AN: If you're reading this, it must mean you're still following my story (I do love you!). My computer crashed a while ago, and I lost ALL my work, including what would have been the final two or three chapters of this story, and a lot of chapters around the middle. About 40 pages or so in total, which made me consider not resuming the story , but in the end, I think I owe the rest of it to everyone who is still reading.

So, thanks again for making it this far, on to the next chapter!

Getaway: Out of the Frying Pan…

Now…

"You have the human Crichton with you! I order you to bring him to me! Full pardon, Officer Sun!"

Inside the drifting Prowler, Vala propped her elbows on the command panel, and stared out at the murky asteroid field. She couldn't see anything that happened outside the cloud of dust and debris, but hoped Moya had managed to escape. From what she had found out from the others, she suspected Crais wouldn't risk chasing the ship if it meant allowing the Prowler to get away.

"You have played the game shrewdly, Officer Sun…now we both know all too well how it would benefit you to break this…attachment."

She grinned as the man's voice resounded in the small cabin once more, and replied in a playful drawl.

"I don't know…there's some attachments you can't break that easily…"

"Bring my brother's murderer to me! Bring him to me, or you will die with him!"

"You will have noticed by now that you cannot get to us in that big ship," she mocked. "Oh, I know what you're thinking, we'll have to leave the asteroid field eventually…but 'the human' and I are quite capable of…entertaining each other…for a considerable period of time. Sir," Vala finished with great irony, as the channel went dead.

2 arns before…

Bright, hot sparks flew as the welding tool caught the end of another ruptured duct, and D'Argo checked the power setting for the tenth time. It was at maximum: he could go no faster. Glaring at the shapeless mound of cables around him, he spared some very unflattering thoughts in Vala's direction. If she hadn't tried to fix the tertiary sacral plexus with no idea of what she was doing, Moya wouldn't have needed additional repairs, and they wouldn't be taking fire from bounty hunters bent on crippling the leviathan and capturing its crew. D'Argo swore that, once they got out alive, he would personally strangle the impostor who had so effortlessly tricked them all.

"Hezmana!"

DRDs swarmed in the small room, and one had accidentally run into his foot. They were dealing with the lower-level repairs, while he worked on the ones that required intuition and higher skills. Once again he wished Aeryn had been there—best friends they were most certainly not, but the Sebacean knew her way around Moya's systems, and together they could have gotten the job done three times as fast. Almost against himself, he wondered what had happened to her, and decided he would get her back, and if someone had harmed her—the first creeps of the infamous Luxan rage stung at the back of his mind—he would set on a quest for revenge, making sure that the guilty parties would wish they—

"D'Argo, how's it going?"

He let out a disgruntled growl.

"It would go much faster if you didn't bother me every three microts, Crichton."

"Yeah, listen, the asteroid field isn't working that well, so it's time for plan B. We need a diversion. Any suggestions?"

"None you would wish to hear," the Luxan muttered back.

As the shock from another salvo threw her violently against the wall, Vala cried out in frustration. She'd flown derelict hang gliders with better defense capabilities!

"Who built this thing!" she shouted to the empty walls of her cell. "Doesn't this ship have defenses? It should have a shield! It should have weapons!"

"Moya is more than a 'ship'," Pilot's almost indignant voice resounded in the room. "She is a leviathan, a living being—"

"Alright, then it should have a brain!" Vala shook the iron straps forming the cell door. "We're getting our asses kicked here, why doesn't Moya do something?"

A low growl vibrated through the walls, and Vala froze on the spot, looking around in cautious fascination. For the first time, Pilot's words fully registered on her: a living being… A second, long whirr rumbled beneath her feet, making her jump slightly. Slowly, she put a hand on one of the walls, barely touching it with the tips of her fingers. It felt cold, lifeless, yet there was a faint buzz running through it, and Vala couldn't hold back a warm smile.

"Moya…"

She recalled bits from earlier conversations among her unwitting shipmates. How could she have missed such a monumental discovery? Almost against herself, she felt excitement welling up within her. For a moment, all the noises and shocks from the outside attack died down, as she slowly traced her hand down the cold metal wall, thrilled and absorbed by the strange contact.

"Hello…" she murmured. Abruptly, the muted sounds of the outside world exploded into existence as a series of small explosions impacted Moya's outer hull; Vala looked upwards, raising her voice. "Are you going to let them get us…get your baby…?" She felt the air around her alive with tension, and turned on the spot, unsure of how to address Moya. "Listen to me…I don't know much about you. I've never heard of a living ship in my entire life, and can't even begin to imagine how you could have a baby…" She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly. "But for some reason, I feel as though I've been where you are now…and I want you to trust me when I say…" she opened her eyes again, her voice loud and firm, "I do not mean you or your crew any harm. I just want to get home…"

She smiled as she spoke the words. Home. It had a nice ring to it.

"And meanwhile, I can help. Really, I'm the one to call when it comes to wriggling out of these tight spots! I've got a lot of experience with bounty hunters! I come very highly recommended, you should know I've escaped at least thirty by now—or is it forty?"

Feeling slightly ridiculous as she spoke to the thin air, Vala ceased her lively rattle. There were no more rumbles coming from the bowels of the ship, nor did Pilot say anything else. For one second, she wondered if anyone had actually listened to her, then she felt it again, the faint pulse of life everywhere around her, and knew she had not wasted her breath.

"Maybe I can help. Maybe not...but at least we'll know we've tried all the options."

She waited for one long moment, and nothing happened. No more noises, other than the sporadic weapon fire outside the ship, and no sign that her argument had been heard. With a sigh, she let herself slide down the nearest wall, shoulders slumping in defeat and frustration; ever since her time as a host, helplessness and inactivity had been what she hated most. Trapped in that cursed cell, she could do nothing. Nothing! She clenched her fists, mind already racing to find a new way out.

And the iron bands that trapped her suddenly parted, leaving a clear path to the deserted corridor.

With a winning smile, she jumped to her feet.

"Sam was right. Nothing works like talking to the manager," she muttered to herself, then hurried out the door.

"We need a diversion."

John's words floated to her in the corridor, and Vala picked up the pace, stopping in the entrance to Moya's command.

"Lucky you have me, then. I'm an expert at diversions!"

John's expression was remarkably similar to the one Mitchell had worn when he had seen her emerge dressed as Qetesh, in the Goa'uld's temple.

One arn before…

She couldn't believe it. Simmering with annoyance, Vala loudly drummed her fingers on one of the consoles, earning herself a glare from John. The moment she opened her mouth to speak, however, he turned away from her and began talking to the others again. She simply couldn't believe she was being so utterly ignored.

"Fine, just take a seat, keep your hands where I can see them and enjoy the ride."

The arrogance of the man!

"They're trying to cripple Moya. We'll be sitting ducks if she can't starburst."

Indignation rose within her at the thought of Moya, a being so extraordinary, so special, being hunted and hurt.

Then they had come up with an idea.

"The Prowler could get their attention enough for D'Argo to finish the repairs."

For some reason, that had earner her three wary glances, and Vala could not begin to fathom why.

"There is no one to fly the Prowler, John."

"I'll do it…I'll fly it."

"Haaa! I wouldn't want to be anywhere in this solar system when the human flies the Prowler!"

"Got any better ideas, Sparky?"

That had been the first time she had tried to talk to them, but they were too caught up in the discussion. The only one who actually ever caught her eye was the grey chick-Chiana, Vala remembered-who was apparently her counterpart in the motley crew, in that no one seemed to listen to her. Yet instead of frustrated, Chiana seemed amused and vaguely fascinated by the heated exchange from which they were both being excluded.

"John…you cannot maneuver Aeryn's Prowler."

"Hey, I can steer clear of the asteroids, do a little dance to get our friends' attention and that's enough!"

"Commander, Moya and I appreciate the suggestion, but feel it would be…unwise to test your skills under these circumstances."

"Pilot, we're taking fire and Crais' command carrier is probably on the way. Rock, hard place, us. Desperate times…unless you have another idea?"

She'd told them again, and was again ignored. Frustrated, she had sat up, hoping to draw their attention, but to no avail.

"D'Argo can fly it, then! Zhaan, you and I can take care of the repairs! Pilot can—"

"It will take much more time, John…and if they truly transmitted our position to Crais, we don't have that time."

Vala rolled her eyes, and straightened her shoulders with renewed determination. How history tended to repeat itself…hopefully, things would turn out better than last time. On the other hand, she was already in a completely foreign world, pursued by bounty hunters and with no possibility of returning home…how much worse could they turn? With that thought in mind, she swiveled on her heels, and left the room as discreetly as she could.

"There's enough time for you to complete the repairs. I'll fly the Prowler."

"Ka D'Argo, I am afraid that is impossible. Officer Sun's Prowler has just left Moya."

"I tried to tell you..." Chiana muttered with a small, self-satisfied grin.

"What!" the Luxan's growl lost none of its fierceness over the comm link. "Who's flying it, Pilot!"

"I'd say that's obvious," Rygel piped in. "Obviously the only one on this ship with an instinct of preservation I can admire…"

"Too bad she didn't take you with him, then," D'Argo's voice barked again. "Then the bounty hunters would destroy you both—"

"Does your thick Luxan hide not feel the ongoing attack on Moya, you fahrbot! The bounty hunters will destroy us long before they even notice the Prowler!"

"Can you contact her, Pilot?" Zhaan asked, trying to defuse the mounting tension.

"See, moments like this I wish we had cannons!" Crichton said angrily, just as D'Argo marched into command.

"Yes, commander, that would surely help us in this battle."

"Who said anything about the battle," John spoke heatedly, "it's her I want to blow out of the sky!" He glared at Chiana's amused giggle, and furiously placed his palms onto one of the consoles. "Well, can you contact her, Pilot?"

"I am trying to. Communications seem to be working…"

"Vala, what do you think you're doing?"

"You can…thank me…later," came her voice through some static.

"Get back to Moya right now!" Crichton ordered.

The channel carried back her disdainful huff.

"Honestly, John…quieter out here, thank you very much."

"Vala, that ship is going to fire on you, and…you can't even fly the Prowler!"

"…surprised…how quickly I learn…" came her fragmented answer again. "You said…needed a diversion…stop complaining!"

John heaved out a frustrated sigh.

"See Pilot, that's why she was locked in that cell!"

Half an arn before…

"Commander! Moya's long-range sensors have detected Crais' command carrier heading this way!"

"Great, the mad hatter's coming to join our tea party…" Crichton muttered, fighting a strong impulse to bang his head against one of the command consoles. "Pilot, can Moya starburst yet?"

"Since Vala engaged the bounty hunters, we have taken no more hits, and Ka D'Argo informs me the repairs are complete. Moya has agreed to starburst as soon as needed."

"Well how nice of'er!" Chiana piped, "so what'are we waitin' for, the farewell party?"

"Let's get the juxt out of here!"

"Not so fast, Sparky. Pilot, can we get through to the Prowler?"

"There is some of interference from the asteroid field," came the answer, "but communications seem to be working."

John looked out the window to the drifting asteroids, almost expecting to see the two ships firing on each other like in some second-rate science action game. Instead, there was only the quiet, murky field and the distant lights of thousands of stars.

"Vala, there's one very big, very bad ship headed our way, now I suggest you stop playing tag with our friends out there and get back to Moya!"

"Got it," came her slightly scrambled voice. "I'm looking at a hero's welcome, right, Crichton?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'll do my best to keep D'Argo from mauling you."

"You know just how to make a girl feel good."

"Just get back here already."

If Moya had detected the command carrier, he imagined Crais had detected them, as well—not that he needed to, since the bounty hunters had probably sent their coordinates, anyway. John could picture the expression of blood-thirsty anticipation on the Peacekeeper captain's face; he felt a small degree of excitement at the thought of foiling Crais once more. With Moya ready to starburst again and the little head start they had, he hoped they could outrun the command carrier at least for a little while, and they'd just have to come up with something else in the meantime. One way or another, they'd get away in one piece.

Except, things were never that easy.

"John, I've got a little problem here."

He groaned, and Zhaan gave him a sympathetic look, completely echoing the sentiment if not the form of expression.

"What is it, Vala?" she asked calmly.

"They won't let me get back. They keep cutting my path every time I plug in a trajectory vector towards Moya."

"Ha! Of course they do, if they give a garanta's brax about their sorry lives! Crais'll blow them to pieces if they don't deliver something!"

"Fly through them!" D'Argo snarled, having just marched into command. "They'll move out of the way."

"Game of chicken won't work," John shook his head, "they've got the bigger guns, they'll get her if she flies straight for more than a few seconds."

"Pilot, can Moya maneuver to come between the Prowler and the other ship?" Zhaan inquired with a preoccupied glance to the space outside.

"They are both too far into the field to allow for any precise maneuvers." Pilot paused for a moment, almost reluctant to continue, then dutifully announced them. "The command carrier will be in firing range in about eight hundred microts."

A tense silence fell over them, punctuated only by the occasional static cracks from the communication channel.

"And here I was hoping to improve my poor record of successful rescue missions… " Vala laughed quietly.

Now…

Despite being so small, the cabin was remarkably cold, and Vala wished she hadn't turned all systems to minimum. But the others had instructed her to do so in order to avoid Crais's scanners; she just hoped it would be enough to keep her hidden until they came back to get her. Much to her surprise, it had taken a lot of arguing to get them to leave, and she still half-wondered if Moya hadn't left on her own, wishing—like any mother would—to protect her baby. Either way, every single person she knew in the universe, literally, was now light-years away, and she had been left alone, clueless and cold in the cramped Prowler.

She really needed to improve her record of successful missions.

With a self-deprecating huff, she noted that her gung-ho actions actually did tend to be beneficial, just not for her own well-being. Which, Vala reckoned, was really how the success of a mission should be measured. Still, at least Moya had gotten away (and would hopefully make an SG1-worhty return to get her out, too), and she had had a lot of fun playing Crais. The thought of their conversation brought a wicked grin to her lips.

"Mmm, let's just hope I pushed his right buttons…"

She pictured Crichton's face if he'd heard her declare that they could entertain each other while hiding in the field. But her grin slowly vanished, as the silence in the Prowler became heavier. Watching the dark immensity of space, she wondered how long she could hold out hiding among the asteroids. She certainly hoped it would be longer than it took the crew of Moya to come up with a plan for her rescue.