Farscape, the Farscape characters, and the Farscape universe are the creations of Rockne S. O'Bannon and are owned entirely by the Jim Henson Company and Farscape Productions. Use of these characters here is only for entertainment value, with no intent to infringe upon the rights of the owning organizations and parties.
For further information on the Farscape Universe, please visit the Farscape Web Page at and the Jim Henson Company Farscape Fan Site for episode listings, air times, and background information on the show and on the stars.
This is old Farscape - pre-Zhaan's departure. This story made its debut on the BBoard back in 2000, offered in installments. It was intended to be a bit of escapism from the horrendous gaps in new farscape episodes that plagued us in the U.S, my so-called fanfix-fiction. It was the third of five plot outlines I created in that series (see Dark Dreamer and Redemption for the first two). I wasn't happy with original ending and I'm hoping that I'll find a better one for this incarnation. This story was meant to debut in entirety by Halloween, 1999 - but as I said, I was never happy with the ending, so it came out as bits and pieces as posts on the main board (I suppose it's still there in the archives somewhere). As it is, I hope you'll find it a nice creepy flavor for a virtual Halloween. - Cheers, Sol.
One mention on aliens - when I first posted this story on back on 2000, there was no such thing as a Traskan. One of the hazards of early fanfic is that they can come to be disjointed from the main canon scripts; or as in this case and in the case of Redemption, come to have an eerie similarity between what is written in fanfic and what came to be written for the show. Traskans and my aliens here, called Ayetuh - are very similar, enough so that I could have just renamed the aliens Traskans as an update and it would have flowed just fine. But I decided to keep the text the same. The use of the third eye actually comes from a story in Greek mythology, where Athena blinds someone for seeing her bathing, but in mercy, gives him a third, psychic, eye to let him perceive the future. - and now, on to the story.
The Dead Iceby Solanio - 1.22.00
Time: Sometime between Through the Looking Glass and A Bug's Life
Spoilers: Throne For a Loss, That Old Black Magic
If one could save the colours of a nightmare, they would be kept in such a place. The world was a work of chaos, painted with a glimmer of madness: fields of ice, mountains of ice, ice that was a shroud to the senses and barren of all hope. The frozen landscape was cracked and fissured by the tidal pressures of several nearby moons. And the sky was savaged by radiation storms from two suns, whose marriage in this binary system was uncomfortable and violent. A distant giant red sun was setting behind one of the larger moons, banished for the moment but soon to return when this moon had passed in orbit. The red sun's light was fast waning, transforming the scene from one of blood-red wreckage to that of an eerie iridescence. The companion sun, a bright starlight speck of a blue-white dwarf, now offered its own dim ghostly illumination, fueled by gasses stolen from its behemoth partner. And to this, the reflections from the moons created grey half-shadows everywhere. Their phantom light revealed - things, half seen and more than half imagined, embedded in the ice. Animals, presumably, of all sizes lay in their frozen tombs, their bodies twisted by a painful rigor. Their ocean, their world had killed them with cold, trapping them as ornaments of misery. Here and there, where erosion from the biting wind or where impact had torn up the ice, bits and pieces of bodies lay exposed, soulless offerings of agony to any traveler so unlucky as to come there. In such a place, darkness would have been a kindness to the eyes.
Crichton rubbed a bit of ice with his gloved hand, hoping to better see the face of something. An alien visage presented itself. Trying to reconcile what he could comprehend to the mad anatomy he had discovered, John's mind decided to call it part fish and part insect. Though alien, John could still read much expression into the face. It's mouth was caught open as if in a scream, utter hopelessness and despair seemed trapped in the frozen eyes. Crichton removed his glove and swept his hand to polish the ice and get a better look. It touched upon a thin patch where the ice had worn though, and his fingers brushed something, not ice. In his imagination for a moment, he thought that whatever it was, the creature's appendage moved and grabbed him. He realized in an instant that it was just the deep cold welding his skin to that of the frozen dead flesh. But it startled him so much that he jerked his hand back, painfully tearing some of his own skin. Having seen enough, he kicked the snowy shavings of windblown ice over the creature. He succeeded in hiding it from his eyes, but not from his memory. As he sucked his torn finger, he could taste something bitter there. With disgust, he spat out a sliver of - something - and walked back to where Genna and Rygel were presumably waiting.
Genna was not there. Rygel was, seated uncomfortably in his gravthrone. He was quite vocal upon seeing Crichton.
"Oh, there you are!" Despite his tone, Rygel seemed rather glad to see John. "Genna said his people would be here. I don't like to be kept waiting. I don't trust that man."
"Sparky, did it occur to you that this is a little late for having reservations? Maybe, you should have said this before we got here." Crichton looked at the barren landscape around him. - "Wherever the hell here happens to be."
Rygel was quick to point out, "I don't see that we have much choice. And you're the one who keeps complaining about having nothing but food cubes to eat. Need I remind you that there are not many who are willing to deal with people in our - situation?"
"Yeah, well food cubes don't sound half so bad now."
"What did you find?" Rygel asked him, hoping to change the subject.
But Crichton ignored the question. "I don't want to start up a conversation, Rygel. Let's just get this over with. I want out of here."
"As do I," Rygel agreed, pulling his shawl over his shoulders as if the meager cloth might give him any more comfort in that place.
Crichton watched him. He checked his own thermal pack and nodded to Rygel's.
"That thing still working for you?"
"Yes," Rygel told him. "I'm not cold. I'm just..."
A sweeping shadow cut off the moonlight. They felt the vibration of the ship before they could see it, but they saw it soon enough. It was a medium transport, purposely bland and nondescript, not much more than a grey cylinder that blended into the landscape as the ship settled down beyond a ridge of torn ice hills.
"Well, they're here," Crichton announced.
"Is stating the obvious a human trait, or is compelling stupidity something only you manifest?"
"Save it for the smugglers, Sparky. Let's just get what we came for and leave this frelling snow cone."
"That has always been my intention." Rygel took a moment from examining his fingers to look at John. Rygel noticed that Crichton had a rather bothered expression on his face. "Is something wrong?"
John nodded.
"Yeah - this place. This place is all wrong."
Rygel looked around him. "It's just a planet, Crichton. It's not much different than many other bleak planets in this galaxy. When you've lived as long as I have, they all start looking the same."
"Rygel, if there were going to be any planets in this system, they should all be like those moons up there, dead and sterile. The planetary nebula from that white dwarf up there has this system washed in all kinds of radiation. The place is a dead zone."
"Frankly, I don't see your point. Pilot said there was nothing living on this planet."
"Yeah, but take look around you. The creatures in this ice - this place was a thriving ocean world. How did it get here? It would take billions of years to produce this kind of complex biosphere. Binary stars like the ones up there can't be much older than a hundred million years - cycles, whatever. None of this makes any sense."
"The way you keep telling me these things, it makes me consider that you actually think that I am interested in your babblings. My only use for astronomers was so they could pronounce when the stars were favorable for festivals and breeding times."
"That's astrologers. What, you had to have someone tell you when it was alright to mate?"
"Yes, that way we ensure that our spawn are the hardiest and at their best. - Otherwise, we risk producing substandard idiots. For instance, when do humans mate?"
"Every chance we get."
"Yes, my point exactly." Rygel smiled viciously.
John refused to take the bait. He scowled, but not at the Hynerian's barbs. A feeling of cold touched his shoulders and he rubbed himself uncomfortably. He adjusted the warmth of his thermal pack just as he heard steps crunching on the other side of an ice wall. It was Genna. He was returning from his own scouting hike. He seemed deep in thought.
"Your smugglers just landed over that ridge. They'll be here soon," Crichton told him.
Genna looked in the direction Crichton had pointed out. Then he turned each of his three eyes upon Crichton. Crichton hated it when the Ayetuh looked at him. That third eye in his forehead was a bit disconcerting. If it weren't for that, Genna could easily have passed for a human - or sebacean.
"Yes, I saw the ship." Genna informed Crichton.
They were a motley crew, much as Moya's own. Five in number, each represented a different race of alien, mostly humanoid. Yet they stuck together as an organized band. Two of them spread out to either side, sweeping the empty horizon with some sort of rifle. Satisfied that they were alone, they nodded to the other three to proceed forward.
"Trusting bunch," John commented.
One of them was an Ayetuh like Genna, though this one was a woman. Each of her eyes was different in colour. The effect was striking, and Crichton had to admit that she was very pretty, despite her third eye. She was also obviously much younger than Genna, but what their exact relationship was, Crichton could only guess at. Neither of the Ayetuh seemed to be particularly pleased nor displeased to see the other. Their greeting was simple and to the point.
"Genna. I have brought a salvage crew," the Ayetuh woman said.
Genna nodded. "And I, Vendrana, have secured us a cargo ship." Genna turned and gestured to Rygel. "They are not experienced in salvage but their ship is large."
"Salvage?" Rygel floated over to confront Genna. "You told us you were smugglers." The Hynerian floated over to Crichton. "Come on, Crichton. We are leaving. I don't like being lied to." Rygel didn't bother waiting for Crichton. He started to steer his throne back to the transport pod that had brought them to the surface.
But someone stepped forward to block his way.
The new Ayetuh, Vendrana, introduced the alien who was blocking Rygel. "This is the leader of the salvage team. He calls himself Erkul."
The leader turned out to be a Tavlek, of all races, hardly one to recommend itself to Rygel. With a Tavlek's typical bluntness, "Where's your ship?" Erkul demanded of Rygel.
Rygel shrank back in fear, maneuvering his throne so that he now hid behind Crichton. Crichton reluctantly found himself between the two. Still, he did not back down from the Tavlek. As Erkul and Crichton eyed each other, the microns passed ever so slowly.
Genna spoke up, probably hoping to diffuse the tension. "We are smugglers," he assured Rygel. "And we do have a cargo, a very rich cargo, for you to transport. We just need Erkul's help to find it first."
"The Ayetuh said you had a ship. I want to see it." Though Erkul addressed Rygel, he was constantly looking back at John. Instinctively, the Tavlek flexed the gauntlet which served him as both armor and as a weapon.
Rygel came out from behind John. "I do have a ship."
Rygel was recovering from his shock at first seeing the Tavlek. And Genna's words had rekindled the deep flame of greed which burned in every Hynerian's hearts. In Rygel's case, avarice had often passed for courage. It was a poor substitute but he did well with it nonetheless.
"You'll see it soon enough - just as soon as I've seen the cargo," Rygel said with some spirit.
"We are partners in this venture. You can trust us," the Tavlek assured him.
"We are partners," Rygel agreed. "As for that other matter, Genna did not barter for my trust. And frankly, I don't think you have its price, either."
Once again, Genna interjected. "The reason you all have been brought here is to find a ship. Seventy-nine cycles ago, it crashed on this planet carrying a very valuable cargo. Given all those cycles of ice storms, and tidal forces from the moons and the suns, the ship is probably buried. That is why you are here," he said to Erkul. "When we find the ship, your people will excavate it." Turning back to Rygel, "Once Erkul's people have excavated it, we will use the Dominar's ship to transport the cargo."
Rygel moved his gravthrone back over to Genna. "And what is this cargo? You said it would make us rich."
"The Hynerian is right. You have brought us all the way out here on empty promises. So far, I have heard nothing but talk. Now you must pay - one way, or another." The Tavlek now walked up to Vendrana, clenching his armoured gauntlet as if threatening to use it on her if Genna's answers didn't satisfy him.
John stepped in between Vendrana and the Tavlek.
"Just back off, Bucko," he warned Erkul.
"Calm yourselves. Here, I'll show you." Genna said.
He stepped in between the human and the tavlek. Taking Crichton's hand, Genna poured the contents of a small packet into John's palm. It was a fine fibrous material, flakes of ruby red in colour and shine. Just touching it made John's hand tingle and a weird feeling was travelling up his arm.
"Anlir," Genna told them."Now you see what we are after."
Erkul grabbed John's hand and pulled it closer for a look. He bent his wrecked scarred face down and sniffed it. John wrinkled his nose in disgust at the Tavlek's touch, but didn't pull back.
"You're lying!" Erkul snorted. He stood straight. "There is no such thing. Anlir is a myth. Only a fool such as yourself would try to claim otherwise."
"No, it isn't a myth," Rygel countered. He hovered over to John's hand, his hungry eyes feasting on what it saw. "I have seen anlir before. There was a measure of it, smaller than this, held in the Royal Treasury. I have only tasted it once, at my ascension."
"What you hold there," Genna told Crichton, "is worth more than an inhabited planet. The prize we seek would fill your entire ship." He turned to Rygel and Erkul. "Now do you understand what we are after?"
Rygel laughed. "Crichton! Do you know what this means? We'll be rich- powerful! I can hire a fleet of mercenaries and win my throne back!"
Crichton didn't look very interested, despite Rygel's enthusiasm.
"How much are you paying this dren?" the Tavlek asked Genna, waving at both Rygel and Crichton. "All they do is transport, while my crew does all the real work!"
"They are being given two parts, the same as your crew. Whichever crew finds the wreck first receives a bonus of one additional part. That was the agreement."
"Then I am altering that agreement."
Erkul held his unweaponed hand up high. The other alien with him, a squat stocky grey bodied thing with a hard shell carapace, pulled out a gun. Seeing the signal, the other two sentries farther back raised their rifles as well. Then Erkul raised his arm, pointing his powered gauntlet right at Crichton's head. Crichton got the message. He took out his pistol and dropped it onto the ice. If the Ayetuh were concerned about this development, neither Genna or Vendrana showed it. They watched the scene with no more than mild curiosity, offering neither help nor comment.
"How dare you!" Rygel said. But despite his verbal bravado, his gravthrone started easing back, ready to make a break for it."
"Stay where you are, Hynerian. I'll shoot you down soon as look at you."
"Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot," Crichton tried smiling at the Tavlek. "You don't need to do this."
The Tavlek gave a quick glance at Crichton's feet. Looking up, he sneered and said, "You have more spirit than the Hynerian. I like that. You at least deserve an answer. - With you out of the way, we get your share. If you tell me where your ship is, we'll take it and just maroon you here with supplies. If you don't, we kill you now and take the ship." Erkul nodded to Genna and Vendrana. "We'll honor our bargain with you Ayetuh" he promised them. "But these pathetic clods are not worthy of what you offer them. If we have to, we will return with a bigger ship."
"D'Argo, anytime is good for me," John muttered in a low voice.
D'Argo's huge body eased up from under the lee of an ice wall, where windblown ice shavings had collected into a mound. He was wearing a thermal pack and his Qualta was aimed right at Erkul. The tavlek's men started to turn, aiming their rifles at the white dusted Luxan.
"Hold right where you are or the Tavlek dies," D'Argo's commanding voice yelled out. Being as Luxans were known to be creatures of their word, no one moved. "I suggest you order your men to put their weapons down," D'Argo told Erkul.
Erkul turned, very slowly. He did not want to alarm D'Argo. "A Luxan! Well, I'm impressed. Still, you are outnumbered. Kill me and you're next, then your friends. I suggest that it is you who must put down his weapon."
Just as the aliens on post duty started to raise their rifles again, two well aimed pulses ripped into the ice just behind where they were standing. The melted ice hissed outward from the impact holes in stinking clouds of steam.
"Your weapons! Drop them - NOW!" Aeryn ordered. She too had been camouflaged beneath a pile of windblown ice.
Both aliens wisely tossed their weapons down to the ground.
"This is pointless," Genna explained. His voice was calm and devoid of emotion. "In less than seven days, that small collapsed star up there will reach a critical state, expelling part of its mass outward in a huge explosion. This system will be filled with lethal radiation from the new nebula. No one will be able to revisit this planet for a thousand cycles. - Your plan to return with a larger ship would never work. You couldn't get back in time. I suggest you learn to cooperate, or all of us will leave here with nothing."
"Wait a minute," John butted in. "You're telling us that the white dwarf up there is going to go nova? How could you possibly be able to predict something like that, and with that kind of accuracy? I didn't see you bring any instruments onboard Moya."
"How I know this is not important. I just do, John Crichton. We Ayetuh are known for such talents. The dwarf sun will do nothing for now. We are safe. But since time is pressing, I suggest that we all get to work. I will return with Erkul to his ship. Vendrana will go back with you to Moya. The crew that first finds the wreck will signal the location to the other ship."
Erkul waved at his crewmen. They warily picked their weapons up under Aeryn and D'Argo's eyes, and then slowly retreated back to their ship.
John started back for the transport pod, but the Tavlek grabbed his arm.
"No one get's the best of me, Crichton. You've done well for yourself, for now. But you just remember that. - Also, a word of advice about these Ayetuh. They're not like you and me. At least with us, we are honest about what we are. Them - don't let them into your head. You can't trust people like that."
"Somehow, Erkul, I don't think you're the one to be giving advice on trust." Crichton yanked his arm free and headed back for the transport pod.
Above them, the red sun dawned past the moon, blushing the landscape with a spreading blood-red stain.