Author's disclaimer: The characters of Farscape belong to Henson
Productions. I just borrowed them for a short time.
Authors note: This story is the continuing story of Morgan Langtree and Bialar Crais that I started in "A Little Slice of Earth" and continued in "A Brief Pause In Paradise". It is, I am sure, definitely NOT the final one. As long as you keep asking for more, then you will get it!
Dedication: This one is for: my husband John and my daughter Caitlyn, who thinks D'Argo is just the coolest and likes to give "Mommy's Crais" kisses on the TV; my niece Kat; Amber and Joe; Crais' Cohorts; Chesney, thanks for the covers; and everyone who has supported me in my writing, and listened to my stories, even though they didn't know what the frell was going on!
Prologue
Scorpius paced his chambers, a stack of readouts in his hand. He glanced at the numbers for at least the tenth time, his mind trying to calculate the correct combination. Scorpius growled in frustration, tossing the sheets to his desk, half of them drifting to the deck in a flurry of plastic. He needed Crichton. He needed the secrets that were still locked in the human's mind, secrets the Ancients had entrusted to him. Scorpius stormed from his chambers, knocking aside crewmen as he searched the carrier for Braca. He found the Lieutenant in the mess hall.
Braca felt eyes on him and he looked up, his eyes meeting the scientist's. He sighed as he lowered his tray to the table and approached Scorpius. "Yes, sir?"
Scorpius smiled, draping his arm around Braca's shoulder. "Find Crichton. Find the Leviathan. I have left him and his friends alone long enough. I am tired of trying to figure out this formula and I am tired of this game."
Braca nodded. "Yes sir. I will have command determine their vector based on their last known coordinates." He watched Scorpius walk away, his eyes narrowing as he returned to his tray of food, now growing cold. Braca sat down and stabbed at the plate, taking a bite and grimacing. Ever since Langtree fixed Scorpius' cooling system, the Peacekeeper scientist had been more demanding and just downright unbearable at times. Braca dropped his fork as his comm chimed. "What?" he snapped.
"Sir, the marauder has returned. Do you wish to debrief them?" his communication officer answered.
"No. Take care of it and report any unusual findings," he answered, stabbing at his plate again. "And see if you can determine the Leviathan's frelling vector and follow it," he added. Braca scowled, picking up his tray and slipping into the slot. It was going to be a long day.
If the Lieutenant knew what was transpiring on the other side of the sector, the Leviathan, food and John Crichton would've been the last things on his mind.
Copyright 2002 Beth A. Carpenter
Authors note: This story is the continuing story of Morgan Langtree and Bialar Crais that I started in "A Little Slice of Earth" and continued in "A Brief Pause In Paradise". It is, I am sure, definitely NOT the final one. As long as you keep asking for more, then you will get it!
Dedication: This one is for: my husband John and my daughter Caitlyn, who thinks D'Argo is just the coolest and likes to give "Mommy's Crais" kisses on the TV; my niece Kat; Amber and Joe; Crais' Cohorts; Chesney, thanks for the covers; and everyone who has supported me in my writing, and listened to my stories, even though they didn't know what the frell was going on!
Prologue
Scorpius paced his chambers, a stack of readouts in his hand. He glanced at the numbers for at least the tenth time, his mind trying to calculate the correct combination. Scorpius growled in frustration, tossing the sheets to his desk, half of them drifting to the deck in a flurry of plastic. He needed Crichton. He needed the secrets that were still locked in the human's mind, secrets the Ancients had entrusted to him. Scorpius stormed from his chambers, knocking aside crewmen as he searched the carrier for Braca. He found the Lieutenant in the mess hall.
Braca felt eyes on him and he looked up, his eyes meeting the scientist's. He sighed as he lowered his tray to the table and approached Scorpius. "Yes, sir?"
Scorpius smiled, draping his arm around Braca's shoulder. "Find Crichton. Find the Leviathan. I have left him and his friends alone long enough. I am tired of trying to figure out this formula and I am tired of this game."
Braca nodded. "Yes sir. I will have command determine their vector based on their last known coordinates." He watched Scorpius walk away, his eyes narrowing as he returned to his tray of food, now growing cold. Braca sat down and stabbed at the plate, taking a bite and grimacing. Ever since Langtree fixed Scorpius' cooling system, the Peacekeeper scientist had been more demanding and just downright unbearable at times. Braca dropped his fork as his comm chimed. "What?" he snapped.
"Sir, the marauder has returned. Do you wish to debrief them?" his communication officer answered.
"No. Take care of it and report any unusual findings," he answered, stabbing at his plate again. "And see if you can determine the Leviathan's frelling vector and follow it," he added. Braca scowled, picking up his tray and slipping into the slot. It was going to be a long day.
If the Lieutenant knew what was transpiring on the other side of the sector, the Leviathan, food and John Crichton would've been the last things on his mind.
Copyright 2002 Beth A. Carpenter