All's Well Under The Sun (PG)
This is the first of two sequels to The Trouble With Normal. It would probably help to read TTWN first. It is an action-adventure fic, so some violence, threat and language, but nothing very strong.
Not that you probably care, but this fic has had quite a long and tortuous journey to this point. I started off with outlines for the two sequels mentioned above. Then, as time passed and inspiration and word count remained elusive, I decided to combine them and go for just one sequel. Then, in beta-ing, things changed again. So now I've split it back into two fics. Hopefully you'll find this particular fic holds up in its own right, without suffering too much from the dreaded 'curse of the middle fic in a trilogy.' However, there is an unresolved twist at the end, the worst of which I'll stick in an epilogue under a Spoiler tag. Without that, though, there wouldn't be a next fic. So, you might be thinking, "Why is he holding out on us with the second sequel?" The simple answer is, it is currently going through the re-write process. How long that will take is anyone's guess. But it is there, waiting in the wings.
If this fic seems a bit too Dynasty-meets-High School Musical to you at first, please stick with it: I am going somewhere Farscapian with this. There will be things-blowing-up, maybe even some kissing, I promise.
Thanks: Vinegardog, JJ and pdsldl for betaing.
Words: About 25,500
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Still no money being made, but will write fic for Tim Tams or murals of OBRHG.
Chapter 1:
John Crichton, ex-astronaut, one time top of the Peacekeepers Most Wanted list and more lately husband to Earth's first alien ambassador, stood looking out on his home planet through a large set of paned, French doors. If anyone had asked him what he was doing he would probably have replied that he was admiring beauty. The doors led out from the ambassador's private third-floor suite in the embassy-cum-residence, onto her expansive personal balcony. The place was a mansion really, set in lavish grounds in a salubrious quarter of New England. Apparently the house had been originally been built by some outrageously wealthy family back in the 1940s and steadily added to until they had moved on to bigger and better things back in the financial crisis which started in the first decade of the century.
They'd certainly spent the money well. John's gaze was drawn across the generous sweep of the mansion's lawns, which were dotted with the occasional mature tree or well tended shrubbery. Beyond those, his eye was drawn onwards across the calm expanse of water beyond the lawns and finally on towards the horizon.
There were signs that it had been raining overnight, but it had stopped now and it was shaping up to be a glorious morning.
Cycles ago, he had frequently imagined that his life would one day contain a wife, a couple of kids and a white picket fence running around a picture-postcard house. Maybe a Labrador or two. Some picture postcard, he thought, sipping on his first coffee of the morning. After twenty cycles… years, he corrected himself, of living aboard a Leviathan in deep space he had all but forgotten about that fantasy. Now it had suddenly and unexpectedly come true, and in spades. Why was it that the reality made him feel somewhat uneasy?
Ten days had passed since his family had moved into the plushly-appointed house, and three monens since the Peacekeepers' short, unofficial war with Earth had ended with the rescue of Livvy Sun from a human research facility. The time between had seen a flurry of activity as fences were mended between Earth and the Peacekeepers. Meanwhile the Peacekeepers had moved into the mansion, that they had purchased to be their base of operations on Earth, and made it their own by installing security and other equipment that they had brought with them.
The humans' finely tuned Public Relations industry had gone into immediate overdrive after the end of hostilities. They used their undoubted skills to gloss over the series of unfortunate events which had occurred to bring the Peacekeepers to Earth. After a few weeks on planet, the first Peacekeeper ambassador to Earth had given birth, which had been a coup that the PR people had loved. The spin doctors had also beavered away, using every opportunity to accentuate the potential benefits to Earth of their new-found friends and allies. Flesh had been pressed and bread broken with the more important Earth heads of state, including the leaders of the United States, the European Federation, and the Pacific Economic Community. The concerns of smaller countries had been partly soothed by Aeryn appearing twice at the United Nations. Numerous agreements had been signed with all sorts of organisations. Aeryn, with her faithful, human husband photogenically and diplomatically at her side at all times, had inwardly gritted her teeth and outwardly smiled her way through it all.
Amongst all the frantic work commitments, the ambassador's human family had come to visit or been visited to coo over the baby and meet the two older Sun-Crichton children. Aeryn had left those arrangements largely to John, who had started to think that, if everything from now on was always going to be so hectic, then he would rather live the life of a fugitive in the Uncharted Territories. Aeryn had laughed and suggested that if he thought his days were busy, then perhaps he would like to swap schedules with her for a day?
Things had calmed down a little since those, of course. It was fair to say that their lives were still extremely busy. John, his family and shipmates were still at the centre of a storm of attention, interest, expectations and demands. Only yesterday a detachment of their human security staff, provided by the Secret Service, had defused a potentially explosive situation. They had intervened when some sort of freelance reporter-cum-photographer had been caught following three of the younger, female Peacekeepers around during an expedition to New York to acquire a selection of appropriate local clothing. The agents had pointed out to the paparazzi that he was lucky merely to have incurred the wrath of the Secret Service, rather than a trio of affronted Peacekeeper commandos. They had not been entirely sure that he had taken the hint, and so had ensured that he had spent the remainder of his week in custody trying to explain that he was not, in fact, an assassin or terrorist or part of the vocal isolationist movement.
There had, of course, been objecting voices. Some were politically motivated, some religiously motivated, and others still were just downright bigoted. And of course there had been the usual selection of paranoids, typically males living in their mother's basements, seeking affirmation of their own wild imaginings amongst other denizens lurking in the darker and grubbier recesses of the internet. The isolationists had initially worried Aeryn, with their loudly expressed and often deeply offensive and threatening attitudes towards the Sebaceans. However, time and wise counsel had helped her to come to see them as something to be more wary than fearful of. John had spent some time reassuring her as to the relative safety of their chosen embassy site and the extent to which both the local agencies and her own people were going to ensure everyone's security.
Moya had remained in the Earth solar system for now, with a company of Peacekeepers stationed aboard. Also aboard were Chiana, Sikozu and those others amongst their long-term companions who were both uncomfortable with moving down to Earth and unwilling to find another home away from Moya. It saddened John that neither of his friends from Moya's original crew wished to come down to Earth this time, but he knew their reasons well enough. Their previous visit to Earth had not gone so well for either of them. Now, with an Earth that had had over a dozen cycles to come to terms with the existence of aliens, the naked hostility they received from some quarters made Chiana and Sikozu even less inclined to return.
So far, the only aliens based on Earth were Sebaceans. Although many humans seemed fearful of the very fact that Sebaceans so resembled them, that resemblance did have the advantage that it enabled them to blend in a little better and perhaps made them a little less intimidating. John couldn't help but smile at the thought of how humans might react to having Hynerians or Luxans amongst them on an everyday basis
John was just grateful that the official residence of the Peacekeeper ambassador to Earth was large enough to comfortably accommodate her retinue of Peacekeeper guards, techs and officials, along with the handful of Moyans who had moved in with them. It had to be, really: For the time being security and personal safety dictated that the extra-terrestrials should stick together. Of course, there were some humans working in the household as well. The security risk inherent in employing them had to be balanced against practical and political considerations and imperatives.
Politics…. John sighed… he hated politics: politics was the reason Aeryn was not with him this morning. She had made an early start, travelling to Washington with a small retinue including her recently promoted Lieutenant and personal aide, Meila Pittach. It was rotten timing, really, because today was Livvy and D'Argo's first day at their new school, but it couldn't be helped. The US administration had been insistent about wanting to talk to Aeryn today.
When they had first agreed to stay on Earth John had been reluctant to let the children attend a school and had wanted them tutored at home. His mind had been filled with fears of the risks such a move might expose them to. That didn't go down well with either D'Argo and Livvy, who felt that they would be missing out on some genuine Earth experiences by being coddled at home, nor with Aeryn, who had insisted that her children were up to the threats and challenges of some primitive backwater planet. When the Secret Service and finally the school itself had also closed ranks and argued against him, John knew that he was doomed to lose this one. The expensive, redbrick, private educational establishment was used to dealing with the offspring of the rich and powerful and the delicate balance of security, privacy and obsequiousness which that often implied. But it would still have been nice if Aeryn could have been present to see them off and wish them luck.
John took one last look out of his window, draining his coffee and tracking the distant arrowhead of birds flying over the lagoon, before lifting their newborn baby son, Talyn, from his cot and heading down to breakfast.
'~'
Deke had kept his head down as much as possible through his classes in his first morning at a human school, observing carefully. Although it was hard for him to conceal that his knowledge and abilities in math and science seemed far ahead of those of his classmates, he had decided that it was the best strategy. He didn't want to stand out as a nerd, or worse, draw attention to himself and so reveal his identity on his first day, even though he hated downplaying his talents. Even so, several of the larger, more athletic boys in his classes had already made one or two challenging remarks. Deke put it down to them being troubled by his own not inconsiderable physical presence. They probably felt threatened and were testing out the new boy, establishing dominance and pecking order, as his dad would say. He was pretty sure that his mother would have just told him to Pantak jab them and be done with it.
The afternoon was set aside for team sports and, at this time of year, that seemed to mean the game called American Football. Deke was perplexed as to why it was called football, when it didn't seem to involve kicking the ball. It was not really a ball, either, in that it was not spherical, but he discretely kept those thoughts to himself. What he couldn't disguise was that, despite having watched some of his dad's old tapes on Moya, and playing the odd game of catch with the old man along Moya's corridors, he had no real experience of the game. Unfamiliar with the complex and unwieldy clothing required to play, he stumbled through getting changed and ready, and was the last to make his way out onto the sports field.
"Where you been all your life?" scoffed one of the bigger boys, who Deke now understood were termed jocks. Why, he could not fathom.
"What?" Deke frowned. "Oh, abroad: We moved around a lot." He supplied as the penny dropped as to what the other boy might mean. At that moment, the coach stepped in.
"C'mon, we're gonna warm up first, then we'll see what you got," Mr. McPhee, the slightly corpulent older man encouraged his newest pupil.
Even if Deke didn't outpace his classmates in the warm-up run, it was clear by the end of it that he was amongst the least out of breath. He also couldn't fake the ease with which he caught the ball, nor the strength or accuracy with which he threw it back. One of the jocks who had been testing him out earlier in the day came across as they were waiting for the division into teams. Deke eyed the boy warily as he approached; expecting trouble, ready to return any that came his way.
The jock stopped before Deke, almost toe to toe. Then he grinned, reached out and slapped him on the shoulder. "Deke, isn't it?" Deke nodded, looked at the jock's hand where it rested on his shoulder then looked him quizzically in the eye. The jock laughed. "Well, you don't look like much," He squeezed Deke's shoulder in a drannit-sized, ham-like hand, grinned and chuckled. "But I reckon you'll be on the squad in no time!"
'~'
Livvy had been pleasantly surprised by how easily she had been accepted by her new school class: But then, few, if any of them, realised who she actually was. That was probably owing to a combination of a number of factors. In accordance with normal practice at the school, the staff had been careful not to publicise who her parents were. In addition, the students here were used to their classmates coming and going. Of course, many of them were too wrapped up in themselves to pay anyone else, least of all the shy, new girl, very much attention. As she made her way, largely ignored by her fellow students, to her next class, Livvy Sun passed a restroom and, feeling the call of nature, went in.
Four pairs of painted eyes turned to regard her from beneath the fringes of their expensive haircuts as Livvy pushed through the inner door into the hand-wash area. Three older girls, maybe closer to Deke's age were gathered round a smaller girl whom Livvy recognized as being from her own year group. The elder girls all had the same look about them: long, straight hair, almost as pale as a Nebari's, and dressed in skirts which were so short that Livvy wondered why they bothered wearing them at all. They were almost certainly not regulation length. The part of her which was a Peacekeeper fumed at their disregard for the rules. She blinked and cocked her head, trying to assess the situation.
"Ow!" the younger girl protested in tears as one of the elder girls twisted her arm. "Please… I'll bring it in tomorrow…"
Livvy paused for a second, weighing up her options, before moving forwards, apparently towards the cubicles. One of the older girls bristled.
"Push off, squirt!" The apparent leader of the bullies snarled at Livvy.
"Unless you wanna be next?" sneered another.
One of the older girls, probably the second sidekick, advanced on Livvy, reaching out an expensively manicured hand, clearly meaning to shove Livvy back towards the entrance. Livvy calmly swung her bag onto her back. Then, fast as lightning, she reached out and intercepted the older girl's hand with one of her own, just before it made contact with her chest. The attacker gasped in pain and surprise, crumpling to her knees as Livvy twisted the girl's hand upwards and backwards in her extraordinarily strong grip. It was an elementary self defence move, one which her father had told her that even humans knew about. Evidently these particular humans didn't, though, she quickly realised. Livvy, on the other hand, had spent arns every weeken throughout her whole life being drilled in unarmed combat by her mother and others of the crew of Moya: It may have been a simple move, but it was sufficient for now. Besides, the elder girls, despite their superior numbers and size, excited no fear in her when compared to a single, adult Peacekeeper sparring partner.
"Why you little…." The ringleader hissed, moving swiftly and aggressively to reassert her authority and rescue her associate. She bore down on Livvy with evil intent and claws outstretched. Livvy neither flinched nor released her grip on the other girl's hand. Instead, she simply re-angled her body, waiting for the optimum moment to deliver a fierce kick with the flat of her foot to the advancing girl's knee. The elder girl crumpled to the restroom floor beside her friend, howling and clutching at her leg.
Livvy flashed one of the more predatory smiles she had learnt from her mother at the remaining bully, who quickly released her victim and fussily helped her leader to her feet. The girl whom Livvy had rescued wasted no time in making her way round behind her saviour. Once there, Livvy twisted her own hand, flipping the girl she was holding over onto her back before finally releasing her. As the three bullies clutched each other and climbed back to their feet, Livvy caught their gaze, raised an eyebrow, bared her teeth and gave what could only be described as a bark. The bullies shuddered, flinched and squeaked involuntarily at the unexpected sound.
"Come on Heather, we're outta here!" The leader whined, never taking her eyes off Livvy as the three of them hurriedly made their exit.
"You were amazing… How'd you learn to do that?" gushed the remaining girl once the attackers had gone.
"What? Oh… My mum taught me," Livvy shrugged, not wanting to go into detail and so reveal her identity.
"What's your name? I'm Sandra, Sandra Meade," the girl continued.
"Hmm, Olivia. Call me Livvy," Livvy replied, deliberately not adding either Sun or Crichton. She knew dad would be furious if he found out she had gotten into a fight on her first day. Mum, on the other hand, would probably be secretly proud, but would still likely tell her off for risking damage to Earth-Peacekeeper relations. Consequently, Livvy's mind was already preoccupied with how she could hush up this little incident.
"~"
John had the news playing on the TV whilst he fed baby Talyn his lunch. He wasn't really paying attention to the stories – it all seemed so provincial to him now. He only briefly perked up when a story came on about what the Earthlings still insisted on terming the aliens. He recognised library pictures of himself, Aeryn and Moya as they flashed across the screen. John grabbed the remote and turned the volume up. But it turned out to be pretty boring stuff, speculation, nothing of any novelty, substance or consequence. Didn't these people have anything more worthwhile to do, he wondered to himself as the weather forecast came on?
The phone rang. John put down Talyn's spoon and picked up the receiver.
"Yes…. No…. How'd you get this number….? Look, they're not girls, they're women, and no, none of them would be interested in appearing in your magazine….. Or in one of your shows or videos…. Yes I'm sure about that…. Well, yes, maybe you could ask them yourself, but I wouldn't recommend it….No, I will not ask any of them for you, I'm not your pimp and I like my face just the way it is…. No means NO: Don't call this number again!"
John slammed the phone down and took a deep breath. Baby Talyn cackled and squealed.
"Yeah, I know son, crazy Erplings," he remarked before lifting the receiver and dialling. "John here. Uhhum. Look, the last number to dial in here…. Trace it, block it. Yeah, from all our phones. Great. Thanks. And pass the number along to the Secret Service, tell them there's been a security snafu."
John put the phone down again and then let out a heartfelt sigh, refocusing himself on more pleasant tasks, letting the red mist lift. "Now, lunch," he said, smiling down at Talyn. Some things never changed. Tavleks and babies, for instance. Maybe it was time for him or Aeryn to appear on some chat shows, do some more interviews, that sort of thing: Go more onto the PR offensive? If only he could get her into a dress, or even a skirt-suit….
"~"
"How was your day honey?" John asked as Aeryn glided into their private lounge. It was dark when she'd left this morning, and it was dark now that she'd arrived back home. She could probably do with a bit of help relaxing, he'd decided. If that meant he had to act like a housewife in a 1950's TV sitcom, so be it. She was resplendent in the red, white and black dress uniform of a Peacekeeper commandant, or was it ambassador? John was not really sure, not really that interested in the difference, if there was one, truth be told. But he did like the polished shine on her black leather pants and how the white seams accentuated the curve and length of her legs.
"Long," Aeryn replied, dropping her jacket on the sofa before throwing her body down beside it. "They're still dragging their heels on the Fairfax prosecutions."
"It's the Erp way," John remarked, flashing her a wink as he finished preparing her a hot drink at the counter, which stood at the far side of the room. "Talk, talk talk. We're all just a bunch of yappy good-for-nothings."
Aeryn snorted her agreement as John tapped the spoon dry on the edge of the cup.
"It was nice to see Kovack again," Aeryn conceded, running her hands through her hair and letting out a weary sigh. "But otherwise, I could have done without the rest of the trip." She returned his wink. "Especially all the talk."
"How was he?" He asked, handing her a cup of green tea, which he had begun boiling the water to brew as soon as the Marauder pilot had commed to say they were coming in to land.
"Fine. He said to say 'Hey'. Frelling fahrbot human," she grinned at her husband as she nursed the drink, releasing a little of her tension with one of their private jokes. "How were things here?"
"I think the kids enjoyed their first day at school," John replied, kneeling on the floor in front of her. "At least, that's the story they're telling me."
Aeryn ached an eyebrow at that but said nothing. She didn't need to.
"Everything went smoothly with your meetings?" John asked, working on the bright, polished buckles to her calf-length boots.
"As well as can be expected. I know where I am with most of it, but some people in your government are talking about why you, and some of the humans we met last time, haven't aged as much as expected." She blew gently across the top of her steaming mug. "Actually, a lot of them seem fixated on it."
"What do they want?" John asked, gently tugging off the first boot. "I mean, their guesses are as good as ours."
"They think it's the translator microbes. I'm not sure if they believe me when I say we don't really know if it is." Aeryn's newly-liberated toes wiggled, delighting in their freedom.
"But they want them anyway?" John began working on the clasps securing her second boot.
"Yes and no. They want them. I just don't think they want everyone to have them." She abandoned the steaming drink for now, setting it down on the adjacent occasional table.
"Ah," John commented. In his decades away from Earth, some things hadn't changed. That the rich and powerful liked to keep certain advantages to themselves was one of them.
"Ah indeed, John," Aeryn sighed, reclining deeper into the sofa as John gently removed her second boot for her. "I wonder if I might have made a terrible mistake accepting this job. All this scheming and deal-making. It's just not me."
"Hey honey, you're doing fine." He rubbed his hand comfortingly up and down her leg, fingers following the outseam, until his palm came to rest on her knee. "Maybe what you need is to find one particular thing that really interests you. For the rest, you can just be the figurehead. Get other people to do those things."
"I'm the ambassador, John, it's my job. I can't just say I only want to do the nice things."
"Was the president at your meetings today?" John asked softly, moving round to join her on the sofa and snag her hand and squeeze it gently.
"No," she replied, frowning as she struggled to understand what he was getting at or, alternately, why he had changed subject so abruptly.
"Right, no. He delegated." John explained. "You should do the same. If we don't have the right people, ask to have some assigned here."
Aeryn considered John's advice carefully for a few microts. He was right, of course. She would look into it tomorrow. But for now all she wanted was some time with her family and a bite to eat.
"Third meal will be about 30 minutes," John commented, seeming to read her thoughts as he gently rubbed her hand. "Thought you might like it if we ate as a family. Just you me and the kids. So we had a snack earlier to keep us going till you got home."
Aeryn buried her tiredness and flashed him a broad smile. "That would be perfect, John," she replied. It was looking like the evening might make up for the day, after all.
'~'