'...fugitive…murderer…public menace...terrorist.'

Crichton only grinned sarcastically, trying to loosen the ropes which were tied around his gloved wrists and neck as the Peacekeeper with the loud voice summarized the his criminal deeds.
'Anytime now guys...' the fearful human whispered as he gazed at the sky. 'Where are you?'

He could almost see Aeryn's Prowler quickly gain speed as it smoothly glided across the sky towards him, but his imagination was desperate and fate was cruel.
'Come on.' he whispered as he desperately searched the skies. 'Help me!'
He searched through the dark, anonymous crowd of Sebaceans for a familiar face. Anyone. Anything.
The rope around his neck was tight and painful. The wooden hatch where he stood on was dangerously comfortable.

'This is the day John Crichton will die.' the dangerous and skinny Peacekeeper spoke, articulating every word clearly and loudly. 'He is sentenced to death. Execution by hanging.'

'Yes, yes, do take your time.' John whispered. 'They will be here soon. shooting and swingin' and saving my sorry ass. You'll see. D'Argo with his big Qualta Blade, Aeryn with her pulse-rifle, Chiana wielding her two pistols, or two knives, whichever she prefers.'

A cold wind blew across the town square, forcing people to hold on to their hats. Two grey birds with black eyes landed on the building opposite Crichton to watch the bloody spectacle below and Crichton could not help but curse them in his mind as he tried to clear his throat, for they were but vultures, eagerly awaiting their chance to peck the eyes out of his skull. The bird's ominous caws finally convinced Crichton of the terrible fate which he could not avoid.

He closed his eyes, not caring for the strange looks of the Peacekeepers around him or the whispers of the confused people in the crowd who feared him. He closed his eyes and tried to picture his family and friends on Earth he would never see again.

'Behold the gun that killed thousands.' the Peacekeeper went on, encouraging his species to hate as he held 'Winona' in his hands, showing it to the crowd. 'Behold its owner.'

And John wished for salvation as the drums of death grew louder. He wished for a last-minute save. A home run in the last inning, winning the game and saving his life.
He would even welcome his worst enemy to come and collect him, take him away and try and probe his mind again. But there was no sign of Scorpius, of a Command Carrier in the air.
And John knew it was too late.
'He will never kill again.''
The Peacekeeper Executioner nodded to his underlings, granting his victim no final request as the hatch was taken away from Crichton's feet.

Crichton's body twitched and moved as it was tied, bound and gagged, and hanging from a rope.
His feet were dangling in mid-air as his head turned slowly red. He spat and gurgled, letting drool flow over his chin and drop on to the dusty, street below him as the rope pressed painfully into his throat.
His eyes were full of energy still, burning fiery, bright blue, defying death until the end.

As the crowd of people scattered into different directions and destinations, one woman and one man remained, standing together in front of the execution site.

'What were his final words?' one woman in the crowd asked to her friend.
'I heard him whispering before the hatch opened…what did he say? Madro?'

"You've been down to the bottom with a bad man, babe," her friend Madro spoke, quoting the deceased's final words. "But you're back where you belong. Go get me my pistol, babe, Honey, I can't tell right from wrong."

'What does that mean?' the woman asked. 'Who was he thinking of?'

'I think he was singing.' Madro spoke.

The End