He awoke with a strange splitting headache… to alarm klaxons.
Berret swung his feet over the side of his sleeping platform and his skull felt like it was in danger of rolling off his neck.
"What the hell?" he moaned as he grabbed at his temples to keep his head from just doing that.
Before he could organize his foggy thoughts into some semblance of order, Pilot's voice broke in over the ship-wide comm link.
"Emergency on Command! All crew members to the command tier immediately! Emergency on Command!"
"Ah damn," Berret moaned again as his head now took to spinning as well. Luckily he had fallen asleep fully dressed but sans footwear. He thrust his feet into the first things available, which happen to be well-worn Peacekeeper combat boots.
He managed to make it out the doorway of his quarters without colliding with a door jam, and chose the right direction heading to the command tier. Over the comm, other members of the crew were demanding to know what the nature of the emergency was. So many people were talking at the same time that the man couldn't make heads or tails of what was being said. The way he was feeling he briefly wondered if something had failed with the atmospheric system, causing the odd dizziness he was experiencing.
A few microts later he rounded the last bend in the corridor that led to the Command level. Just as he did the comm channel cleared enough for Pilot to get a word in.
"The Shrike is attacking Rygel!" the helmsman called, "Assistance is needed immediately!"
Berret actually paused for a moment in confusion. "What?" he said out loud, and paid for the sudden outburst almost immediately. His head suffering a new throbbing, he entered the command deck ready to demand an explanation from anyone present.
"What the hell is Pilot talking about!" he demanded through new pain. "I'm nowhere near Rygel…"
The words died on his lips as the scene in the control room confronted him. A Shrike was attacking the Hynerian ruler sure enough.
Before him was Chiana, clad in a smaller version of Shrike armor without a cloak, and with a death grip around Rygel's throat. The Nebari's normally beautiful face was emotionless as she throttled the Dominar.
Her hold was so tight that Rygel couldn't even gag for air, his small legs kicked useless at the air as the girl held him suspended before her like a rag doll.
Berret was shocked action-less.
Crichton pushed pass him a few microts later, followed closely by Aeryn.
"Oh Christ," the human said when he saw what was happening. "568 let Rygel go!" John ordered. When the armored gray girl ignored him and continued choking the Hynerian, Crichton turned to the frozen man. "Stop her, Connors, before she kills him!"
When Berret failed to do anything or seem to notice his demand, John struck him on the shoulder. "Stop her! You're the only one she listens to!" Crichton barked.
Aeryn drew her pulse pistol at the moment.
"Stop her now or I will shoot her in the head," the ex-Peacekeeper warned as she leveled her weapon.
It took a moment for him to catch up and realize Crichton had been speaking to him; the threat from Aeryn released his body from whatever mental block had frozen it to the deck. He moved forward to place his body between the Nebari and the gun pointed at her.
"Chiana, let go…" he called as he went to her. The gray didn't respond. He reached her side and attempted to bring her upraised arm downward to release Rygel, only to find he couldn't budge it a henta. It was as if the girl were made of hull-steel.
"What the hezmana is going on here?" yelled D'argo as he arrived on the tier.
"I am about to shoot the Shrike in three microts if she doesn't release Rygel," announced Aeryn.
"Well good frelling riddance," the Luxan commented. "Make sure you take Rygel out too while you have the chance."
"Hold on… give Jared a chance," John broke in irately to the pair.
Berret gave up trying to move the girl's arm and stepped in closer to her. "Let him go," he tried once more. This time Chiana acknowledged him. She tilted her head up in his direction to regard him with an impassive gaze. He was again shocked; as he discovered her normally dark eyes had the silver tint of microbe augmentation to them. What the hell is going on here? He found himself thinking.
"As you wish," the Nebari replied in a toneless voice.
She opened her semi-armored hand, and a half-dead Rygel fell to the deck and began wheezing for air.
An obviously relieved John came over, followed by Aeryn, who had lowered her pulse pistol but not re-holstered it yet. D'argo muttered something about the whole incident being a waste of his time and announced he was heading back to his quarters and his bed. The annoyed Luxan barked an order at Pilot before leaving, not to be disturbed again unless the ship was in immediate danger of being boarded or blown up.
"What the yotz was it about this time?" the Sebacean woman demanded to know of the rest of the crew still present.
Yeah, that is a good question," John added. "Why did 568 decide to choke the dren out of Rygel?"
"Be… because that… metal-clad pasty bitch is a psychopathic killer… that's why," rasped out Rygel from the floor.
Crichton offered the Hynerian a cool sneer. "Sure, Ryg… and we know just how much of a boy scout you are."
Berret ignored the others just as he was trying to ignore is aching head. "Why," he asked the girl.
"The Hynerian was stealing food," Chiana simply replied while pointing down at a previously unseen sack on the deck. Aeryn picked it up and took a look inside.
"Food cubes," she confirmed and then tossed the bag onto a nearby pedestal. "He was hording again."
"So you were going to kill him?" Berret asked in bewilderment.
"It is my purpose to eradicate thieves," the girl replied bluntly.
Aeryn hissed irately. "Not any frelling more it isn't," she growled. She turned back to Berret. "Take this … 'thing', back to your quarters and do not let her wander free about the ship alone anymore… that is if your useless eema can stay sober long enough to do so." Berret was taken aback by the bitter scorn in the woman's tone. However, her comment gave him the missing clue as to what was wrong with his head.
He was indeed suffering the classic symptoms of an immense hang over.
"One more incident with your frell-toy here, and I will personally stuff her out an airlock myself," Aeryn warned further.
Crichton let out an uncharacteristically brutal cackle.
"Aren't we playing Captain Hard-ass tonight," he taunted.
Aeryn glared at him, then poked her gun into his face.
"Frell with me again, Crichton… and you will see just how hard I can be," Aeryn snarled.
John only gave her a twisted smirk in reply. Aeryn narrowed her eyes before lowering her weapon.
"Frell off!" she told him as she turned to leave the tier. "If it had been up to me at the time, you all would have gone out an airlock on that first day," she finished as she exited.
The human twisted his lips up in thought. "I really hate that bitch," he said a microt later.
"I hate you all," put in Rygel as he made his unsteady way over to recover his Hoverthrone.
"You can bite me too, Spanky," John added and then turned back to the other man. "Connors, you really need to get your shit together. We're on shaky ground here."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" Berret asked.
"Calling you what?" the human countered.
"You keep referring to me as 'Connors'."
John blinked. "That's your damn name!" he spat.
"It is not," Berret nearly growled back. He was becoming impatient with whatever was going on, and his head hurt too much on top of it all. "My name is Berret."
To his dismay, Crichton merely chuckled.
"Whatever you got into tonight must have been good to make you forget your name," he said. "Okay, if you're not Major Jared Connors, US Special Operations Group, assigned to be my watchdog on the Farscape 2 flight… then you can be this Berret, First-rate frell-up drunk for all I care." Crichton took a step forward and the smile faded from his face. "But whoever you are or you want to be," he continued while poking him in the chest with his forefinger, "You will get your goddamn act together. I'm not going to get killed by some pissed off alien like D.K. did, because you can't accept we're lost light-years away from home, and you can't get back to your little Japanese girlfriend." The other man spared a quick glance to the diminutive female Shrike for a microt. "I don't know what the hell your problem is… you seemed to have found yourself a replacement anyway."
Berret felt numb, not at Crichton's harsh words, but at the realization that somehow in a way he couldn't quite understand just then, everything John was saying made sense to him on some deep level. Bits and pieces of the facts were being reveled to him as he struggled to organize memories that began to flash back at him. He now remembered - things that shouldn't be at all - but somehow were.
Just then the comm channel opened again, this time with a new female voice.
"John? John? What's happening up there?"
The astronaut heaved a heavy sigh and tapped his comm badge.
"Just the usual crap. Its over now… go back to sleep, Jool," he said.
"Well good," the female on the other end of the channel replied, "Then come back to bed."
"I'll be back down in a few microns," John finished and keyed his comm link off. He looked back up at Berret again. "I guess we both have moved on in our own way," he added.
"Who was that?" Berret asked, he didn't recognize the woman on the channel's voice at all.
"Man, you must have went on a worse than usual bender tonight. Forget it… you'll remember Joolushko tomorrow."
Berret nearly scowled. "I have never heard of this person. Where is Zhaan?" he then demanded to know.
"Zhaan? Zhaan who?" the other man asked in turn. "Now who's making up people?"
"The Delvian priestess," the ex-Enforcer supplied. "One of the original escape prisoners aboard this ship."
"Delvian?" John repeated dumbly. "There's never been any Delvians on this floating insane asylum. In fact didn't that pain in the ass Peacekeeper tell us once that her people exterminated some race called Delvians about 70 of their years ago?"
The news struck Berret like a hammer blow. He had to reach out and steady himself against one of the control pedestals. "Zhaan dead?" he asked himself, "How can this be?"
Before he could ask any more questions, Crichton's face change to one of brief pity as he took in the other's condition and obvious distress.
"Look, it's been a long night and you're not in good shape. Go on and take 568 back to your quarters before she gets into any more trouble. Sleep off whatever you drank tonight, tomorrows another day."
Chiana had watched the entire scene play out while showing no emotion or special interest. It was then that he realized that 568 meant the Nebari girl. He had been Shrike 457; she was now somehow Shrike 568.
Crichton made to leave the tier also at that moment.
"Chiana," Berret, now someone named Jared Connors, muttered.
"What's that?" John asked at the doorway.
"Her name is… Chiana," he replied weakly.
The human nodded his head. "Yeah, whatever… you named your pet too. That's nice." Then he was gone.
Berret returned to his quarters, the same quarters that he had always remembered at least, followed by the silent Chiana Shrike. Once inside, he went directly to his closet storage and tore the contents apart. Searching it front to back and back to front again failed to yield what he had been looking for - his Shrike armor and cloak.
Instead he found something vastly different and hugely disturbing.
Inside he found a familiar orange IASA flight suit with a patch denoting the Farscape 2 mission, and a name tag reading "Connors" over one pocket. He seized the garment and twisted it around in his hands, expecting it to be a figment of his imagination and to dissolve before his eyes. The garb stubbornly reminded solid in his grasp as he surrendered to the facts and slumped down to sit on his bed.
The Chiana Enforcer watched stonily from the center of the room. When he didn't move for a few moments, she cocked her head slightly.
"What is the purpose of this action," she asked in her monotone.
"I don't know," Berret answered. "I was hoping to find some answers."
"To what?" the Nebari inquired, her head now straight and level once more.
"To whatever is happening here. I remember things strangely… I remember the Farscape flight and coming here… and at the same time I remember something different, I remember being a Shrike…"
The female tilted her head again. "You were never a Syndicate Enforcer," she informed him bluntly.
"I know…" he said, as images of the trip through an unexpected wormhole flashed before his eyes. John and D.K. fighting to regain control of the Farscape 2 vehicle as it careened like an out of control bobsled. Then a split second later he remembered the familiar weight of Enforcer armor, the deadly brace blades at his command, and loving a Nebari thief he didn't deserve to love. "But still… I remember a different life at the same time. I was a Shrike, I'm sure of it."
"As you wish," Chiana told him blankly.
His head throbbed worse the more he tried to focus his thoughts and conflicting memories. He rubbed his temples and when that didn't help much, tried massaging his forehead.
"I can't think straight right now," he finally concluded. "Let's just get some sleep and figure this all out in the morning. You might as well take off your armor and get comfortable," he then suggested.
"As you wish," the gray girl replied again. Within microts she had divested herself of all the heavy plate and boots, standing before him in a skintight fitting ballistic suit undergarment.
For the first time he noticed something, narrowing his eyes he approached her. Chiana allowed him to gently tilt her head from side-to-side as he examined her neck – or more accurately, the scars on her neck.
"Control collar," he murmured and then reached upwards to probe at his own neckline, and feeling only smooth skin. His collar scars were gone!
"Which you removed from me," she reminded him, "Setting me free from Black Syndicate control."
"My god!" Berret exclaimed involuntarily.
"Have you forgotten?" the female Shrike asked with just a bare hint of curiosity.
"No," he replied, and found at that moment he did recall the day. However the memory changed back and forth from him wearing the Enforcer armor to her wearing her version of it. He shook his head to rid himself of the conflicting scenes. "No, I remember," he told her to ward off anymore questions, "Go ahead… lets get some sleep."
Chiana tabbed open the top half of her black ballistic suit, revealing the soft gray flesh beneath it.
"Do you wish to recreate before we enter sleep cycle," she asked.
"What," Berret asked, not quite being up to speed with all the other questions racing through his mind.
Chiana took a step closer to him, looking up at him with eyes that were their natural dark color, but still strangely lifeless. "Do you wish to engage in sexual activity before sleep," she rephrased.
Berret nearly stumbled. "No… not tonight, thank you." He nearly had asked if they had recreated in the past, but then remembered that they had on numerous occasions – mostly when he had been intoxicated.
Something briefly flashed through the Shrike's eyes, that the man thought might have been disappointment. Berret wondered if, unlike him, this Shrike was making an attempt to reach for the love and acceptance she craved.
"As you wish," Chiana answered once more, then moved to the opposite side of the bed. After removing the rest of the black suit she slide smoothly under the cover on that side of the sleeping platform, to lay on her back, gazing up at the ceiling of the room blankly while he undressed.
A new thought struck him.
"Chiana…?" he inquired. The girl seemed to ignore him.
"568," he tried, and she turned her steady stare upon him.
"Are we… close?" he asked.
"We are in the same room," she replied.
Berret almost chuckled despite his wounded head… it was the sort of answer he would have given in that other life he recalled. "No… I mean what is our… relationship?"
"You freed me, we have been together since then."
Berret shook his head, "No, I mean like in as compared to the others aboard the ship. What are we like?"
The girl actually blinked once, as she appeared to give the question some thought.
"I do not trust the others of the crew, I trust only you," she finally said. Then strangely a hint of something crept into her tone for just a microt. "I am loyal… only to you."
With that said, she turned over on her side away from him.
Berret paused as his blood turned abruptly cold. This wasn't right in so many ways. He could remember having those exact feelings in that other life that was constantly derailing his thoughts. If only his head would clear so he could focus!
The only thing he was sure of at the moment was that somehow their roles in those two different lifetimes had gotten switched between them.
But which one was the correct memory, this one in the here and now, or the one he only remembered having been through?