say, "We did hit something that threw us off-course. Maybe that 'something' was a device resembling a quantum mirror.

            "Sir, we have to face the fact that we haven't a clue what the Ancients spread around the galaxy when they were…"

            "Hang on," Crichton interrupted, "Did you mention the Ancients?"

Jack breathed in deeply. He sent a mental apology to George and the whole SGC, breathed out and said, "Shall we exchange some information? What do you say, you tell us who you are, what you're doing here, whether you've got Goa'ulds around and where we are at this point; we'll tell you who we are and what we're doing here. Deal?"

Crichton nodded. He sat down next to the woman he said was called Aeryn.

            "So talk."

            "Right," said Jack, and began to talk.

***

As she placed all Zhaan's vials in an order she felt she could work with, Sikozu sang softly to herself. Much as she hated to admit it to herself, she was actually happy here on board Moya. She wasn't accomplishing anything, she wasn't gathering information, she wasn't making a career for herself, but still she was happy. Scorpius made her happy. Even though, at the time, she had been lacking a leg and an arm, he had almost been out of his mind with the spider girl's trait-thieving and drooling on her face as he crouched over her, pupils dilated with protective rage, she still remembered that moment with something akin to fondness. She didn't know if Scorpius was capable of loving someone—she wasn't sure she was!—but whatever it was he felt for her, it came damn close. And she liked that. She liked it when he looked at her with admiration in his eyes, when he turned that twisted smile on her, when he caressed her scaled skin with his fingers. She liked to sit in her quarters, thinking she was alone and then suddenly noticing his tall, thin figure slinking out of the shadows, the flare of his cooling elements reflecting on the spikes of his coolant suit. She liked to kiss him, feel the sting of dozens of pointed teeth against her tongue, the tenseness in his arms as he tried to embrace her without crushing her body against his. His helplessness when it came to passion and physical pleasure was something she thought was very sweet.

            Crichton didn't trust him. So what. He didn't trust her either. Sikozu, in turn, relied on no one—although she was coming to rely on Scorpius. And, ironically, on John Crichton. He was moronic, sometimes, but possessed several endearing qualities, of which the most endearing was his loyalty. In their own private little team of renegades and outcasts, the only person they all trusted when things went wrong was Crichton. Maybe because he had no ulterior motives to betray them—unless maybe to return to his home world, but since he'd cut off the only way to earth himself, even that motive was no gone—maybe because he was, most of them all, a 'good guy' who happened to be a magnet for trouble.

            With Scorpius on board and safely removed from his Aurora Chair, that threat at least was gone from Crichton's list. Commander Grayza was relieved of her command and if Braca was even remotely loyal to Scorpius, they wouldn't hear from her for a long time yet. Of course they still had several Scarran and Peacekeeper assassins on their tail, but even if they caught up with them, Earth was unreachable without a wormhole, so they couldn't use that as a leverage to make Crichton give up his wormhole technology.

            She sighed. She'd liked Earth, if not the people—although Crichton's family was alright—the climate was soothing, and those silver platters they made were…

            "Excuse me? Where…?"

It was a voice that echoed, a thrumming, heavy voice that made her sensitive eardrums quiver. Sikozu shifted her gravity center so fast she had to break her fall to the ceiling with her arms. She had her laser out before she had determined who was speaking and found herself pointing it at the older man who should have been unconscious for at least another arn. He was standing next to the rack with vials, hand still stretched out to touch her shoulder, mouth half-open as he stared at her crouch on the ceiling. His eyes flashed white for a second, returned to brown and quirked up at the corners.

            "I beg your pardon," he said, still in that unnaturally deep voice, "I did not mean to startle you. I was merely curious as to where I was. And who you are. I am Selmak." He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again a completely different person stood beneath her. A disbelieving smile crinkled his cheeks, and he brought his fingers to his bandaged head.

            "I thought I must be hallucinating," he said, this time in an ordinary voice. "because of my head injuries. But you really are hanging from the ceiling.

            "My apologies if I scared you," he repeated as Sikozu remained where she was, "Selmak was curious and wanted to touch you. Don't blame him; he didn't mean any harm."

            "Selmak?" Sikozu asked. She relaxed a little but did not shift back to the ground just quite yet. The man nodded.

            "My symbiote. I'm sure you noticed him."

            "The sneel around your vertebrae. We thought it might be a parasite." Well, actually Crichton had thought it might be a parasite. But displaying ignorance usually provoked an explanation and she would like one very much. Again the man nodded.

            "Yes, I can imagine," he said. "He is, in some way, a parasite. He needs a host to enable him to speak, move around and interact with humans. I'm his host. In return for this favour, he provides me with perfect health. You might say that we share the same body, which he keeps as fit as possible.

            "I'm Jacob Carter."

He held out his hand in the Earthly version of 'hello'. Sikozu hesitated for a microt, finally shifted her gravity center and walked down the wall to where she had been before. Jacob Carter watched her descent with open admiration.

            "You've got to get me one of those things," he murmured.

            "What things?" She knew, but it was so nice to hear other species confess that they were bound to the ground. Jacob Carter, however, was less dense than Crichton. His eyes narrowed again, this time with understanding.

            "Nothing. You don't use any devices to walk on the wall, do you? It comes naturally to you?" He blinked. "You…we're speaking English, aren't we? Please tell me where we are."

Sikozu grinned widely. This was another statement she loved to make to the unsuspecting.

            "We're on Moya," she said. "Somewhere in the Uncharted Territories. I am Sikozu Svala Shanti Sugaysi Shanu. You may call me Sikozu."

***

"So," Jack continued the longest debriefing of his life, "Anubis sent a couple of contaminated Jaffa to Pheanis and within a week we got a message from the Tok'Ra that the Jaffa were dead and half the base's inhabitants well on the way there. Thank god they only sent a message and didn't try to come through in person."

            "Bye bye hosts on Earth," Crichton agreed. Jack nodded.

            "Right. But Anubis forgot about one thing when he developed his disease, well, actually he forgot two. One is, that after their hassle with the free Jaffa the Tok'Ra split up in several sections to sabotage the Goa'uld from different directions, so he only targeted only a small part of them; and the second is that Tok'Ra have been threatened with extinction for such a long time that they've perfected all medical research. So Anubis was right thinking that if he killed off the hosts the Tok'Ra would be defeated, but he forgot that, as their greatest fear, that was a possibility they'd already considered and worked to find a solution for. They'd worked out a way to slow the disease down and a cure for their super-flu before they'd even passed the first stage. The only problem is, for the cure they need a component they've run out of. Cacouilla flowers. And that's what we've been doing these last four days: picking flowers, drying seeds, fighting Goa'uld who want us to stop picking the flowers, yadda yadda, and we were just trying to find out what could move faster, our ship or Persephone's, when we hit something that threw us off-course and banged into…Moya?" Crichton nodded.

            "Yeah. You appeared so suddenly we couldn't catch you with the docking web. You were lucky, by the way. If you hadn't crashed in the docking bay as you did but hit the hull head-on I don't think you'd have survived it."

            "What about our ship?" asked Carter. "Is it very badly damaged? And what about the flowers?"

Aeryn spoke up, John listened and translated, "We've only checked the ship for fire hearths and explosives. The DRDs should be checking it for damage at the moment." He pressed a button on the wall.

            "Pilot? Can you send us some translation microbes?" A holographic globe shimmered into existence and the head of a creature that looked a little like a horse, a little like a turtle and a whole lot like a life form none of SG-1 had ever seen before appeared.

            It produced a couple of sounds that Crichton translated as, "Most certainly, Chrichton. I take it you've established that our 'visitors' did not intentionally damage Moya?"

He smiled.

            "Pilot and Moya are kinda close, you might say. You'd probably like him." The last to Carter, who nodded eagerly.

            "I'd love to speak to him. But first we need to make sure that the flowers are still alive. We still have a few days before they have to be delivered, but…" She fell silent as one of the bug-like robots zoomed into the room. Crichton had opened the door.

            "That's a DRD," he said. "It'll inject the microbes into your bloodstream. It'll sting a bit, and you'll feel a little disoriented for a moment, but it kicks in almost immediately."

            Three humans winced slightly as they were injected, one Jaffa underwent the injection with stoic reservation.

            "Right, Aeryn, your turn."

She stood up, stared at three expectant faces and one stony face.

            "Tghir. Sa John dias, I ma Aerun Sun. Nac uoy understand me yet? The microbes should kick in any microt now. If you can understand me, feel free to…"

Two exultant blue eyes met her own from behind glass lenses.

            "This is…magnificent," Daniel said, almost daring Aeryn to continue. "Please go on. No, wait, this translates everything? Every language?"

            "As far as we know, yess," Chiana purred, and the eyes did a flip to her mouth. "No matter what your native language is, as long as you have these microbes in your blood, you can speak with everyone you like."

            Daniel gave a little moan that sounded positively pre-orgasmic. Jack almost felt sorry to break him off. Almost. It was one thing to see Daniel salivate over ancient Egyptian texts; it was something entirely different to see him having sex with translator microbes.

            "So," he asked, "are we free to go, then?"

            "If that's what you want, and if your ship isn't too badly damaged, yeah, sure," Crichton hesitated. "But I'd really like you to stay for a while."

            "Well, much as I'd love to, I think…"

            "Hang on," Daniel interrupted him, frowning, "I just realized something. That girl in the medical unit, Sikozu? She spoke English. It never occurred to me before, but she definitely spoke English."

            "Daniel…"

            "Sikozu's some kind of language miracle," Crichton said, ignoring Jack. "She's allergic to the microbes, so she has to learn languages as she meets people." He laughed at some memory or other. "I taught her English in about half an arn."

Daniel gasped.

            "Half…an hour?"

            "Yup. Just feed her the ABC and a couple of grammar strings and she sings the Fat Lady in whatever language you want." While he was speaking Daniel had risen and moved out of the cell as if drawn by invisible strings.

            "Uh, Daniel?" Jack asked weakly, but he knew he'd have to resort to physical violence to stop his archeologist from going back to the medical bay.

            "She still there, you think?" Daniel wondered to no one in particular. Aeryn nodded.

            "Either there, or in her own quarters." She shot a look first at John, who smiled, and then at Jack, who helplessly raised his shoulders. "Shall I take you back to her?"     

            "Yes! Yes, please." He was already halfway the corridor; Aeryn had to jog to catch up with him.

            "Shouldn't you be resting?" Jack called after them, "With your bumped head and all?"

            "I'm fine!" Daniel's voice drifted back to them. The next words he said were obviously directed to Aeryn.

            "Well, you can check up on Jacob!"

No answer to that.

Carter laughed. She took off her cap, ran her hand through her hair and put the cap back on, a bit of hair sticking out at the back.

            "So, do you think I could have a look at those flowers? Since you said my father should be alright…"

            "Oh, yeah, fine. Your dad, I mean. I'll ask Aeryn to come and help you as soon's she's dropped Daniel off. I've learned some things about space ship electronics but I'm hardly a Tech…I'll ask D'Argo, too. He's probably already out there anyway."

            "Tentacle guy," Jack muttered. Crichton grinned. He pointed to one of the hallways spreading out in front of them.

            "That way.

            "D'Argo's a Luxan. They all have tentacles, although that's not what they call it themselves."

            "What do they call it, then?"

            "No idea. But it probably means tentacle too.

            "Yo, D, where are you, man?"

His communicator crackled, then the Luxan's voice said, "I am at the docking bay. You might want to come too and have a look at that ship."

            "Roger that, we're on our way."

There was a long silence. Then D'Argo spoke again.

            "We?" Crichton grinned.

            "See you in a microt, buddy."

The Goa'uld ship had been removed from where it had hit the wall and dragged to the very back of the docking bay. Several DRDs were buzzing around it and making R2D2 noises. As she saw the ship, Carter moaned. The pilot chamber had been entirely crushed, the landing thrusts were sticking out at an odd angle, there were deep fissures along the entire hull and the one energy cannon they'd had was simply… gone. Jack cast her a look.

            "That bad?"

            "Let's hope not, sir."

Teal'c made a low sound in his throat.

            "I will check on the energy field generator," he announced, and Carter nodded.

            "I'll see to the plants."

The Luxan, D'Argo, was nowhere to be seen so she presumed he was inside the Tel'tak. As soon as she climbed inside she indeed saw him standing bowed over the remains of the crystal cage, picking up some flower petals.

            "Crichton?"

            "No, it's me." She crouched next to him, ignoring the sudden stiffening of his body. "My name's Samantha Carter. You can call me Sam."

The Cacouilla, she was relieved to see, hadn't suffered as much damage as she'd been afraid of. Most of them still had all their flowers; only a few had snapped and were now withering.

            "Sir!"

Jack's head popped inside.

            "Go ahead."

            "The flowers are okay. We need to give them some new soil and a few need a new pot, but on the whole they're doing fine."

            "These are crysterium flowers," D'Argo rumbled from behind her. She turned back to him.

            "Crysterium? Is that what you call them here? We know them as Cacouilla. They look a bit like vriesea bromeliaceae on Earth." But he didn't seem to be speaking to her.

            "Crichton!" he stalked past her, jumped off the ship and waved the petals in front of Crichton's nose. "These are Crysteriums!"

            "I think that would be Crysteriae," said Jack with an up-flare of Latin knowledge. "Plural, you know." The Luxan didn't even look at him.

            "Scorpius would go wild if he knew," he barked. Then he turned to Jack. "Where did you get these?"

            "Some nifty little planet known as P5B-132…"

            "Where is that?" Jack vaguely waved around.

            "Somewhere out there…"

            "Where?"

            "I don't know. Depends on where we are now.

            "Look, before you stick that thing in my eye, why don't you tell me what's bothering you? It's only a plant."

            "It's much more than that!" Crichton put his hand on his arm.

            "Wowowowow, D, stop shouting.

            "Crysterium," he explained, "the plant you call cacouilla, is the thing I was talking about when I mentioned out latest scuff with the Scarrans. The plant Scorpy so desperately wanted to destroy."

            "On that base, Katratza,"

            "Katratzi. Yes. Apparently, if they don't want to turn into Barney, the Scarrans need to eat these flowers. If they don't…"

            "Barney."

            "Yeah. Think evolution backwards. They wouldn't even be able to speak, let alone build ships. As Scorpy told me, three generations and they're back at Jurassic Park level: big and scary but sure as frell not into galactic domination."

            "If they don't eat the flowers."

            "Yep."

            "And you're sure they are the same flowers?"

            "Well, I would have to…"

            "Positive!" snarled D'Argo. "And you tell me there's a whole planet out there where these flowers grow! If the Scarrans found out…"

            "And just how, exactly, do you think they could find out?" asked Jack. "It's a Goa'uld planet."

            "A what?" Jack sighed.

            "Goa'uld. Snakes. Symbiotes. Aw crap, I just gave the full explanation! Don't you guys ever tap each other's coms? Let's put it this way, when we were on P5B-132 we didn't see any Scarrans. Only a couple of defenseless vegetarians and a Goa'uld with a few Jaffa to keep them oppressed. I know the Goa'uld; they don't appreciate other people on their turf. If the Scarrans know that P5B-132 grows Chrysanthemums, they also know that they can't beat the Goa'uld. If they don't, I don't see any reason why they would ever find out.

            "I won't tell them," he added in a stage whisper.

            "Crysteriums," D'Argo corrected him sharply. "Not Chrysanthemums."

            "Whatever. It's all the same to me. Point is, the Tok'Ra want these plants for a cure and I promised to deliver them. Or actually," he reconsidered, "Jacob promised to deliver him and needed our help doing so. I've never seen a Scarran so I can assure you that they don't know of P5B-132. What I do know is that we're wasting time here arguing over, of all things, flowers, and ugly ones at that. So Carter, when do you think you can get this baby flying again?"

Carter appeared in the entrance opening, a pot in every arm.

            "It may take some time before I've assessed the damage, sir. It doesn't look good."

She handed the pots to Teal'c. D'Argo glared at the Jaffa. He was just a little bit taller than Teal'c, and a little broader in the shoulders, but Teal'c's whole body was built like a barrel and he met his eyes without a flinch. D'Argo hissed.

            "Does this speak?" he snapped. Teal'c raised a lethal eyebrow.

            "It does."

Carter coughed.

            "I do so love the scent of testosterone in the morning," she muttered. "Specially on an alien ship in the middle of nowhere. Let me get some more flowers."

            "I'll help you," Jack said, and ducked into the Tal'tek.

            "I'll get you a few pots," said Crichton. He directed a bright smile towards the two massive males still staring at each other. "Gimme a sign when you know who wins, will you?"

***

Aeryn shook her head as Daniel walked into another wall, grabbed his arm and pulled him straight again.

            "Are you sure you shouldn't be resting?"

            "Yes, quite sure, thank you." He shot her an absentminded smile. The translator microbes translated everything she said as British-accented English, and although he still wanted to know more about her culture and history, he was far more interested in the girl who could speak all the languages with which she came into contact. Imagine! He could teach her Goa'uld in an hour. And ancient Egyptian. He could show her the futharc and the cuneiform alphabet, and of course all the modern languages he spoke…His head was reeling with all the possibilities and he almost bumped into the wall again.

            "Sikozu might have to take another look at your head," Aeryn said. "You humans are so frail. We never know when you're seriously injured or only slightly."

            "Oh, I'm fine, really." He blinked. "You resemble our physiology rather closely, don't you? I mean, you look like me, you move like me; if you were on Earth no one would recognize you for anything different than human." She snorted.

            "I've been on Earth, and believe me, they knew I wasn't human. We're different. Sebaceans are different."

            "Yes, but in what? Crichton mentioned that you suffered from heat syndrome at one part, but he didn't elaborate. Is that one of the differences you mean?"

Aeryn nodded, slowly. She'd disliked revealing her weaknesses to John and she'd known him for almost a cycle when she'd had to; this Daniel knowing about and asking her to share those weaknesses made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

Nonsense, of course. If John trusted them, they could be trusted. And it was not as if they couldn't get information on Sebacean physiology anywhere else. Daniel seemed to sense her discomfort, for he smiled again and said, "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just curious."

            "You're a doctor, aren't you?" He laughed.

            "Yes, I'm a doctor, but not a doctor doctor, if you know what I mean. I'm an archeologist. I study ancient history and cultures." Aeryn raised her eyebrows.

            "An archeologist? Then what are you doing in a combat team? A Tech I can understand. A medic too. An archeologist? No." Daniel shrugged.

            "I'm one of the few people on Earth who speak Goa'uld." She looked up, suddenly remembering something O'Neill had said.

            "Your wife. Your wife was Goa'uld."

            "That's got nothing to do with it. Yes, Sha're was taken by the Goa'uld, but I'd studied Goa'uld before she…before Ammaunet took her.

            "No, the reason why I'm still on the Stargate project is because I was the one who got the thing working in the first place, and Jack and I were both in the team that went through the Stargate for the very first time. To Abydos."

Skaara and Sha're, running like the children they still are, feet sinking in Abydos's fine sand, running far ahead of me, laughing and shouting their new English words at the herd of herbivores: "Cow! Cow! Miu, Cow! Run!"

Aeryn expected him to continue but when she looked at him she saw that he'd gone dead white, and although his mouth was opening and closing, no sound came out.

            "Are you alright?" she closed her hand around his upper arm and felt his muscles twitch beneath her fingers. Had John ever displayed such symptoms? "Let me have a look at your bandages." He waved her away.

            "I'm fine…fine. I just…remembered something."

            "You remembered something." Again that half-smile. Oh yes, that's right, he suffered from amnesia.

            "Yes. About Sha're. About…I'm sorry." He blinked his eyes quickly. "Aren't we there yet?"

            "The med bay is at the end of this corridor."

She halted. He was taller than John, a little more slender, but in this light his silhouette still looked enough like him to make her remember a time that there once had been two Johns, and that seeing the John she was now living with felt like glass scraping over her heart.

            "Daniel." As he looked down on her, she could see that his eye lashes were wet, despite his blinking. Not easy to wipe away tears when you were wearing glasses.

            "I'm sorry if I reminded you of something painful." This time his smile was more genuine.

            "That's alright. You didn't. If anything, I want to remember. She was worth it."

He hesitated, frowned, then brightened.

            "I think I hear Jacob's voice. He must have woken up.

"Thank you for taking me here. I'm looking forward to speaking with you again."

            "You're welcome," said Aeryn. She stood and watched him make his way to the med bay, pondering. What is it about humans and memory-blocks?

When Daniel walked into the med bay, Jacob's face scrunched up with worry.

            "Daniel!" He jumped down from the platform, hissed as he jarred his splinted arm and came forward to grasp the younger man by the shoulder. "You look about as bad as I felt an hour ago. How's your head?"

            "I'm f—"

            "The scanner indicated his injuries were superficial," said Sikozu, placing two fingers in his neck with Janet-like efficiency. "Pulse is steady…"

            "Je veux t'instruire Français," Daniel interrupted, catching her hand as it strayed to his bandage. "E Espanole. Russki. Or maybe I should start with Greek."

            "Daniel?" Ignoring Jacob, Daniel beamed down on Sikozu's confused face.

            "You can learn any language you hear, right? As long as you're provided with enough grammar and the alphabet. Isn't that right?"

            "Well, yes, but…" Daniel's grin turned manic. Jacob stared from him to the girl in front of him.

            "Is that true?" he asked. "Can you speak every language you hear?"

            "Yes. But I…"

            "What about writing?" said Daniel. "Can you learn that as well, or do you need to hear the sound of speech?" She frowned.

            "What's it to you?" He shook his head.

            "I'm a linguist, a student of languages." He laughed. "I used to think I was pretty damn smart when it came to languages, but you…you can actually learn them as you talk with people."

            "I'm allergic to translator microbes."

            "Yes, but that's…"

            "You're not." She pulled her hand out of his and clasped it behind her back. "You've got the microbes in your blood now, so you should be able to understand every language you meet from now on."

            "Yes, yes I know. But what about writing?" Understanding made her eyes flash acid green.

            "No," she said. "They only work when someone's speaking."

            "And your ability?" A smug smile curled her lips.

            "I learn a language sound and writ. Speech first, writing as I understand the alphabet and basic semantics."

            "What about a dead language? A language you only know in writing, but have never heard pronounced?"

Sikozu absentmindedly wrapped a curl around her finger.

            "I don't know. I've never needed to know a dead language. But I should think I'd be able to learn the language nevertheless.

"Why? You need help transcribing a dead language?"

            "About seven," said Daniel. A feverish flush spread over his face. "You've got any pressing business for the next…let me see…five hours? We could start with Latin and then work our way up from ancient Greek to Ancient."   

***

            "There," said Jack while he lovingly patted the soil around the Cacouilla's stem. "Nothing like a little gardening to clear the mind, is there?"

            Two pairs of eyes, one the colour of the sea, one brown as the soil he'd just poured in the pot, fastened on his face. Both pairs of eyes were equally cold.

            "Me, I prefer pottery," Jack chatted on, "but you can't have it all, I guess.

"How're you doing in there, Carter?" Carter's voice replied tinny from inside the Tel'tak,

            "It's a mess, sir. Two of the navigation crystals have broken, and even if I could repair or replace them, we still won't be able to access hyperspeed. The transport rings don't seem to be working either." She appeared in the doorway, holding her cap with one hand and wiping her forehead with the other one. Dark smears ran over her left cheek. "Aeryn's been having a look at it too, but the technology is too alien for her to give me much help. Teal'c, if you could…"

            "Teal'c's busy," Jack said, before the Jaffa could move a muscle. "We're having some quality free expression time here; D'Argo, Teal'c, Chiana, Crichton and me."

            Despite everything, Carter couldn't help smiling. At least the colonel's ploy had stopped the incessant alpha-male snarling, but if she looked at the painfully flat-stamped earth in Teal'c's and D'Argo's pots, she didn't think it was half as successful as her CO thought it was. The two of them were still radiating Prime-ness, and Crichton was giggling like a lunatic above his own pot. The only one truly amusing herself was Chiana, who was mud from nails to elbows.

            "Sir, don't you think…"

            "No, Carter, I don't, as you well know. Why don't you ask Jacob, he should be up at least by now. He's the expert here. Talking about experts, shouldn't Daniel've come back too? I hate to admit it, but I kinda miss him." Crichton gave him a rather clear 'I'd-expected-you-and-the-gal-to-have-something-going-on-but-don't-let-my-ignorance-get-to-you-if-you're-into-males' look, and he explained, "He's like a radio. Soothing background noises. I can hardly function without him talking about some lost civilization or mythology some ten feet away from me."

            But even though the man's words were flippant, Crichton noticed that Carter, Teal'c and O'Neill were casting disquieted looks around trying to pinpoint their archeologist's position.

            "He'll be fine," he said. "Probably with Sikozu in the med bay, or somewhere else on Moya. Wherever he is, he won't be able to run into much trouble." O'Neill snorted.

            "This is Daniel Jackson we're talking about, Crichton. He's died four times. Believe me, if anyone can sniff out trouble faster than Lassie it's Daniel." He stood up, wiped his hands on his fatigues. "I'll go and see if I can find him."

            "I can com Sikozu," Crichton suggested, but Jack shook his head.

            "I prefer to walk for a bit—if you don't mind, of course. The knees, you know. Can't sit still for a long time; I'll grow stiff."

            "Shall I accompany you?" Already Teal'c was battered into asking instead of announcing. Jack pointed at another Cacouilla in a makeshift container.

            "No, you can't. You've got work to do."

            "I'll take you," Chiana said. She twitched into a standing position. "I'm tired of this anyway. Could you finish my pot for me, D'Argo?" He'd agreed before realizing that that meant he'd have to do more 'free expression' with Teal'c and took it with far worse grace than the Jaffa.

            "That little, manipulative…dren!" he cursed as she waltzed out with O'Neill. Teal'c's lips spread in a serene smile.

            "Indeed," he said, and caressed some more earth around his Cacouilla plant.

On their way to the med bay, Jack carefully studied the girl strolling at his side. She was less alien than Anubis's drones or the Asgard, but very clearly not human. In the beginning he'd wondered whether she'd stain his fingers if he touched her skin, but now he was walking next to her he could see that her skin really was light grey, with darker patches beneath her jaws and collar bones, and above her eyes. The inside of her mouth was pink, as were the rims of her eyes, but the rest was grey or white. The way she walked was strange as well; as if her limbs were tied together with elastic strings. She moved like a marionette, with little jerks and bird-like twitches.

            "So," he asked, "what does your species call itself?"

            "Nebari," said Chiana.

            "And they come from?"

            "Nebari Prime."

            "And you were a convicted criminal of what?" She sniffed.

            "Of wanting to be free."

            "That doesn't sound like a dreadful crime to me…"

            "You haven't lived on Nebari Prime. Anyway, just like Crichton told you, none of us are guilty of what we're accused of—apart from Scorpius, perhaps. And Sikozu. I don't think she's actually accused of anything, she just hooked up with us. More trouble than it's worth, if you ask me, but at least she gave Scorpius another subject to study." She giggled. "She's had to change his cooling elements twice this weeken already."

Jack stared at her, revolted.

            "You mean she…the redhead…and that toothy leather freak…do…ya know…the wild thing?"

            "Uhuh."

            "That's gross!"

            "It's called intergalactic breeding," Chiana said primly before giggling again.

"You should've seen Aeryn kiss Rygel on the mouth on the Royal Planet." Jack fought a gag reflex. "Of course," Chiana mused, "she had to pretend they fitted together to keep the men from her. Although I actually still don't see why exactly she'd want that. But that's me."

             "Sweet," Jack muttered. Chiana grinned.

            "That's what she said, too. I can't even imagine what Rygel tastes like. Must've been terrible, the way she kept drinking raslac to get rid of the taste."

            "Raslac?"

            "Yeah, raslac. You don't know it?" Jack shrugged.

            "Well, this isn't exactly Kansas out here; it could be the Uncharted  Territories' version of a Coke for all I know." He waited for Chiana to tell him that raslac actually was the Uncharted  Territories' version of a Coke, but the girl shook her hair.

            "I've drunk Coke on Earth," she said, smiling, "but it's nothing like raslac. Whiskey comes closer. Or rum, but raslac's less sweet than rum. I wonder if it combines with Coke… You don't happen to have any Coca Cola with you, do you?"

            "Regretfully, no. I only have…

"What was that?"

            "What?"

            "I heard something. Sounded like a vacuum cleaner. There it is again. Listen."

Chiana listened, head cocked to one side.

            "Oh, that. That's Rygel's thronesled. He's been following us since we passed the galley."

The sound subsided for a second, then grew louder as the small green alien zoomed into view. It—no, he, Jack corrected himself—laughed in a disturbingly Maybourneish way.

            "There's nothing wrong with your ears, human." Jack rolled his eyes.

            "Why do all alien life forms insist on calling me 'human'? I have a name. It's Jack O'Neill. With double l." He shook himself.

            Mental note to self: stop over-informing persons unfamiliar with the Indo-Germanic alphabet. Uggh! Mental note part two: stop listening to Daniel when he starts on the root of English.

            He was mercifully distracted from his habitual slip of the tongue by Chiana, who purred, "Can I call you Jack, then?" pronouncing 'Jack' with more breath than O'Neill thought he could suck into his lungs. Rygel made a strange, pig-like sound.

            "You should watch out for her," he said, pointing a pudgy finger. "She's only after your money. She'll talk you into bed and when you wake up you're left with nothing but your clothes."

            "I don't see you achieving the same thing," Jack drawled, causing Chiana to double up laughing. Rygel's toad-like mouth twisted in something akin to a smile as well.

            According to Crichton this Hynerian was a back-stabbing little bastard, but Jack found himself liking Rygel better than Scorpius. Then again, he might be slightly biased. For Crichton to speak about Scorpius with fondness would be rather like Teal'c calling Apophis 'my old chum' and organizing Goa'uld poker evenings, or Daniel presenting Ammaunet with baby clothes.

            While Crichton had been talking about Scorpius's hurt expression when Crichton told him that he'd only saved the half-breed because the clone in his head had started doing Dracula impressions, Jack had looked at Daniel, seen him stare off in the distance with a pained expression on his face, and had known that he was thinking of Ammaunet, who'd been the woman he'd loved, and who had almost tortured him to death before Teal'c shot her. Jack had had trouble separating the host from the Goa'uld, had hated that pretty girl for the deeds of her symbiote; Scorpius's conduct couldn't even be blamed on a Goa'uld. Everything he'd done to Crichton and that guy with half a head was done by him, because he chose to do it. Jack doubted he would have allowed Scorpius on board if he were Crichton. Hell, he hadn't been able to feel any pity when Apophis's host was dying in the SGC infirmary, and all that had been was a frail old man who was innocent of any of the hideous crimes his parasite had committed. Had Moya been his home, Scorpius would wake up one fine morn and find himself drifting quietly in the open sky. But, like he'd already thought, he was biased. Who knew, Scorpius might be a nice and sensitive character beneath all those layers of leather. Just like Anubis was probably really good at cracking jokes at parties.

            "Jack? Ingot for your thoughts?"

            "They're not worth that much," he said, and pushed those thoughts back deep where they came from. "So why're you following us, Rygel? You ain't getting any chocolate, if that's what you're hoping for."

            "You've got chocolate?" Chiana breathed. Rygel's eyebrows—or perhaps ears? Jack wasn't sure about his physics—twitched spastically.

            "Chocolate?" Jack grinned.

            "Yep. Snickers. Standard military nutrition. Loads of sugar and nuts. Guaranteed to keep you on a sugar high for at least an hour, which is precisely why I'm not going to give mine to you." He jabbed his finger into Rygel's stomachs. "Crichton warned me in advance. I think I'm gonna heed that warning."

            "Crichton's fahrbot," the small alien spat. "I haven't had any chocolate for six monens." Chiana cleared her throat. "Well, four then."

            "Ahem! It's only three weeken since you refused to share your last Bounty with me!"

            "But it was my last! I haven't had any since."

Jack shook his head. Chiana's eyes widened in anger.

            "You cheating little toad!" she fumed, grabbing Rygel by the ears-or-eyebrows and twisting them up, "1812 had a Twix wrapper caught in its wheels only a weeken ago!"

            "Ow! Ow, let loose, you mad vixen! I must've forgotten to throw it away, that's all. Ow, let go!"

            "Uh," Jack said, "the Med Bay? Which way is it?"

            "You've kept it all for yourself, haven't you? You had at least a sakmar of bars shipped into your quarters, but I'll be frelled if we saw any of it!"

            "Then you should've brought some yourself!"

            "Excuse me," said Jack, tapping Chiana's shoulder, "we were looking for Daniel."

Chiana looked up from Rygel's pudgy face.

            "Ah," she said with another of those strange cocking motions with her chin, "Yeah, Daniel. The Med bay. Well, if you follow that hallway you should reach it in about a micron.

"Now where do you think you're going to, Ryge?"

            "To my quarters. I fail to see what I…"

            "Your quarters. That's an excellent idea. I'd like to have a look around in your…quarters. See what I can find in all those boxes you packed."

Rygel's sled deftly zoomed away and up from her, out of reach, and again he chuckled.

            "As if I'd let you defile my sanctimony! All the boxes are sealed and locked, my dear, and so is my door."

Chiana cracked her fingers.

            "We'll see about that!" she said, and strode off. Rygel hung in the air for a few seconds, watching her go, then seemed to realize something and sped after her, shouting, "You keep your hands off my property, you get it, you little thief! Hey, stop it right there! Wait!" Within a few seconds, he, as well, had disappeared, leaving Jack to stand in the corridor wondering whether he should laugh or feel sorry for the both of them.

            Well, he thought, at least this explains why Crichton seems to be a bit round the bend. Who wouldn't be, after four years on one ship with these idiots.

Suddenly Teal'c seemed a lot more human, Daniel a whole lot more normal and Carter a heck of a lot less aggravating than before. Jack grinned to himself.

Okay. That realization alone made this day not such a bad day after all.

It was not one micron but several minutes later that he arrived at the med bay, but at least he was so lucky to catch Jacob, Daniel and Sikozu all cozily together. Especially Jacob looked a hell of a lot better than he had in the Tel'tak.

            "Jacob! How're you doing?" The older man looked up from whatever Daniel was writing (of course he was writing. When he wasn't talking or digging up the long-deceased, Daniel was always writing. He'd seen Daniel's toilet paper, and although Daniel had denied it at the time, he could've sworn that there were Egyptian words jotted down on the velvet and extra strong).

            "Jack." He gestured with his splinted arm. "I'm fine. A bit woozy, but Selmak's already taking care of that. Where are we? I wanted to ask her, but Daniel breezed in and they've been speaking Latin for the last half hour, so if she told me, I didn't understand." His glance returned to Daniel, still talking animatedly in Latin while he wrote, and he motioned Jack to the side.

            "What kind of medication did they give him? I think he might be allergic to it."

            "Never mind Daniel. He's talking, that's a good sign. He'll be fine. We've got a problem."

            "Yes?" Jacob raised a sarcastic brow. "I wouldn't know. Tell me about it."

            "The ship—our ship—is history. Hyperdrive's smashed, landing gear's shot, energy crystals make fancy confetti inside the engine or whatever you call it, the transportation rings aren't functioning…basically, we can't fly the ship.

            "Now, the good news is that we're not on a Goa'uld ship, and that there's a man from Earth by the name of John Crichton aboard who doesn't seem averse to helping us, but…"

            "Wait a minute. Did you say Crichton? Jack Crichton?"

            "No, John Crichton. Why? You know him?" Jacob nodded.

            "Vaguely. Wasn't he in the Farscape program? But I think I know his father. He was in the Air Force too, only at another section."

            "You know him? That's great." He snuck another look at Daniel, now listening to the red-haired girl. He was no longer writing, and his face was pinched. Maybe Jacob was right. Maybe he was allergic to whatever it was they gave him. It would be a typical Daniel action to react badly to alien painkillers. Jacob waved a finger in front of his nose.

            "What?"

            "I asked why that was 'great'."

            "Oh. Yeah. Well, you knowing Crichton or his Dad is 'great' because that means we're not in an alternate reality. We were a bit scared that was the case.

            "Crichton and his shipmates have never heard of the Goa'uld," he explained when Jacob made inquiring noises. "Never heard of them, never met them, never nothing. Instead, they managed to piss off some species called the Scarrans, that very originally strives for galactic domination." He paused. "Or maybe it was total annihilation, I forgot. Anyway, we figured that either Crichton and his crew are in an alternate reality, being our reality; or we're in deep shit and we've come to theirs.

            "Carter was a lot better at explaining those theories. If you feel up to it, you'd better come down to the docking bay. See if you recognize Crichton. That would help."

            Both Jacob and he looked back at Daniel, who was steadily wilting while Sikozu spoke and spoke and spoke. In the middle of her speech she turned to the two elder men, interjected, "I think he'll be asleep soon. You can go, if you want. I'll make sure he won't fall," and returned to Latin.

            "Right," said Jack. "Bye, Daniel." Daniel gave a limp wave, completely unaware of anything but the steady flood of words washing over him. Sikozu pushed a folded blanket beneath his arm with that same sneakiness Janet had when she snuck up on you for a blood test, and Jack couldn't repress a grin. When he met Jacob's eyes he found a similar amusement wrinkling their corners.

            "The SGC could do with a woman like that. Hell, the Tok'Ra could do with a woman like that."

"Charm, intelligence and a backstabbing sense of caretaking," Jack agreed. "Yeah, we could use a few of those." He walked out of the infirmary. "Coming, Jacob? Carter'll be glad to see you."

The man jogged after him.

            "Sam. Is she okay?"

            "Never better. You know she loves to speculate on alternate timelines and all."

            "What about the flowers?" Jack clacked his tongue.

            "Ah, yes, I knew I'd forgot something.

            "No, don't worry, the flowers are fine. But here on Moya people don't call them Cacouilla but Crysteriums. Apparently they're some kind of Scarran delicacy, the kind of delicacy that enables them to evolve at a highly accelerated speed."

            "That sounds like a necessary delicacy."

            "Yeah. Which is why we kinda hope we're still in our reality, because according to D'Argo—don't ask, you'll meet him in a minute—the Scarrans sniff out any planet that grows these flowers and colonize it. No, make that 'kill all the natives and occupy the planet'."

            "We haven't seen any different species on P5B-132. Unless these Scarrans look like humans…?" Jack shook his head.

            "No, according to Crichton they look like lizards. Prying, walking, sleeping, talking, living Dinosaur dolls.

            "Uh, I think we need to go to the left, here."

Jacob took in the sloping hallways, the smooth floor and the markings on the walls.

            "If this isn't a Goa'uld ship, what is it? It doesn't look even remotely Asgard-built, and I don't think I've…"

            "It's a Leviathan," Jack said airily. Jacob said nothing. Aw, damn, the old coot knew him better than he cared for. But at least there was one last means to startle the man into uncontrolled questioning… "It's a living ship, apparently."

            "A…A living ship? That's impossible. Are you sure? Is it really alive? How? Did they put a brain in it, or what? Is it a living creature?"

            Bingo.

            "Easy, Jacob. Don't rob Carter of the pleasure of explaining Moya's nature to you."

            "Moya? The ship's called Moya?"

            "Yep."

He looked around. From all sides, corridors opened to the place they were standing now.

            "Uh, Jacob?"

            "Yes, Jack?"

            "I think we're lost."

***

Major 'call me Sam' Carter must be one of the most intelligent women John had ever met. No, make that the most intelligent person he'd ever met. She even acted intelligent (something Jool, who was supposed to be real smart, never had felt obliged to do). He knew he wasn't half as stupid as most of the crew thought he was, and he knew that it wasn't easy to appear even sane when most of the people around him were geniuses, but somehow it was freaky when a cute girl from good old Earth made his brain drip out of his ears with her explanations on wormhole technology and star physics. The fact that she was blonde and looked imminently doable while she tried to explain how her ship's hyperdrive worked literally made his jaw drop. He'd seen the combination smart and cute enough times to know that it actually wasn't all that unusual, but damn! it still had him rocking in his shoes. All he could say after she spoke to him for ten minutes on the subject of engine crystals and how they worked, was, "Aren't you thirsty?" and he guessed that wasn't the best of answers to the question, "What do you think I should do?", especially not if you considered that she was discussing the subject he had his Master's in.

            Luckily, call-me-Sam only blinked, smiled in a long-suffering way that told John that he wasn't the only one not appreciating her brilliance, and said, "Actually, yes. Do you have coffee in here?" John shook his head.

            "Sorry, no coffee. Unlike Rygel I didn't start hoarding when we were back on Earth. We do have some sort of herbal tea, but it made me high, so I don't know if that's such a good idea." She laughed.

            "No coffee? Poor Daniel."

            "You get used to it, after some time. We do have hakuma. Tastes like lemonade."

            "Please," Sam said. She wiped her face, smearing more dirt over her nose and followed him to the galley, blissfully unaware of her striped appearance. Teal'c and D'Argo were already there, staring at each other over untouched glasses. Aeryn strolled in only a few seconds after John and Sam did, a handful of steering crystals in her hands.

            "Ah, I hoped you'd be here."

            "The horses need to be watered, pumpkin!" John said, which earned him a slightly annoyed look from Aeryn and a confused look from Sam. He smiled, handed her a glass of yellow hakuma. "Looks like piss, tastes like heaven. Try it."

            Sam took a sip.

            "Oh! That's…nice!"

            "Told ya. What's it made of again?"

            "Hakuma larva," Aeryn said curtly. Sam spit the big gulp she'd just taken back into the glass.

            "Larva???" Aeryn accepted a glass from John and took a healthy swallow herself.

            "Yes. They taste awful raw, but if you grind them and mix their body fluids with water and sasso they make a nutritious and tasty drink." She held out the hand holding the crystals. "I managed to melt the particles back together, but as you can see there are a few irregularities here and there, and I'm not sure about the shape either. They might have lost their original power and turned into pretty baubles for all I know…but I've done what I could. Maybe we can try them out later?"

            "I'd love to," said Sam. "Thanks." She tucked the crystals in her left side pocket. "Maybe if I run a low electric charge through the…"

            "Ladies," John moaned as Aeryn took up her 'prowler repair' stance. "Please! All work and no play?"

Now why did Aeryn's eyes narrow?

            "I mean," he hastened to explain before she kicked him in the kneecaps, "we finally get visitors who are actually welcome and try to get away as soon as possible instead of robbing us blind or trying to shoot us…and all you're discussing is hyperdrives." 

            "Actually, we were discussing repair techniques and crystal substitutes," Carter corrected, "but," she took off her cap and this time made no move to put it back on, "I guess we could do with a short break.

            "Where's colonel O'Neill? And Daniel, he was going to find Daniel, wasn't he? Oh, and I'd like to see my Dad too."

            "They're probably still at the med bay," Aeryn said, mollified by John's explanation and Sam's obvious lack of interest in John. She pressed her com.

            "Sikozu?" The link crackled into existence. Sikozu's voice was a breathy whisper.

            "Aeryn? What is it?"

            "Are O'Neill, Dr Jackson and…"

            "Jacob Carter," Sam provided.

            "Carter. Are they still with you? Are you still in the med bay?"

There was a short pause.

            "Daniel and I are still here. He's asleep."

            "Is he alright?" interjected Sam anxiously. She could almost hear the shrug in the reply.

            "Physically he's fine, apart from a slight concussion, but I think he's just overwhelmed by the ability to understand all languages." Sikozu chuckled. "I must say I've learned a few more too. But he's fine, just tired. I don't know where O'Neill and Jacob Carter are at the moment. They left about half an arn ago, presumably to go and see you. If they haven't arrived yet, they were probably either held up by one or more of the others…"

            "Or?"

            "Or they got lost."

            "I thought Chiana'd show them the way," sputtered John, but he immediately followed Aeryn as she began: "And Chiana's the only one aboard who could get other people lost. Yeah, Aeryn, I know, bad judgment.

            "Okay. Pilot?"

Pilot's head appeared in a holographic bubble.

            "Yes, Commander?"

            "Can you locate colonel O'Neill and Jacob Carter?"

There was a moment silence while the creature consulted DRDs and sensory input, then he said, "Colonel O'Neill and Jacob Carter's current position is on tier five, near Scorpius's quarters. Scorpius appears to be with them."

            "Sonuvabitch," John cursed. He put down his glass and pressed his own com. "Scorpy!" A second of silence, then a remarkably educated voice Sam had trouble connecting to the being called Scorpius said, "Yes, John?"

            "What the hell are you up to?"

            "Me? Nothing. I'm merely showing the colonel and Mr. Carter around."

            "Yeah? Well stop showing them around and take them to the galley. As in NOW, Grasshopper!" A dramatic sigh sounded from the com.

            "John, John, John. Do you still not trust me, after all this time? I'm only…"

            "Damn well I don't!" John spat. "Get the humans in here or I'll come and get them myself."

In the background colonel O'Neill's voice stage-whispered, "You know, the two of you really should try to work on…" then Scorpius said, "We'll be there in a few microns," and broke the connection.

Teal'c finally looked away from D'Argo's eyes.

            "This Scorpius," he said, "is he a threat to you?" Crichton drummed his fingers on the table.

            "Yeeeeeeahhh….well, no. He isn't exactly a threat, more of a constant pain in the ass, if you know what I mean." For one second Teal'c wondered if he should suggest that Crichton eat more fibers, but decided against it. It would be the kind of thing O'Neill would say, and if anything, Teal'c hated to be unoriginal.

            "If you dislike him," he said, "then why do you tolerate his presence aboard your ship?" Crichton laughed.

            "Because this ain't my ship. If it's anyone's ship, it's D'Argo's, 'cause he's the captain." Teal'c regarded the Luxan with even less enthusiasm than before. "But even D'Argo can't decide who stays and who leaves," Crichton continued. "The only one who can is Moya herself, and so far she hasn't objected to Scorpius's presence. And since he doesn't want to leave, we're stuck with him."

            "You told us he did save your life."

            "Yeah, he did, many times. Thing is, the only reason why he wants me safe and carefully tucked up in bed is because he still hopes he can get his hands on the wormhole technology locked in my head."

Carter looked down on her hands.

            "Isn't he in luck, then," she said.

            "What do you mean?"

            "He won't need you any longer, if it's wormholes he's after. The only thing he needs to do is find a planet with a Stargate and find out how to operate it. If he's really as smart as you say he is, he'll have that figured out in no time." Crichton's eyes widened in alarm.

            "Shit! I hadn't even thought about that."

            "At the moment Scorpius has no means to get to a planet with a Stargate on it," Aeryn soothed. "I checked Moya's star charts and we're still in the Uncharted Territories. So far we haven't met a single planet with a Starga—" She stopped. Looked at D'Argo. He stared back and gave a slow nod.

            "Iso'taa's moon had some sort of circle closely resembling the gate you described," he said, speaking to Carter. "However, it wasn't used as a means of travel. It was part of a monument." Crichton drew up his eyebrows.

            "Iso'taa? Monument? I can't remember any monuments resembling big stone circles. Refresh my memory." D'Argo cleared his throat.

            "You were…asleep at the time."

            "I was asleep. Now that sounds logical."

            "It was after that incident with the Fein assassin," Aeryn explained calmly, while D'Argo steadily turned a lovely shade of fuchsia. "You kept throwing things at D'Argo and he sucker-punched you on the chin. Your head hit the wall and you were unconscious for three days. Which, to be honest, was a great relief to all of us."

            "I kept throwing things at D'Argo?" Crichton yelled. "Why the hell can't I remember that? What kind of things did I throw at you?"

            "Insults," Aeryn said before the Luxan could speak. She rubbed her fingers through Crichton's hair. "Don't worry. If I have to believe the others I kept shouting for a milk bottle, so you weren't the only one behaving like a toddler. Apparently it's a temporary after-effect to being chroma-particled and put together again. Only in your case it lasted a little longer than in mine. You didn't remember any of it after you woke up and we didn't think it necessary to tell you."

            "Didn't you," Crichton mumbled with a look at the blushing Luxan. "Damn it, D, that's the second time you hit me into a coma!"

Teal'c deemed it necessary to intervene.

            "You are certain that the moon you speak of was endowed with a Stargate?" D'Argo gratefully rose to the opportunity to converse instead of being skewered by Crichton's eyes.

            "Yes. I recognized several of the symbols you wrote down. We didn't see a DRD, though."

            "A DHD," Carter corrected. "A Dial Home Device. It might have been hidden beneath the rest of the monument, or maybe it was destroyed. Most cultures we've visited did know that the gate actually was a gate, but we've met several civilizations that regarded it as a holy symbol, or something like a monument. If this was one of those planets without a DHD, it is very well possible that they didn't know it was a Stargate." She took a sip of hakuma. "The people living on that moon, if there were any…"

            "It was a commerce planet," Aeryn interjected. "Used only to that end. It did not have any natives."

            "Where there any humans on that planet?" The woman shook her head.

            "There are no humans in the Uncharted Territories," she said. " None. A lot of anthropoid bipeds —humanoids, you'd call them, but no one quite like John."

            Once more Teal'c noticed the affection between these two, the trust, and that made him feel kinder both to Crichton and to Aeryn. To the first, because if a formidable warrior like Aeryn thought him worthy of her love, it meant that he was more like O'Neill than Teal'c had hoped: a lot of bull, as O'Neill put it himself, but a lot of courage too; and to the latter, because if she could see past Crichton's mask of idiocy, she was more than just a well-trained soldier. He prided himself on being more than

'just a well-trained' soldier; if he hadn't been, he wouldn't have recognized O'Neill for the man he was, and then he'd still be serving Apophis. Or the Goa'uld who'd taken Apophis's place. Or, which was even more likely, he'd be dead. Teal'c wasn't vain, but neither did he underestimate his own worth to SG-1 as a warrior. If Aeryn was even a little like him, as he believed she was, abandoning her own oppressing species for the sake of a better, then he'd be honoured to fight by her side. If, of course, he'd ever have to fight.

"No," the cultivated voice that suited Scorpius's horrid features so badly said from the doorway. "Nobody is quite like John."

He smiled, showing a lot of sharp teeth, and entered, colonel O'Neill and Jacob right behind him. Sam noticed with relief that her father looked a lot better, and that both he and the colonel were none the worse for wear.

            "We got lost," O'Neill explained to no one in particular. He cast a glance first at Sam's striped nose, then, with a shake of his head, at her glass. "Any more where that came from? Or is that raslac? You'd better not be drinking raslac, Carter. It isn't past working hours yet."

            "I'm not drinking raslac, sir," Sam protested. She hugged her father and made room for him so he could sit next to her. "This is a beverage called hakuma." She waited until Aeryn had given him a glass and he'd taken a sip before adding, "It's made of ground hakuma larva."

Unfortunately for Sam Jack O'Neill had eaten and drunk worse things than ground larva during his missions in Eastern Europe, and he only hesitated a split second before saying, "Nice. Reminds me of Minute Maid kiwi. Maybe we ought to tell them they should cut out on the fruit and start mashing maggots."

            "I doubt the producers of soft drinks would see much of a profit in a drink called Minute Maid hakuma larva," Teal'c said gravely. Crichton snickered.

            "It'd certainly be something I woulda bought."

            "You were talking of wormholes," Scorpius said pleasantly. "I heard most of your conversation over the coms. I found it quite interesting."

            "Stuff it, Scorpy," Crichton replied, just as pleasantly. "As Stark woulda said: "Your side, my side, my side, your side." Their universe isn't our universe, and vice versa."

            "And you concluded that on what evidence?"

            "Didn't follow that whole conversation, did you, Grasshopper?" He sneered. "They never heard of Moya, never saw us on TV, never read about us in the paper. Hell, they never heard of us at all!"

            "I'm sorry," Jacob spoke up, "but you're not entirely right there." Crichton turned to him, seemed startled to see him sit next to Carter and approached him, hand stretched out.

            "Oh, I'm sorry. We haven't really met yet. I'm John Crichton."

            "I know."

            "The last time we met you were uncon…what did you say?"

            "I know you," Jacob repeated. He shook Crichton's hand. "At least, I know your father, and I know you by name. I've seen your face in the papers and on TV as well. When you crashed in Farscape One."

            "No."

            "I sent your father a card after your funeral, John."

            "No! No, no, no, no, NO! I didn't die!"

            "We can see that," O'Neill said, but Crichton kept shaking his head.

            "No, you can't! I didn't die; I know I had a funeral, I know everybody thought I was dead, but damn it! we went back and I proved to everybody that I was alright! If you," he glared at Jacob, "really knew my Dad he'd have told you that I was alive. You'd know!" Jacob looked away.

            "I haven't been in contact with Jack Crichton for a long time."

            "I told you," Jack said, "he's part of the Tok'Ra now. High Council and everything."

            "Right," Crichton sneered. "From cancer man to snake boy. I'm sorry, but I think that's a little too…" He jumped as Teal'c interrupted him.

            "What you believe is irrelevant. This is the truth. You would not dare call Jacob Carter a liar." And that was a statement, not a question. A nervous smile pulled up one side of Crichton's mouth.

            "No, I guess not. But…" He glanced at Scorpius, lurking in the shadows like a thin, black, gleaming cockroach. A smiling cockroach. "Scorpy? Why don't you go and check on Moya's amnexus fluids?" Scorpius showed more teeth.

            "I fail to see the necessity of that. But, believe it or not, I know when my presence is not appreciated." He turned around with a swirl of coat tails and walked out of the galley, almost bumping into Rygel and Chiana on the way.

            "She still in the med bay!" the girl called after Scorpius's shiny back. Upon facing the others, she met seven pairs of disgusted eyes.

            "What? I think it's cute."

            "Chiana," D'Argo sighed. She plunked down next to him, took a big swallow from his glass.

            "You can 'Chiana' me all you like, but I still think it's her choice. Who knows, he might be this great trelk between sheets. He always produces gallons of saliva when he gets excited over one thing or another, so I…"

            "Chiana!"

            "I could so do without that mental picture," Crichton gagged. He hastily took a gulp of hakuma. Carter grinned.

            "Well," she said, carefully looking no one in the eye, "It does sound like it's at least an uncontroversial relationship…"

            "Right!" Chiana exclaimed. "I mean, everybody's entitled to have some, so why not Scorpius?" Crichton winced.

            "I refuse to partake in a conversation that speculates on Scorpius's love life," he declared. "Besides, I wanted to show you something. A tape I recorded."

D'Argo, Chiana and Rygel sighed.

            "Again that frelling tape. Why don't you just leave it alone? You can't go back anyway."

            "I'm still showing it. You're welcome to stay the hell away," Crichton invited amiably. He motioned SG-1 and Jacob to follow him. "It's in my quarters. I bought a VCR on earth. Maybe we can watch a movie after we've decided who of us is right."

Teal'c raised his eyebrow.

            "Do you happen to have Jerry Springer on tape?" he asked.

            "Jerry? No. But I did buy the complete Star Trek video box…"

Chiana watched them go. She shook her head.

            "Humans."

            "They are just as fahrbot as Crichton."

            "Worse," D'Argo muttered. He looked at the empty sink. "What's for dinner?" Noranti had been a healer more than a cook, but ever since she left they felt her loss. She made one mean mabhint stew.

            "My favourite," said Chiana, and dived into the pantry.

***

The video camera zoomed in on Chiana's bare belly, then up to her breasts. She swatted it away and it focused on Sikozu instead, who stared into it with growing annoyance. O'Neill grinned.

            "How old was that cousin of yours, you said?"

            "Twelve. Or maybe he was thirteen already. Shows, doesn't it?" He fell silent as the psychiatrist began to speak, followed by an ordinary guy plucked from the street. He stopped the tape.

            "See? Now I taped this when I was already back on Moya, they sent it out on the air! Now, call me a monkey playin' the cello, but I don't believe you could've missed this."

            "Maybe we were off-world…"

            "You'd have heard it when you came back!"

            "He's right, sir," Carter butted in. "We would. In fact, if anybody would've known it'd been us."

            "Unless nobody wanted us to know," Jacob said. He frowned in that 'inner dialogue' way he'd adopted after Selmak had taken up residence inside of him.

            "What do you mean?" asked Crichton. He pointed at the TV. "Isn't that enough evidence? No? Then what about all the people I spoke to? The letters my family got from people all over the world, the…"

            "You were in Earth's orbit when you taped that show?"

            "Yes."

            "It doesn't strike you as odd that it's so clear?"

            "No. We'd just passed the satellite…" he stopped. "Precisely what are you implying? A cover-up? Why'd they do that? And why so damned…sneakily! It makes no sense!

            "We showed them Moya. We had a whole freakin' television crew aboard, for cryin' out loud. We saw the material on TV afterwards. It was real!"

            "Maybe it was for you," Jacob said. He took a deep breath. "I'm not saying that you're lying. It's just…I've worked for the Air Force for quite some time, and I've seen more access denied: secret operation files than I can count—and that was before I retired to the Tok'Ra. As for IASA…I heard it was closed down a couple of years ago."

            "You mean…you're saying…a hush-up???" Crichton roared. "You've got to be kidding! It was in the newspapers, the magazines, hell, it was everywhere! You can't hush that up—not even the government."

            "When was that?" O'Neill asked. "About seven, eight months ago?" Carter snapped her fingers.

            "The New York Times flatline," she said. And to Crichton, "All mayor newspapers went on strike, starting with the NYT, to protest against…I can't remember. Hazardous situations for journalists or something like that."

            "I didn't get to do my crossword puzzle," O'Neill added.

            "The strike lasted about a month," Carter continued, ignoring the colonel, "No papers at all for three days. After that, we had a substitute for some time." Crichton shook his head.

            "What about television?"

            "If the arrival of a space ship the size of Moya was on television, I didn't see it. Not on PrimeTime. Not on the News. I'm sorry, John, but I'm afraid Dad's right." He kept shaking his head.

            "I can't believe it. I just can't. They can't just cover this up; it's too big, too way frelling big!"

            "They covered up two Goa'uld Motherships approaching Earth," said Jack. "And a wormhole latched on to a planet that was being swallowed by a black hole. They also managed to keep a Goa'uld on Earth for quite some time without anyone knowing about it. They kept from the public that a few Replicators, the plague that almost killed the Asgard, had landed in the ocean. Hell, they kept the masses in this wonderful bliss of ignorance while we kicked Goa'uld ass, brought Earth to the brink of destruction and saved it again.

            "What I mean to say, is that if the government or the military doesn't want that something goes public, for whatever reason, it stays private and never mind the costs."

            "So," Aeryn spoke up for the first time since Crichton had started the tape. "You and me are both still in the same reality? Is that what you're saying?"

            "What?"

            "Basically, yes," said Carter. "We haven't gone through any Quantum Mirrors, we just hit something that cast us further off course than we've ever been."

            "The most important question," her father took over, "is, how do we get back? If we're still in the same reality, that means that the Tok'Ra are still fighting to overcome the disease Anubis brought to Phaenis. We need to bring them the Cacouilla as soon as possible; they only have a few days left."

            "The ship's irreparably damaged. I couldn't fix it even if I had spare equipment."

            "I can help, but it wouldn't do you much good," Aeryn added. "Even if we could take your ship to a repair dock…"

            "He…I…blew the best repair dock to hell, including its charming owner, so you said," Crichton interrupted. "The nearest dock I know of is at least ten solar days away." Jacob shook his head.

            "They don't have that long."

            "You said they made something that slowed the progress of the disease down."

            "That may be so, but we're talking about a disease that, on a normal human body, would work like…like some kind of nerve gas. Its effects on the host's body are so severe that the symbiote exhausts itself trying to repair the damage and finally, fails. What the Tok'Ra have done to slow the virus down, is inject the symbiote with a solution that boosts its healing capacities."  He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Selmak continued.

            "This solution is but a temporary one. It has bought them a few days, but no more. We need to deliver the Cacouilla within five days, or we will be too late."

It was the first time Crichton saw the Tok'Ra change, and O'Neill couldn't repress a smug smile at the other man's discomfort. It was weird talking to two persons in one body, hell, he knew all about it, he'd been jumped by one once, and Freya had even told him that her other half, Anise, was drawn more to Daniel than to him, what made the whole situation that much more embarrassing. Freya was cute, and she had a body that could melt butter on a frosty day, but Anise was far too…well, Tok'Ra to appeal to him. Jack would date Carter again before ever starting a relationship with anybody with a parasite in her body, and that included tapeworms, thank you very much.

            Selmak spoke to Carter.

            "You are sure you won't be able to repair the Tel'tak?"

            "Positive." He turned back to Crichton.

            "This ship, is it equipped with hyperdrive engines?"

            "Moya can starburst," Crichton said, nodding. "Which is about the same thing, I guess."

            "Good. Is it possible to find out where we are at the moment? If I recognized certain constellations, I would be able to determine where Phaenis lies and how long it would take us to get there…if you'd be willing to take us."

Aeryn and John stared at each other, reading each other's mind in every little eyebrow-twitch, frown and blink.

            - I want to help them, if only because they're human and they don't want anything specifically to do with us.

            - I distrust them. Humans are silly creatures. Forgive me, John, but it's true. But at the same time I don't want to refuse you. I don't want to hurt you…again.

            - If people are suffering because of another species, we have to help the underdog. That's the way we are, Aeryn. Not helping them would be as bad as…as dropping a bomb on a base with five thousand innocents living on it.

Aeryn sighed.

            "We've got maps on the bridge. If you can specify your search command, pilot might be able to help you find Pheanis. As for us taking you there," she looked back at John. He nodded. "we'll have to talk with the others first. Even if it is possible, at least Moya and D'Argo need to give their affirmation." Selmak inclined his head.

            "Naturally."

            "I'll take you to the bridge."

She and Selmak walked out of John's quarters. John noticed that while Selmak was in charge, Jacob's body even moved differently. He should be applauding the wonderful cooperation between symbiote and host, but frankly, it creeped him out to no end.

O'Neill patted his shoulder.

            "Don't worry. I had one of these things inside of me, and apart from the amnesia and the fact that I was tortured to death for about five times, it's not so bad." John winced.

            "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" The man pursed his lips.

            "Uh, no. It just seemed like an appropriate thing to say."

Sam frowned.

            "Admittedly, the Tok'Ra have made a few errors…"

            "Errors that almost got us killed," O'Neill added under his breath.

            "But they did save your life, sir, and Teal'c's and Bra'tac's by developing tetronin for Jaffa, which, if I may add, sir, might be used to free all Jaffa of their prim'tah…"

            "Yeah, yeah, I know."

            "And my Dad hasn't changed. Much." O'Neill sighed.

            "Carter, you know it's not Jacob I've got a problem with. But you've got to agree that apart from some convenient minor services, the Tok'Ra mainly excel in using us for their own goals."

Apparently she did agree, for she closed her mouth and only glared at him, but John could feel protest radiating off of her. Maybe because she was part Tok'Ra, as far as he understood. This whole Jolinar of Malkshur thing…wow! And he thought he'd had it bad with Harvey.

            "I sense some tension here," he said, putting a hand on both O'Neill's and Sam's shoulder, which made it kinda hard to keep his balance, Sam being about half a head smaller than her CO. "Why don't you relax a little, huh? I'll introduce you to Pilot. He's cool, you'll like him."

            "Does he have beer?" O'Neill asked hopefully.

            "Nope, but he does have four arms and no legs."

            "Fascinating."

Sam smiled.

            "I already told you I'd love to meet him. You said he's physically connected to Moya? How? By some kind of umbilical cord?"  

            "N-no, I don't think his species has a navel. But it looks a bit like it. I'm sure he'll tell you himself, if you ask him. Pilot loves talking about his bond with Moya.

            "Come, I'll show you, and after that we'll grab a bite to eat." Halfway out of the door, he shivered. "I only hope Chiana didn't cook gorlack again. Or that she let D'Argo cook. He can't."

He started as not two persons followed him into the hall, but three.

            Damn! For someone so big that guy certainly knows how to blend in with his surroundings.

***

Half an hour later they were all sitting in the galley, the whole of SG-1 plus Jacob, Crichton, Aeryn, D'Argo, Chiana, Rygel, Sikozu and Scorpius, eating something that tasted like chicken and probably was space rat; but it didn't taste all that bad. Jack had wondered aloud whether Pilot needed to eat, but Carter informed him, before any of Moya's inhabitants could speak up, that his relationship with Moya was symbiotic and that he lived on her fluids.

            "That's disgusting," Jack had said, but so softly that no one could hear him. However, Carter proved once again that she really could read lips and showed him her pink tongue. Really, and she wondered why she couldn't keep up a steady relationship. He looked at his archeologist. At first sight Daniel seemed to be listening intently to whatever conversation going round, head resting on one hand, the other hand holding his fork, but since no conversation was forthcoming and his eyes were closed, Jack thought he might just be faking interest and was still asleep. Part of him was worried and wanted to ask him whether he was okay, but since he asked three times already and got 'fine' every time, he settled for sarcasm.

            "So, Daniel," he said. Daniel started awake. "Did you have any luck teaching the young lady over there some nice old forgotten languages?"

Button pushed, radio Jackson began to play.

            "Well actually, yes. Sikozu," a nod to said young lady, who smiled, "is a miracle when it comes to languages. Just like you said," another nod to Crichton. "I taught her Latin in about an hour, well, the Latin I know, since we're not sure on the correct pronunciation, but at least she now knows Latin and the basics of Goa'uld and Ancient. It really is amazing. What you just did in an hour took me five years."

            A shy, pleased smile passed over Sikozu's face. Crichton said "Hot damn," but when Aeryn cast him a searching look he just shrugged and went back to his dinner.

            "If you were to stay on board for a longer period, I would like to work with you again," the Kalish said. Scorpius, sitting next to her, gave her a hard stare before turning his eyes on Daniel, but abided when she put her hand on his knee. At least, Jack hoped it was his knee.

            So far, Scorpius had behaved rather well. He was actually kind of charming, as long as you didn't see him. He reminded Jack a little of his old English teacher who was so British the whole class had placed a bet on whether he wore the Union Jack on his briefs. (They had all lost; old Collins wore plain white jockeys, but seeing the man standing in his underwear in the middle of the room because someone had stealthily undone his suspenders had made him immortal in Jack's memories.) Of course, Collins hadn't had quite so many teeth, but the way he moved, the way he held his head slanted when someone spoke to him; and most of all, his very intelligent, steady blue-grey eyes made Scorpius appear less bestial and more human. He ate his food from the plate and used cutlery to bring it to his mouth, when he spoke he chose pleasant topics, he didn't growl or salivate and as long as you ignored the fact that there was a cooling element in his brain, it wasn't difficult to actually like him.

            In fact, Jack was far more daunted by Pilot than by Scorpius. The half-breed at least was anthropomorphic (Carter's term, not his), but Pilot was so blatantly alien it made his Spielberg gland itch. Somehow, Jack couldn't help thinking that he was in the middle of some Scifi movie setting with really good special effects, and every time the huge pilot fastened his eyes on his face, he kept expecting to see glass with a hole in it. But Pilot's eyes were gelatinous, moist, and his pupils shrunk and widened in the light shining from his console. Hell, of course he was real, just as real as the Goa'uld, the Jaffa, the Tok'Ra and the four Races. But apart from the Asgard, who also had a high E.T. quality, Jack's allies and enemies at least looked human. Sure, Teal'c was an alien, but he also participated in poker games. And he ate, which was a hell of a lot better than a creature that lived on a ship's fluids.

            Anyway, while was still wondering whether he'd feel better about Pilot if the creature gave him a solid pinch, Carter was already fawning all over him. Women always were more susceptible to the unnatural, he guessed. She'd started by apologizing for any harm they'd caused Moya by flying into her, and this had mollified Pilot so much he now called her 'Samantha'. He'd also said that although Moya was still in some degree of discomfort, she was healing well and graciously accepted Samantha's apology.

            Pilot had also compared Jacob's star charts with Moya's, and come to the conclusion that although he didn't know Phaenis as a planet, he did know in which solar system it lay. These joyful tidings Jack had relayed to Jacob, and now they were both waiting until the rest of the crew had finished eating so that they could get on with business. Much as Jack loved to be abroad, he had a job to do.

            Thankfully Aeryn seemed to understand why Jacob was twisting around on his seat. She put her fork down on her plate with a definite click, leaned back, and started, "There is something we have to talk about." Chiana licked at one finger.

            "Yeah? What?" Crichton took over.

            "As you all know…couldn't help but notice, we've got visitors."

            "No, you've got to be kidding me. We've got visitors?"

            "Shut up, Pip.

            "Now, as you all know their ship got damaged when they flew into Moya, and it can't be repaired. It so happens to be that colonel O'Neill and his team are on some kind of mission to transport some," a fleeting glance at Scorpius, "goods to a planet called Phaenis, and if they don't get the goods there in time, people are gonna die. According to Pilot, we can reach that planet in a few days if we throw in a couple of starbursts, and Moya has already agreed to take us there…if we all agree to go."

With that last sentence, he looked at D'Argo. The big Luxan narrowed his eyes.

            "Why am I getting the feeling that you're not telling me everything?"

            "Because you've known me for one hell of a time," Crichton sighed. "Okay, the good thing is that we can get there pretty soon. The bad thing is that it's in Tormented Space."

D'Argo rose to his feet.

            "Then you know the answer!" he barked. "We're not going back into Tormented Space—your own words! And mine. We can't…"

            "It's at the very edge of Tormented Space," Aeryn interrupted. "Only an arn or two from point of entry. Moya already agreed on it; Pilot says she has no objections."

            "But I do!"

            "Why? Because you don't trust them?" D'Argo said nothing. Crichton stood up as well.

            "Fine," he said, "I'll take responsibility."

            "It doesn't work that way!"

            "Yes it does. See, D'Argo, I do trust them."

            "They're your species!"

Crichton laughed.

            "So were the last  three presidents, and I never trusted them. No, the reason I trust them," a wide gesture that encompassed all of SG-1, "is that they don't want anything from us. Not my brain, not your blood, not Rygel's blood, no nothing. All they want is a ride. And I say: let's give it to them."

            "It could be a trap," D'Argo argued stubbornly. "They could be in league with the Scarrans."

Jack heaved a deep sigh and since everybody who was talking was standing, stood up himself. Carter automatically made a grab for his coat, but she didn't pull him down so he guessed he had her benediction.

            "Look," he said, addressing D'Argo, "I know you don't trust us. I wouldn't trust us if I were you either. But we're here, and you can bet your ass that we'd rather be somewhere else. We are not conspiring with the Scarrans for the very simple reason that we've never met them, and if Crichton's right about them, I never want to meet them."

The man hissed softly, but he kept silent so Jack continued.

            "I can't say anything that'll prove to you that we are who we say we are, but you saw our cargo yourself, and if we don't get those…medicines to Phaenis real soon, a lot of people are going to die. So I'm asking you to please, please help us. Pretty please. With a cherry on top."

            Okay, maybe I shouldn't have said that last bit. Habit's a lousy thing, but hell, how can I be serious when this guy has tentacles in his beard?

Both Carters buried their face in their hand and Daniel's pained frown ran over his whole forehead, but D'Argo was looking at him with an almost fond expression on his face—just like the rest of the crew. For some reason, Crichton was grinning, and Jack could've sworn that he made the victory sign behind Aeryn's shoulder.

            "Alright," the Luxan sighed. "If Moya doesn't mind, let's get the Hezmana out of this safe, uneventful haven. That is, if the rest agrees as well?"

Chiana smiled and nodded, Rygel muttered something but inclined his head as well. Sikozu said she agreed as well, and then stared hungrily at Daniel; Scorpius said nothing since nobody expected him to give his opinion except for Sikozu, and Aeryn had already said that she agreed. Crichton's grin widened even further.

            "Out-frelling-standing!" he whooped. "Pilot, set course for Phaenis!"

To be continued….

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