Dark Horizons: Dark Chiana

by Meridian1

AU--Chiana is no longer the good girl...(spoilers for "Crackers Don't Matter" and eps before it)

Title: Dark Horizons 2: Dark Chiana

By: Meridian

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING HEREI mean, well I did write it, but I don't own the characters or possess any kind of permit thingy from anyone even related to people who work on the show Farscape. If you don't sue me, I promise to write a better story next time (note: don't sue me then either, k?)

Spoilers: Oh you bet! If you didn't see Crackers Don't Matter, this isn't going to make any sense! DON'T READ UNLESS YOU'VE SEEN CRACKERS DON'T MATTER!!!!


SPECIAL NOTES FOR THIS SERIES!!!!!
Yes, this is a series, but no, there is no continuity. The best way to explain this is to look at the title. The Dark Horizons Series is all about one character at a time, twisted into a story line separate from the established on the show. Specifically, these stories may go over new ground, or may revise old episodes in traditional WHAT IF? format. Basically, one character is not nearly as nice as they've been portrayed on television. This may sound funky, but it will throw you for a loop, and trust me, it makes more sense as you go along.


Special Thanks To: Michellemy poor, sympathetic reader who really has no attachment at all to this television show but who willingly reads my novel-length stories and gives me plot pointersall technical mistakes are all my own, so please, don't think for a moment anyone as smart as my buddy Michelle would miss those obvious errors which fill me with shame.


*Italics * = thoughts


************************************************************************************

Penny for your thoughts, Pip? Chiana diverted her gaze back from the window of the transport pod to look at her human crewmate.

I hate that nickname, Crichton.


Too bad, huh? His smile was sincere and infectious on even the worst of days, but Chiana restrained herself from returning it without much effort. Instead, she scowled. Sheesh, so-orry! Just thought you'd like to share whatever it was that you were thinking about just now. Looked like you were million miles away.

Look, I don't understand what a mile is, or just about anything else you say, Crichton, why don't you just leave my head alone? This quieted him for a microt, but then he shrugged and smiled more.

Why, cause it's so purdy, ma'am. Just thought I'd tell y'all so, Crichton laughed, barely able to keep serious through his exaggerated accent. Even though he was only mocking himself, it was still funny as hell. Chiana allowed a false smile; if it would keep him from talking any more, then it was worth it.


Just keep your attention on the pod, Crichton. If you bang this up, Aeryn will never let you fly solo again.

I'm not flying on my own now, am I? Or are you a ghost? A figment of my imagination, perhaps? Where's your Hawaiian shirt? He laughed and turned to do as she suggested, piloting the transport pod along their destined course to the commerce planet. Chiana ignored him and returned to staring at the blank stars in the void around them.

After they had all gotten a little cracker-happy, or so John had called it, another supply run was necessary. D'Argo and Aeryn chose to stay on board and ferret out any lingering problems that T'raltixx might have caused. Aeryn had to repair her Prowler and replace the casing she had removed to make a shield for Crichton. D'Argo volunteered to help Zhaan clean the mess hall and to make some sweeps of the ship to repair blaster damage, not to mention cleaning up and removing the cables that T'raltixx had appropriated. Rygel was only too happy to have the task of drawing up a list of supplies to be retrieved, but he did not volunteer his services as a barterer.

*Toad had a bit too much of a shake up with D'Argo.* Though neither one had told her as such, the uneasiness between them was apparent. The dominar had given her some of his trinkets for trade, something which had surprised them all to no end. Chiana half wanted to waste it, and frell what the rest of crew thought. But she decided it would be much more fun to be extremely responsible on this trip and get all the supplies. Then maybe they would trust her.

Drawing Crichton as her companion was the worst part. No matter what excuse she had allowed him, Chiana still despised him. *He was going to rape me.* It had not been his fault, it was delirium, and she had been just as mad as he or any other while T'raltixx was on board. The fear, though, the utter horror had shaken any insanity from her for that short confrontation. For the second time in her life, Chiana was terrified. The last time, she had been threatened with losing her individuality, with losing herself; this time was not too different. If Crichton had pressed his advantage, she would have lost herself as well.

Chiana shuddered away from that panic and fear to dwell in resentment. She had been nice, and if not, at least civil to Crichton, but he was by no means forgiven. Hurt rose in her as she remembered his insults. He had called her a slut and implied much worse. She could not lie to herself, though; the main reason she resented Crichton was for how he had scared her. She was his superior, maybe not in strength, but certainly in intelligence. Was not that inherent in her species genetics? Crichton was a backwards primitive compared to her.

And he had frightened her as badly as her entire people had. His threat to rape her was so chilling, so heartless that she had nearly passed out with fear. Someone's god or goddess had watched over her in the end though, saving her from a fate worse than brainwashing.

*And he has no idea what he's done.* Chiana stole a sideways glance at Crichton, who was maneuvering the pod for final docking on the planet. *Bastard.* A part of her knew it was irrational, and that Crichton regretted everything. Despite this knowledge, Chiana found it much easier to hate him, to blame him for her terror, to distance herself from him, from their friendship.

The incident on Moya was the worst, but Chiana easily recalled every time they had clashed, letting it feed her resentment. Every time she did not get her way when she wanted it and how she wanted it, Chiana pictured Crichton's face, pictured him telling her no. People like him wanted her back on Nebari Prime, a drone in a hive with no mind. People like him did not care when people she loved were dead, did not care about her mental wounds. He wanted her to be there for him, in his way, and she would never be allowed anything else.

*That's not entirely true.* She remembered Zhaan telling her. They had talked about Crichton's behavior on the cemetery planet after she had returned to Moya. The priestess was willing to listen, to really sit back and be quiet and just listen. When Chiana had stopped speaking, Zhaan had offered advice without stipulations; she could follow it or not as she chose. Chiana told herself she did not have to listen to Zhaan's words of censure. Crichton was selfish. Even when he was selfless he was selfish. He would die for her, risk death in innumerable ways, but he refused to let anyone be endangered for his life. And if danger was not necessary, by his definition of necessary, he forbade it.

*Bastard.* Chiana snorted. Crichton turned to her with a look of mock hurt. For a microt, she worried that she had spoken aloud, but there was no hint in Crichton's countenance that he was irritated by anything more than her sniffing at his landing.

That was a damn good landing, thank you very much! I don't need any comments from the peanut gallery. Chiana rolled her eyes and tried her best to banish the darker thoughts of rage to make a comparatively lighter, flippant, sarcastic remark. She could only guess what he meant about this peanut gallery' dren.

Maybe if you wouldn't land this thing like you were a dying Snaw dwarf, I wouldn't have to say anything. Dismissing any retort with a wave, she stood up. Let's just get the supplies and get out of here. After the last planet, I don't think we should spend too much time planet side. Crichton nodded without complaint.

*Why should he complain? Scorpius wants his frelling head, so of course, we should hurry and make sure that he doesn't get it.* Chiana did her level best to keep from hinting anything aloud as she moved out the exit hatch jingling Rygel's trinkets.

********************

Are you sure, Pilot?

Yes, Officer Sun. I have scanned the planet for any Peacekeeper presence. I have detected none. Aeryn nodded at the view screen with Pilot's purple image. They had to be doubly cautious. If Scorpius had bombarded the last commerce planet with beacons, nothing could stop him from peppering the Uncharted Territories with them.

No Peacekeeper technology at all, Pilot? The crustacean sighed.

I can run a scan if you wish, Officer Sun, but I don't think it will help. There is hardly a planet that has not some Peacekeeper technology on its surface. Aeryn nodded and stared off at space for a moment.

I'll scan the frequency of the last wanted beacon into Moya's database. You can check for that signal thento make it easier.

Thank you, Officer Sun. The image died away, and Aeryn set about to do as she promised. The beacon was still being uncooperative, only replaying Scorpius' image repeating the amount of the reward for John's capture. It did not matter now; all she needed was the components of the message for Pilot to use. It would take a short while, but they had the time. Or rather, she did. Zhaan and D'Argo were still cleaning up the mess hall. The blaster burns and destruction in command had taken an arn already, and her friends had only just begun to clean up the disintegrated crackers.

*Stupid Crichton. Can't he make a point without blowing something up?* Aeryn sighed, turning away from thoughts of her human crewmate. His words were still fresh in her memory; once insanity left her, it took away its invulnerability, leaving her wounded at the accusations he had hurtled. The only reason she had not taken revenge on him or given him a pointedly cold shoulder was the fact she had said things that were worse.

*Not worse, but just as bad.* Aeryn sighed aloud once more. No, that was not true. What she had said was worse. It did not help that Crichton seemed to be only concerned about how he had injured her. If he was even mildly hurt, or would only appear so, she could maybe feel less guilty. Yet he was completely miserable for having insulted her, and only somewhat receptive to her attempts at apology. He had made full apologies to D'Argo, Chiana, Pilot, and even Rygel. When he tried to talk to her, he was even more humbled.

That irritated her guilt more than anything else. If he were to admit she had struck him harshly, then maybe she would be able to handle this better. Instead, she had to live with the knowledge that he was still greatly oppressed by guilt for what he had said, so much so that he simply accepted her own accusations. His words made him feel worse than hers had.

And she had insulted him in more ways than he had her. Aeryn wanted to beat herself up for some of the things she had said. How many sore spots in his mind had she poked? She said he was nothing, that his father had been the only hero in the Crichton family. She said he was stupid, pathetic, genetically inferiorand so on. Maybe the genetically inferior part was correct, but she and the others had broken it to him with a considerable lack of finesse.

*We cannot be held responsible for that.*

No, they could not. Insanity had twisted the truth to a weapon, edging embarrassing and mean thoughts into painful lances that they had thrown at Crichton. Fortunately, he had been just as delirious as they at the time, and the full force of regret was dulled by time. Aeryn felt herself shiver with the possibilities. If Crichton had been in his right mind, those barbs might have driven him to desperation. He was teetered there now, in a way. He accepted blame; he usually did. In most cases, Crichton never sank to self-pity, but merely took up their curses and insults as a challenge to do better. While it was admirable, he was doing so at the expense of his own self-worth.

Aeryn was cast back to their trip to his home world, the false one created from his memories. Although she had spent most of the time either running or fighting, Aeryn noticed the respect Crichton commanded from his fellow humans,' once they trusted him a bit more, that was. In his world, Crichton was supposed to be one of the most intelligent, forward-thinking beings. How had his image of himself been changed since then? Discovering you were actually, in the great scheme of things, a technical moron? From hero and scientist to struggling and handicapped primitive. Aeryn felt special sympathy for him. She had struggled to overcome her lifetime of training, too.

*Maybe we should talk when he gets back.* That idea pleased her, though Aeryn tried to ignore exactly how much the idea of such a conversation elated her.

Officer Sun?

Yes, Pilot?

Do you have the frequencies scanned in? That brought her back to her work with a sudden rush.

One more microt, Pilot. She set to work like an automaton, banishing other thoughts now that she had made a happy resolution on the subject of Crichton.

********************

Take this back to the pod, John. Chiana dumped the box on top of the stack he was balancing.

What? Aren't you coming?

I want to stop in the tavern and get some raslak.

Oh, okay. I'll drop these off and come join you. Chiana shook her head.

No way. You're a little too famous right now, John. Chiana hoped he understood. She would never address him by his first name if she were not so worried about being captured by bounty hunters or Peacekeepers. He was Crichton' when she was angry.

So I get to baby-sit while you go paint the town red? Chiana made a face.

Whatever that means, the answer is yes. Just stay in the pod, I'll be back shortly. Call up to Moya, make sure we're still clear. Got it? Her tone allowed for no refusals. Crichton took one look at her crossed arms and humorless snarl and nodded.

Sure thing, Pip. He laughed as the scowl deepened on her lips and took off for the transport, whistling some song she could not identify. *Typical. How much comes out of his mouth that you can identify?* She shrugged the thought off as she felt bitterness rising in her gut. Leaving thoughts of Crichton at the door, Chiana entered the tavern and flocked to the tap keeper.

Why ello, pretty t'ing. Wha' can I git ya? Chiana smiled coyly, batting her lashes at the green biped tending the running tap.

Tell me you have raslak. I'm dying for something strong. The barkeep laughed, a nasal sound that originated in his gut. He turned to fix her a cup, but the liquid he poured was most definitely not raslak. It was a bright red liquid, colored like fresh Sebacean blood. The consistency was more watery, but the idea of drinking something that looked that much like blood was not a pleasant one.

ere yah go, traveler. Somet'ing much bettah.

What is this? Chiana took the cup but did not drink.

Graxic extract. T'ey take nectar from the qua-a-la flowers. Only creatures that can. Those flowers eat all th'other insects. Chiana shrugged and tried to look unconcerned as she drank the contents of her cup. The Graxic extract was cool and refreshing. She allowed a satisfied murmur to escape. The tavern man chuckled. Yah like?

I like, thank you. Chiana watched him over her cup as she drank. The other customers were all strewn around various tables, none within earshot of their quiet location. So, what does one do in this town besides dispense drinks? The green being laughed again, the hearty sound pleasing Chiana's ears. It was a trustworthy laugh, one that she liked.

Around ere? Is only those oo seek th'game. Chiana blinked. His dialect was particularly cumbersome to her microbes. It sounded like he said those who seek the game' but she had no idea whether that made sense or not.

What game? He laughed again.

T'ink you should ask which games we don'

This is just a place for amusement? The man shook his head, the purple strands of greasy hair-like cell extensions quivering around his head.

No, is for makin' folks less

Our main trade is in t'erapy.

Yah, planet full o'doctors. Chiana giggled.

A planet full of head doctors? What aninteresting place this must be. The man stared at her, apparently confused.

Wha' you come ere for, if not tha? Chiana looked around cautiously.

Just supplies.

Ah, then you are missing out on the best help in the universe, a voice cooed from behind her. Chiana, startled, spun around, nearly knocking over the voice's owner. Pardon me, off-worlder, I did not mean to frighten you. Chiana gave him a frown.

You didn't, you just startled me. The guest seated himself next to her with no invitation.

Ah, you do not like to admit when you are afraid, I see. It is a common weakness. Chiana's frown deepened.

And just who are you? The being presented her with a holographic beacon that whirred to life to display his face in an advertisement projection. I can't read those symbols.

I am Querel. I am awhat was it you said? A head doctor,' I believe was the phrase. Chiana appraised her guest with a shrewd eye. This being was a tentacled descendent of some many-legged sea creature. It had two biped-like arms, but instead of legs, many writhing tentacles supported its lower half. The skin tone was gray, much darker than her own. The eyes were enormous and gold. They appeared to see through her while examining for defects.

I have no need of your services, thank you anyway, Querel. Chiana placed a small trinket with the barkeep and rose to leave. One of Querel's tentacles caught her arm before she was half a metra away.

Please, allow me to explain. I am not here to beg of you for your patronage. It is the sworn duty of my people to serve lower species. Seeing the shock and outrage, he held up his hands to silence her. Please, I mean no disrespect, but you are not as skilled as we are in these matters. I meant no offense, young one. Chiana relaxed somewhat, still shaking her arm free of his tentacle. He willingly released her.

I need to get back to my ship. My friend will be worried. Chiana turned without further conversation and left the tavern. Querel slithered after her; his speed was extraordinary despite the defect of having to move about on many legs instead of only two.

You do not like this person, yet you call him friend? Chiana stared at him, an angry frown slipping from her face as surprise once more possessed her.

how do you know?

I am gifted. I would like to help you. Perhaps I can make you understand why you despise this one you call your friend.

I know why I hate him, thank you. Chiana grated through gritted teeth.

But you wish to still be his friend, do you not? She looked away. You do, but you do not like to be so forgiving. This path is dangerous. You will never be able to be friends if you do not sacrifice your anger. There are many games on this planet to divert that rage. I will help you.

*I must be losing my mindagain.* Chiana felt herself nod, suitably impressed with this earnest alien's talents to accept his assistance. Her survivor's mind cautioned her, but Chiana knew she was still in control. Nothing would happen, she would see to that.

What do I have to do?

I will call one of my assistants to come with us to meet your friend. Once we can analyze him, we can input his information into the game.

You're going to do what? Querel shook his head, holding up his hands in a gesture for patience.

Let me explain while you guide us. May I call my assistant? Chiana hesitated and then nodded. He hit some sort of communicator, something not that different from her com badge. At that moment, her badge came to life.

Chiana? You through playing with the locals? I think we should get out of here. Rage renewed at Crichton's sarcasm. She detested his choice of words even as she knew that he had no idea of the double meaning to them.

I'm coming shortly, John. Just sit put. She turned off her badge and looked expectantly at Querel.

My assistant will join us by following my signal. Lead the way, young one.

It's Chiana.

Please, continue on Chiana, and I will explain our processes to you.

********************

Well tell her to hurry up, John. Pilot says he's found no beacons on the planet, but this is making me nervous. We cannot stay here for very long. We place our lives in jeopardy if we stay

I know, Zhaan, I know. Don't worry, Chiana is on her way. She wanted to stop to carouse a little, get something to drink. D'Argo's voice broke in over Zhaan's.

And you let her go off on her own?

Hey, she told me to come back here with supplies and wait. She said she'd be back, and she will be. I think I hear her coming. I'll talk to you guys when we get back to Moya. The signal was cut from the planet end, leaving the crew to stand around in command with nothing to do.

How is the mess hall coming? Aeryn wondered aloud, just talking for the sake of conversation. D'Argo groaned.

Those crackers are still everywhere. We will need the vacuum of space to get all those crumbs out. Aeryn smiled and nodded in sympathy. She turned to Zhaan. The Delvian appeared worried.

Something the matter, Zhaan? Zhaan seemed to shake herself from her reverie to regard her friend with focused eyes.

Not really, Aeryn. I am just still curious about Chiana.

About Chiana? Aeryn tried to keep incredulity out of her voice, but she could not prevent some measure of disbelief to enter her question. If she had to pick one of the two crewmembers on the planet to be curious about, Chiana was not it.

When I talked to her last, she seemed rather upset with Crichton. I wonder if her taking off has anything to do with that. Silence reigned again in command until Zhaan spoke again. She has still not completely forgiven him for his behavior of late, and I am afraid that this episode with T'raltixx has not improved matters. I do not know what was said or done, but John seemed rather penitent.

That is not unusual, Zhaan, D'Argo reminded her. He's usually screwing something up, so when he's not doing that, he's apologizing for it. Zhaan shook her head.

No, I did not mean like that, dear D'Argo. I cannot say what, but I believe their altercation was particularly unnerving for Chiana, and John feels doubly responsible. Aeryn nodded in agreement. Whether or not it had anything to with Chiana, she knew the human adopted easily to the part of ship's scapegoat, and they all found it rather easy to blame him. *At least he's grown into the role.*

Well, just so long as she's not putting either of them or us in danger, I suppose it's all right for her to explore. D'Argo groaned again.

Aeryn, if Crichton can't keep out of trouble, how do you expect Chiana to? Believe it or not, John is the more responsible of the two. That brought a fresh round of anxious silence. No one had any rebuttal for D'Argo's comment; no one wanted to hear one either.

********************

Chiana tried to quell the nervous flipping of her stomach. She had no idea why she was afraid to bring Querel to their transport pod. It was not out of distrust of the healer that she felt so stressed, but rather she worried over Crichton's reaction. He had been adamantly opposed to T'raltixx's presence on Moya, and as it had turned out, he had been correct in his distrust. This was different, but no matter how often she said so, she still worried.

Hey Chi! The gang is getting kinda tired of waiting on us, so what do you say Crichton stopped speaking as he turned to face the entryway and saw Chiana standing there with two unknown aliens. Chiana seized upon the opportunity; otherwise, if he started to speak again, she might not get a word in.

Crichton, this is Querel and his assistant, Xesha. They have offered me some help. The human's eyes went from one to the other then back to Chiana, skepticism never leaving his look.

Chiana, and no offence to your guests, but I think that would be rather unwise. So, thanks but no thanks, guys. Crichton waved at them, hoping they would take the hint. No one moved except for Chiana, who strutted right up to Crichton, invading his personal space with an angry glare.

I want to talk with them. They say there's a game here that can help me. Crichton whirled to face her, panic and fear evident in his excited reaction. Clearly, he believed she was talking about therapy, but therapy along the lines of Molnon and his people's version of therapy.

What are you talking about? We're out of here in ten microts, Chiana. She crossed her arms and backed away to look at her guests.

Can you do the scan now? The sooner, the better, as far as I'm concerned.

Certainly, Chiana. Querel approached slowly, but Crichton still drew his pulse pistol.

I think that's far enough. I never agreed to any scan. If that screws up your little game, too bad. Back off! Querel retreated, not frightened in the least. If Chiana had to guess, she would have said that he looked amused.

That was enough. I have the measurements, Chiana. When would you like to begin?

What are you talking about? What measurements?

John, Querel needs to take your image for his tech-clone.

For his what?

Allow me, Chiana, Querel interceded. He looked abruptly at the weapon John still had trained on him. Please, it is not within my nature to harm. Our people are peaceful and only seek to help others. Crichton laughed crazily, his tone making Chiana shiver with the memory of recent events.

No offence, Chi, but I could say the same thing about the Nebari. What do you say we track down Durka and see what he thinks about their help,' hmm?

I assure you, we are only interested in helping Chiana.

That so? Then why don't you help me convince her that this is a bad idea? Querel laughed quietly.

You are so afraid of us? Why? We mean you no harm, Crichton. Crichton flinched at hearing the creature pronounce his name. Chiana has some problems that she wishes to discuss with us.

Listen squidie, John snapped. As soon as we get out of here, I'll make sure she gets to spend a few arns crying on a Delvian Freud's couch, okay? Querel shook his hands and laughed once more.

No, no, she will not be talking. This is anger therapy. It will tax her need to physically attack those she feels angry with. It is a form of release. We run a simulation where she commands everything. She may act as she will against our expertly crafted automatic clones. Chiana shifted uneasily as John turned to stare at her, open-mouthed and stuttering.

you want to cloneme? Chianawhy didn't you say something? You don't have to do this. You can talk to me. His face was so earnest that Chiana felt herself on the verge of giving in. *No, no, talk can always come later. This is the way. I can get out my rage safely, and he need never know about it.*

No, John, this is what I want to do. If you don't want to stay, go back to Moya. If there's trouble, you guys can leave and come back and get me later.

And if we can't? Chiana's hopeful gaze sank until Querel placed a compassionate tentacle on her shoulder.

Do not fear. We will protect her. If possible, we will see she is given passage off the planet. Please, trust us.

Chiana looked at him with all the anger she had been burying.

Leave, Crichton. Tell the others, that this is what I'm going to do.

I won't do that, Chiana.

And how will you stop me? John raised the pulse pistol and pointed it at Querel.

I can kill him. Querel's eyes widened in surprise.

I had not thought you to be soI do not know the words. Chiana indicated that you do not care for violence. John tilted his head slightly, casting a maniacal grin at the alien.

Things change.

Querel seemed impressed but not frightened. Come, Chiana, I can now understand why you wish to work these demons out. Do not fear, she will be returned safely, or me and my crew will die trying, Crichton. You have my word.

And what's that worth? Nothing to me, Q-pid. Querel furrowed his brow trying to understand the jibe. Never mind. Chiana, I'm calling Moya. You wait outside while we talk. I'll let you know the decision. Too furious to speak, Chiana stomped out. Querel sent Xesha after her.

Save it, and go join your buddy out there. This isn't for your ears either, Q-pid. Querel spoke slowly, his words carefully chosen. This being irritated him, something few had the ability to do.

Crichton, I cannot do that. You will not present our case as an impartial being would.

You are smart, ain't yah? Crichton sneered. Chiana is not your responsibility, Q-pid, so back off. Querel calmed frustration once more as he glided over to Crichton's side and attempted to prevent him from opening the com to Moya.

Please, allow me to explain this exercise again Crichton backhanded him, sending the alien reeling back on his hind tentacles.

You frelling touch that console again, and I'm going to see if you bleed gray too. He growled and opened the com. Hey up there?

Yeah, Zhaan, it's me. Listen, we may have a problem.

Oh dear Goddess, what? John heard D'Argo mutter told you so' to the audience in command.

Chiana seems to think some aliens are going to be able to help her out with a few personal problems, and I don't think it's a good idea.

John, perhaps you should let her. It was rather helpful the last time. I know it is hard

Zhaan, right now is not the time. And this is not some isolated planet. This place is crawling with life. It's too dangerous to stay.

John, get Chiana back up here, now. Aeryn silenced the debate with her order. John smiled. *Thank God for Aeryn. What would I do without her?* Querel noticed Crichton's smile as the woman talked and stored the data for Chiana's therapy game.

He turned to face Querel with an angry, impatient glare.

Look, I told you, we're not interested! Chiana and I are getting out of he Querel's tentacle slashed across Crichton's face, sending him backwards, off his feet and through the air. He crashed, stunned and bleeding from a newly opened cut on his forehead. Querel slithered over and quickly repeated the blow several times until Crichton was unconscious. The doctor could not risk drugging him. From Chiana's description, this man was not Sebacean. As such, he could not be treated as one.

Chiana's voice rang and reverberated as she called from just outside.

Your friends have agreed to allow the game, Chiana.

They have? The excited question was considerably closer, so Querel rushed out to stop her from entering any further.

Yes, but your friend is most upset. I do not think it wise to talk to him now. Let us get started. Xesha? Querel turned to his assistant.

Yes, sir?

Would you give the location to Chiana's friend? He will wish to know where the game will be held. Chiana smirked and then scowled.

Like he cares. He just never lets me have any fun.

We will exercise that feeling out, Chiana, have no fear, Querel placed an arm around her shoulders and walked out with her, describing the setup and the procedures to her while Xesha entered the pod.

Chiana never noticed that the assistant never rejoined them.

********************

Look, I told you, we're not interested! Chiana and I are getting out of he Crichton's last words were followed by some sounds, a loud thump for one. In command, the silence was oppressive. They heard a strange voice murmuring something then Chiana calling out hopefully. More noises followed, retreating away from the com station. Then the same shuffling was back, followed by another sound, something akin to noise one would make while dragging something heavy across a floor. Whatever was working there apparently realized the com was still on because there was another thud, presumably the heavy thing being dropped, before the com link was severed.

No one could speak. What had happened to Crichton? Why did not Chiana seem to care or even know? Aeryn swallowed against her heartbeat, finding that breathing had suddenly become very difficult. *John would not just stop talking like that. John would say something. He would talk to meto us.*

Zhaan whispered then spoke louder. The com was dead, which made the effort all the more futile.

Pilot, what happened to the signal? Aeryn stared at D'Argo as her crewmate went through the motions as if he had no idea what had happened. *Why doesn't he admit something has happened to John? Why isn't he doing something?*

The signal has been terminated from Crichton's end. I can try to hail him, if you wish.

Please do so, Pilot, Zhaan's tone was soothing, as was the arm she placed on Aeryn's own. The priestess had seen Aeryn's panic, well hidden though it was. She, too, was worried for her friend, and it did not appear that Chiana had any idea that anything was amiss. Vaguely, Aeryn heard Pilot calling though the com link to the transport pod.

Commander Crichton? Chiana? Please, some one answer. Commander Crichton? Are you all right? Commander? Nothing. Aeryn felt her chest constrict in an odd, painful way. It took her a moment to realize that she was nearly hyperventilating. Zhaan's arm had moved to embrace her around the shoulders, and the priestess used her considerable power to calm her friend.

What the frell is going on? D'Argo roared to no one. His way of displaying concern was either to be conciliatory as Zhaan was or to destroy things. Aeryn decided she would rather he were on the rampage. *I want him to destroy whatever has cut John off from usfrom me.*

*No, I want to destroy whatever has cut John off from me.*

We must go down and see what has happened. Aeryn was not asking for their approval. She was going down, and if she had to go alone, she would.

Agreed. Who will go?

I will, Zhaan too. I would like to have you there, D'Argo, but we cannot simply leave Moya and Pilot alone with Rygel.

And why not? The tiny Hynerian spoke from his concealment before scooting out to enter the conversation.

Aeryn could not hide her embarrassment. She had already wounded Rygel's pride when T'raltixx was on board, and she had not meant to do so again. You were listening?

Every word. We must act now, bring Chiana to her senses. Oh, and rescue Crichton of course. Amazing, he managed to get into trouble without even wandering off this time. His joke was not well received, but Zhaan at least smiled in appreciation of the effort.

Then you will stay here, Rygel, D'Argo's tone was placating, one that Aeryn had never heard him use with their ex-Dominar before. *Something serious did occur between them, and D'Argo was at fault.* Aeryn stored this information away, trying to keep her focus on Crichton.

Let's get ready then. D'Argo, you take your blade, I'll pack all the pulse weapons I can find. Zhaan

I know, Aeryn, I will bring as many medicinal herbs as I can pack. Aeryn nodded, grateful that she was so intuitive.

We'll meet in transport pod two in a quarter of an arn. Agreed?

The chorus of voices responded before each went to make ready. Aeryn took off at a fast lope to gather her weapons, starting with those she kept in her room. She slipped three different knives into her clothes, one in her boot, another inside her vest, and the third tucked into an elaborate clip for her hair. The clip was a reserve weapon, one that no one would ever suspect. A pulse pistol went into her thigh holster, another into her other boot, and she slung the largest pulse rifle around her shoulder while carrying the three smaller ones to the transport.

*I'm coming, John.* She took one look at the weapons she had assembled, nodded in satisfaction, and made for the transport pods. On the way, she thought about Chiana for the first time since the transmission. *If he is hurt, that little tralk is going to die.*

********************

okay, ow, Crichton moaned as he rolled around on what he presumed was the floor. His cheek felt like it was on fire, his head like it was split open so the elephants inside could march out of his brain and then march right back in, and his back was stiff from lying wherever he was.

Good morning, you piece of dren! Crichton groaned but opened his eyes when he placed the voice.

Slowly, he rolled over towards where he thought her voice was coming from.

Yeah, it's me, Crichton. Oh, excuse me, John. Wouldn't want to put us in jeopardy by using your last name. But oops! I just did, didn't I? I used your full name! Oh dear, I bet Scorpius' spies have already sent for him! And you'll be easy pickings in there! Whatever will I do?

Crichton looked around in his daze. *Am I in a cell?* As his vision cleared, Crichton recognized the basic structure of a prison cell all around him. It was primitive, to be sure; there were only bars around a small chamber, in which he was currently lying. Ever carefully, he pushed up from the floor, managing to make it to his elbows before nausea prevented him from moving any further.

What's the matter, John? Not used to having some one else call the shots? Chiana snaked closer to the bars, reaching out to pet his hair where he lay. Instinctively, Crichton jerked away from her touch. Instantly off balance, he toppled to the ground again. Had it been any further away, he might have blacked out again when his head hit the dirt. As it was, the trumpet-playing herd of pachyderms only started to tromp around more furiously in his head.

Chiana, you have to get me something for this headache when we get out of here. What happened? Who caught us? With some trepidation, he asked, Is it Scorpius?

What do you mean we,' John? Crichton rolled his eyes around the surroundings once more. There were no other cells here; his was the only one in an otherwise empty storage room.

Thank God, you're free! Chiana faltered for a moment. Get me out of here, and we can get the hell away from these guys. Chiana's predatory smile chilled him. Her moment of indecision passed. Querel had said that the tech-clone would be incredibly life-like, and he had not disappointed. But when the John clone had seemed happy that she was not a prisoner, she could not move. Querel promised the clone would act exactly like John, and if John would be concerned, then how could she be mad? Then the clone had demanded she let him out.

Oh, I get it. I'm only useful when I'm getting you out of trouble, Crichton, is that it?

What the frell are you talking about? Chiana, those guys are bad news. That Q guy beat the living dren out of me, and he's responsible for me being here, I know it. We need to get out here before he realizes you're talking to me. If he thinks you're on his side, he'll never suspect it when you

When I what, John? And who says he doesn't know I'm here? This is all part of the game, Crichton. Crichton stared at her in horror. His mind protested as he tried to quickly place this comment. *Didn't that Q-pid guy mention her therapy would be a game?* He paused his thought train for a moment as the pieces began to assemble. *She thinks this is a game???*

Chiana, this is no game. These guys are going to do some bad shitdren! We have to get out of here!

Amazing, Querel said you would be so life-like. I never imagined

Chiana, remember the rules! The voice hissed in her ear. Querel maintained a link to her through a receiver. His way of explaining it was that he feared she might be too wrapped up in her therapy and might begin to have trouble discerning reality from the simulation. Also, he wished that the rules not be violated. The tech-clones were so real that not even they knew that they were not. Telling them otherwise was dangerous. Chiana cursed her near slip.

*If I frell this up, they may not let me continue.* She composed herself by flicking open the knife Querel had given her. Crichton watched the blade open with widened eyes.

Chiana? What are you doing? We need to escape!

There is no escape, not for you, John. Chiana produced a key and entered his cell. Crichton backed away, only his arms responding to his commands. His legs retained feeling, letting him know they were stiff from hours of stillness and that the floor was cold, but otherwise, they were dead weights. Still, he frantically hefted himself away from the approaching Nebari.

Oh no, no, no, John. She caught him by his hair and yanked backwards with all her strength. Crichton screamed as he felt his back bend just a fraction too much in the wrong direction. In his ear, Chiana laughed and pulled harder. He cried out again, his hands coming up to futilely struggle against her. For some reason, his muscles were sluggish and weak, rather like his more heavily affected legs.

please, whatever is wrong, you have to listen to me The cool blade sliding against his throat silenced him, as did her breathing in his ear.

No, John, I am through listening to you. You no longer order me around. Now it's my turn, she purred, malice dripping from her breathy words. In a desperate attack, Crichton threw himself to the side as he grabbed Chiana's arms and tried to yank her in another direction. She fumbled with the knife as she fell, and Crichton felt the slice along his jaw as he rolled away, his body registering pain and still refusing to move on its own.

Oh, nicely done, John, Chiana cackled as she sprung to her feet and then to his side. His arms now above him as he lay on his back, Crichton tried to catch her arms when she attacked. Instead, the blade of the knife bit into one his hands as Chiana slashed downwards and then ducked away. Crichton brought his wounded hand to his mouth to suckle at the blood in any automatic defense measure. Chiana watched from her crouch. This move was so real. The clone really bled, and he really thought he would die if he continued to do so.

*Ah, I must thank Querel when this simulation is over. I have never felt suchsuch a rush!*

gotten into you? Crichton gritted his teeth against the pain in his hand only to feel the slice in his jaw radiate pain for doing so. His breath began to catch, coming in gasps. Chiana stared at him in wonder. why are youwhat did I do to you? The wonder disappeared and was replaced by rage, enough to scare Crichton more than either Aeryn or D'Argo ever could.

What did you do! Oh, John, you know what you did! She leapt forward again, satisfied to see him put his arms up to protect his face. A quick slash and the blade bit into his exposed forearm. He screamed again until Chiana gave him a quick jab to the midsection and drove out all the air from his lungs. She perched on his stomach, rocking on her feet as he wheezed and grunted and vainly tried to push her off with his wounded arms. Each time the open wound struck her, he cried out and recoiled.

You tried to rape me, you bastard! The terror in his eyes made her crazed. *Admit it! Admit it, you son of a tralk!* She did not just want an apology; the real John had already given her one of those. She wanted him to pay in pain, to scream until he was hoarse and mute, and to be as scared as she had been.

I didn't meanChiana, you know that wasn't me! I was crazy his voice was pitifully reduced by her position, so she moved back to sit on his legs. He made no attempt to sit up.

That doesn't mean it didn't happen, Crichton!


I'm sorryI'm sorryI'm sorry Chiana's gaze snapped to his bloody face. A trail of tears blazed a path through the blood on his cheek. Something inside cried out against what she had done. *It's not real! It's not real!* The voice quieted. Chiana leaned forward, keeping her face light and uncertain. Crichton opened his eyes to stare at her, hope shining from his panicked blue eyes.

That's not good enough, she murmured. Crichton's eyes widened as she drove the knife straight down through his throat.

For a moment, nothing happened. Air was not yet a problem, and he had been shocked into holding his breath, so he had yet to try breathing. Then life rushed back out of pause, bringing immense pain with it. Every time he tried to breathe, he choked on the blood pooling in his throat, pooling around the cold metal that was lodged there. His eyelids started to sag; he could no longer keep them open. Darkness tugged at his mind, and he found himself drifting toward it and away from the pain. His eyes were fixed on Chiana as his life left his body.

Chiana waited until the tech-clone stopped breathing. For no reason, she shuddered. It was a robot, Querel had promised her that. The way it died, though, had been real enough to scare her into wondering if it were otherwise. What if it were a living clone? She had just killed a thing that had not deserved it. Querel's voice coming over her earpiece did not startle her out of this reverie.

Well done, Chiana. Tell me, how do you feel?

I think I'm going to be sick. Querel laughed quietly.

I understand. I apologize, but I did warn you that this simulation would be life-like.

Was thatthing alive?

You could not tell the difference? No matter. To answer your question, no, it was not. That is the best tech-clone available. Now you see why we are so famous. Chiana stumbled back away from the body, turned her head, and heaved up everything she had eaten in the past solar day. Her stomach churned outward until she was coughing up mucus once her stomach was empty.

Relax, Chiana, I will help you, Xesha appeared at her side and quickly injected her with a muscle relaxant. This will prevent you from gagging. Please, we must clean you up for examination. Do not worry, the tech-clone will be repaired for the next time. Chiana stared at her helper as Xesha brought her unsteadily to her feet.

Next time?

Why, yes. Didn't you know that you must repeat this test? Not until you may face this one with no apprehension can you resolve your anger. He cannot dominate you if you have no fear. Chiana tossed a look over her shoulder at the tech-clone's body. *I have to do that again?* As if sensing this question, Xesha shook her head.

No, young one, not that way, not again. Perhaps Querel assumed too much of your anger. The next time, the clone will not speak. You will only act.

I don't think I can do that again. I know it's supposed to help, and he did make me mad, but Crichton doesn't deserve that. Xesha nodded.

No, he does not. This way, you will know both that you need not fear him and that hurting him is not the way either. Chiana shook her head. The words were so confusing.

Then why must I do this again?

To banish fear. Deep down, I can sense fear. Querel can too. We will purge it from you. You need never fear, Chiana, we will protect you until you are fearless for all your life. Chiana let the assistant lead her away from the death spectacle and toward a cleansing bath.

A moment after they left, Querel appeared out of a hidden door.

There, take him to the resuscitation room. Two of his men walked in and hefted Crichton's dead body up and back through the door. Querel removed the blade as they passed. *Perhaps Chiana will enjoy this souvenir.* Surveying everything once more and finding that all was satisfactory, Querel closed the door behind him.

The next two arns would be trying and complex. Chiana would be moved to the next facility in the game, and Crichton would have to be repaired in transit to that location. The resuscitation would be easy enough but repairing his wounds with a minimum of scarring would be tricky. Chiana would panic if she saw that the clone' was not totally repairable.

That would ruin their progress.

Not acceptable, Querel said aloud. His assistants knew better than to ask questions. They carried the body to their transport to the next location while Querel left them to meet with Chiana when she was finished with her cleansing cycle.

She would need to talk.

********************

ello there, can I elp you? The green bartender turned somewhat lilac with sick fear as he saw the three people enter his tavern. The first was definitely a Peacekeeper; the aura of violence about her turned him three more shades of purple. The tall Luxan behind her prowled in with danger rolling off his shoulders. The third was a Delvian, a usually peaceful species, he knew, but this one looked ready to indulge those darker impulses that they were rumored to possess.

We are looking for a woman. Her name is Chiana. She is shorter than I, and gray. Nebari. Have you seen her?

I beg your pah-don? Aeryn smiled and took a deep breath. The barkeep swallowed, relaxing as he saw her calming herself to repeat the message. Aeryn, of course, intended no such thing. Instead, she lurched forward and seized large chunks of his skin in her hand while producing a rather large blaster and pointing it under his nose.

Tell me where she is, or I will find another source of information. Aeryn purred with considerable malice, shoving the blaster into his skin and gripping the skin she held tighter. At her back, D'Argo stared down any who would challenge or attempt to stop them. Zhaan came up beside Aeryn, and the barkeep looked to her for help. She smiled sweetly at him, enough so that his panic receded somewhat.

You had better tell her. You know how impatient Peacekeepers can be when they don't get results. The barkeep looked back at Aeryn, who tilted her head and cast a crazed eye at him. Tell us where our friend is. My friend here has described her already. She is a Nebari, about our height, gray-skinned and her name is Chiana. The barkeep swallowed, still nervous. Zhaan leaned closer to him. We know she came in here, so you would do well to tell us. It may set us back a few days, but my friend here will kill you if you do not speak. The barkeep nodded, and Aeryn released her hold but kept her weapon ready.

Th'girl was ere. Th'doctor took her tah see her friend. I spect she is playin' a game, right now, e'en. Aeryn looked to Zhaan, who nodded. She would handle the interrogation.

Thank you, now, isn't that much better? Tell me, which doctor approached my friend?

is name is Querel.

Where do we find this Querel? The barkeep shook his head.

WRONG ANSWER! Aeryn bellowed and buried her rifle in his chest, finger itching on the trigger. Zhaan's smile widened.

I think you had best reconsider.

I don' know, really! Th'doctor moves around th'game fields. It depends on where your friend is at.

Can you show us where the first of these fields' is? The barkeep nodded vigorously, and Aeryn backed away again. Zhaan gestured for him to walk around and in front of her. D'Argo marched out ahead, covering their informant from the front as Aeryn covered him from behind.

Is t'is way. The barkeep pointed and started walking as Aeryn shoved him forward with the muzzle of her rifle. Zhaan continued to take precise directions while Aeryn concentrated on not killing their makeshift hostage. She could sense D'Argo doing the same. The Luxan was hesitant to admit it, but she knew he was concerned about Crichton, as she was. Crichton had wounded him physically while they had all been insane, but considering the harsh reactions that were dealt to others, including Crichton, D'Argo was the luckiest one, with the possible exception of Zhaan.

They had tracked down the transport pod in time to fire at a band of looters. D'Argo entered sniffing and identified two alien smells, and those of John and Chiana. What was more worrisome was that he smelled both John and John's blood. Aeryn scoured all over for the source, discovering a small pooling of blood on the floor of the wall farthest away from the com panel. Whatever had stopped John from signaling them, from talking to them, had beaten him rather quickly into either death or unconsciousness. The blood was minor, indicating perhaps drugs had been used.

Aeryn refused to believe John was dead. D'Argo said he believed John had been alive when he had been taken. There was a strong scent, sweat and a little plasma from the bleeding human mixed with adrenaline along a pathway towards the outer hatch. That meant Crichton had been dragged off while still alive.

They all hoped he would still be so when they found him again.

********************

The three beings moved with the slimy bartender between them. She watched in silence as the Peacekeeper kept prodding him onward. The direction was as unmistakable as the scent. It assaulted her sensitive nose. She dropped it to the ground to absorb the aliens' individual scents. The tall male smelled of anger; the blue female smelled of masked violence; the other female's odor was a sweet mixture of panic and rage. The aromas were character descriptions, and she stored them deep within her mind.

She had seen the Querel being enter the pod, and her ears had sent back the report of a fight almost a quarter arn later. The gray female left, her aroma spoke of anxious excitement. Then the slimy assistant to Querel appeared, dragging a male alien with him. At first, she was surprised to realize he was no Peacekeeper, not even a Sebacean. His scent was divine, even tantalizing. It spoke of earnestness, a caring being that had learned to survive without entirely abandoning compassion. That was her favorite kind of alien.

The assistant was the center of a swarm of technicians in a microt after she left the flying vehicle. All of them sampled the wounded male. She wanted to cry out for him to awaken, but her species' credo was self-preservation first, and she remained silent. The male did not wake, and soon the acidic smell of a drug wafted to her searching nostrils. The male was helpless now, a hopeless case if those beings were going to use him in their barbaric game.

She hoped the gray female would turn coward, but there had been nothing in her scent to indicate such. The male was taken away. She did not know why, but she followed, leaping about treetops and rooftops alike until she saw them enter the first game zone. It was one she had seen before. Compassion for the male made her worry. She had decided to stay and watch.

Then these four had shown up. The three who were so worried and angry moved as a unit, each a part of a whole. The slimy thing between them shuffled about frightened. She held herself still and plastered herself against her camouflaged position. That slimy one had eyes that were extraordinary, not as attuned as hers, but beyond the others' comprehension.

Silently, she edged closer. She wanted a better look.

********************

Darkness was his friend until pain shocked him into opening his eyelids. John Crichton vaguely wondered what hurt more, his head or his neck. The feeling of stiffness had sunk in so far he wondered where he began and it stopped. Unconsciously, he tried to rub at his neck. His arm refused to move. The command was not reaching the muscles there. A swishing noise caught his attention, but his neck would not turn so that he could see what had alerted him.

Ah, you are awake. Excellent, you are more resilient than I would have thought. Crichton rolled his eyes, amazed at the effort it took to do so. Every fraction of an inch was a battle. Finally, he spied the speaker. His mind dove for the reference in his memory that would let him know who it was.

Q something, right? The being nodded and approached him, moving fully into his field of vision.

I am Querel. Crichton blinked, again taking several microts to do so. He realized he was paralyzed about the same time he remembered exactly who Querel was. Sheer panic caused him to lurch away slightly, an ability that was then corrected as Querel injected him with something else.

Do not move, Crichton. The drug is very potent. Strangely, Crichton felt the prick on the needle, felt Querel's warm hands on his skin but could not move his arm. Looking at himself as best he could, Crichton discovered, not without some embarrassment, that he was naked. A thin sheet had been pulled over him, leaving his chest exposed, but he was still certain that he was naked. His PK vest and his black tee shirt were gone. Seeing the direction of his gaze, Querel spoke again.

We removed your garments because they were stained with your blood. Chiana would be upset if she were to come here and see that. And for this part of her game, they would have to be removed anyway.

Crichton whispered, his eyes widening suddenly even with the strain of having to overcome his muscles' sluggishness. A wild living nightmare played in his mind, a nightmare that involved Chiana, a knife, his blood, and his death. What the hell have you done!?! His voice was shrill with horror. *I was dead! Not dyingDEAD!* Crichton's mind threatened to black out once more in protest against this frightening concept.

Yes, her therapy. You must feel wonderful to know you have helped her.

WHAT? Helped her! Are you out of your mind!?!

Please, do not shout. And yes, helped. Chiana was most upset with you.

She triedtried to kill me. His tongue had trouble forming the word tried.' *She did! That bitch! She did kill me! Oh God, what am I saying? It's not possible...but she did!* Querel was opening his mouth to speak once more, and Crichton wanted desperately to shout him down, but his tongue had fallen prey to the slackened condition of the rest of his muscles.

Yes, she did. We have revived you. No permanent damage will be done. I do this for you as much as her. Crichton had not the liberty of widened eyes; all he could do was stare out of the half-opened lids while Querel moved about, positioning his head so that he was looking at the ceiling.

Chiana needed to learn not to fear you. I sense that you fear death. This is the best way to cure you both. Crichton wanted to cry. *This maniac thinks he's helping me!?!* The scrape of metal on the floor neared his head as Querel brought over a tray of surgical instruments. His heart leapt around his chest, frantically dodging every which way as if to avoid the scalpel it knew was there but could not see. *This is not happeningthis is not happening.*

Chiana! Come, the tech-clone is repaired. Crichton listened for the light footsteps he knew so well and did not know whether to be happy or terrified when he heard them approach. Slowly, he rolled his eyes toward her. Her usual furry print suit was gone; she wore a garment that resembled a surgeon's scrubs. New fear began to take root in Crichton's already nervous chest.

I don't know if I can do this.

I apologize for allowing him to speak before. I was wrong. You were not ready. This way is much easier for you. Crichton listened, incredulous, hearing real concern in the doctor's voice.

But, I'm not mad at him. He only made me mad by talking before.

You need not even think of this as your friend, Chiana. *What the frell do you mean! I amwas her friend!* Crichton began to shudder internally as he remembered that Chiana had no idea of the truth. *And Querel can bring me back. She gets to kill me until she's tired of doing itand he'll keep bringing me backover and o*

The slice of a scalpel-like tool brought his mind back to a familiar enemy: Pain. Chiana was staring at him. He could only cast horror through slitted eyes, but she did not seem to notice. To Chiana, the tech-clone appeared indifferent this time. He did not protest as he had done before. Upset, she slashed quickly and needlessly at his face, her tool burying in the thin flesh stretched over his forehead and traveling down and over his eye.

Crichton roared inside, distress and pain making him nauseous and lightheaded. His reaction was so great that he managed to loll his head to the side after Chiana had attacked, protecting his wounded face and shredded eye. *I'll never be able to see through that eye again.* His more logical statement was drowned in a cacophony of crazed howls, none of which made it to his lips.

Very good, Chiana. No fear, remember. Chiana shook away the uneasiness. The tech-clone had reacted, had thrown his head to the side in defense, but had not retreated. *He's drugged?* No, that made no sense. The clone was not alive. *Querel modified him so he cannot move. I must have hurt him terribly to allow him to override that control.* Chiana saw the clone's blank look and oozing faceand smiled.

No fear. She returned to making her cut through his chest. The skin sliced easily away, but Querel had to hand her a laser cutter to break the thick bone that held his rib cage together. Chiana savored the next moment for a while. She had opened his chest quickly enough to see his heart still beating in its usually dark prison. Sheer shock and blood loss soon stilled it.

Not soon enough for Crichton. He felt his heart squeeze in pain and adrenaline shock. *I'm dying. Chiana! Help me! I'm dying! Some one! Help* His heart having stopped a long while ago, oxygen loss finally claimed the conscious part of John Crichton's brain. Through his one good eye, Crichton saw Chiana leaning over and examining his face as his life was snuffed out.

Chiana stepped away to look at the mess on the table. Querel appraised her, sensing her confusion and her acceptance. This exercise was the right one for her, for the time being anyway. He made a note for his assistant. They would repair the Crichton being and resume this exercise.

Chiana, it is time to get you clean and discuss today's game. Chiana looked up at him with sad eyes. Seeing the clone sprawled there, rigid and immobile in death, she wanted to vomit again. It looked so much like John.

So much she whispered aloud. Querel's arms were around her instantly, leading her out of the room.

Do not worry, Chiana. You will have no fear, then you will see the real Crichton and be free at last. Chiana nodded against him. She clung to that hope. If this did not help her, there was no reason to make any being, living or no, suffer like that.

********************

Are you sure no one else is here, D'Argo? The Luxan shook his head. No foreign aromas, save for those that were already buried into the fabric of the room, such as the smell of the pool of dried blood besides which Aeryn was standing. His nose still twitched, but he ignored it as he was unable to place the strange feeling that there was another scent that he was missing. Zhaan had left the nervous barkeep under D'Argo's supervision to join her friend.

For her part, Aeryn was doing the best job she had ever done in distancing the facts from her emotions. The blood all over the floor had to be Crichton's, assuming that the barkeep had told them the truth; Chiana's blood was another color and consistency entirely. She absorbed the details in the splashes of blood, the pattern of droplets recreating the struggle here.

Crichton had to have been lying down for these wounds to have so little spraying around where they had fallen. The thin tracks suggested non-fatal wounds, the dark, thick pooling did not. *A kill.* Aeryn battled her rising gorge. *No, no, he's alive. He has to be.* Her fingers traced along the pool. It was so much, and a large pool of dried blood meant that there had been even more fresh blood spilt. No one she knew could survive that blood loss unless tended to immediately.

Aeryn, what happened here? She snapped to attention at Zhaan's question. Still absent-mindedly dragging her fingers along the stain, Aeryn focused on keeping all worry from her voice.

It's Crichton's blood. It has to be. D'Argo? The Luxan did not turn around.

I can smell it from here, Aeryn. It's Crichton's. Zhaan's brow creased with considerable emotion. It's over here as well, a trail of it. Both women looked at their friend curiously. The Luxan warrior bent closer to the ground as he searched out several droplets. There are droplets here. He was carried out. Aeryn nodded, accepting D'Argo's assessment as calmly as she could. *That doesn't mean he's deadit doesn't!* Her conclusions were beginning to take a turn for the decidedly negative.

*Crichton is dead.*

She shook her head, trying to dislodge that thought, but the insistent, truthful sound repeated its statement, only this time it was worse. *John is dead. John is dead. John is dead.* Zhaan seemed to sense her sorrow and placed a hand on Aeryn's arm.

Do you sense anything else, dear D'Argo?

Aeryn's eyes narrowed into an ugly glare at the name. D'Argo's voice held no love either. If Chiana had been here, she should have tried to help. From D'Argo's clear disgust, Aeryn knew he did not believe she had.

Aeryn's question held equal malevolence. D'Argo sniffed lightly and stood to approach her and Zhaan, still inside the cell. A guttural growl escaped him as he approached the bloodstain. Aeryn nodded once, pursing her lips to keep from screaming.

Chiana had some part in John's death? Zhaan placed her hand over her chest and swore a prayer in a voice of disbelief. D'Argo growled once more then spun to strike at the wall in real fury. For some reason, Aeryn found that gesture to be entirely comforting. Crichton was important to her, but it was nice to see that he had endeared himself to the others as much as he had to her. Aeryn rose abruptly, startled into movement when she saw the barkeep shrink away after D'Argo's furious attack.

You frelling she never bothered to finish the threat as she closed the gap between them and throttled the informant.

Aeryn! We may need him to help us find Chiana! Zhaan's call held no hint of concern for the man's health. To the three of them, he was a tool to be used. At first, they had hoped to use him to find Crichton. Aeryn processed only rage and murder in her mind.

*Now I will use him to help me find Chiana so I can rip her throat out.*

Where are they taking her next? D'Argo was suddenly at her shoulder, again, not offering to help their captive informant. The barkeep cringed even as he struggled, clawing at Aeryn's grip. *Stop it! You need him if you want to find thatChiana!* Rudely, she threw him aside and walked away, putting as much distance as she could between them as she leaned against the wall, her pulse rifle still trained on him.

T'ey take er to th'next zone. I don' know where t'at is! No one knows! Is up to th'doctor! D'Argo backhanded the barkeep, who crumpled to the floor, whimpering.

He will be of no use to us, he called over his shoulder. Zhaan and Aeryn each nodded in complete agreement.

Then let's find someone who will. Aeryn pushed away from the wall, hitting her com badge as she did so.

Yes, Officer Sun?

Is Chiana's signature anywhere in this vicinity?

No, Officer Sun. I checked as you requested, but I cannot find her.

Thank you anyway, Pilot. Keep searching. Frustrated, Aeryn prowled toward the door, only too ready to leave this death place.

Officer Sun? Aeryn halted at Pilot's voice.

Yes, Pilot? Zhaan replied for her.

I hope you do not mind, but I scanned the area for Commander Crichton's signature as well. Aeryn swallowed apprehension. Now it would be certain that he was dead. Pilot would tell them that he was dead, that he could not trace the human's signature either.

It's all right, Pilot. Tell us, what have you found?

My sensors showed Commander Crichton's bio signature about six thousand metras south of your position.

Aeryn heard the second that time stopped as if it were an explosion in her ears. *He found Crichton's signature! He found John! He's alive! Alive!*

Blessed Goddess! Pilot, are you certain?

Unfortunately, no. As quickly as hope had been reborn, it died.

The signal was terminated once more.

Aeryn asked half-heartedly.

The signal did not move, Officer Sun. I will pinpoint the exact coordinates for you. Zhaan stood and left the confined cell to approach her friend with a caring arm.

Thank you, Pilot, we will wait for those coordinates. Aeryn allowed a small smile of appreciation for Zhaan, who returned it with one of her own. D'Argo growled at the barkeep, who backed away and inadvertently into Aeryn. That was when she realized he was a loose end that needed to be removed.

You. In there! She used her blaster for emphasis and the timid man jumped to obey. Once he was cowering inside, Aeryn slammed the cell door shut. Now, we are going to find our friends, but we cannot have you telling these people that we were here. Understand? He nodded mutely. I will leave the key she scooped the discarded key from the floor, keeping the rifle trained on him. And you will let yourself out after you count to one hundred microts. If I see you out before then, I will kill you. If you tell these creatures that we are looking for them, I will kill you. Aeryn leaned closer to the cage, the bars casting a sinister shadow to her features.

I could kill you now. You know that, don't you? The being recoiled a full metra backwards. Then I believe I am understood. She dropped the key just short of the bars. D'Argo was the lookout at the door, Zhaan was behind him, ready to leave. Aeryn walked over to them when D'Argo nodded to indicate the coast was clear. Before she left, she pivoted at glared at the barkeep.

I don't hear you counting. Her eyes widened swiftly and relaxed, and the man quivered again.

One, two, t'ree

********************

Nine'y nine, one hundred. She watched the man finish his count. His fear rudely attacked her sensitive nostrils. The other three had no intention of returning for himunless he disobeyed the female. His scent told her he would not be so foolish.

For a while, she had been afraid that the male would discover her behind the wall. His nose was almost as developed as her own. Her memory told her that he was a Luxan, a species whose ancestor was not all that removed from her own. As far as she could tell or recall, his nose was like that of the canine species; it told the possessor who or what was near, recognized scents as belonging to people and such.

That was all within her own olfactory powers, but she could sense other, more important qualities. Beings radiated who they were as much as what they were with their pheromones. She sensed that the female with the weapons was tough but definitely trustworthy. The blue one was a plant, and her aroma spoke of serenity laced with danger. The male was devoted, a being that gave its trust slowly but rarely erred in that judgment once trust was formed.

His scent puzzled her now. It suggested that perhaps he considered he had made a mistake in the extension of friendship. She assumed he could only be thinking of the gray female, the one who had initiated the game. The male was dead and alive and dead again, so this Luxan could not really find fault with him could he? She did not have that answer.

She, too, had found this place empty, but she had done so deliberately. The doctors had carted off the female a long while ago, more than a solar day had passed since then. The male, the one who smelled friendly, she knew his death throes were all over the room. The Luxan had been right; the male was carried away. Using her superior nose, she detected the trick to opening the secret viewing panel. The Luxan frightened her once into thinking he was going to see it too, but he never approached too close.

The blood that had dripped along her corridor led to a transport, long gone by the time she reached the port for it. The whole area stunk of disinfectant and smoke, the kind of superstitious practice of burning incense having, apparently, something to do with their resuscitation procedures. The trail would be fresh for a while, but not indefinitely, so she started off as soon as she made sure that the barkeep obeyed the female's orders and left without attracting attention.

The hunt was on.

********************

Chiana stared at the mirror she had been staring at for the past arn. Xesha had left her alone after the last round of therapy, trusting that the young Nebari had at last accepted the false world they presented her. Chiana had no idea if that was the case any more, but all pity for the tech-clone was long spent, even after only three kills.

And they were kills. Slowly but surely, the rational part of her mind was winning out. Killing this robot drone of her friend solved nothing. It desensitized her to killing him, but Chiana promised herself that she would never actually act out against Crichton in that way. *Never, no matter how mad he makes me.* The past three solar days had been spent in cycling through Querel's therapy. It started with the kill inside the cell, then a session where she simply cried and vomited until the ugly, dirty feeling receded. Querel was extremely patient, accepting her hesitancy but always reminding her it was fear and subordination that made her a slave.

They had moved only twice, each time to a new zone. The last time had been inside a medical lab, again, because Querel sensed that she did particularly well with the clone in that setting.

*Next time, he'll talk.* Querel had told her as much, which left her in her current state of insecurity. She did not care any more. Killing the clone did not remove fear, it did not solve her irritation with Crichton because it did not last. Each time she extinguished him, there was a moment of fear in his eyes, nothing more. Querel had kept him from moving, from speaking; he was a helpless victim. Chiana had no idea if that made her feel worse than killing the real Crichton would have.

Once in a while, she wondered about him and the other occupants of Moya. Had they left the system entirely? Would they indeed return? Querel often told her not to think so far in advance. Sadly, if he was correct, she knew that thinking too much of the future would only depress her, as only more therapy loomed, according to Querel.

*So, here I am.* She mouthed the words in the mirror, flashing her teeth in a cruel smile to make herself feel fierce. *I am fierce.* That was true. She could add to that cruel, heartless, and unafraid.

*Then why do I stay?* Querel said she was not ready, but Chiana could sense no fear. Though a bit unusual and somewhat unnerving, Querel's treatment had burned out most of her rage, and being separated from Crichton had taken care of the rest. Rational thinking told her that she was wrong to blame Crichton for his actions while T'raltixx had been on board. Still, a part of her enjoyed the release of punishing something that looked like him for his actions.

Shaking herself from her introspection, Chiana turned to see Xesha standing in the doorway. Querel says there is a problem. Panic played across Chiana's face, but Xesha held her in silence while she explained. One of our game zones wasviolated. Querel is worried that it might be rioters. Not all agree with our desire to aid, Chiana. It will be safest if we move to a more remote location once tonight's session is completed.

What is tonight's session?

Querel will allow you to talk to the clone, Chiana. This is a severe test, you must strive hard to pass. Chiana nodded and walked out with Xesha. A thought occurred to her as they left the room.

By any chance, do you know if my friend might have been one of the one's responsible for breaking into the zone? Xesha smiled and shook her head.

No, I can promise you that that one was nowhere near the zone when it was broken in to. Chiana nodded and followed obediently even as she wondered exactly how Xesha knew for sure that Crichton had not been there. She would have thought he would be leading the charge. *He would never let me just leave for this longnot for three days.* Chiana shrugged, setting aside concerns about the real Crichton to prepare herself for the therapy session. However, she could not completely shake a feeling of disturbance.

*Why hasn't Crichton come looking for me?*

********************

Life had ceased to be fair a long time before he had been blown into the wrong side of space, but right now, the exact unfairness of life was really irritating John Crichton. He never knew how many days passed, but his internal clock indicated it was a long time. Something more rational in his mind pointed out that being dead has a way of ruining that internal barometer.

*Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer*

Times such as these, filled with the anxious anticipation and fear of the next death cycle, were the bane of his existence. Querel said he was afraid of death, but every time Chiana approached, the only reason his heart thumped harder was in fear of pain. *And she's only killed me three times.* Crichton rolled his eyes at himself. *Only three? Oh, yeah, why not a hundred? What am I, a cat? Got nine lives, Johnny-boy? Let's see, three down, six to go*

Excellent, you're awake. That was Querel, Crichton knew but did not bother to look at the source; the drugs in his system would never allow him to do it anyway, and he had already abandoned trying to reason with the Uncharted Territories' version of Hannibal Lector. At this point, he would have welcomed even the sick perversions of that imaginary psycho over his current situation. And Crichton had no idea if that was a good thing or not.

*Oh go back to your cage, Q-tip.* Crichton thought in Querel's direction.

Chiana will be here soon. Please, be considerate of her feelings. She is a fragile creature, after all, and she still has much fear. Try not to disturb her. You do wish to help her, as her friend? Crichton would have sneered if he had been able. For a second, he thought he felt his lips twist but knew better than to hope that they had responded to his mental commands.

Crichton shuddered away from Querel's voice, internally wishing he could at least flip off the sick doctor. *Help Chiana? Considerate of her feelings? Right, well, excuse me for being selfish.* He shivered when he pictured Chiana each time she attacked. *Afraid? Afraid my ass* Whatever this therapy' was doing to her, it would probably be more damaging than her physical attacks were to him. *Doesn't say anything about how crazy I'm going to be.* He shied away from those thoughts. Conscious thought, serious and rational thought were coming up scarce. His automatic reactions were dominating; when Chiana approached, he curled his mind in on itself, steeling himself against the pain that would come.

*Submissive. I'm being submissive.* Even as he told himself so, Crichton felt that internal cringing as he shut his mind down and crawled away from consciousness. The closer he was to unconsciousness, the less death affected him. The tear on his mind was ripped wider each time he was snatched back to life from the black nothing where his soul passed. Crichton had given up on even thinking about his soul at this point. All that mattered was avoiding pain and escaping from life or death permanently. It did not matter necessarily which was the ultimate end, but he wanted one or the other.

*Frelling Aurora Chair wasn't even this bad*

Chiana practically slithered toward him. The only part of his mind that he spared to observation laughed at her movements. Chiana had a dancer's agility, but this snaky movement was more akin to that of the doctor and his kind. Well, have you anything to say to me?

Nothing you'd hear, Pip. The observant sector sent shocks to the rest of his mind, rousing it away from its protective covering. *You talked! You can talk! Talk to her! Now!* As he approached full consciousness, he noticed Chiana staring at him, dumbfounded as to how she should reply.

Oh, and why is that?

Because Q-tip hasn't let me since you killed me the first time. He threw everything, all his pain, his fear, his confusion, all that Chiana had woken in him, into his words. His tone came out as something of a growl mixed with spite and a bit of exhaustion. Chiana blinked once, regarding him as she usually had, twisting her head on her neck as though each new angle would reveal something she did not or could not see.

You remember? Chiana crept a little closer, crouching down to see the tech-clone from about his waist level. He was propped up in a sitting position, slumped against the corner. His eyes moved about her body, absorbing details. *No, no! I can't let him know anything! If he thinks he's Crichton, he'll try to trick me!* It was a completely irrational thought, but Chiana lunged at him nonetheless. She had the immense satisfaction of seeing him react in utter fright. His eyes radiated alarm the microt before she slashed across them both with her knife. His hollering was deafening as he collapsed on the bench away from the wall, his eyes bleeding and torn.

Tell me, how do you feel? Chiana did her best to imitate Querel's voice and laughed at her impersonation, her giggles topping Crichton's sobs and continued moans of pain. Shut up! She kicked him in the gut, delighting in the grunt of pain and the whimpering as he dutifully silenced for a moment.

Like a million bucks, bitch. He gasped over pain. Chiana leaned over again, and even though sightless, Crichton recoiled as best as he could when she reached out to stroke his cheek.

Shh, shh, Johnny, I'm not going to hurt you Despite the mocking tone, Crichton heard his chance come in her words. Now that she knew he could talk, she might be willing to listen, to hear him.

*It's worth a shot.*

Chiana, pleaselisten to me Crichton vainly wished he could see if she was smiling. If she was, he was a dead managain.

Aw, I could never refuse you, John. Her voice was startlingly close, and he felt her breath on his ear. At least, that's what you hoped anyway. You listen to me first, Crichton, and maybe I'll leave your tongue intact so you can talk to me next. Okay? He nodded mutely. Say you're sorry.

I'm sorry. His mind raged against this humbleness. *Nevernot after what you've done, sister. I may be a lot of things, but sorry just ain't one of them!*

I'm not your tralk. I am no one's tralk. I am not awhat was that word you used? Slut'? Say I'm not that, Crichton. Her breath was hot, but the blade she drew along his jaw was cold.

You're not a slut. *No! You're WORSE!* Crichton bit his tongue to keep from screaming at her. *Murderer! Cold-blooded bitch! Murderer! MURDERER!*

There, now. Was that so hard? She laughed lightly. Your turn, John. What did you want to tell me?


I'm real. Chiana's fluttery laugh tortured his ears. *NO! You must believe me! Chiana, you have to!*

That is so original. Querel says he's heard that one a million times.

Listen to me, Goddamn it! I. Am. John. The certainty of his tone mixed with her buried pity made Chiana pause. She had to restrain herself doubly this time as she felt as equally inclined to kill him as to hug him.

I know you think you are. The real Crichton was never this weak. I suppose that's the whole problem, hmm? Chiana shook her head, mock sighing. Crichton's mind reeled, unsure whether to try again or to retreat until she killed him once more.

Chiana, listen to me

SHUT UP! The blade of the knife flashed as she slapped the flat side against his cheek. Stunned and thankful to still be alive, even though it would only be for a short while, Crichton did as ordered. Why did you have to make me so angry? I would never have done this, not even to a mechanoid like you. Querel made you too well. This time, I end it, and I never look back. I am not afraid of you any more. I never was. I have no shame for feeling trapped by you before. I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of the real John Crichton either.

Chiana, please Crichton had no idea why he was begging. *Let her! It will be over with! She'll keep the squid people from bringing you back! No more! No more!* But never in his life had Crichton simply allowed death to happen to him. Even when sedated, he refused to go at the last minute. No matter that he prepared himself for the tugging of the darkness and that he thought he accepted it, he never had. *I can't let her do this. I have to convince her.*

Just think, in another day, you'll be someone else's nightmare. Another face in another place. You don't have to be Crichton any more. No one should have to be him, she added with a sarcastic hint of amusement. *No! No!*

No! I am Crichton! I am me! Chiana! It's me! Her hand faltered for one split-second before she slashed downward at his gut. This would be her last kill, and no matter how he died, she would feel remorse. *If I must suffer this to end, so must he.* The warmth of his blood and some of his vital organs spilt over the hand that remained immobile about his midsection.

His death cry, the last she ever intended to hear, deafened her. Chiana never knew the exact moment of death because of the ringing in her ears. Once she was certain that the clone was dead, truly and really dead, she stood away from it. Snarling, she flicked the knife at the far wall and left with the blade still swinging back and forth where it was buried in the wall.

********************

Officer Sun? Aeryn halted, suddenly glad that she had not crawled too close to the location they had tracked down with Pilot's help. Chiana's signal had been located within a six-hundred metra circle, but it would flicker out on occasion. What had really drawn them here was John's steady life scan. After having lost it three times, Pilot found it steady and secure, without the strange muting affect that had plagued it. The signal was not as steady as any of theirs, but Zhaan had intimated that such a condition could be due to anything, disease or drugs.

Commander Crichton's signal has become inactive once more. Aeryn nodded and whispered her thank you to Pilot while she crawled closer to the building. The local boy they had paid for information had pointed out the game zone in this area of the city.

Pilot, what about Chiana? Aeryn's whisper had the intended effect of encouraging Pilot to be likewise quiet.

Her signal has The news seemed to surprise Pilot as much as Aeryn.

Where's she going, Pilot? There was a pause as Pilot worked on his end to trace the signal.

She appears to be heading towards you, Officer Sun. As is anothera signal I cannot identify. Aeryn ignored the last part of the message despite the tactical danger it might place her in.

Chiana had just emerged from the door she had been sneaking up to. Immediately, Aeryn ducked further into the tall grass, thanking any deity who would listen that this remote zone had such great camouflage. Chiana was not alone. At least four other beings, all of some species she could not identify, were surrounding the Nebari. One chatted noisily, heaping praises or some such nonsense, Aeryn assumed. The other beings appeared to defer to him. Holding her breath and trying to clear her mind to think of her course, Aeryn waited for them to pass.

We shall celebrate your success tonight, Chiana! The noisy one cried, raising his arms in a gesture of jubilation and placing one around Chiana's shoulders, hugging her tightly. Chiana smiled half-heartedly, but even the minutest happiness made Aeryn's fury flare up within her.

*Frell the easy way, I'm going to kill her now.*

Just then, the other signal' dropped Aeryn from behind with no more noise than that of the wind rustling through the grasses. Yet still the observant beings with Chiana turned, alarmed. Aeryn saw her attacker leap upwards and had to restrain herself from crying out. *That thing will give me away!*

She could not have been more wrong. As soon as the creature pounced out from hiding, the entire troupe shrieked in surprise and some in horror. The furry creature hissed at them, and even the leader cried out as it lunged.

The cry was repeated as the whole party ran as fast and as far from the beast as it could. Chiana led them all, her swift legs still able to carry her thanks to years of living on the run. Aeryn again tried to stand and grab Chiana, convinced she could catch the Nebari. The creature turned at the slightest movement from Aeryn and hissed.

Aeryn froze in place while her attacker examined the fleeing group of people. Satisfied that they were truly gone, it trotted back on all fours to the edge of the grasses and crouched there. You may come out, female. I will not hurt you. Sneering at the thought of this creature harming her, Aeryn trudged out without hesitation, her blaster and pulse rifle at the ready.

Zhaan, D'Argo! She barked over her com, taking notice of how the creature winced at the loud order and flattened her ears against her head.

Not so loud, off-worlder. You will alert the guards. Aeryn did not move or venture to speak, not even to offer a retort or command for answers until Zhaan and D'Argo caught up to her position.

Aeryn, we thought we saw Chi Zhaan halted abruptly, mid-sentence when she saw the creature sitting in front of the ex-Peacekeeper. Not as affected as her friend, the Delvian stepped closer, holding her hands out in a peace gesture. The being in front of her sniffed and nodded, allowing Zhaan to approach. Who are you? Her tone was guarded, not entirely trustful and definitely cautious but also optimistic and hopeful. The creature blinked and sniffed once more.

To Aeryn's microbes, the hissing voice translated as Si-teh-ya.' Upon closer inspection, Aeryn determined that the completely furry being was a female. The fur itself was nearly iridescent, but the color flickered with each gesture. *Camouflage. If she can change her appearance, she may have been following us for a while.* While that thought was alarming, the diminutive air about Scytea did not suggest violence, at least not violence directed against them.

Why did you attack me, Scytea? The harsh question startled the feline biped, but she only scratched at her ears absently, unimpressed by the threat of violence she smelled from Aeryn. *She is worried for the male. His scent is around her, old, but there.* Vaguely, Scytea wondered if the male belonged to this female, but the matter was irrelevant at the moment.

To keep you from warning the Luifils. Seeing no understanding, she sighed, her nose twitching sideways and her whiskers flashing. The doctors who have the gray female. I do not know her species. The doctors are Luifils, sea-descendents. Scytea retreated back a step after she spoke. *Why did I tell them? I owe them no explanation.* None of the three questioning her seemed to notice or care.

Where are they taking Chiana!?! Aeryn cared neither for a history lesson or the motives of this creature in helping them. Chiana had to pay for what she had done, and Aeryn could not feel again until the Nebari was dead. *Not suffering in guilt, not suffering period. Dead.*

The gray one? Oh, they will celebrate. She stinks of death, like they do. Aeryn's horror released a wave over the feline woman who backed away at the power of it. *The male must belong to her. He must be hers.* Zhaan dropped at Aeryn's side, and sitting on her knees, she immediately swore several holy oaths. Surprised at the vehemence of the action, Aeryn turned her eyes from Scytea. Scytea watched with an impressed air.

Zhaan, are you all right? The Delvian shook her head, not able to speak as she continued to pray. Scytea leaned back on her haunches and stared, waiting for an explanation. This practice seemed more superstitious than the rituals used by the Luifils in their resuscitations. The immense sadness and fear alarmed her.

Is the plant female broken in some way? She is missing something? Scytea found this all too confusing. The male, she had thought, belonged to the armed female, but this one was praying over him, or so she assumed. *It is his smell. He smells honorable, he must be so. They mourn for him.*

No, Scytea, I am not broken. It is customary to pray this way for release when the bond formed in Unity is shattered. Iam ashamed to admit that I had not done so yet because I

Refused to believe Crichton is dead? Aeryn filled in with no pleasure in her response. Zhaan nodded and returned to her prayer. Aeryn kicked at a stone, sending it launching away. *Damn this beast and her nose. Why did she have to make it so definite?* She dropped her head to her chest to try and assemble some semblance of rational thought.

The malehe is Cry-ton? Aeryn's head snapped up.

Why do you care? Aeryn challenged. Why did she care? Crichton was no ally of hers, no one she knew at all. D'Argo nearly laughed at Aeryn's obvious jealousy. *Damn him anyway. Can't go on a single trip any where without having some frelling woman on his heels. No wonder Aeryn is upset.* He covered his mirth and returned to seriousness, trying to dull Aeryn's snapping.

You know him? D'Argo sounded as hopeful as Aeryn felt. Scytea smiled and emitted a purring noise.

You have a good nose, but you do not know him as I do. I smelled him before, when the Luifils took him. He smelled worthy of your concern. It was the simplest and truest way she could sum up the scent of the male.

He is worthy, D'Argo confirmed. Is that why you have followed us here? Scytea scrunched up her nose with a toothy smile.

I found my way here on my own. I did see you, but I prefer to hunt alone. I wascurious about your friend D'Argo nodded, still somewhat skeptical of her intentions, but convinced enough to allow his weapon to drop away. Having finished her prayers, Zhaan stood once more at Aeryn's side.

We must find Chiana and have her explain what has happened here. Scytea growled, a feral sound that rolled in her throat. Her noise drew their attention once more, as did her attempt to stand. Felicanes were roughly bipedal, still preferring to hunt on all fours but possessing the upright adaptation as well. Her legs were long, the bending of her joints all displaying her feline ancestry.

You cannot question her while the Luifils are with her. They will lie to her about the game. She will not believe what you say. She will not want to. What you tell her will be a tale of torture more horrid than she can believe herself capable of committing. Bored with having to explain, Scytea set about cleaning her ruffled fur around her shoulders.

What are you talking about?

The game, female.

Just Aeryn, none of this female dren.

Very well, Aeryn. Scytea rolled the r' with a purr as she continued to clean herself, unconsciously sinking back to sitting on her hind legs as she did so.

What is this about a game? Scytea stopped with her arm about halfway to her waiting tongue, clearly shocked into stillness. *They do not know of the game? How is it the gray one fooled them?* A low growl escaped her when she realized that most likely the Luifils had not even allowed these people to know what was going on when they took the gray female. Querel, it must be.

Who is this Querel? D'Argo's answering growl was no act. A name. They had alread heard that name, the name to put to a monster they could not as yet identify. *Yet,* D'Argo promised both himself, and with more melancholy, Crichton, that the monster responsible would pay.

The head bastard, I knew I smelled his stench, Scytea sneered. He is the only one who is base enough to take your friend without telling you about the game. No Luifil ever tells the subject being executed, but usually there is some warning extended to the others. Querel sees no reason to do this.

How do you know so much about him? D'Argo's suspicion returned with a vengeance. So much of this trip had consisted of trusting random strangers, something for which life on the run in the Uncharted Territories had not prepared him.

My nose, male. There is a stench of duplicity about him. The Luifils stink of arrogance. He reeks of that and cheating. Scytea paused for a microt, a wicked smile coming to her lips a moment later. Maybe if I help you, you let me kill him, no? Luifils may stink, but they are so tasty. She licked her lips, running her tongue over her pointed teeth in sweet anticipation. Luifils were so hard to kill because they protected themselves well, strength in their many limbs and in their numbers. Also, a death confirmed as being caused by her meant suicide. The people, his people, would hunt her and her kind to extinction.

*But if these ones take him down, I may finish him when I wish, and no one can blame me.* A contented purr rose from her lungs. This was a plan with promise.

No. Anyone responsible for what has happened is mine. Aeryn grated through gritted teeth. She had planned on having Chiana's head anyway, what was one or a thousand more? Scytea stopped purring and adopted a pout. Aeryn bluntly ignored it.

Food then? You must allow me a meal of this. I can help you get the one you want alone. D'Argo listened to the creature's plea, which called back memories of M'Lee, the sentient calcivore that might have devoured him. This Scytea was little better, but he sensed that she was intelligent enough to know when not to attack so as not to draw unwanted attention. A plan, lacking any cohesion, but a plan nonetheless began to form.

Aeryn, I think we can use her help. Aeryn spun to glare at her Luxan friend. You saw how those creatures fled when they saw her. Think, think clearly. They fear her because they think she is a feral beast, right?

Something they can't heal, Scytea hissed with due hatred.

She could entice them to flee once more, and we could grab Chiana in the confusion. Aeryn listened, the rational mind agreeing, her emotions crying kill' over and over. Finally, rationality won the day, and she nodded.

We can't let Chiana see us. Zhaan coughed lightly. All three pairs of eyes turned to her, silent in expectation.

I believe I may be of some assistance there.

********************

Chiana had found her happiness once more. The prospect of meeting the others, even meeting Crichton had lost the edge of anxiety she had applied to it. Of course, rather good, sweet, and cool Graxic extract helped quite a bit. As far as anyone had informed her, there was no intoxicating element to the ruby liquid, but the immense satisfaction and pleasure in drinking it belied its tame effects. The ambiance in the small local tavern also eased her mind. She was celebrating a successful round of therapy with a group of people who, though only three days her friends, made her welcome among them even as they treated her.

And she did feel remarkably better. Gone were the guilt and remorse, the horror and shock of killing. Here was a party, and Chiana knew, almost instinctively, how to enjoy herself at a party. Querel was chatting with various assistants, always gesturing at Chiana with great sweeping hand motions, his body language screaming pride and self-satisfaction.

The peace and jovial atmosphere were not to last. A breathless member of the party, who had stepped outside with another assistant, much to Chiana's amusement, returned. The female assistant at his side was unconscious and bleeding, angry scratches all over her arm.

Felicane! Felicane she-devil! The others ran around the wounded assistant, whom Chiana finally recognized as Xesha. Querel surged forward to check on his first assistant, but Chiana caught him by the arm.

What is a felicane? Querel blanched at the name, and Chiana, rather easily, gathered that this local was not friendly, to say the least.

A monster, Chiana. They prowl the forestlands around this area. I had hoped that our sighting tonight was only an accident, us trespassing on its feeding ground. This one appears to have developed a taste for city-dwellers. Fear not, we will take care of it. Querel breezed by her to assist the group, passing out orders for bandages and the like. Chiana found his terror was immensely amusing. *Looks like Querel could use some of his own medicine. Guess a felicane is harder to handle than a human.*

We must take her to our zone. Querel commanded, and his assistants simultaneously obeyed, lifting their woozy comrade and preparing to head outside, despite the chances that the attacker could still be looming, waiting for another swipe. Querel turned and asked the tavern owner for something, and she replied simply by depositing the largest of the cutting knives from a drawer. A strange sense of duty impelled Chiana to follow. After all, these people had helped her, saved her from fear, she owed them some sort of fellowship in a trying time.

*Return the favor.*

She smirked as she heard Crichton's words in her mind; it made her half-wish to hear his voice again and left her wondering about when she would indeed hear that particular being, rambling as always. The others paid her little attention, and the center of the party was left to trail behind as she would. An unnerving hissing noise startled the grouping, and they all increased their pace toward the outside door to the zone. Chiana picked up her gait, but she was no further than a metra when something seized her about the arm and dragged her into the shadows away from the doctors. She screamed desperately only to find that the invisible force had covered her mouth, and her barely audible mumbling was drowned out by the cry of the felicane.

Do not scream, Chiana. Her mind registered Zhaan's voice, and Chiana instantly relaxed, allowing herself to be pulled away to a point; that is, she stopped screaming, but she still struggled against the hands around her. When D'Argo stepped out of the opaque darkness, she gave up any protest. His Qualta blade was raised and pointed at her, his finger clutched around the firing mechanism. Stunned, Chiana watched as the invisible hand became the familiar blue one of her Delvian friend. In another moment, Zhaan appeared completely, releasing Chiana as she did so.

If you want my attention, you could try calling my name. Chiana snapped.

Shut up! Aeryn's order preceded her as she came from another direction, her stakeout point. At her side prowled Scytea, who had accompanied Aeryn while relating all the details of the game to her. From Aeryn's scowl, Scytea had known how much the concept upset the female, no stench of hatred and shock were necessary.

Aeryn? D'ArgoZhaan? What are you doing here? Querel told you I would contact you when we were finished. Scytea's guttural howl at the name finally drew Chiana's attention to the creature. That's her! That's the felicane! She's working with you!?! Aeryn, she tried to kill someone! Get rid of her! Aeryn only smiled and went so far as to pat Scytea on the head, to which Scytea responded by purring.

She's not the only one who's going to try and kill someone tonight, Chiana. Only I plan to succeed. Aeryn stepped forward resolutely, approaching Chiana with nothing less than murder in her every pace. Chiana nearly fell over trying to escape. She darted behind Zhaan only to have, much to her astonishment, the Delvian shrug away and refuse to protect her. I hope you enjoyed yourself on this miserable planet, Chiana. It's the last one I will ever let you see.

What did I do? Crichton was supposed to tell you what was going on! He told Querel you had agreed! It's not my fault! Where is he? Talk to him! It's Crichton's fault! D'Argo's bellow brought Chiana's ramblings to a grinding halt.

It's Crichton's fault! Is it his fault he is DEAD too!?! Chiana could only stare uncomprehending at each of her friends. Zhaan's usually serene countenance was marred by an ugly frown and disapproving eyes; D'Argo looked to be on the edge of hyper-rage by his tempered words alone; and Aeryn wanted her dead. *What the frell is going on? Crichton is dead?*

? He's dead? Aeryn lunged for Chiana, but Scytea held her back by pouncing at her pants and holding her legs fast. Aeryn had to concentrate on not falling, which she just barely managed to do.

You little tralk! What do you mean by this!?! You frelling killed him! Chiana's eyes blanked with confusion and minutest horror before she shook it away.

No, no! That's not true. I

Scytea told us about this game, Chiana! You kill Crichton and you keep on killing him until you're desensitized! You brainless, stupid, moronic Anger choked off Aeryn's throat. Chiana found herself wondering if Sebaceans were capable of hyper-rage because this reaction was as close to it as she had ever seen.

It's just a game, Aeryn! It's a robot! It's not really Crichton!

Scytea's whistled hissing noise silenced any return argument. Stupid gray one. The female is right. You are stupid. You are mislead, but easily so. Stupid. A sneer formed on Chiana's lips.

How dare you

Hssat! Silence! You are stupid! You think that thing you killed is a robot? How ignorant you are. It iswas your friend, the male, Cry-ton. Again, Chiana's face lost all visible clues of emotion as she stared at the feline.

That's not trueQuerel said

He is a liar! And you are stupid! Scytea answered. Aeryn seemed to understand that as a welcome to attack Chiana, and Scytea once more had to wrap herself around herself around Aeryn's legs to stop her from surging forward and simply breaking Chiana's neck.

You filthy, lying, murdering tralk! No answer from Chiana. Her head dropped to her chest, and she hid her eyes from them all. After a microt or so of this, she looked up once more. Her eyes fell on Zhaan first, and the Delvian grimly nodded.

*Yes, Chiana. We are telling you the truth.* Severe chest pains began to set in as Chiana looked next to D'Argo. His face held rage and hidden misery.

*Yes, Chiana. We are right, and you have committed a crime worthy of death.* Lastly, she looked to Aeryn.

*I. Will. Kill. You.* Four simple words were etched on the Peacekeeper's angry glare as surely as if she had said them aloud.

*No! This cannot be! It was a game! A game!* Chiana tried to cling to the defense, but a nagging voice whined that her friends were right, and she was wrong. But if so, then she was not simply wrong. She was a murderer, a torturer, a senseless, stupid being. *No! NO!*

What have you to say, Chiana? Only Zhaan had words that carried no insult. The crestfallen Nebari sank backwards, landing unceremoniously on her but. No one moved to help her as she heaved in shallow breaths, gasping for air.

It's not trueit was a robota robotit had to be Her mutterings were just loud enough for Aeryn to catch.

Well it wasn't! You have killed one of our crew, Chiana, and you did it in cold blood. And worse, from what Scytea tells us. Scytea spat viciously at Chiana, scratching at the ground in front of her.

Is it true, Chiana? Is Crichton truly dead? Chiana glanced up, hoping to find some mercy in Zhaan's question; there was none.

told Querel not to fix him.

You mean, not to resuscitate him, Scytea snarled. Aeryn looked down at the feline who had retreated back at her side. He is dead then, and will be unless they resuscitate him again. You may hope for that. *It's not enough.* Aeryn grimaced and then said so aloud.

It's not enough. Her furious stare punctured Chiana's soul. You killed him. More than once. You could not forgive some evil, so you created a worse one. You do not deserve to live. Aeryn drew her pulse pistol and leveled it at Chiana. The Nebari flinched, crying out and trying to scamper backwards. D'Argo caught her and hauled her to her feet.

You will face justice, Chiana. She shrank away from him, struggling to free her arm. Do it, Aeryn. Let us do to her what she has done to Crichton, he turned to pinion Chiana with a stare, And maybe we will revive you to do so again. Smiling wickedly, definitely in favor of that plan, Aeryn sighted Chiana's forehead.

Zhaan's cry stopped the blast that would have come. Dear D'Argo, you may just have saved Crichton's life! When no one could even muster up a what?' for Zhaan, she continued on her own. Don't you see? If we can convince these bestial things to revive Crichton, then he will be alive once more.

Excellent, Zhaan. As soon as I kill this tralk, we'll set about that plan. Aeryn's tone was matter-of-fact, and she refigured her aim. A tugging at her side interrupted her execution plans.

You will need her, female. She can insist another session is necessary, and they will revive him for her. Otherwise, he is of no use to them. Aeryn's whole heart screamed and raged against this advice, but her analytical, tactical mind forced her emotions down and agreed. D'Argo and Zhaan shared a look to confirm the plan before the Luxan shook Chiana and made her face him.

You will do this, Chiana, or else. For a moment, Chiana's old self-preservationist side emerged.

Or what?

I will engage these doctors' services and see how you like being torn from death and life as many times as it takes to make me stop hating you. Aeryn supplied the answer for the threat. Chiana shook fiercely but no hint of it made it into the quiet response.

********************

Then she will be fine, do not concern yourself, Frenz. You must come now to assist me with the last resuscitation cycle. Querel motioned for the panicked assistant to leave Xesha's unconscious side and to accompany him. Despite his anxiety, Frenz never hesitated to follow. Querel's orders were obeyed, never questioned.

The male being was lying on the table where he had been deposited after the last ritual cleansing for Chiana. Querel had seen to the cosmetic and essential preparations all before leaving to celebrate Chiana's success. The wound to the abdomen had easily been repaired under the care of skillful hands and several arns.

It was the damage to the eyes that Querel lamented. He had not saved any tissue samples from Crichton's eyes to repair the wound. Simply, he had not expected Chiana to attack there again.

Frenz, what is your opinion on this one's eyes? Frenz examined the extent of the damage and shook his head. These questions were worth considerable promotion when one answered correctly. His hands moved over the wound, teasing the shredded flesh softly, careful not to contribute to the damage.

We have no tissue for repair? Querel shook his head and waited. Frenz shrugged. We must remove these wasted things and replace them with something else.

I concur, very well done, Frenz. We must do so soon, before we begin to coax life back into him. Frenz nodded and awaited instruction. Querel quickly provided him with some, and the two set to work, cutting away dead and useless tissue to expose the empty sockets and the nerve endings. It was squeamish work, but not for advanced technicians such as themselves. All throughout the extraction, Querel provided commentary, which Frenz knew to memorize for their journals on this case.

The advanced structure of the optic neuron belies the primitive sight organs in this man. There is a possibility that, with mutation, his species might easily adapt within a few generations to have passable eyesight. The workings of the optic nerves are complex, involving a flipping of images at least twice before the brain reads the signal. Our tests have confirmed this, yes, Frenz? The assistant nodded as the last of the slashed tissue was cleared.

We will select new eyes for this one, eyes that are suitably advanced. It will be a reward of sorts. Frenz did not answer this tacit request for a suggestion.

Why reward?

We may better this man's sight. As an exchange for his participation in the game, I believe it a fair price. The selection of the eyes is important. This time, Frenz had an answer.

It would be best, sir, would it not, to replace his eyes with some that are most like his own? That way there is less chance of organ rejection.

Indeed, Frenz, I had thought as much myself. Querel retreated into the hall toward a storage room; Frenz remained planted at Crichton's side. Querel was not gone for more than a few microts before he returned with a tray carrying the eye choices. I have no suitable blue eyes, but I assume, given his other physical similarities to Sebaceans, that Sebacean tissue grafts will be the most viable. Frenz nodded, and Querel selected a pair.

It only took a quarter of an arn more to finish the splicing and attachments of blood vessels, nerves, and cells. Satisfied, Querel sent Frenz to retrieve the instruments of resuscitation. Crichton had been dead for well over three arns, and the longer they waited, the more difficult it would be to prevent decay or permanent damage. Absorbed as he was in setting up the preliminary steps to the process, Querel did not hear Chiana arrive behind him.

Querel spun on his hind tentacles.

Chiana! Is something wrong? Whatever is the matter? Her voice had been contaminated with some nameless illness, a sadness, a remorse, a pain he had not heard even before the game.

I need to continue the game. It was short and to the point, as she had promised the others she would make it. Querel scanned her straightforward plea with some confusion. They had cured her, he knew they had, and yet she stood before him shaking and afraid. There were other emotions, but the sheer intensity of them prevented their identification.

Of course, if that is your wish. I was just finishing the repairs on this clone. I may have him at optimal level in another two arns, maybe four. Chiana shuddered when he said clone.' It made it so hard to remember that Querel was lying; he lied convincingly, with no stutter or hesitation. Not even she had learned that tact. She was a good liar, but Querel was the best. Fortunately, the ability to lie did not translate into the ability to sense a lie, and Querel did not pick up her ruse.

Thank you. Her simple words left them both in awkward silence. Querel attended Frenz's return with some modicum of apprehension. Chiana had not been allowed to see the process of revitalization, and if she did not see any mechanical aspects to it, she might begin to suspect. Proudly, Querel told himself he had nothing to hide, that the secret was all to help Chiana. If she knew it was Crichton, she might react poorly.

Frenz dutifully retrieved all the necessary articles, and he managed to conceal the contents from Chiana when he saw her waiting just inside the room with Querel. With little ceremony, Querel pushed her out the door, promising to contact her when the repairs were complete.

Chiana let herself be removed from the room without a struggle. A glimpse of Crichton's body was enough to drain all the fight from her soul.

*Dead. Crichton is dead because of me.* She collapsed onto a waiting bench, praying for tears to alleviate some of the dreadful guilt that clenched her stomach. No tears would come, only pain. While she desperately wanted the tears, her mind told her she did not deserve the mercy.

*Why should I have pity? I have done nothing to deserve it.* Chiana stayed curled up, her eyes squeezed tight, trying to burn out the images of Crichton's deaths. Previously, she had found him very forgettable. She dwelt on him occasionally, but never on the visceral images of him screaming or bleeding to death. Now her mind worked against itself, throwing those captured memories in to haunt her further. She lay enthralled by these images, the guilt building as she began to see the fear she had not seen before, the fear in Crichton's drugged eyes. No clone, no robot could ever have been so real. As she lay there, Chiana wished desperately for anything, death, a miracle, a dream, but no such mercy was extended. The only comfort she enjoyed was timelessness; she remained unaware as the next arns passed her.

Get up! It was an order, but none that anyone she knew would issue. Despite that, Chiana broke from her daydream to focus and try to identify the speaker. The doctors and assistants were nowhere to be found in the hall; she would have heard their swishing step. *Who is that?* Chiana opened her eyes to stare into a pair of bright yellow irises perched only a short distance from her own dark ones. *The felicane.* Scytea backed away, taking her cats' eyes away with her as she sat up and waited for Chiana to stand.

What are you doing here? If they see you

They will run. Scytea smiled.

She didn't come alone, Chiana. Zhaan materialized just to the felicane's left. Making some sort of high sign down the corridor, Zhaan drew the attention of D'Argo and Aeryn, who stealthily joined them. Chiana was still not used to this power of Zhaan's, and shrugged away from the extended arm that was meant to help her up.

Get your ass up! Aeryn snapped, reaching over and yanking Chiana to her feet. Face to face with the pissed off Peacekeeper, Chiana shrank backwards. Her bottomless guilt was not aided by Aeryn's murderous glares. What is taking so frelling long? You said an arn, two at most. It has been three. It wasn't easy to get in here, you know that? Chiana flinched and flattened against the edge of the bench, stumbling back into sitting as she did so.

they are working right now. Aeryn's gaze softened with some far-away misting but immediately hardened once more. On cue, the door across from the bench hissed as it was being opened. Everyone but Chiana scattered as Frenz emerged.

The clone is repaired. Querel asks that you join him inside, Chiana. Chiana dumbly nodded. Frenz detected immense fear, saw her eyes go wide, and then felt nothing, not even the floor to which he was eventually lowered. Aeryn caught the heavy creature and silently placed him on the floor. D'Argo's tongue had taken care of his sedation.

Let's go. Aeryn motioned with her pulse rifle for the rest to follow her inside. Chiana jumped to her feet and entered the room right after Aeryn. D'Argo held a position of decided unfriendliness toward the Nebari by following closely on her heels. The end of the procession consisted of Zhaan and Scytea at her side. The muffled entrance did not alarm Querel, who was washing away some fluid from his hands.

he called over his shoulder without turning around, all is well.

You're right, all isor will be shortly. Aeryn muttered. Sensing the unfamiliarity in her voice, Querel spun in shock.

What are you doing here!?! The muzzle of Aeryn's weapon and the pointed edge of D'Argo's blade kept him from advancing or trying to expel them. Leaving D'Argo and Aeryn to that task, Zhaan flocked to Crichton's side to examine him.

He was on his back on the sterile table, a sheet covering his lower body. She assumed he was not dressed, although the sheet protected his lower extremities. Lightly, she placed her hand on his forehead. With no small degree of relief, Zhaan watched his eyelids open the barest fraction. She made no motion to indicate her surprise at what lay beneath those lids, but instead finished checking him over.

This is criminal! You may not disturb my work! Zhaan caught Aeryn's movement from the corner of her eye, but paid no attention to her friend while she continued to ascertain the extent of Crichton's condition. Though his eyes were glazed and dull, she sensed that he was watching her. His limbs appeared unresponsive to her touch.

He has been heavily sedated Zhaan looked up to see Aeryn pin Querel to the wall, her pulse rifle jabbing up under his chin. From that movement, Zhaan was certain that her Sebacean friend had not listened to a word of her prognosis; she was too absorbed in punishing her captive.

Your workyour work! You sick, frelling BASTARD! That is a living person you've toyed with! Don't you understand what you've done to him!?!

I have helped him. Unable to restrain herself, Aeryn belted him soundly across the face. As she leaned closer, her voice developed a shade of somber violence.

You have destroyed something I care abouthurt someone important to me and to my friends. You are the doctor. In such cases as these, what do you think I want to do to you? Her smile was predatory, evil and menacing.

I saved his life, erased his fear of death Aeryn's elbow into his gut choked off further words.

And what about his mind!?! Hmm? Just too busy caring about that stupid little tralk to worry about what you were doing to your lab rat!?! Chiana pouted slightly, but D'Argo's sneer drove away her indignant hurt and replaced it with abashed guilt.

His mind? He has not been damaged there

You call yourself a healer! Zhaan's cry was one of disgust and shame; she could not restrain her horror. You claim to know so much, and yet you cannot see the damage you have done! Vile, loathsome creature! Death is too good for him, Aeryn. Surely, there must be a more divine torture! Seeing Zhaan so adamant was new to all the crew. It made Aeryn's smile a touch more crazed.

Yes, let's try out his experiment on him! Scytea purred as she leapt up on the table next to Crichton. She sniffed at him, taking in his smell to determine his state. Her nose detected little besides the stench of death that had only recently been corrected. The drug muted most everything else. Even the aroma of his life force was dulled. Querel cried out at seeing the felicane.

You are the monster, Luifil, not I! You have no honor! Scytea rumbled even as she nudged Crichton slightly with her nose, rubbing her head against him in compassion. Aeryn, satisfied with the general response, brought Querel's mind back to her.

You are going to die, madman, and no one will live to bring you back. The horror in his eyes made Aeryn laugh.

You cannot kill innocents!

Your assistants? Innocent? They are no more innocent than Chiana or you." Chiana flinched, but wisely said nothing in her defense as Aeryn continued. "But you will suffer first, and no one will be left to carry on where you dropped dead. Scytea? The felicane looked up expectantly. He's all yours. Querel backed away in panic, taking his last steps.

Heartlessly, wordlessly, Aeryn pulled the trigger and watched, with immense satisfaction, as the pulse charge ricocheted through the alien doctor's head before it came out through the back. Querel's last sight was of Scytea making ready to pounce him, her intent written in her smirk, in her eyes.

*I am going to devour you.* Querel's brain had no capability to feel fear as it died. Aeryn stepped out of Scytea's charge, leaving the carnivore to her meal. Horror finally motivated Chiana's tongue to action.

Aeryn! How could you Chiana's outrage was cut short by the tip of the pulse rifle being shoved under her nose.

Very easily. Remember that. She sneered at the quivering Nebari and turned to Zhaan. How is he?

Alive, but drugged. We had best get out of here and back to Moya where I can examine him more thoroughly. Zhaan looked down at Crichton. She watched as his lids closed heavily over histhe eyes underneath. *How will we explain that to him?*

Crichton was at the point of not caring less. Something felt different, he knew that much, but the drowsiness of the medication, the exhaustion of being newly restored to life, all of it had its toll on his consciousness. The grim sounds of Querel being ripped apart were a horrific symphony. They played behind his inner monolog, a short repeated phrase.

*I'm free. I'm free. I'm free.*

D'Argo, would you help me, please? The Luxan nodded and moved next to Crichton's prone form.

Give me a minute, please. I do not think John would want you all to Zhaan cut him off with a gesture and an understanding smile and shooed Aeryn and Chiana out. As she did so, Zhaan noticed Aeryn open her mouth to protest. A secret smiled decorated the Delvian's lips as Aeryn's reaction confirmed her long-standing suspicions.

*Of course she would protest. She had already seen him naked.*

Scytea paid no attention as she finished off the last few scraps of her meal. Luifils were a treat, and she meant to enjoy this one. Plus, no scrap could be left with which to regenerate this monster. Her ears marked the passing of each person, but she gave no active concentration to their actions.

With all the tenderness of a parent, D'Argo wrapped the sheet around Crichton's bare frame, protecting him from undue and unwanted exposure. Crichton looked excessively pale, a sign that indicated severe trauma. Even in space, the human had retained some coloration, a sun tan' as Crichton phrased it. The paleness and shallow breathing alarmed D'Argo, but he could not stop to think about that. Crichton would have a better chance at survival the sooner he was back on Moya and being cared for by Zhaan.

Sighing sadly, D'Argo hefted his friend into his arms, carrying him carefully, as though he would break. Aeryn was instantly at his side as soon as he was out the door, placing a hand aside Crichton's jaw. D'Argo allowed her a moment's caress before maneuvering towards the exit.

What about her? Scytea rejoined them in the hall, scampering after them even as she cleaned the gore from her lips. No one answered, not even the her' herself, Chiana. The quiet parade of Moya's crew trudged down the hall, Scytea and Aeryn leading. Scytea gave favorable mews when all was clear. Zhaan had appropriate one of Aeryn's pulse pistols and D'Argo's Qualta blade was loosely held in her other hand. She doubted she would need either weapon, and the blade was more cumbersome than helpful. Mostly, she carried them to intimidate Chiana.

*Though it does not appear to matter at this point.* Zhaan sighed inwardly as she scanned the mask on Chiana's face. The gray visage was held tight, no smile, no frown, no wrinkled nose or furrowed brow. No one had answered Scytea's question regarding Chiana's own future, but Zhaan instinctively sensed things would be very different. They would take her to Moya, for the sake of simplicity mostly. As soon as she could be sure Crichton was recuperating, Zhaan intended to raise the question of Chiana's status.

Hey! What are you A cry from behind startled them all. Bounding back toward the main group, Scytea lunged at the Luifil that had been unconscious. She cursed herself for being so unobservant.

Scytea! No! Chiana threw herself at the furry beast, tackling her around the legs. Run! Frenz! Run! The panicked and very confused Frenz could only stare. While he assumed these were people Chiana knew, nothing explained the presence of the local terror. While he hesitated, Aeryn drew a bead on him, shooting to disable not to kill. If the injured one provided a distraction, their chances of escaping the compound, which were seriously impounded by the crippling of their stealth, would improve.

Frenz howled as he fell, gasping in pain.

The felicane swiped at Chiana, freeing herself when Chiana recoiled. She jumped to her back feet to look at Aeryn. You and D'Argo, move! Now! D'Argo jerked his head forward, and Scytea leaped to precede him. Zhaan spent a moment of indecision and took off after them, ready to provide armed assistance. Get to our transport pod! I'll take the other one! MOVE! She shouted uselessly as her comrades fled.

what are you doing? Frenz's pained voice encouraged Chiana to his side. She gently probed the pulse wound.

They're leaving, don't worry. These are mymy friends. Aeryn forced herself not to snort at that comment. *Plenty of time to talk about that later.*

friends? Where are they taking

It's okay, Frenz, you don't have to pretend. I know it was Crichton. Frenz stared at her in horror.

No, it's not what you think Impatient, Aeryn seized Chiana's arm and threw her to the side.

Oh, and what is it!?! Let's hear your excuse! I killed your slimy boss before I had a chance to hear his dren, but maybe I should listen to youis that it? Frenz cowered away from the pulse rifle she stuck in his face. Not so high and mighty when it's your life that's being frelled with, are you!?!

Aeryn, don't! Don't kill him!

SHUT UP CHIANA! Aeryn swiveled on her heel to smack Chiana cruelly across the face. When she turned back toward Frenz, the look of pain and terror was gone. Instead, he had found his old confidence, drawing upon the knowledge of his superiority. Survival depended on distracting this one long enough to subdue her.

You are so angry, why? Is the man that important to you? Aeryn sneered, refusing to play this game. Although she did not say it, her eyes spoke with all the ferocity she required.

*I know what you're trying to do. It won't work.* Understanding this, Frenz lifted a tentacle to wrest the pulse rifle from Aeryn. Another fleshy extension raised to swat her. Aeryn anticipated this distraction and did not hesitate to pull the trigger. The charge was wild, burying into the wall over Frenz's shoulder.

The fight was going to go in Frenz's direction, Aeryn recognized, if she did not end it before he could command more of his tentacles to his defense. Even wounded, this Luifil was a match for her strength. Finding her opportunity, Aeryn darted between blows to drive two fingers into his eye. Howling in pain, Frenz backed away, pushing himself from Aeryn with all his appendages.

Chiana's sickly plea actually halted Aeryn's lethal lunge for the disabled adversary. No more killingno more. The whispered words affected Aeryn only marginally. She easily could have attacked again, killed the alien, and then left, but she allowed the concession that Chiana was right.

It took you long enough to realize it. Get up. Aeryn grabbed her pulse rifle and stormed off for the nearest exit, neither concerned nor interested in whether or not Chiana followed. It took her a second to recover, but Chiana eventually stood.

don't leavewe can help you. Frenz's pleading frightened her because she found herself on the verge of agreeing to stay. Down the corridor waited the only friends who had ever trusted her, who had ever meant anything, of whom now not one wanted to even look at her. Here, there were beings who had tricked her, but that were still willing to befriend her, to keep her distant from the pain she had caused.

It would have been easy to stay, but a nagging conscience reminded her that easy had never translated as right in her lifetime. Easy meant staying a mindless drone among her people; right was the freedom she had on Moya. Easy was staying here and letting her former friends abandon her, and right was them hating her.

*I have to go. Even if they decide to kick me off Moya, at least I will have done the right thing. I will have tried.*

Wrongs could never be made right, not the ones she had committed. *But I can try. I will try.* Hushed and pensive, Chiana sprinted to catch up with Aeryn.

********************

Well, it's about time. Have you any idea how impossibly boring this leviathan is when I have to fetch everything myself? Rygel floated before them as each transport pod opened and the crew trotted out.

Save it, Rygel. Zhaan's curt reply seemed to cut the royal rather crossly, but when D'Argo emerged with Crichton, who was barely conscious but at least on his feet, all arguments died in his throat. Zhaan offered Crichton her shoulder, and he sagged between her and D'Argo as they escorted him to his room. The sheet they had had wrapped around him had been discarded for a long PK coat. The leather was much more insulating, and Crichton did not appear to be as fragile within the coat.

A curious-looking feline creature leaned uncomfortably close to sniff at Rygel, but the distant whiff she got was more than enough to discourage a deeper inhale.

Who do you think you are? Rygel backed his throne sled away, indignant. Scytea smiled and licked her upped lip. She had eaten to the point of bursting only a short while ago, but the thought of a little fun with this tiny, arrogant creature pleased her.

The occupants of the other transport arrived to spoil her fun, much to Rygel's relief. Aeryn shoved Chiana forward and barked an order for her to keep walking. Neither of them spoke to Rygel as Aeryn marched Chiana all the way to a holding cell. Curious, Rygel pursued, the feline, he noticed, rather alarmed, tagged along behind him. They rounded the corner to see Aeryn push an unresponsive Chiana forward.

Yes, Officer Sun?

Lock these doors from the outside. Only I will be authorized to open them, agreed?

Yes, I will do so at once. The palm reader flashed to red as Pilot initiated locking sequences and coded the release to Aeryn's unique signature.

What the yotz is all this about, Aeryn? The dreadful look Aeryn turned on him was enough to melt through the ship, but Rygel ignored it.

We'll talk about it later, you can be sure. Go bother Zhaan or D'Argo. They will explain. Tired of being ignored, Scytea tugged at Aeryn's sleeve.

You go to Cry-ton. I'll stay and watch her. The earnest desire to help was evident in the feline's offer, and Aeryn acquiesced with a sigh. As soon as she disappeared down the hall, Scytea turned a curious and playful smile on Rygel. Unless you want to be food, you should leave too. I warn you, I have eaten well today, well enough to keep me full for at least two weekens. But I love desserts. Rygel took the hint with his usual arrogant sniff.

Well, I never. Dominar to over six hundred billion, and I must put up with this His grousing continued as he fled in another direction. Pleased and tired from her heavy meal, Scytea stretched and curled up in front of Chiana's cell.

You don't have to stay, Scytea. I'm not going to try to escape. Even if I did, you couldn't do anything from out there.

I know, gray one. I smell your guilt. I am here to be sure you do not try anythingdrastic. Not that I care. It is only to be sure that you face justice. No more words were necessary, and they remained on opposite sides of the door in peace.

********************

A vote then.

Vote? Why don't we just banish her? We can't have this dangerous psychotic female running around! We already have plenty of those, and this new one you've picked up appears no better! Rygel declared with an emphatic gusto.

This is not your kingdom, Rygel. We must all decide what to do about Chiana. I do not think John will be able to vote, and Scytea is not yet one of us, so it is left to us four to decide. Zhaan's calm explanation did not appease the intense feelings they all hid beneath the surface.

A vote, I agree. D'Argo muttered.

Then we must vote. Does Chiana stay or go? Aeryn scowled at Zhaan.

She dies.

That is not an option, Aeryn. Please, try to understand. We must base our decision on all the facts, not simply the passions within each of us. There was a brief pause as Zhaan collected her arguments. D'Argo, please, would you outline reasons for her to stay? The Luxan did not appear happy to contribute to this side of the debate, but he gruffly nodded.

Chiana did not know what she was doing. She had no way to know that it was Crichton.

Aeryn was silenced by a commanding look from Zhaan. She wisely bit down on her protest.

Is that all, dear D'Argo? The Luxan nodded. As far as he was concerned, that was the only reason Chiana's crime did not merit death. Banishment, exile, absolutely, but death? Time had tempered that rage some, and a moderation to rage never made killing an option. Had he attacked her on the planet twenty arns ago, maybe the punishment would not have disturbed him.

I believe there must be more. Chiana's crime was, as D'Argo says, done in ignorance. We might also consider the stress we have all suffered as a result of T'raltixx's presence. Perhaps Chiana was affected more than we realize. Aeryn felt blood in her mouth where her teeth punctured the soft flesh of her tongue. T'raltixx was not her favorite person, and his presence had upset her enough to make her want to kill Crichton too. *No, this is different. I was delirious.* Despite her rationalizing, Aeryn felt the seed of mercy grow within her. *No, no! She has to suffer for this.*

As for why she should leaveI do not believe I need to iterate those points, exceptI would hope that those who vote thusly would not do so merely to punish Chiana. We must consider how John will feel, as well. Aeryn nodded, feeling her footing return in favor of banishing Chiana, with niggling doubt and dissent retreating a step. It was appropriate and right that Zhaan remind them all about their other missing crewmember.

Then let's vote and get this over with already! Rygel cried, fussy as ever. They each nodded at one another, and Zhaan sighed before raising her hands to call the vote.

Those in favor of sending Chiana away? Rygel grunted affirmatively. Aeryn attempted to do the same, but her throat seized up as she tried to speak. To not forgive Chianait was a decision that had serious repercussions. She looked guiltily at the others, each of whom looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to join in. *Will they vote against me because of who I was once? Will that matter one day? What happens when my staying here is dependent on my character?* Her protectionist side tried to say that circumstances were different, that her crimes had not been committed against her friends. Yet still, doubt and indecision plagued her. D'Argo sent her a sideways smile of compassion.

*He will not vote her away.* The realization struck Aeryn as particularly profound. If D'Argo, a warrior who had been as incensed as she, could not send away one of their own, how could she? *This is not fair! Chiana has done unspeakable things, to some one I care about, and I cannot even defend him!* D'Argo saw her continuing conflict but held his tongue. He glanced guiltily at Rygel. He had tried to kill the tiny dominar, and his decision on Chiana had to reflect at least some of the mercy he had been granted. Guilt kept him silent, as it did Aeryn.

If no one else will speak, I will vote for Chiana to leave as well. Aeryn and D'Argo shared one look of utter astonishment as they stared at Zhaan. I know what you are thinking, and you are right. I have the least right to condemn her. I am a murderer, the worst sort, one who took trust and used it to destroy a life. I have no right to speak, but my beliefs will not submit to my own unworthiness.

Bringing someone back from the dead by healing them, restoring life to a wrongly dead being is honorable, a commendable action among my people. Stealing life for the purpose of slaughter, repeating the process, and bloodlustall of these are opposite to everything I have fought to preserve. They lie in the madness that plagues me, and I will not succumb to it, nor will I condone the actions of one who will.

Zhaan stopped to appraise their reactions. Aeryn nodded, still amazed and not understanding at all, but trying to give the appearance that she did. Thanks to his time with Nilaam, D'Argo's appreciation of holy practices and life and death in general was considerably greater than Aeryn's. His vote almost began to waver until he reminded himself that such practices were not his own, and Chiana had had no part in that torture. The being that had, he remembered with immense satisfaction, was rotting away inside the belly of a very pleased feline.

Shall I assume that you are opposed to exiling Chiana? Zhaan's question was directed at Aeryn and D'Argo. After a few microts of silence, they each nodded. An angry voice chided Aeryn for siding with Crichton's torturer and murderer, but another, louder force told her she had chosen wisely. Zhaan's method of inquiring had not forced her to say she agreed, and that provided her some comfortuntil she realized that left them in a deadlock.

We must have Pilot be the tie-breaking vote, I suppose, D'Argo mused. Zhaan vehemently shook her head.

No, his responsibility to us all will taint his vote. Scytea?

She is not one of us, Zhaan, Aeryn reminded her. None of them spoke. Chiana was the guilty party, and even then they had no way to know how she would vote. There was no way to know if Chiana would vote herself in and try to return to normal, or if she would be more masochistic and choose exile.

That left only one person to decide the vote.

********************

The smell of the sheets told him he was home. *Home. Moya-home.* The thought laughed across his mind. Moya was home. The gold sheets that moved around him as he stirred told him he was home. *So, open your eyes.* That was more difficult to do. Crichton realized he did not want to open his eyes. The dull ache buried beneath them frightened him. Something was different, and he had no interest in finding out sooner rather than later what else had been done to him.

The doctor was dead, and presumably, so was his staff. But the doctor was dead, and that mattered most. *Q-pid shot his last arrow.* He chuckled at that thought, picturing the horrid, hideous squid creature carrying around a small quiver of arrows and a bow, posing for Valentine's Day cards.

His mind shook free of its twisted imagery, directly aware of the speaker. *Aeryn.* Are you He knew immediately that she had intended to ask if he was okay, but thought better of saying anything about it.

More or less. I feel awful. That was almost a lie, but Aeryn understood his reason for saying so. According to Zhaan, the sedative had few side effects. On the other hand, Crichton did not need to be drowsy, nauseated or physically ill in any way to be so wretched.

I'm sorry to hear that, Aeryn mumbled, unsure of what else to say. The stupid small talk was already old by the time Crichton shifted from his side to his back. Slowly, hesitatingly, Crichton opened his eyes. The colors of Moya, of the bed, of Aerynthey were blindingly detailed. His lids snapped shut after one microt. The sight had scared him, had hurt him, but not half as much as Aeryn's jaw dropping when he looked at her.

what is it, Aeryn? Crichton chewed on his lip before cracking open his lids once more. *Slowly,* he cautioned himself. Each fraction he opened his eyelids came with a short waiting period, his brain adjusting to the new signals. Finally, after what seemed like forever, John opened his eyes fully, blinking once or twice. Aeryn had recovered, keeping any hint of surprise off her face and burying it within her mind.

Crichton's eyes were bright green. The intensity of the color reminded her more of glowing radioactive rods. The whites around the nearly incandescent green irises were familiar. Aside from the coloring, she would have said they were normal Sebacean eyes. *Sebacean? What happened to his blue eyes?* Despite herself, Aeryn felt a warmth in the memory of those eyeshis eyes. Taking a deep breath, Aeryn calmed herself enough to speak.

Your eyes She wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor once she had said it. Nodding but still in shock, Crichton tried to sit up. His muscles obeyed, though they were still somewhat affected by the last of the sedative yet to be worked out of his system. Immediately, Aeryn reached to help him, taking immense pleasure in the shaky smile he gave her in appreciation.

do you have a mirror, Aeryn? Can you please hand me the one on the shelf? His usually smooth voice was broken with anxiety.

No, not now, John. This can wait. He turned his uncanny, new green eyes on her with a look of perfect outrage.

It can't. If you're not going to at least help, I'll do it my damn self. Crichton started to throw aside the sheets but stopped when Aeryn looked away. A tint of red in her cheeks clued him in to the fact he still was not dressed. The long coat he had been wearing was in a pile at the edge of the bed, discarded once he was safely tucked away for some much-needed rest. Grunting angrily, he collapsed back onto his side. Please, just get me the mirror, Aeryn. She nodded and reached over to pluck the silver object off its resting place.

His reaction was at once better and worse than she had hoped. He was silent, no emotion betraying his inner thoughts. It meant either that he was stunned to silence or too upset for words or possibly just incredibly accepting. *Too accepting,* Aeryn decided.

It was a simple question reply to her question. Still no emotion.

Are you

Aeryn nodded and sat back on her chair in renewed awkward silence. Calmly as ever, John placed the mirror down on the bed in front of him. Just as serenely, he picked it up again and chucked it away. It did not shatter, but the sensation of throwing it was enough; his abused muscles could never have thrown it any further anyway.

Where is Chiana? The question was not wholly unexpected, but Aeryn wished desperately not to have to provide that answer.

She's in a cell on a lower tier. I had Pilot modify the coding sequence to open for my signature only. Crichton nodded, absorbing the information with no flickering of anything in his usually expressive face. That's actually why Iwell, it was part of the reason I came to see you now. I would have waited, but uhthis could be important. The unnerving green eyes slid toward her as he listened. *Don't be selfish, don't make him more upset by letting him know how unsettling it is. Don't be selfish!* Aeryn managed to preserve her stoicism as best she could, but Crichton still looked past it.

I thought so. You want to know what to do to her.

More or less, Aeryn shrugged, covering her surprise. *Then he's given it some thought. This will make his vote countit won't simply be made in emotional stress.* The last thought was little better than a lie, but Aeryn held onto it. We voted on whether or not to leave her. It was a tie. She would notcould not tell him who had voted how. Thankfully, he did not ask.

And you want me to break the tie, right? Aeryn nodded.

I didn't want to ask, but yes.

Oh you should ask, the bitterness in his voice caught her curiosity and awakened sick fear, the nauseating kind of anxiety that only stuck when someone was behaving rather uncharacteristically or was about to do so. *'Rattlers.' John calls them rattlers.* She had never asked what a rattler' was, but the word aptly described the fluttery feeling of doubt.

After all, I think I get to have a little say in this, seeing as Chiana and I are so close and all. Now Aeryn was positive something was wrong. Either way Crichton voted, something very wrong would most likely occur, something that would alter the already fragile chemistry aboard the leviathan.

What should I tell them? Green eyes searched her for a hint of revilement. Aeryn did her best to banish that discomfort, and found sympathy instead. Somewhat pleased by this, Crichton cracked a small smile; it was tainted with some unknown, malicious intent, but Aeryn appreciated only the familiarity of it. It was a smile, despite the evil mischief beneath the surface, which belonged solely to John.

Tell them she can stay.

She can what? Aeryn's own eyes nearly fell out of her head, or at least that was how it looked to Crichton. He chuckled good-naturedly, covering a more sinister cackle.

You heard me. She had, and she still did not comprehend what exactly he meant by allowing her to stay. *He what? What?* Her decision had evoked such guilt and betrayal, but she thought she had had reason to vote as she had. Crichton should hate Chiana. Maybe he did, but still, it made no sense.

How can youforgive her like that?

Who said I forgive her? Crichton's murmured words held real menace. Now, if you're going to blush like a teenager when I stand up, I suggest you scoot, missy, cause I ain't staying in bed any longer than I have to. Determinedly, Crichton pulled his legs up and over the edge of his bed. Aeryn instinctively turned away once more, standing and retreating to the door to com Zhaan.

Zhaan, you can tell Chiana we've decided now.

Aeryn? How is John?

Just fine, blue! Crichton called out, his merry tone so shockingly different from his earlier threatening voice that Aeryn spun to be sure it was still the same man speaking. Fortunately, she escaped his notice by looking away before he caught her or saw her furious blush.

*Should have waited till I was sure he was at least somewhat dressed.*

I am glad to hear it. Aeryn, what shall I tell Chiana?

She gets to stay, Zhaan. The sharp inhalation over the com was loud enough for even Crichton to hear. Only dressed in his boxers, he came over to listen and speak with Zhaan through Aeryn's com.

I will tell her.

Thanks, blue, John smiled at Aeryn as he leaned over her shoulder to reply.

Are you certain this is what you wish, John?"

Don't worry about it, Zhaan.

Keep her in the cell, Zhaan. I'll let her out when I'm ready to. Aeryn tersely added. Chiana would stay, and while that was as should be, it did not mean that she would have to put up with it peacefully.

Yes, Aeryn. I had not intended to let her out anyway. Scytea will watch her for the remainder of the night.

Thank you, Zhaan. Aeryn smiled lightly with unbidden pleasure as Crichton leaned over her shoulder more to speak in her com.

Yeah, thanks again for the save, blue. Embarrassment set in as soon as the message was conveyed; the awkward position of having Crichton leaning perilously close to her chest made Aeryn shiver internally, but she kept herself still. He was still not one hundred percent, and they both knew it, though Crichton seemed tempted to ignore that fact. The intimacy of his closeness thrilled her, but she focused on denying that enjoyment for his health.

You should really rest, John. Aeryn centered more command into the suggestion to make it more definite. She could feel him chuckle once more, the laughter rumbling in his bodythat was increasingly close to her own. His arms squeezed her own, still teasing her but completely innocent. *For now anyway,* was his hopeful thought.

Hey, even dead guys get bored. Aeryn fought a smile at the none-too-pleasing joke. It was in bad taste, but coming from Crichton, it made her hopeful. *Maybe he is not as affected as we think.* Gently, she swiveled on her heels to face him. The playful smile had returned, but the hint of violence from before had been usurped by a new undertone. Seeing her flustered for a moment more, Crichton smiled wider.

*I want to kiss him.* Aeryn could not find that reaction too surprising; ever since their once' together, she had thought about kissing him quite frequently. The past burns, the names they had called one another, and the accusations they had flung, the trauma he had gone through and her return from murderous rageall of it disappeared when he smiled like that.

Never one to be shy, Aeryn acted on her impulse. Peacekeepers never hesitated, not as she had done with this human many times. *There is one part of the training I must pay more attention to.* Stepping closer, Aeryn slid right into a kiss, taking him into her arms and letting him do the same. Though acutely aware of the fact he was still somewhat dazed, and more importantly, almost naked, Aeryn felt no guilt for this small pleasure. *Not so small,* she corrected herself. It was a comforting way to remind them both that no matter what, they were not broken, that the changes in the crew that started now would not affect them, not in this way.

The kiss shattered her mask. Opening her eyes to find those green ones staring back destroyed it entirely. She seized him in the tightest hug she dared. Anger flared once more in her gut. Her arms held him immobile against her body, refusing to let him go. *This close. I was this close to losing him because of thatthat tralk!*

I wish you had sent her away. I don't think I could have forgiven her if youdidn't come back. He tensed as he embraced her.

Then why didn't you vote against her? *Damn him. How did he know?* It's okay, Aeryn. I didn't think you would. Everything will be better, eventually. She pulled out of their mutual embrace.

Will it? Her tone was skeptical. She had no need to mention his eyes, but they both knew that it went even farther than that. Scars that could be seen could be repaired. The ones that cut through his mind were of an entirely different nature. Taking her into a hug once more, he sighed.

I'll live, Aeryn. This time, for a while, I would hope. The sad laughter scared her. *He is not taking this as well as it seems,* her mind spoiled the nice, compact manner in which he was trying to deceive her. His hands gently rubbed her back, successfully creating a diversion for a few more microts before Aeryn managed to shake her conflicting passions.

You need to rest. I'll go see how Zhaan and the others are doing, Aeryn mumbled as she retreated away. His hand caught her wrist fast, holding her at arm's length.

Don't leave, Aeryn. Please? Even the unnerving color of his eyes could not stop her from returning to him, escorting him back to bed, on his own. When he made no protest, she understood how exhausted he really was. Promising to stay until he fell asleep, Aeryn resumed her vigil in her chair. Although he fell asleep almost promptly after lying down, Aeryn stayed. His warm hand clenched around hers was a link between them that she could not break, did not want to break. Resigning herself to a longer while at his side, Aeryn laid her head down next to their clasped hands.

As soon as she trailed off, Crichton stirred, checking to see if she would wake. When she did not, even as he separated his hand from hers, he took that as a safe sign. While Aeryn slept, he dressed, quietly and quickly. He was pulling on yet another Peacekeeper vest when his eyes fell on the mirror once more. Scooping to pick it up, Crichton took a deep breath before gazing once more in its reflective surface.

Brilliant green eyes stared back at him. His own face was that much more strange and unfamiliar to him because of the simple change. More than that, each tiny pore or stubble of facial hair was clearer, and more definite now. *Maybe Querel did me a favor after all. I'm not deficient any more.* The grim, sarcastic laughter in his mind died as he remembered who had called him that.

It was that who' that he planned to see now.

********************

Scytea purred as Crichton scratched her head. The felicane was still curled away in the strange half-sleep of her kind, her mind not conscious, but her senses still sharp and prepared to rouse her from sleep in case of danger. Crichton's gentle, pleasing touch did not alarm her enough for that to happen.

Oh shut up, you stupid hairball. Chiana muttered over her shoulder. Leaning against the door, she could not see Crichton; tuned out and trying to ignore Scytea's purrs, she had not bothered to listen for his steps either.

Hey, she's a friend of mine now, Pip, so I'd be careful. I may just have to stick up for her. Chiana started and flipped around to see him, a move that Crichton found immensely comical. Hey there, little girl.

She jumped to her feet, both incredibly pleased and afraid and ashamed to see him all at once. His smile made her heart burn. Zhaan had not hesitated to tell her exactly how the vote had been decided. *Why would he let me stay?* Nothing seemed different about him. *Nothing permanently damaged Querel said.* what are you doing here?

Oh, besides checking up on my killer? Nothing much, he laughed lightly, extremely cautious not to wake Scytea. When he looked back at Chiana after assuring himself the feline was still asleep, the guilt stamped on her forehead was tremendous.

I never meantit wasn't supposed to be real. II am sorry. He nodded. Yes, he knew she was sorry, that she would most likely never forgive herself. That was all as it should be. Holding onto her guilt, he figured he could live with her on Moya, could stand that she be allowed to stay despite what she had done. Her guilt was a total, complete punishment.

*Almost complete,* he smiled to himself and walked closer to the door to Chiana's cell. As soon as she saw his eyes, Chiana backed away, mouth agape.

I know you're sorry, Chiana. I just wanted you to know that I knew. Know what else? She shook her head, her surprise and horror not fading as his voice dropped lower. Querel did me a favor after all. Confusion mixed with other strong emotions within Chiana. She could not fathom what he was talking about.

Look at me, Chiana. She could not disobey him. Her dark eyes fastened her gaze on his iridescent green ones. Good. Now, every time you look at me, I want you to remember that you did this. I won't blame you forever, but I sure as hell want you to feel that way. Everyone wins. His grin was as evil and triumphant as her frown was desperate and despairing.

Crichton, please, I know it doesn't make up for what I did, but please, you have to believe me when I say I will regret it anyway. Can't you find a way to forgive me? His smile disappeared.

Probably not. He leaned closer, his head nearly through the barred doors. You never forgave me, you never gave me a chance.

I didn't know it was

Doesn't matter, he cut her off. You were willing to kill me for your own reasons. If it hadn't been real, you still would have. You don't care, you heartless whore. I want you to know that I do care. I want to believe that you're suffering as badly as I did.

You can't know what this feels like, Crichton. Chiana's pleading was pained. Guilt is burning through me like acid. I didn't feel this bad when Nerri died. A ghosting smile danced over his lips.

Good, then maybe you haven't lost all feeling. Maybe that's why I haven't given up on you totally. Just stay the hell away from me from now on. Got it? She swallowed against sobs and nodded. And remember what I said. You should feel guilty, you've earned it. When I'm good and ready, maybe I'll forgive you. Do me a favor and hold your breath while you wait.

Without another word, he turned and walked away. Chiana watched his retreating form with new pain, new hurt, and new shame. The crew of Moya had not embraced her; they had not accepted nor forgiven her. All they had done was allow her to be among them while she wallowed in her abysmal shame and guilt. Crichton had known she would feel that way, and his revenge was to remind her she would be expected to submit to those dominating, self-deprecating emotions. Trying anything funny' was definitely out of the question.

It was no life to look forward to, but she resigned herself to it with no effort. It was the right thing to do, after all.

The End