Disclaimer: I do not own Farscape or Doctor Who. They belong to their respective owners.
Chapter One
The Doctor stood on the busy commerce planet, absently nodding to the shop keepers furiously clicking comments about the authenticity of the Barkarian Daemon Root that hung in his carefully held out hand. The red sky gleamed with the polluted smoke that clogged up the atmosphere.
It was mere days since the Doctor left Donna happily chatting on her mobile about something or other while the Doctor snuck away unseen, clenching his jaw trying to hold the overwhelming emotion at bay. He left Earth immediately, going from planet to planet, making sure that each one was devoid of life. It was not long before his need for social contact forced him to a populated area once more. At least on a commerce planet in the Uncharted Territories there was no familiar face in sight.
Turning over the charm in his hands, the Doctor knew for a fact that every object on the table was fake, in fact he said so before the large tentacled shopkeeper narrowed his eyes and immediately started clicking his tongue in indignant protest.
"I tell you, sir, that everything you see here are pure examples of the priceless artifacts of the now extinct colonies of Barkar! What you hold in your hands is yave of the yovo! I bet my thirteen wives on that fact."
Any other day, the Doctor would have engaged in his usual rambling monologues about the Barkarian culture, but these days, he could not bring up the interest that was so usual to him. Instead, the Doctor nodded politely and handed the root back to the merchant before he turned and walked away.
Only a short distance away, Commander John Crichton, former IASA astronaut, dropped the appropriate amount of currency on the counter before him and grabbed his new Chakan oil. He turned to his companions with a curious glance at their purchases before the dour tones of D'Argo caught his attention.
"Pilot said we should only stay for a couple arns at best. This is Peacekeeper-controlled space and we are only here to get the essentials. That means no lingering or flirting." The luxan threw a pointed look at Chiana, one that she returned with interest. John bit his lip in amusement as he watched the Nebari slink off to join Zhaan. This left himself, D, and Aeryn as Rygel refused to join them if the visit was timed. Crichton agreed with D'Argo. The danger of being noticed was too great and it was only desperation on their part that brought them to the planet. It was only a solar day since they had a need and an opportunity to replenish their supply.
More importantly, it was barely a few weeks since he was found next to the messy carcass of the Scarran who held him prisoner. It was hard to get past the images that the ordeal raised in him. John still found himself sitting in his bed, terrified that he was still inside the fevered dreams constructed by those Godzilla wannabes. He desperately needed a break, a vacation from his life. Since that hope was impossible, some time of boring shopping was enough.
The experience was so close to him that it was of no surprise that the sight of the tall, skinny man in the earth bound clothes striding to the nearby alley turned him red-faced with fury and fear. John immediately drew his pulse pistol; full of his newly-bought Chakan Oil, and shouted for Aeryn and D'Argo. Uncaring whether or not his friends were behind him, Crichton rushed towards the alley, ignoring any passerby that were unfortunate enough to stand in his way.
Reaching into his pocket for his keys, the Doctor froze as he heard the soft cocking of a gun that was unfortunately pointed at his neck.
"Turn around. Slowly."
The voice was male… and very angry. The Doctor slowly turned around and raised his arms in surrender. The voice belonged to a tall, leather-clad man with spiked brown hair and a fierce glare. The Time Lord swallowed slightly before quickly taking in his situation.
"Do I know you? I seem to be rubbish at putting names to faces these days. I remember when—." His rambling was cut off when the stranger nudged his weapon, a Pulse Pistol by the looks of it, forcefully at him before speaking.
"Shut up! Are you messing with me?! Well get in line, man! That little outfit isn't fooling me one bit! Is it Scarrans? I bet you guys are just aching for another bite of the Crichton buffet!"
The Doctor paused at the rant before noticing the conversation was joined by two new people. The first was a woman with a military style ponytail holding another pulse pistol with discipline. Her black outfit, also leather, completed the image of a Peacekeeper Commando. Yet, she exuded familiarity and care for the two who stood by her that contradicted Peacekeeper Ordinance. The second was a tall luxan with tattoos that showed him to be a general. His collarbone was pierced with two metal rings that symbolized captivity in the male's past. He held a Qualta Blade with warrior skill and again stood protective of his companions.
The woman stepped forward before stopping slightly behind the first stranger, running her falcon like gaze up and down the Doctor's body. He forced himself to relax, trying to give a show of innocence that came so easily in this regeneration.
"Crichton! What's going on! You're bringing unwanted attention on us. Who is this?"
The man, Crichton apparently, turned to the Peacekeeper quickly. His gun stood still, fixed on the Doctor.
"You can see him?" Crichton started shaking, his eyes widening with desperation as he shot his companions frantic looks. The other two exchanged confused glances before the luxan spoke up.
"Of course, John." The Doctor took this moment to try to salvage the situation.
"That's right. I'm real. Really real. Absolutely harmless. See, no weapons on me. Except of course the weapons that you have on me. Beautiful Qualta Blade by the way. Brilliant artistry. Anyway, if you would be so kind as to let me go, I will be leaving."
"He talks too much for a Peacekeeper. He's more like your kind, Crichton." The man shot her a look.
"I do NOT talk this much. Aeryn, he's wearing a suit, with chucks! No one here wears suits much less sneakers. Guys, come on! Work with me here!"
"And that makes you cause a commotion, in front of any Peacekeepers around? Because you don't like his clothes?"
"If I may interrupt—"
The three glared at the Doctor, shouting at him to shut up in unison. He immediately backed off. The man turned his attention back on him, eyes narrowed. The Doctor saw in them a mixture of hate and fear and slight insanity. He knew then that there was something extremely wrong.
"It's the Scarrans again." That got immediate reaction. Aeryn, the soldier, walked up to the shaking man and placed a careful hand on his arm, pushing his gun down slowly.
"He's really there John. I don't know if he is a threat or not like you think, but you are not back there. They don't have you."
John swallowed thickly, still a look of paranoia in his eyes. The Doctor dropped his surrender and stood still, for once staying silent in the face of the man's turmoil. The Time Lord knew that nothing he said, no matter how brilliant, was going to change the situation for the better. After a long pause, Crichton turned to the luxan, his voice harsh and sharp.
"D, you know that nothing that happens to us is for our benefit or a coincidence. Either he is messing with our frelling heads or he's working for the Big Cheese. Scorpius, Delvians, Scarrans, the Wicked Witch of the West, who cares!? I'm tired of getting my brain string cheesed! The get-John-to-think-he's-on-Earth trick ;is gett'n old, man!"
The Doctor held his tongue reluctantly, his jaw twitching as the words fought to escape. It would be no good to bait a suspicious and trigger-happy ticking time bomb. He knew that from experience.
"John, what do you want to do? Bring him aboard Moya? What if you're right and he is dangerous, even more, if he is working for Scorpius or anyone else like him? We have been through this before, taking prisoners never ends well."
The Doctor turned to Aeryn, she was calm, but he could see the tension she carefully held in check. The man was being placated like a caged, frightened animal. What happened to him to cause this? After a moment's pause, the Doctor reflected on the man's name. With the name "John Crichton" in his mind, the Doctor did a couple of quick calculations concerning the date and winced inwardly. He landed in the worse time to bump into the famous astronaut. If he was right, the human was standing on the brink of the abyss, closer and closer to the edge. It was too familiar. His knowledge was limited, but what he knew was enough.
The Doctor studied the bloodshot eyes of a survivor and with a shiver the Doctor realized he was staring into a mirror image of himself. Those blue-green eyes held the same yearning for peace and the same near insanity brought on by life splitting experience. He had to say something, anything.
"You've been through the wars." His voice came out rough and slightly hoarse with emotion. John didn't relax, however, and glared once more at the Time Lord while the other two exchanged glances.
"You would know."
The Doctor refused to raise to the challenge and simply shook his head, his arms held before him palms up.
"I'm not your enemy. Really, honestly, I'm not. I'm just a traveler. A sightseer. A tourist. I was just leaving. You can trust me on that."
John studied the earnest stranger before him and scowled.
"I don't know why, but I believe you." He hesitated before letting out a hiss of anger and raised his gun once more.
"Are you messing with me? You expect me to let you go running back to your buddies!? Who do you think you are?" His friends were forgotten as he studied the large brown doe eyes, searching for any ulterior motives.
The man's eyes grew wide and his voice guileless as he breathed, "Why would I do that?"
John was then caught by the innocence of the man. He was not unlike that of a child. His eyes were too big and too trusting. He looked out of place in this big bad universe. The sight was like his own nature a year ago, stumbling around the galaxy, clueless of the evil that existed until the very same cruelty teared into him before spitting his trembling body to the ground in rejection, leaving him broken and cold. His own experience taught him that this man was messing with his brain like everyone else in his ever-growing list of enemies. His instinct, however, told him that the stranger was too much like himself.
John remembered standing face to face with the angry face of Bialar Crais; the man who accused him with the murder of his brother, Tauvo. John could remember the all-too naïve thoughts that maybe, just maybe, they could talk out their problems and get past the misunderstanding. Only months of running and hiding from Crais' Command Carrier, being forced to go through the torture of the Chair created in the human a deep-set cynicism and paranoia about strangers. Even now, he would find himself weeping in the dark over the loss of his innocence.
The tall man was similar in another respect; he was broken. The dark eyes were a little too bright, the smile a little too forced to be real. The pain was deeper than his own. The desperate air to the thin form was painfully easy to find in his own. There was a deep-set sense of guilt, frighteningly sharp and strong. Crichton, suddenly, could no longer hold his precious Winona on the man. With a tired and frustrated sigh, John dropped his arm.
The sound of his name brought him out of his thoughts. He looked at the confused eyes of the man, a man who although he looked suspicious, also looked so good and honest that he had to trust him.
"Go." Letting the man leave may have been a stupid idea, but now that John looked at the earnest guy, he had no reason for suspicion.
Apparently D'Argo didn't agree. The luxan's tongue whipped out of his mouth, hitting the man on the neck before pulling back. Crichton stood, watching his friend throw the unconscious body over the wide shoulder before running out of the alley. With no other choice, John followed the two all the way to the transport pod. Aeryn answered his unspoken question.
"We've been here too long, We followed you to let you know that we were spotted. If we left him there he could have told them who we are. He saw us. Besides, you two can continue your little conversation on Moya."
"I get it Aeryn, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." He felt a little guilty over kidnapping the guy, even if it was necessary.
Besides, the man's ship would still be here when they came back. If they came back.
After the transport pods left the planet's atmosphere, the Peacekeeper unit officer curled his lip in disgust as he stared at the slight creature before him. Officer. Soren hated incompetence. He glared at the being standing pathetically, practically held up by his subordinates.
"Speak, girl. You said you saw four suspicious forms enter this alley. What species were they?"
The girl squeaked as her arms were suddenly released from the rough grip. Her tattooed face reddened in humiliation as she opened her mouth to speak.
"Wait, Officer it is unbecoming of a Peacekeeper to be so impatient. What would Scorpius say?"
The man was short and wiry. His handsome face looked down at her with dark impassive eyes.
"Lieutenant! Forgive me." The words were forced out of his lips as he glared at his superior. The Lieutenant was sickeningly devoted to that abomination. It was a perversion of regiment. A farce of command to let a half-breed gain so much power, but Lt. Soren was too competent a soldier to speak aloud his thoughts and opinions. Maybe Lt. Braca was the same and only followed the thing out of ambition rather than loyalty or respect.
"Settle down Lieutenant. Now child, answer the officer's questions."
"Umm… three were Sebaceans, two of those were probably Peacekeepers, sir. The other was a luxan. One of the Sebaceans dressed in clothes I have never seen and stood in front of that box. I think there is a strange technology in that box."
"Ahh, a technology you say? Why do you say that?" Braca was disgustingly sweet to the girl. Soren scowled at the interaction and forced himself to hold position. His superior officer certainly had learned some tricks from the half-breed scientist. His questions were masterfully manipulative.
"Stare at it sir. It moves in and out of your focus. I almost didn't notice it."
"A fascinating piece of technology. Now, girl tell me if you caught any names."
"I did, sir! They kept saying Crichton."
Soren had to roll his eyes. Crichton again. Did everything have to do with that human? He kept up with the gossip so he knew that Scorpius was completely obsessed with the freelnik.
Braca smiled. It was a hungry grin, complete with the predator look of anticipation that brightened the his eyes.
"Crichton? Excellent, you have provided us with useful information. You may leave, child." The girl smiled before bounding off into the crowd.
"Sir?"
Braca turned to face the box, every soldier's eye following, and waved a hand at the strange object. Soren obediently joined his squad in lifting the box, inwardly cursing another jaunt into the Uncharted Territories in pursuit of the Leviathan.
"Why is the blue box necessary, sir?"
Scorpius spared a glance at his subordinate.
"A new form of technology is rare, Lieutenant. Especially one who can help in Wormhole research. What I want you to find out is the identity of the box's owner. He is obviously with Crichton so I want to see what is special about him. This is a good day, Lt. Braca."
Scorpius stared at the box sitting in his Command Carrier, on route to his new Gammak Base.
It was a very good day.