Disclaimers: Farscape belongs to Jim Henson Co., Network Nine, Hallmark Entertainment, etc. I make no money on this.
Spoilers: Up to and including the "Look at the Princess" trilogy
Rating: PG
Archiving: Sure
ONE CHANCE TOO MANY
"Commander Crichton!"
John Crichton's eyes fluttered.
"John Crichton!"
Crichton forced his eyes open, craning his head toward the holographic display. As expected, Pilot's face was framed within the device.
"Yeah, Pilot," he replied wearily. He hated the midnight watch. "I'm listening."
"Moya has detected an unidentified energy signature closing on our position."
John yawned and lifted himself from the chair. Wishing for a cup of coffee, he made his way to one of the command consoles.
"Is it a ship?" he asked.
"It appears to be."
It was the third ship to appear on sensors since his shift started. Apparently they were traversing one of the busier trade routes in the Uncharted Territories.
"Keep scanning them, and let me know when you get a positive ID," Crichton said.
"Without question, Commander," Pilot responded.
John smiled, remaining at the console. He knew that if he returned to his seat he would be dozing within seconds. And since D'Argo was his relief, he was not going to have the big Luxan find him asleep at the switch, so to speak.
He continued to watch the view screen before him, gazing at a matrix of stars forming constellations that were unfamiliar to him. If the people in this quadrant of the galaxy even had the concept of a constellation, that is.
"I wonder if this is the Delta Quadrant," he murmured.
"Pardon me, Crichton?" Pilot asked.
"Huh?" Crichton tore his gaze from the star field to Pilot's holographic image. "You say something, Pilot?"
"You said something about a 'Delta Quadrant.'"
John waved a dismissive hand. "It's a Star Trek reference, Pilot. From a TV show on my world."
"I fear to even ask what TV is."
"Good, 'cause I'm too damn tired to explain it right now. Where do we stand on that ship, Pilot?"
"We are not standing anywhere on that ship, Commander Crichton. You are standing on Moya's command deck."
"Thanks a load, Pilot. What I mean is, what is your progress on identifying that ship?"
"Why didn't you ask that in the first place?"
"I did…never mind. Well?"
"I'm still collecting data. The signature seems to be masked."
Alarms were set off within Crichton. A ship masking its drive signatures did not want to be identified. And a ship that didn't want to be identified was up to no good.
"A stealth ship?" John wondered aloud. "Pilot, does Moya have any records of any races with stealth ship technology?"
"Moya has no such record in her data files."
"Damn. This isn't good. Not good at all. Pilot, I think you should have Moya shag ass out of this sector ASAP."
"Ay-sap?"
"As soon as possible, Pilot."
"I'm afraid we have been detected. The ship in question is attempting communications with us. I believe they are in distress."
Crichton rubbed his jaw. Moya seemed to have a habit of attracting vessels in distress. Well, she caused the distress that had brought Chiana aboard, but the last incident involved a shipload of Peacekeepers with a particularly nasty virus aboard. And he had almost lost Aeryn that day….
Still, he could not ignore a vessel in need of aid. "It can't hurt to talk to them. We just don't have to tell them who we are in case they're bounty hunters or Scorpius's goons."
"You have a channel clear," Pilot said.
Static filled the speakers, and a voice spoke over the distortion. "Leviathan transport, please respond. My ship is damaged."
Crichton activated the communicator. "This is the leviathan. How can we be of assistance?"
"I have a malfunction in my life support system. I don't have enough life support to last me to the next habitable planet. It is most fortunate I have found you."
John muted the communicator. "Pilot, I think you better get the others up here."
* * *
Aeryn Sun scanned the command deck the moment she stepped foot through the access door. She was fully alert even though she had been awakened from a deep slumber. Her lush dark hair was unbound, and she had the presence of mind to dress herself in her customary black vest and black utility trousers.
John Crichton—attired his black shirt and pants with the red Peacekeeper vest he had taken to wearing—and D'Argo were the only two on the command deck. The Human and the Luxan were intently looking at the star field displayed on the front view screen. The tall alien shook his head, the tentacles that framed his crown swaying, as he argued with Crichton.
"You should not have risked us by even speaking to him," the Luxan growled in his baritone.
"I never gave them our identity."
"We are fugitives. And have you not forgotten that half-breed Peacekeeper who wants nothing more than to flay your Human hide!"
"In case you've forgotten, D'Argo, it's my brain he wants, not my hide."
"I know, John. I just don't want to give Scorpius the chance to put you in the Aurora Chair again."
"Me neither, big guy."
"You should have killed him when you had the chance in that foundry."
"I know, D'Argo. I know."
Aeryn hooked her thumbs into her belt as she looked at John. He hadn't been the same since they had rescued him from the Gammak Base. Or since they had returned from the breakaway Sebacean colony where he had almost been married to the heir apparent and thus confined as a statue for eighty cycles. Where she had almost lost him.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely saw the flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. Zhaan, the blue-skinned Delvian priest, was at Aeryn's side.
"Aeryn." Zhaan's calm voice broke the former Peacekeeper from her musing.
"Zhaan," Aeryn replied, forcing her gaze from John's broad back to the Delvian's hairless head.
"What do you think?"
"About what?"
"Should we assist the crippled ship?"
"I think we shouldn't risk it," D'Argo said.
"I'm actually with D'Argo on this one," John said.
All on the command deck looked at the Human incredulously—especially Aeryn. Normally Crichton would be the first one to favor helping someone in trouble. Why was he willing to ignore this craft?
"Well," said D'Argo, sounding triumphant, "we have two votes to ignore their plea."
"Why, John?" Zhaan asked quietly. "This sentiment doesn't sound like you."
Crichton glanced briefly in Aeryn's direction. "I'm tired of playing Good Samaritan for every vagrant in the Uncharted Territories and getting screwed. Has everyone forgotten T'raltixx? Or the intelli-virus? Or the Tavloid—"
"Tavlek," Aeryn corrected, keeping her voice light.
"Whatever," John said wearily. "All I'm saying is, I'm damn tired of people screwing with us."
"How big is that ship?" Aeryn asked.
"Not very," Pilot replied. "Not much larger than Crichton's module. Only one life sign detected."
"I don't see much of a threat," Aeryn said. "It can't hurt to render some assistance." She leveled a gaze on John. She knew he wanted to help the pilot of the damaged ship. "D'Argo and I should be able to handle one individual in case he decides to be unfriendly."
"I agree with Aeryn," said Zhaan. "It is the compassionate thing to do."
"So we're tied," John said. "Where are Chiana and Rygel?"
"I couldn't wake them," the Delvian said, clearly disgusted.
"Chiana is, uh, worn out," D'Argo said.
A corner of John's mouth lifted up in a barely perceptible smile. "When is she not worn out, D'Argo? And why aren't you just as worn?"
"I'm a Luxan."
"That's not an answer, D'Argo."
The big Luxan only smiled.
Zhaan looked at Pilot's holographic image. "What do you think, Pilot?"
"The vessel in question is not a threat to Moya. Moya and I would hope if we're experiencing difficulties someone would come to our aid. I agree with Zhaan and Officer Sun."
D'Argo growled his disapproval.
"Wait a minute," John said. "Hold the phone here—"
"What's a phone?" Aeryn asked almost playfully. John had become far too serious of late, and Aeryn almost missed his strange Human jocularity.
"Never mind. Does anyone not care why that ship is masking itself?"
"Pilot, bring that ship aboard," Aeryn said.
"As we speak," was Pilot's reply.
* * *
John Crichton shifted his feet uneasily as he waited in the hangar bay with Aeryn and D'Argo. The tall Luxan had his Q'alta blade resting easily against his shoulder, and Aeryn had her pulse rifle at her side. John glanced at the beautiful woman beside him. She was a Sebacean by race, formerly a Peacekeeper by profession. However, with her long dark hair, comely face, penetrating eyes, and lithe figure she could easily pass for a human woman.
A hand resting on the pulse pistol on his hip, Crichton turned his attention back to the ship that was settling onto the deck. It was about the size of Farscape I, the module that had brought him to this side of the galaxy and one of his last links to Earth. The strange ship was black, shaped like a tadpole. Crichton thought that to be an odd shape to design a ship around. Of course, some would say that a submarine was a phallic symbol.
The belly of the ship separated with a rush of pressurized air, and a ramp dropped down. A figure emerged tentatively from the vessel, and D'Argo immediately hissed a warning. Aeryn's pulse rifle was butted against her shoulder, and she was aiming down the barrel.
Their visitor was a Sebacean. He wasn't wearing anything that resembled Peacekeeper regalia, and he was unarmed. His dark hair was cut close to his skull, and his eyes were dark and narrow.
"Peacekeeper!" D'Argo hissed, swinging his blade up to a ready position.
The Sebacean man held his hands up palms outward. "No! I'm not Peacekeeper!"
"Are you one of Novia's people?" Aeryn asked.
"Who?" the Sebacean man asked.
Crichton stepped forward. "Why the stealth mode, pal?"
"S-stealth? Oh, the damper fields! You see, I needed that feature to conceal my flight."
"Why?"
"You hadn't heard?"
Crichton's patience was vaporizing quickly. "No. Heard what?"
"Ah, good trick, Peacekeeper. You lull me with feigned ignorance just as you lulled me aboard your ship with your feigned offer of assistance."
"Believe me, my ignorance is genuine." John bit his tongue as soon as the phrase passed his lips. D'Argo gave an "I knew it" snort, and Aeryn's full lips turned up slightly in a smirk. "And I'm no Peacekeeper," he continued.
"You look like a Peacekeeper," the Sebacean said.
John looked from himself to Aeryn. Their attire could be construed as Peacekeeper-issue, especially John's vest.
"I'm a human," he said. "I only look like a Sebacean."
"Never heard of humans," the Sebacean said. "Where are you from?"
"Far away."
"And her?" the visitor gestured toward Aeryn. "Is she also human?"
"Not likely," Aeryn said. "Why are you running from the Peacekeepers?"
"Why does anyone run from Peacekeepers, Aeryn?" John asked. "Your former comrades aren't exactly the most personable sort."
Aeryn arched her eyebrow, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Former being the operative word, John."
"Who are you?" D'Argo demanded.
"My name is Okun Mal, former Peacekeeper and now fugitive," the Sebacean man said.
"And why are you a fugitive?"
"I was deemed irreversibly contaminated by Peacekeeper High Command."
Aeryn scowled. "What for?"
Okun Mal affixed his gaze on D'Argo. "I fell in love with a female Luxan."
D'Argo flinched as if struck.
Eerie, John thought. Too eerie. Aeryn, too, had been deemed "irreversibly contaminated" by her superiors, and D'Argo's fugitive status resulted from his marriage to a Sebacean woman. It sounded like the stuff coming from the pens of mediocre Hollywood hacks.
"I am Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper officer, and these are John Crichton and Ka D'Argo."
Mal's eyes widened at the introductions, but he smiled. "Are there others on this ship, or do you have it all to yourselves?"
"There are others," D'Argo said. "Come."
"Excuse me," John said, taking Mal's arm. "Where did you get the stealth ship? I didn't think Peacekeepers had stealth ships."
Mal's smile only widened. "I traded the Marauder I had stolen for this ship. I thought its masking capabilities would be useful for a fugitive escaping the Peacekeepers."
"Makes sense." John released the arm, unconvinced.
* * *
"I don't trust him, Zhaan," Crichton said, seating himself at the table with a drink container he had procured from the refrigeration unit. He poured some of the contents into a cup. "It just seems all too convenient to me."
"How so, John?" the Delvian priest asked gently.
"Don't you think it too coincidental that this Mal guy shares something in common with both Aeryn and D'Argo? He's up to something."
"If he is fabricating his story to endear himself to Aeryn and D'Argo, as you seem to suggest, why them and not the rest of us?"
"Of all of us aboard Moya, who are the most reserved in their trust of other people?"
"Aeryn and D'Argo."
"Right. You're a Pa'u, you're supposed to be compassionate. Rygel is only concerned with someone eating his share of the food around here, and I doubt Scorpius takes Chiana too seriously." John stared at his untouched drink. "Me, I'm a stupid primitive from the far corner of the galaxy whose opinions don't matter much anyway. Except for that damn wormhole knowledge buried in my brain that Scorpius wants."
Zhaan laid a hand on his. "Your opinions have value with me, John. And the others, I'm sure."
"The Peacekeepers wouldn't believe that. All I am is a bug to be mentally-dissected by Scorpy's chair."
"You think Mal is in league with the Peacekeepers?"
"Who else would know about Aeryn's contamination? Or D'Argo's true crime against the purity of the Sebacean race?" Crichton sighed. "I've told you about the Nazis, haven't I?"
"You have mentioned them, John. They were a group of humans who killed a lot of people on your planet. They believed in racial purity."
He gave her a wan smile. "Remind you of anybody in this part of space? Well, these Nazis had developed a special corps of soldiers for one battle in that war. We call it the Battle of the Bulge. These special soldiers were outfitted with American army uniforms and were trained to speak English with American accents. Their purpose was to throw off the Allied powers by making them believe they were American troops."
"The Americans were the humans who fought these Nazis?"
"One of several nations, yeah. I'm an American on my world. Anyway, these guys learned a lot about their American adversaries to better deceive them. Just like this guy seems to know a lot about us."
"You think Okun Mal is a Peacekeeper posing as a fugitive?"
"Peacekeeper infiltrators are not unheard of, Zhaan. There was that disrupter who posed as Prince Clayvor's fiancee on the royal planet. Then again, he may be legit. I'm not giving my opinion, though. I'm not going to risk any decision of mine nearly losing Aer—all of you again."
* * *
The crew had gathered on the mess deck to discuss the situation with Okun Mal. Moya's DRD's had repaired the malfunctioning life support aboard Mal's ship, but Mal had suggested that he could be of service to them aboard Moya. Aeryn agreed with the Sebacean man's assessment of the advantages of greater numbers. And his skills would supplement her own Peacekeeper training. D'Argo also seemed to recognize the tactical advantage of three warriors instead of two. Normally she would be hesitant, but Okun Mal was just like her, irreversibly contaminated. She would probably be dead now if Crichton hadn't stood up for her with the others. She could do no less for Mal.
"How do we know you're not still a Peacekeeper?" Crichton asked Mal.
"You don't trust me," Mal stated.
"No."
Aeryn shot John a look. "You trusted me, John. You gave me a chance. You gave Chiana a chance."
"That's different," Crichton said.
"How?"
"It just is." He put his hand to his brow with his elbow on the table.
John was certainly different. He was more morose than she ever remembered him. Maybe his experiences with the Aurora Chair and the royal intrigues on the breakaway colony were taking their toll on him. He was becoming more withdrawn lately. Withdrawn from her. She found herself missing even his inane Human expressions. She wanted to ask him what was wrong with him, but not in the company of the others. She'll find him alone sometime later.
"Do what you want," he said, rising. "I waive my vote."
He started for the door, but Chiana stopped him.
"Want some company, John?" the gray-skinned Nebari girl asked.
John gave her a sideways glance. "Not today, Chiana, I need some time alone."
He left the mess deck, with Chiana close behind him. Aeryn gripped the edge of the table, her legs urging to lift herself out of her seat. But she stayed put.
Rygel floated away from the table in his hover throne, his earbrows twitching. "Do what you will. Just keep that frelling abomination away from my share of the food cubes."
"Then it is agreed?" D'Argo said. "Mal stays."
Aeryn nodded once in agreement.
"It is agreed," Zhaan said.
"And Crichton and Chiana have waived their decisions in the matter," D'Argo pointed out. "Mal's skills will be most beneficiary."
Okun Mal rose from his chair. "I thank your generosity. Perhaps I should retrieve what belongings I have from my ship.
"Do you have anything of value?" Rygel asked, his earbrows rising in interest.
"I'm afraid I have little of value, Hynerian," Mal said. "Excuse me."
The Sebacean left the mess deck. Aeryn lifted herself out of her chair. Halfway from her chair to the door, she stopped and turned around.
"Zhaan, has Crichton talked to you lately?" she asked.
"About what, my dear?" the priest asked in her soothing voice.
"He hasn't been…he hasn't been the Crichton we've come to know. Not since we left the breakaway colony. I thought he would be one of the strongest supporters of allowing Mal on board. Of giving him a chance. That sentiment is typical Crichton."
"He's been through a lot, Aeryn."
"And he has been spending an awful lot of time with that module of his."
"It's his only piece of home he has."
Aeryn turned and walked out the door.
* * *
Crichton arrived on the hangar deck. He looked at the tadpole-shaped ship parked between the Farscape I and Aeryn's Prowler. Folding his arms across his chest, he examined the odd vessel. The landing struts supporting the craft looked familiar. Tilting his head, he scowled. Where did I see…?
His eyes widened when he looked from Mal's ship to the Prowler. The struts supporting Aeryn's fighter looked very similar to the struts supporting the tadpole ship. He stepped forward, placing a hand on the fuselage of the Mal's ship.
"Son of a…," he murmured. "Mal told us he got this ship in a trade for his Marauder."
Footsteps sounded behind him. He rolled his eyes upward as he whirled around.
"Chiana, I said I need—"
A solid object connected against his skull, and his world exploded into blackness.
* * *
Aeryn caught Chiana in the hallway outside Crichton's quarters, gripping the girl's arm. "What are you doing here, trelk?"
"Apparently the same thing you are," the Nebari said. "Waiting for John."
Aeryn tightened her grip on Chiana's arm. "For what reason?"
"Don't be jealous, Aeryn, you know I'm with D'Argo. And I know Crichton is yours."
"I'm not jealous. And Crichton isn't mine."
"You could have fooled me, Aeryn."
"Why are you waiting outside his quarters?"
"Something's been bothering him, and I thought maybe he needed an ear."
"Just an ear?"
"Yeah. If he is not here then maybe he's in the hangar. Probably working on that module of his."
Aeryn glared at the Nebari, then released her. She turned and walked away. From behind her, she heard Chiana's parting remark.
"Remember what I told you before, Aeryn. Men are stupid."
Aeryn stopped, still staring ahead of her. Before she could say anything, Okun Mal came down the corridor with a duffel bag in his hands. She looked behind her, and Chiana was gone.
"Aeryn," said Okun. "I was told you could show me to my quarters."
"Certainly," she said absently. "Follow me."
* * *
Crichton returned to consciousness with a pounding headache. His surroundings were dark, and he lay on his side on a hard surface with his wrists and ankles bound. He felt another body behind him. Groaning, he tried to roll onto his back, but leaned into whomever was behind him.
He heard a familiar hiss.
"D'Argo?" Crichton asked.
"John," was the Luxan's terse reply.
"What the hell happened? One minute I was looking at Mal's ship, the next I'm getting clobbered."
"It is Mal. I was showing him to his quarters when he hit me from behind. At least I assume it was him."
"His ship is a Peacekeeper ship."
"How do you know that?"
"The landing gear is like the gear on Aeryn's Prowler. Standard Peacekeeper design, I imagine. Closer study of the ship may show other Peacekeeper technology."
"And the masking system?"
"Probably new technology that Aeryn isn't aware of. Or he did obtain it from non-Peacekeeper sources for this mission."
"I cannot believe I was fooled by that Peacekeeper. And I can't believe you weren't."
"Don't worry, D'Argo, I would have fallen for it if I weren't so suspicious of everyone we meet now." Crichton bit his lip as his head throbbed. "I think Mal intends to take us to Scorpius."
"Obviously."
"Now how do we get ourselves out of this?"
"Hello?" said a familiar feminine voice. "What have we here? You two look like you're in a bind. Need a hand?"
"Chiana," said Crichton. "How did you know we were here?"
"I didn't," the Nebari said, crawling over D'Argo and straddling his waist. "Purely accidental."
"And where is here?" D'Argo demanded.
"The hold of Mal's ship," Chiana replied. "I came to the hangar looking for John, and when I couldn't find you I decided to see if there was anything aboard Mal's ship worth…ah…claiming as payment for his passage on Moya."
Crichton laughed. "Thank God for your larcenous nature, Chiana. Just this once, though. Now, could you release us?"
"Certainly, but first…."
Crichton heard rustling as Chiana searched the hold. Moments later, both John and D'Argo were released of their bonds. They departed Mal's ship.
"Get Zhaan, Chiana," Crichton said. "D'Argo and I have to find Mal before he hurts the others."
Chiana nodded, smiling at him. She tried to reach up to hug him, but he pulled away from her as he headed for the exit out of the hangar.
"I'll get a weapon," said D'Argo.
John nodded his understanding. He wasn't going to wait, however. He had to find Mal before he hurt the others. Especially Aeryn. Mal was a Peacekeeper trained in the same skills as Aeryn. Mal had one advantage over her: she trusted him. He could attack her at any time without warning.
* * *
"Nice," said Mal. "Very nice."
Aeryn raised an eyebrow. "This used to be a cell, you know."
"I lived for several weekens on that ship you have in your hangar. This cell, as you put it, is palatial compared to what I have been used to."
"Mm." Aeryn was paying him little mind. She was making a bad hostess, she knew, but she was distracted. Distracted by thoughts of a certain Human who was closing himself down.
Mal took a device from within his duffel bag. It was a cylinder with a cone on one end.
"This may prove some interest to you," he said. "I found it on the last commerce planet. An interesting device created by a species known as the Albacars. They hated Sebaceans, particularly Peacekeepers."
"What's it for?" Aeryn asked, only mildly interested. She glanced at the entrance, yearning to get Mal settled in so she could find Crichton.
"Torture," Mal said. "It projects before it a cone of intense heat. The Albacars use this device to bring heat delirium on Sebaceans, slowly bringing on the Living Death. Then they would leave the Sebacean to suffer with the Living Death instead of mercifully ending their suffering."
"Sounds horrible," Aeryn said.
"I told you the Albacars hate Sebaceans."
"Then why do you have one of those devices?"
Mal's thumb touched a switch, and Aeryn was suddenly struck by a wave of intense heat. Her legs immediately gave out on her, and she slammed backward against a wall. She slid down to a sitting position and toppled onto her left side. Mal bent down and pulled Aeryn's pistol from its holster on her hip. He tucked it into his belt.
"W-why?" she stammered.
"The easier to give you to Scorpius. Or rather, get you out of the way so I can take John Crichton to Scorpius."
"You lied to us."
"Not entirely. Well, I lied about loving the Luxan female. A most foul race. I could barely even stomach telling you the lie. The fugitive part is true, though. I killed my captain."
"You are a traitor."
"No less than you, Aeryn Sun. I know all about you and the prisoners on this leviathan. And John Crichton. Scorpius would be especially grateful if I bring him Crichton. I'm aware that Scorpius wants Crichton alive. I already have Crichton and the Luxan in my ship. The Hynerian won't pose much of a threat, but the Delvian may."
"You're going to trade us for full reinstatement," Aeryn said. She felt her strength draining quickly. In another few microts the Living Death would be upon her. And while she was no more than a vegetable—if she remembered Crichton's expression correctly—the traitor Mal would take John and the others to Scorpius. Where John would face a most hideous torture in the Aurora Chair, and the others hard prison sentences.
She was about to close her eyes to wait for the Living Death when Crichton suddenly crashed into Mal. The Human drove the Sebacean into the far wall, and with him took the field of intense heat from Mal's device off of Aeryn. John held Mal by the collar of his shirt, slamming him against the wall.
"You stay away from her, you lizard-blooded bastard!" he seethed.
Crichton drew his fist back and hammered Mal's nose. He didn't stop with one blow, repeatedly raining punches into the Sebacean's face. John continued to sputter curses as he struck again and again and again.
Mal, recovering, drove his fist into John's gut. Crichton doubled over, giving Mal the opening to slam him around against the bulkhead. Mal delivered a flat-handed blow to Crichton's chest, and Aeryn heard the distinct crunch of ribs cracking. She winced, cursing herself for being unable to do more than watch helplessly.
Crichton sneered, and his hands wrapped themselves around Mal's throat. He pressed his thumbs against the Sebacean's windpipe, clearly determined to kill him. Aeryn had never seen John so ruthless before.
Mal took Aeryn's pistol from his belt, and a familiar whine filled the room. Mal stepped back away from John.
Crichton stared down at himself in disbelief. A dark stain of charred cloth marred his abdomen where the pulse beam had struck him. He put his hands to the wound, collapsing to his knees.
"No!" Aeryn screamed. "John!"
Her weapon. It was her weapon that had done this to him.
Mal shook his head. "I had hoped to bring you to Scorpius alive, Crichton. Well, I can't tell Scorpius I killed you. I'll have to make it look like you killed yourself. After all, isn't suicide better than the Aurora Chair?"
The Sebacean placed the muzzle of the pistol to Crichton's temple. John stared into Mal's eyes, not looking away. The Human's jaw was set, determined not to show fear to his enemy. Aeryn could only admire his determination. With some of her strength slowly returning, she crawled on her belly toward the two men.
"Anything you would like me to tell Scorpius?" Mal asked.
"Tell him I'll see him—and you—in hell."
Mal shrugged and prepared to fired the pistol into Crichton's head. Aeryn screamed for him to stop. Another whine filled the room, and a blue bolt bored into Mal's back. Mal turned around to face his newest threat.
D'Argo stood in the doorway, his Q'alta blade in rifle mode. The Luxan fired again, striking Mal's chest. Mal turned toward Crichton with his pistol. Aeryn scrambled for the male Sebacean with what little strength she had as D'Argo fired again.
Mal's pistol spoke, the energy pulse burrowing into Crichton's shoulder, piercing through to strike the bulkhead behind him. D'Argo moved further into the room, firing at point blank range. Okun Mal finally fell to the floor dead.
D'Argo tossed his weapon aside and knelt before Crichton. "John…."
"Aeryn," John said. "Is she…is she…."
"She'll survive, John. The Living Death hasn't taken hold."
Crichton smiled weakly. "Good. I think I have to sleep now."
"No, John, you have to stay awake." The Luxan tapped his communicator badge. "Zhaan, we need you in Mal's quarters. Hurry!"
"Déjà vu," Crichton murmured, barely audible. "At least this time it isn't Aeryn who's bleeding all over you."
"Zhaan!" D'Argo called again.
"I'm on my way," Zhaan responded.
John put a bloodstained hand on D'Argo's shoulder. "This is it, huh, big guy. A pulse blast to the gut and through the shoulder. I'm done for, aren't I."
D'Argo shook his head. "Don't talk that way, John."
"At least I won't have Scorpy in my head anymore." His eyes fluttered closed. "Good-bye, Scorpy. You won't be getting that wormhole knowledge from me. I guess you're S.O.L."
Aeryn bit her lip, a lump coming to her throat. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes. John! Oh, frell her Sebacean blood for her susceptibility to heat! She barely had the strength to lever herself to a sitting position.
"If I don't make it," John said, barely perceptible. "If I don't make it, tell Aeryn…tell her…." His head lolled forward as he said something to D'Argo. His voice was too low for her to hear.
Then his head slumped against D'Argo's shoulder.
"John!" Aeryn cried.
Zhaan entered the room and gently took Crichton from the Luxan. Chiana, coming in with the Delvian, was enlisted to help Zhaan as D'Argo went to Aeryn. He helped the former Peacekeeper into a sitting position against the bulkhead.
Aeryn swiped at her eyes before the threatening tears could roll free. D'Argo looked at her with sympathy.
"What did he tell you?" she asked. "He wanted you to tell me something."
"Only if he doesn't survive his wounds," D'Argo said. "I won't tell you until he succumbs, and I'm not willing to concede that. Are you?"
Aeryn shook her head, looking away from him to John's body sprawled on the floor with Zhaan working feverishly.
"He is strong, Aeryn," D'Argo said. "He has more strength than what we give him credit for."
"What if he wants to die though?" she asked, her voice catching. "He lost his will to fight back on the royal planet. What if he loses his will to fight back now?"
"Chiana, get my lebbit root!" Zhaan suddenly cried. "I'm losing him!"
Aeryn rested her forehead against D'Argo's shoulder. She set her jaw, pressing her lips together. She wasn't going to succumb. She was determined not to succumb to grief. It didn't work. Her body shook with sobs as the Luxan gently enfolded her in his comforting embrace.
* * *
The terrace was a peaceful sanctuary where Aeryn frequently sought solace. The force field keeping the ship's atmosphere within was all that stood between her and the cold vacuum of space. And from the entrancing view of the stars.
It had been two solar days since her agreeing to allow Mal on board had resulted in the grave injuries to John Crichton. She folded her arms across herself when she remembered him on the deck, bleeding with a pulse blast in his torso. He had been willing to sacrifice his life for her.
She had wanted to see him in the infirmary, to be there when he awoke just as he had been there for her after she was stabbed by the virus in Larraq's body. Every time she checked in on him, however, Chiana was there looking after him. Chiana stroking his hair. Chiana holding his hand.
She swallowed when Crichton appeared beside her. He was still sickly pale, and he was leaning on one of Rygel's scepters that he had commandeered for a cane. His left arm was immobilized in a sling.
"You should still be resting," she said quietly.
"I know, I feel like hell. You never came by the infirmary."
"I didn't want to disturb you."
"You wouldn't have disturbed me, Aeryn."
"And Chiana?"
"What about Chiana?"
"She never left your side."
John shuffled around to face her. He peered at her with light blue eyes. "So you did look in on me at least."
Aeryn averted her gaze. "Yes."
She felt his hand slip into hers. "So you do care."
She lifted her eyes to his. "Yes."
"I had to get out of the infirmary to get away from Chiana. She was starting to get on my nerves. She's been even more smothering than Zhaan."
"Chiana cares about you."
"Yeah, I guess I'm a big brother to her or something. But hanging around me for twenty-four hours a day…I don't know I guess was just…I don't know."
"You were getting sick of her."
"Yeah." He put a hand to Aeryn's cheek. "I wouldn't have gotten sick of you, though."
"You have, once, I recall."
"I was acting like an idiot then."
"It was my weapon that almost killed you."
"But you didn't pull the trigger. Mal did."
"I lost control of my weapon." She lowered her eyes. "It was fortunate I had it on a low setting or you would have been more seriously injured."
"You mean have half my gut blown away like what you did to NamTar?"
"Only you would not have regenerated as well as he did."
John put a finger to her chin to lift her face to his. "It wasn't your fault, Aeryn."
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I couldn't do anything for you." Her voice cracked, and she cursed herself for the weakness. "I was helpless."
"Your were affected by heat delirium, Aeryn. He ambushed you and hit you with that heat gun or whatever the hell it was. D'Argo told me it was specially designed to induce heat delirium on a Sebacean."
"What did you tell D'Argo?"
"What do you mean?"
Aeryn sighed. "I overheard you, John. You told D'Argo to tell me something if you didn't…." Her voice trailed off, unwilling to even verbalize the idea of him dying.
"Oh, that."
"I'm waiting."
He smiled. "I'm happy we made one thing clear between us."
Aeryn swallowed. "Which is?"
John leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips. "I'm glad we're genetically compatible."
"So am I."
"I'm tired, Aeryn. I think I have to go back to the infirmary."
She nodded. "Very well. Do you need some help?"
His grin widened. "I would appreciate that."
Aeryn put a supporting arm around his waist and helped him maneuver off the terrace.