"His jokes were as bad as ever."
He really didn't want to hear it again. Scorpy didn't seem to be able to stop himself though.
"You should have listened to me, John. You almost died. The wormhole knowledge you hold in your mind is far too valuable for you to be so careless, especially now that you have destroyed my data." And variations thereof. It had become almost a litany. And he was sick of it.
His body convulsed again, and it was all he could do to not scream. Pain was his constant companion while he was awake. And he only slept when the nurse drugged him into unconsciousness. He understood now how patients could fall in love with their nurses - they held the keys to oblivion. There were now guards everywhere he looked. Scorpy had become paranoid. Crichton grimly smiled - he could not sit up without help, much less make an escape attempt. The guards were hardly earning their pay. Another wave of nausea hit him and he closed his eyes and tried to think about Moya and his friends. And her. Hang on, babe, I'm comin' back. He hoped they were all safe. The carrier was on the move again - now that he was on board they had no reason to remain by the now dangerously unstable wormhole. Scorpy had told him his friends would not be able to find him this time. Med techs came in and out of his room constantly, always with more needles. He wondered how far off schedule he had put Scorpius' project. His experiences before had been nothing like this. Now it seemed to go on endlessly, and it didn't take him long to completely lose track of time.
They were walking him around again. He still was too weak to walk on his own. Scorpius sat patiently in a chair, waiting for them to finish. More interrogation. Lucky him. Not questions like, "Seen any new dreadnaught's lately?" but more like, "How does your body feel now? And now? How about now?" He wondered if Scorpy was writing an article for some Peacekeeper medical journal. Or maybe submitting a new recipe - how to turn a bland human hors d'oeuvre into a sizzling Sebacean sidedish. He laughed softly. At least Scorpy hadn't managed to kill his sense of humor - his jokes were as bad as ever.
The med techs walked him over to the side chair near Scorpius, and he sat down, once again completely exhausted by the little effort required of him. Scorpius had explained that most of his body's energy was directed at making internal changes. He didn't like the sound of that. Had Scorpius left anything untouched inside him? He still couldn't bring himself to ask about percentages. Jool had stunned him to silence when she had mentioned he was more Sebacean than human. He hadn't dared to ask her for specifics. And that was before all of this. Would he now be subject to Sebacean heat delirium? Had his lifespan been shortened or lengthened? Did Scorpius even know all of what had been done to him, or were the changes more random than that? He really needed to ask him. He really did. And he knew he wouldn't. Not yet. Not until he was stronger.
And maybe not even then.
Crichton was just starting to relax, thinking he knew what to expect and that it was all fairly boring, when Mike interrupted his thoughts. Scorpius has plans for you. He has left your heat regulatory system intact - he wants to create a race of Sebaceans resistant to the heat delirium. He thinks of you as his best chance to do that. Crichton found himself shaking, and his nurse was instantly at his side, putting a blanket over his legs and checking his temperature. He knew they were still worried that his body would do something they weren't expecting. Any sign of illness, and he was right back in bed, the IV tube in place, with 24/7 monitoring of his vitals. He felt like a guinea pig. Or a pincushion. And now Mike had told him he should be feeling like a prize bull. He decided it was time to get some answers.
"Why have you done this to me?" The question surprised his captor.
"Why the sudden interest, John?" Scorpius asked him in response, and he found himself searching for a truthful answer that would not give away his little mind reading warton.
"I can't figure it out. You said it involves a lot of time, effort and money, and it doesn't get you any closer to the wormhole information. In fact, you put my life at risk yourself. You had to know I would try to escape and that I might do it before you were finished with the changes you were making." He decided to put some of the blame back where it belonged. He had heard Scorpy's little tirade too many times while he had been too weak to defend his actions.
Scorpius looked angry for a moment. Crichton gave himself a mental pat on the back. But then Scorpius gave him his answer.
"You have been able to survive travel through wormholes and thus far Sebaceans have not. I need you to solve the tissue liquefaction problem for us, which you won't have an incentive to do unless you are under the same restriction. Your species is also very frail - I can't afford for you to die before I am able to obtain the wormhole equations from you - regardless of how long that takes or how many neurochips I need to employ for the purpose. Your lifespan has been greatly increased by this procedure. When it is complete, you will live at least 150 cycles longer than your human lifespan would have allowed for. And previously, if you were injured for any reason, my medical technicians might not have been able to save your life with their limited knowledge of your human physiology. Once this process is complete, my technicians will be able to medically intervene on your behalf as necessary."
Crichton doubted if the increase in his lifespan would mean much. It was intriguing, especially with the plans he and Aeryn had made, but considering his high risk lifestyle, he didn't put much stock in it making any real difference. He was still uninsurable in either universe. And knowing that Scorpius was prepared to throw one neurochip after another at him only further solidified his determination to destroy the madman's military career. He waited, wondering if Scorpius would reveal the other reason. There was silence for a while, then Scorpius continued.
"And, frankly, there is one aspect of your physiology that holds great interest to me personally. You have a gland within your body that regulates your temperature in a way that would be quite useful to Sebaceans. Of course, since most Sebaceans have a rather anal retentive view of racial purity, your seed can only be used to ensure that a small portion of Peacekeeper spies - special directorate agents and frontline soldiers - will be able to infiltrate into areas that would normally incapacitate them." He leaned back and smiled at Crichton, satisfied that his impeccable reasoning process could only be admired by his prisoner.
Crichton stared at him, wondering just what method his captor intended to use to obtain his "seed." He decided not to ask. He hadn't heard of any sperm banks in the Uncharted Territories, which left only one rather old-fashioned method of dissemination. The process wasn't complete yet in any case, and when it was he wasn't going to be hanging around long enough to become involved in any horizontal Peacekeeper liaisons. He thought briefly of the method they had employed on the Royal Planet - maybe it would be something sexless like that. He fervently hoped so. On the other hand, if that was the method, would he ever know all that they ended up doing with his DNA? He certainly hadn't known that the Royal Planet geneticists had used it to ensure their queen would become a mother, incidentally making him an absentee father. He suddenly realized he might live to see his child now. And with the changes in his body, he might even be able to withstand undergoing the process again that had originally turned him into a living statue. Not that he would, of course. Katralla had chosen her mate long before she had met him, and he knew he would do nothing to change what had happened.
Crichton was relieved that Scorpy had managed to answer a question he hadn't asked. There were still parts of him left that were exclusive to him and his species. Since the love of his life was Sebacean, his only real regrets about the changes to his body were that they were painful, he had to spend way too much time with Scorpy, and he could not return home now - even if he still wanted to. Sebaceans hadn't cornered the market on racism. Not by a longshot.
* * *
Scorpy had begun yet another project. Crichton decided he was definitely an overachiever. Just as he was finally beginning to feel strong enough to actually be awake during the day, and able to walk around a little without help, the hybrid began forcing him to listen to tapes 24/7. Not music tapes. Oh no, that would be too much to ask. He was being forced to listen to and memorize Peacekeeper procedures, manuals, protocol - you name it, he was a student of it. He knew that Scorpy and his scientists were still frantically trying to retrieve some of the lost wormhole information - he had overheard some of this from the scientists that periodically came to talk to Scorpius while he hovered over his prisoner, involving himself in every detail of the DNA manipulation project. But Crichton hadn't expected to be personally involved in any knowledge gathering activity that didn't relate to wormholes or genetic engineering. He couldn't see the purpose for it, and since it was mind-numbingly boring, he complained about it. Not to Scorpius. That would have been stupid. But he did complain to his nurse, and possibly one or two guards, he didn't really remember. Only, as he should have known, Scorpius eventually found out about it and confronted him.
"It has come to my attention that you are unhappy with your Peacekeeper studies." Scorpius didn't bother with "Hi," "How are you?" and other pleasantries. And he didn't wait for a decent hour of the day, either - choosing instead to wake Crichton in the middle of his sleep cycle, when he was far too groggy to be careful with his wording. And he always needed to be careful. He could tell Scorpius was displeased with him. Very. And that disturbed him. He could not at all see the reason for it. He took off his headset, shutting down the tape, as he groggily sat up in bed. In the meantime, Mike was filling him in on the hybrid's thoughts. He is trying to convert you, Crichton. He wants you to learn more about the race you have joined, thanks to the changes he has initiated in your body. He wants to train you to be a Peacekeeper, and thereby gain your willing assistance. He sees this is a very viable alternative to forcing you to aid him.
Crap. Scorpius never gives up. `If at first you don't succeed, try, try again, and keep trying until your quarry goes Stark. Raving. Mad.' must be his motto. Crichton tried to focus as he desperately searched for a way to get himself out of this situation relatively unscathed. Scorpius was a long-term planner, which Crichton admitted to himself could actually be good. For one thing, it meant that he expected Crichton to still be alive and useful to him in the long-term. But not if he didn't start at least pretending to cooperate with the plan. He sucked in his breath, ready to deliver the usual conciliatory B.S. that he had been known to give to a teacher or two in his youth, and remembered just in time that he had to give an honest reply. His thoughts momentarily derailed. He looked up at Scorpius and saw that he was still waiting patiently for a response. He had time, he just needed the words to say. He was really too tired for this. And that was what he finally chose to say.
"I'm too tired for this, Scorpy. I can't do it right now." He looked up at his mentor, and flinched back at the anger he saw. Oh hell, wrong answer.
"You are not in a position to choose what you will and will not do, Crichton," Scorpy bitingly informed him. "From now on you will do as you are told, and you will do it without complaint. And, furthermore, you will henceforth take care to refer to me as Scorpius or Sir, and no variations thereof."
Crichton shrunk back in his bed. "Yes, sir," he finally thought to say, just before Scorpius struck him across the face. He was knocked to the floor, and as he painfully pulled himself back up, Scorpius informed him his response time was execrable.
"A Peacekeeper soldier does not make his superiors wait." With that comment, he turned and left the room. Crichton stared after him, wondering if this sudden change in their relationship would be permanent. He was apparently no longer to be viewed as a prisoner, per se, valuable or otherwise. He was a soldier-in-training. Low man on the totem pole in the military ranking system. A plebe. He found himself annoyed by it. He was an IASA Commander - an officer and an astronaut. He had already earned respect. But then, he wasn't anywhere near Earth anymore. So he was just going to have to suck it up, and switch gears ASAP or he would get to find out how Peacekeeper soldiers were kept in line. As he rubbed his jaw, he reflected that he had just been given one small taste of the possibilities. It was bootcamp all over again. Just great. He put his headset back on, and settled back down in his bed, for the first time hoping that he was able to learn quickly and thoroughly what he needed to know. So he could be a good little Peacekeeper soldier. Right up until he went AWOL.
As he drifted back to sleep again, one more thought occurred to him. Know thine enemy. It was education for free - just like the military back home. He decided he'd better not waste it.
* * *
They had finally located her. She had definitely made every effort to remain hidden, but Crais and Aeryn were determined to find her - no matter the cost. Aeryn had been surprised to find that Crais was nearly as anxious as herself to locate Furlow. She had thought she was the only one who had reason to want her dead. But Crais was equally determined to find her and mete out justice. Crichton hadn't specifially told her to kill Furlow, Aeryn knew. He had told her to find the rogue mechanic and then do what she felt needed to be done. But Aeryn didn't have any doubts about what her decision would be. Furlow had killed Jack. And she had stolen the wormhole weapon, resulting in Crichton's death. Verdict in. Case closed. The Uncharted Territories were pretty vast, but it was amazing how word had gotten around that Crichton had destroyed a Gammak Base and a Shadow Depository. And his name was enough to open the mouths of several informants, even without greezing their palms. Aeryn smiled to herself - Crichton's speech patterns were becoming her own, and she really had no idea what half the things meant that popped into her mind. But just thinking them was enough to make her feel closer to him. Crais had promised her he would allow her to confront Furlow on her own. He understood her need for personal vengeance.
As they landed on the planet Furlow had chosen as a hiding place, Aeryn thought again of the day when she and Crichton had walked out of a building and come back to find Jack dying. Then Aeryn had gone to help a wounded Rygel, and had joined Crichton as he ran to a dune vehicle to chase Furlow. She wasn't with him when he was exposed to a lethal dose of radiation - she had been too late to stop him. But she knew one thing: until Furlow paid for what she had done, Aeryn would not be able to rest. She owed it to him. And to herself. And as a practical matter, Furlow had wormhole knowledge that they could not afford for Scorpius to possess. Everything Crichton had done to stop Scorpius would be for nothing if Furlow's knowledge fell into his hands. Killing her would be justifiable on several levels. Not that Aeryn needed more justification. She was more than satisfied with what she had. Still, she would give Furlow a chance to explain. And not just because she knew Crichton would want her to.
She entered the hangar, her pulse rifle at the ready, moving slowly, alert to any booby traps or tricks. Furlow was capable of defending herself, Aeryn knew. She found her sitting in a chair, leaning back with her legs up on a table. Smoking a cigar. Without turning around she suddenly spoke to Aeryn.
"I kinda figured you'd be the one to come after me," she said coolly.
Aeryn moved to stand in front of her, still watching for any movement and listening for any sound that would indicate they weren't alone. Furlow noticed it. "It's just you and me, Aeryn. So, are you planning on using that thing?" She nodded at Aeryn's rifle.
"Oh, yes, Furlow, I'm planning on using it, if you give me no other option," Aeryn told her, with a smile. She looked around the hangar and saw that Furlow was attempting to rebuild Crichton's module from memory. And she noticed a large computer in the corner behind where Furlow was sitting.
"Are you going to sell it to the highest bidder again, Furlow?" Aeryn calmly asked her.
Furlow stared at her for a moment. "I didn't mean for him to die, Aeryn. You should know that. I didn't have any choices. The Scarrens and the Charrads - they don't take no for an answer. They forced me to help them. You can go ahead and kill me, but you gotta believe me - I never wanted Crichton to die. I even told him to walk away and let somebody else be the hero. But he didn't listen. That's not my fault, you know." Furlow puffed on her cigar, confident that Aeryn would believe her.
"I can't let you do this, Furlow. I'm going to destroy the computer and the module, and I'll track you down again if I have to. If you're lucky enough to survive today," Aeryn told her grimly.
They heard shots fired outside and Aeryn was briefly distracted. Furlow quickly pulled a pulse rifle out and aimed it at her. When Aeryn turned back, they were facing each other across weapons primed and ready.
"Don't do this, Furlow," Aeryn warned her. "You are no soldier. The smart thing to do is keep running, keep hiding, and keep out of the wormhole business."
"I don't think you or anyone else is going to tell me what to do," Furlow replied. Aeryn saw her finger squeeze the trigger.
Aeryn ducked and rolled, and as she came up she shot Furlow. A direct hit. She made sure Furlow was dead, and then set several timed explosives to destroy the computer and the module. As she ran back outside, the explosions did their work. She looked back and saw that the warehouse had caught fire. Crais was just outside waiting for her. She noticed two dead men laying on the ground near him, dressed in mechanics clothing. She didn't even ask him about it, just gave him a nod and they both headed silently back to her prowler. She reflected as she flew back to Talyn that she truly was not a Peacekeeper soldier anymore. No Peacekeeper would have risked being killed as she had. And no Peacekeeper would have given Furlow a second chance. She was satisfied that she had avenged Jack's death, but she knew that nothing would bring him back. Or John. Still, Furlow was a loose end. A very dangerous loose end. And Crichton had been right - Aeryn needed to resolve what had happened between them. One way or another.