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In The Flesh – Part Four.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at jesspallas@hotmail.com

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Reference to OOTM and LATP, TWWW and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note: This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Recap: Moya has been taken over by pirates who salvaged the stricken Halos 1. As a result of their attack, Aeryn and Pilot have switched bodies and Moya has shut down. The rest of the crew, in a transport at the time of the attack, have been taken prisoner as has Aeryn-in-Pilot. Pilot, still at large in Aeryn's body, has discovered the Rani device on the lower tiers. And the pirates have found the missing Chiana – whose eyes are mysteriously glowing blue…

This was getting old.

John sighed wearily. Just how much longer were they going to be left sitting here? He glanced around at his companions; Zhaan with her azure features, taut with worry; D'Argo, dark and brooding like a rumbling volcano, ready to explode with a force that would obliterate all in his path; and Rygel, now dumped on a heap on the floor, his eyes alight with indignant rage as he watched the Taurax tech who was taking his thronesled apart with a fascinated expression. All fraught, all edgy, all on the verge of making a mistake that would mean the end of all of them. Rygel had already tried his hand at bartering with the pirates, offering various sly bargains in exchange for his freedom. John could still see the look on Jak's face as he'd listened to the tiny Dominar, eyes cold, features emotionless, his lip curled in a mix of amusement and contempt. He'd had no intention of striking a deal; he just liked to play games. When Rygel had finished, he'd simply smiled that icy smile of his and told the Dominar that he was in no position to negotiate, since everything on this ship was already his. Then to prove his point, he'd dragged Rygel from the thronesled and dumped him at Zhaan's feet, before handing the device to Grajul to be stripped for useful parts.

They had all sat after that. In a show of unusual solidarity, with poor Rygel trapped in a forest of their legs, his three companions had also sunk to the floor, huddled in a tight knit group surrounded by a ring of guns. They had not moved or spoken since.

And it was dull as Hell.

John wasn't sure how much more of this inaction he could take. They could not just leave things like this, their fate and Moya's in the hands of a malicious buccaneer, their friends at large elsewhere on the ship, trapped in alien bodies. They had to do something! One glance at D'Argo told John that the Luxan was feeling the same; his eyes had not left his confiscated Qualta blade. But there was more there too, a concern, a worry. John could see it written large across his face. D'Argo was scared for Chiana. They had heard nothing of the Nebari over the comms and no pirate at mentioned her. Just what had befallen her in the arns since the attack? True, she could simply be at large in Moya's hidden chambers; there were times when even Pilot had troubling keeping track of the elusive little thief. People said that no news was good news; but in this case, that could work either way. Was she lying hurt somewhere? Was she lying dead?

There was no way of knowing. And it was driving them crazy.

"Jak!"

John started and looked up as a slender pirate came hurtling into the chamber, rushing up to the leader with an expression of wide-eyed breathlessness.

"We found someone!" he exclaimed as he skidded to a halt.

Jak came to his feet at once. "The female?"

"Could be! It's a girl, at any rate. Nebari, by her looks. But Jak, there be something strange about her. We thought she was sick at first 'cos she was all curled up and shaking in a corner. But when Callo went and had a closer look…" He tailed off, biting his lip.

Jak glared impatiently. "What?" he snapped.

The pirate pulled a face. "I think you'd best see for yourself."

He turned to the door, just as a pair of Jak's men appeared around the corner, dragging Chiana between them. The Nebari was limp, dangling by the shoulders in their firm but slightly uneasy grip, her feet sliding along the floor, her head slumped forward against her chest. Her only movement was a shiver that seemed to pulse through her body like a wave.

"Chiana!!!!" D'Argo was on his feet in microts, lunging at the nearest pirate with vicious hands. The Taurax was caught completely by surprise as the big Luxan battered him over the head with a merciless blow. "What have you done to her?" he roared, fury burning in eyes fixed only on his lover as he kicked his victim aside and started towards her. For a moment, it seemed he would succeed, that they would finally break free, but D'Argo was trapped in a tunnel vision focussed on the Nebari. He did not see Jak as he snatched the Qualta blade from a nearby workbench, raising the hilt like a club. John cried out a warning, staring to his feet, only to be pushed back to the floor by a rough shove from a guard. It was too late. A crushing blow hammered into the side of D'Argo's head and the Luxan went down, slumped in a heap on the floor. A couple of pirates grabbed him roughly and hauled him across the floor, dumping him back with the other prisoners.

Jak tossed the Qualta blade aside indifferently, casting a disdainful glance at his erstwhile assailant, now barely conscious.

"Don't do that again," he said casually. Smiling slightly, he turned to his men.

"So what's with this girl?" he asked.

John struggled to his knees, glancing across at Zhaan, who was examining D'Argo with a concerned expression.

"I think he'll be all right," she said, flicking a wan smile back at John. "Luxans have thick skulls."

The human nodded. "Yeah, I coulda guessed." Squinting the human, tried to get a glimpse of what was happening with Chiana but the guards had closed in, affectively blocking his view. He looked up at their impassive faces and sighed. There was no leeway to be found with these goons. They didn't want him to see. But he could still hear. Closing his eyes, John listened.

"…see what you mean." Jak. John knew that smug tone anywhere. "But I don't think she's dangerous." There was a pause; John could almost sense the pirate eyeing her up and down and felt a sudden surge of fury. "She's a pretty wench," he commented, undertones rippling behind his words. "And that little anomaly of hers will make her valuable. We could make a decent profit. Stick her with the others for now. We'll decide her fate when we decide theirs. And keep looking. I'm not convinced that this is the female we overheard."

Anomaly? John had no idea what Jak was talking about but he had no time to ponder it for at that moment, one of the guards contacted him solidly with a foot. As he rolled back in pain, the pirate wall parted and a grey blur was tossed inside the impromptu enclave. John half-rose, considering a rush, but it was too late – the gap sealed as quickly at it appeared. Beside him, Chiana was convulsing gently on the floor.

"Chi?" John was at her side at once. "Pip, can you here me?" Gently he rested his hands on her shoulders; she shuddered but did not rise. A strange noise was emanating from her lips, half-whisper, half-moan, a sliver of a word that was gone as quickly as it was spoken, lost elusive in the air. John felt a strange sense of confusion; it seemed to him that he knew this word, that it tugged at his subconscious, but at the same time it was alien, a mystery beyond his skill to comprehend. He felt frustration rising. What the frell was the matter with her?

He turned to summon Zhaan to find that she was already there. The priestess bent close, her brow creased in confusion and concern, her gentle hands cradling the Nebari's face.

"Chiana, dear, can you hear me? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

At the sound of her voice, the Nebari seemed to pause. Her head twitched; it seemed almost as though she was trying to look up. Her voice was a hum, low and pulsating, as she fought to contort her noises into coherent speech.

"Za…Zaaaaaa…..Zhhaaaannnnn."

"Yes, that's right." Zhaan signalled to John for help as she lifted the girl gently, resting her head in her lap. "I'm here, Chiana. What's the matter?"

Chiana shook her head suddenly and the movement seemed to pulsate down her body as she shook and thrashed in John's arms.

"Zzzzhhhhhaaaannnnnn!!!!!" she screamed at the top of her voice, followed by that same elusive word, but this time not a whisper but a shout, at the top of her voice, screaming for something that no one around her could understand.

"Chiana! Chiana!" Zhaan called her name almost desperately, as she held her down as gently as she could. Tears were streaming from Chiana's tightly closed eyes.

"Chiana, please! What's wrong?" Zhaan's voice had a frantic edge. "I can't help you if you don't tell me! Open your eyes!!"

The convulsions stopped. Chiana seemed to freeze in place, her face upturned to Zhaan's. She opened her eyes.

John stumbled back in shock as blue light shimmered in the air. Zhaan seemed to freeze, locked in the intensity of the glowing gaze that seemed to reflect off her face like breaking waves. Chiana's features were a twisted mix of pain, confusion and a desperate plea; a plea for help that held the priestess transfixed.

Chiana's lips shivered; awkwardly, she tried to form a word.

"Mmmmmm…… Mmmmmooooyyyyy…….Mmmmoooooyy," She broke off to whimper slightly then tried again. "Mmmmmmooooyyyyy….. Mmmmmmoooyyyyyy…. Mmmmmooooyyyyaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"Moya!" Zhaan gasped. "By the Goddess!" She tore her gaze away to stare wide-eyed at John. The human was watching without comprehension.

"What the Hell is going on?" he exclaimed. "What is with Chiana's eyes?"

"John, don't you see?" Zhaan was breathless. "When the Taurax attacked, it did not just affect Aeryn and Pilot. It affected Chiana and Moya too – in a way we'd never have expected!"

John's eyes widened in sudden realisation. He stared at Chiana in utter disbelief.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he said shakily.

Zhaan nodded. "This isn't Chiana, John. This is Moya!"

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That explained everything.

Pilot stared down into the maintenance bay from his vantage point hidden behind one of the high arcs of the ceiling. He had made quick progress crawling through the vents and ducts to reach this place, quickly slipping into his current position during the distraction caused by D'Argo's assault. Now he crouched, eyes fixed intently upon the convulsing form of the Nebari, cradled compassionately in Zhaan's arms.

He had known her the microt he'd set eyes on her. How could he not? Three cycles of shared thoughts, of co-operation and unity, of fondness, of love, had imprinted the essence of her presence on his senses more strongly than the sense of his own. Despite his detachment from the heightened perceptions of his own body, the whisper of his DNA that Aeryn harboured gave him enough insight to recognise her feel without need for a physical connection. It had been all he could do to prevent himself from leaping out from hiding and diving to the rescue, but the folly of D'Argo's attempt had stayed him just in time. If the powerful Luxan could not overcome the pirates, what chance had a Pilot trapped in a body he barely knew? Anxiously he had forced down his emotions, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes in a desperate bid to stay in command of himself. It was not easy. He could only imagine how terrified she must be, imprisoned in a form so alien as to be almost incomprehensible to her. At least he had some basic knowledge of the form he was in – he knew how to manipulate muscles, how to move, how to communicate, even how to think, albeit on a more simplified level than he was accustomed to. But Moya had none of this knowledge. Her methods of motion, communication, of thought were all impossible in humanoid form. It seemed she had mastered some simple sound making, but proper speech was beyond her; her only real comprehension of a language of sounds came from names. Her cries had rended his soul, her call and plea. She needed him, had called for him, unable to understand why she was suddenly alone. Pilot did not like to think about how much she must be suffering; it made him feel hollow inside. Her essence, her being, was too vast to be contained in a simple Nebari body; already the powerful energy of her soul was leaking through Chiana's eyes. In Pilot's opinion, it was a miracle that the switch had not killed them both.

But it was not just Moya who was enclosed in a form she could not comprehend. What must Chiana have felt on being thrust into Moya? It certainly explained the shutdown; Chiana's mind, too narrow and limited to manipulate the intricacies of leviathan form, had overloaded with the effort and collapsed into unconsciousness to protect itself. Pilot now knew all attempts to restore the ship to waking would be in vain; any attempt to revive Chiana would only risk serious damage to her mind. It was better that she slept. Being woken would probably drive her to insanity.

But he could not afford to just leave the matter. Neither Chiana nor Moya were stable enough to be left where they were. Pilot didn't know what kind of effect Moya's thought processes would have upon Chiana but he suspected it would not be beneficial. Most likely, her mind, even whilst sleeping, would try to expand to fill the gaps but such expansion would only lead to it being dispersed beyond restoration and cause Moya's body to lose energy and deactivate entirely. And Moya, imprisoned in a vessel ill prepared to cope with the energy of a leviathan soul, was in no less danger. Just how much longer would Chiana's waif like form be able to cope with the stress? He remembered, with discomfort, the horrible sense of detachment as the Nebari form tried to reject him during their last switch. If it had barely coped with him, how the frell could it cope with Moya? The strain her mind and body were struggling under would be immense. Just how long did they have before something gave out and killed them both?

This left Pilot with a serious dilemma. Just what should he do now? He needed a plan, some way to both free his crew and restore them all to their true bodies before both Moya and Chiana were lost for good. He would have preferred a little longer to think about it, to put together a foolproof scheme that was guaranteed success, but time was a luxury he did not possess. He needed to act and soon. Gently, reluctantly, he opened his hand and stared down at the gleaming black heap of the Rani device. He would have liked to have found some other way – the memory of the creators of this thing still made him deeply uneasy – but he had been left with few other options. He was going to have to try and fix it.

A call from below arrested his attention; Pilot closed his hand sharply and turned, peering cautiously around the golden shield that protected him from the pirates view. A large, burly, dark haired pirate had just entered the bay, his big hand wrapped around a huge rifle as he approached the lighter haired, rangier man who Pilot's observations had led him to believe was leader. He looked vicious. Pilot bit back a shudder and tried to listen.

"….found it, up near the front end on a high tier." It was the burly newcomer who was speaking. "Don't look like much is working up there either though."

"Is it defensible?" the rangier man asked sharply, his cold voice carrying with much more clarity than the low rumble of his companion.

"Only one entry. Not good for escape but not bad to defend."

"Especially against a small number of enemies." The leader was frowning thoughtfully. "And perhaps Grajul will be able to do more from the Command."

Abruptly he turned to his men. "Pack up!" he ordered loudly. "We're shifting our base to the Command! Annit, Kerlin, Callo, you stay here and guard the shuttle. The rest of you are with me!"

"What about them?" It was one of the guards, who gestured to the five prisoners with a flick of his rifle.

The leader grinned. "Bring them along. I'm sure we can find a spot that's just as cosy on the upper tiers!"

Pilot watched them silently, as they gathered their gear. Should he follow? Much as his heart yearned to keep Moya safe within his sight, his head reluctantly issued an overrule. There was no purpose to it. It was not as though he feared the pirates would be able to revive the leviathan from there; now he knew the reason for the shut down, that was simply not going to happen until Moya was restored to her own form. He would do much better to find himself a quiet corner and concentrate on repairing the Rani device. If he could get the thing to function, it would give him a massive advantage; the ability to manipulate Moya's body without the need to wake Chiana. In this tricky situation, that was just the kind of advantage he needed.

But still, it hurt to leave her. It felt wrong somehow, like an abandonment. Three cycles of sharing minds with a being as wonderful as Moya had led to a kind of love between them that no other being could ever approach. He knew that Zhaan and Crichton would be capable guardians, but still, he could not shake the nagging feeling that they couldn't do the job half as well as he would.

The pirates were ready to move. Pilot watched, helpless as the five prisoners were forced to their feet. Moya of course could not rise, and D'Argo was more than a little groggy. So after exchanging a quick glance with Zhaan, Crichton had lifted the displaced leviathan gently in his arms, leaving the priestess to support the Luxan. Rygel, protesting wildly about the indignity of proceeding on foot, had been snatched unceremoniously up by a pirate, and tucked rather disrespectfully under his armpit. Slowly, like the straggling survivors of a war, the little group made their way to the door. Pilot watched, eyes never leaving the Nebari held limply in John's arms, whose grey folds concealed the spirit of the being that meant more to him than any other. He watched as they slipped from his sight behind a wall of gold, his heart heavy inside of his borrowed chest. A part of him wanted to cry, but another stronger part fought to dominate. Aeryn's words echoed in his mind…. Moya needs you….of even more resonance now than before. Sudden determination bolstered his heart. He would save her. He would not let her down! She needed him!

Filled to overflowing with a powerful new resolve, Pilot turned silently and slipped out of the maintenance bay. He needed to find somewhere quiet….

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The command was dead. John disliked using that word, especially in regards to Moya, but in this case it was the only word he could find to fit. A darkness cloaked the room like a shroud, the dim and guttural lights lost and surrounded by all encroaching darkness. The golden consoles, usually gleaming and flashing with bright read-outs, now lay still, silent and colourless, detached from their functions by an absence of power. It was sinister to behold. John had to admit, if he'd have had a choice, he probably would not have gone in there.

The rifle muzzle dug firmly against his shoulder blades, reminding him that of course, he didn't have a choice. With Chiana – or Moya – cradled in his arms, John shuffled reluctantly forward. Dazzling light expelled the darkness to the hidden recesses as Jak stepped in front of him with a powerful lantern, depositing it firmly on the strategy table. He looked around the golden chamber, his face fixed with that disturbing smile as he examined the leviathan's manual control centre with the assuredness of one who is master of all he surveyed. John watched him coldly, his face fixed angrily at the man's presumption. How dare he treat them like this in their own home? One way or another, that guy was going to pay.

A wail from Rygel caught John's attention. He half turned just in time to see the tiny green dominar being hurled unceremoniously into one of the alcoves to their left. He barely had time to register this fact before he felt a rough hand on his arm and a shove. He reeled back, stumbling to his knees as he struggled to hold onto Moya, collapsing beside Rygel with a painful jarring on his knees. A solid shape contacted him, pushing him against the wall. He looked up to meet Zhaan's apologetic eyes. A hefty oomph from Rygel revealed where the still semi-conscious D'Argo had been deposited and in response to the Hynerian's breathless cries for help, Zhaan turned away to arrange the Luxan more comfortably.

Gently, John placed Moya on the ground, arranging her arms and legs for her as he leaned her carefully against the wall of her own body, supporting her lolling head. After her fit in the maintenance bay, the displaced leviathan seemed to have recovered a little, but now she had retreated into herself, eyes tightly closed, her soft lips mouthing over and over that same mysterious, elusive word. She seemed to chant it, murmuring it aloud like one of Zhaan's mantras, a combination of a prayer and a plea for help. John wished he had some idea what it meant. He wished he could ask Pilot. But he might as well wish for Jak to spontaneously combust. Right now at least, it wasn't going to happen.

He wondered where Pilot was. The fact that had hadn't been brought to join them before now was encouraging; maybe he was better at taking care of himself than John had given him credit for. It was easy to forget that Pilot had not passed his whole life aboard Moya, and although it was never discussed, he must have had a life before his bonding three cycles before. Who could say how different he had been back then, before his painful bonding and years of subservience to the peacekeepers? With a shock, John realised that despite the time they had spent working together, enough certainly to count him as a friend, he knew virtually nothing about the reclusive navigator. It was easy to just lump him in as a part of Moya, an organic computer to obey their commands. But he wasn't. He was a person, with a character and needs all his own, a history and past that they did not and probably would not ever know. Did he have a family on his home planet? What kind of life had he led there? John hadn't a clue. The guy was his friend but yet he knew almost nothing about his life. And he found that mildly disturbing.

A gentle touch to his shoulder jerked him out of his reverie. He turned to meet Zhaan's blue eyes. She smiled at him, but the expression was wan.

"How are you?" she asked him softly.

"Me?" John shrugged. "Oh, I'm on top of the world right now. How's the big guy?"

"Recovering," Zhaan shot a covert glance at the pirate guards, who were blocking them in, their backs to their prisoners before shifting her glance to the semi-comatose Nebari form in which Moya currently resided. "John, we have to do something."

John followed her gaze. "You won't get any argument from me." He glanced at her hopefully. "You got a plan?"

To his disappointment, the Delvian shook her head. "I'm afraid not. But this situation is more urgent than it appears." She took a breath. "I can't be sure John, but I think Moya and Chiana are dying."

John felt his heart drop. A hollowness settled in his stomach. "What makes you say that?"

Zhaan sighed. "I can only speculate. I think that when the combination of our shield and the Halosian weapon caused Moya and Chiana to switch bodies, it took no account of the differing ways in which Nebari and leviathan minds work. Look at her, John." She gestured to the porcelain frame slumped against the bulkhead. "Moya's energy and mind are used to being housed in a vessel metras long. You can't just push that amount of power into a tiny body like Chiana's and expect it to cope. And Chiana's mind is used to operating a simple humanoid form not a massive, space-faring vessel. I believe that when they changed places, Chiana's mind was unable to handle the complexity of Moya and shut down. Who knows what kind of damage that will do, to both of them! We need to get out of here, fast, and restore them to their true forms as quickly as possible. Otherwise…."

She left it hanging. But her meaning was clear.

John felt sick. Zhaan was right. It was obvious, when you thought about it. After all, Chiana's body had had problems dealing with Pilot's mind, for frell's sake! How could it be expected to cope with the vastness of Moya?

Pilot. Frell!

"Zhaan, what about Pilot?" John turned to the Delvian in sudden concern. "Last time we all played pass the parcel with our minds, Pilot almost died!"

"I know," Zhaan leaned forward, checking on Moya's breathing with gentle fingers.

"But he may not be so badly affected this time. Remember, Aeryn's body still contains dormant fragments of his DNA. Maybe it will be able to cope better with the complexities of Pilot's mind. And Aeryn has experience of multi-tasking. I suspect that both of them will be able to adapt to each other's bodies without too much difficulty."

John nodded, hoping as he did so that the priestess was right. He smiled uncertainly.

"You think Pilot can get us out of this from inside Aeryn's body?"

Zhaan smiled, more genuinely. "I think Pilot is more resourceful than we give him credit for."

John gave her a look. "That doesn't answer my question."

The Delvian returned his gaze. "When I have an answer, I'll give you one."

The human sighed, glancing out through the cracks in the wall of legs that hemmed them in. "So what do we do until then?"

Zhaan looked away, her eyes fixed with concern on the whispering lips of the leviathan souled Nebari. "Until then," she said softly. "We must wait."

John rolled his eyes. "Whether we like it or not," he replied.

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Well, well, well.

Jak Cordak smiled to himself. Hadn't that been an interesting conversation?

He knew it had been a good idea to place the listening device on the Nebari girl. They had not seen him do it, of course, too concerned with their impetuous Luxan friend. And now they had given him some very key information.

He had no idea how or why those aboard the leviathan during the attack would have switched bodies. He had been dubious at first, thinking perhaps they had found the device and were trying to make a fool of him. But the Delvian seemed genuine enough. Why would they take the trouble to invent a lie like that? No, Jak was convinced they were telling the truth. And that was excellent news.

It was a fascinating phenomenon. The idea that that blue eyed Nebari was the leviathan inside was amazing; he could scarcely comprehend the kind of price he could fetch for something like that. But of more significance was the information about the elusive female still at large. He had feared her presence, an unknown element in his neat equation of victory. But now, he discovered, she was no more than a displaced Pilot! A Pilot! He knew enough of the race to know that they were bred to be quiet, obedient and peaceful. You didn't get a leviathan if you weren't. No one wanted to fly on a ship with a disobedient, troublemaking navigator. No, this was going to be easy. Once the Pilot was found, there would be no fight. It would all be over quicker than one of Areni's conquests!

Now all he had to do was draw him out.

And how do you draw something out?

With bait.

And what did Pilots care about more than anything else?

Jak cast a sidelong look at the alcove where the prisoners were huddled. He caught a glimpse of grey skin and smiled to himself.

Perfect.

The Pilot was as good as his.

END OF PART FOUR.

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In The Flesh – Part Five.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at jesspallas@hotmail.com

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Reference to OOTM, LATP, TWWW and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note: This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Recap: Moya has been taken over by pirates using the salvaged Halos 1. As a result of their attack, Aeryn and Pilot have switched bodies, as have Chiana and Moya, putting the lives of both in serious jeopardy. The rest of the crew, unaffected, have been taken captive by the pirates and are being held in command. Pilot, the only member of the crew still at large, has discovered the Rani device and now must formulate a plan to rescue the others before Chiana and Moya are destroyed…

The neural cluster was eerily quiet. An unnatural stillness permeated the air, a silence and lack of motion that was unusual for such an active zone of Moya's systems. To Pilot it was disconcerting. More than ever before, it made him aware of just how perilous the current situation was for both Chiana and Moya and instilled in him a need for haste and rapid action. He had come down here in his search for a secluded spot, carefully avoiding the attention of the patrolling pirates who sought him out. He had hoped to find a maintenance bay or lab, somewhere with equipment and resources he could utilise but every time he approached such a haven, he would be confronted by the sound of gruff voices and heavy footsteps. Finally, after what seemed like arns of searching, he discovered that the pirates did not seem to be exploring the lower regions of his chamber – the neural clusters were deserted. It appeared the invaders were no keener on climbing ladders than he was, but he put aside his dislike in favour of finding a place where he could function and turn his attention to the Rani device.

It was a puzzle to say the least. The small size of the metallic controller concealed a complex labyrinth of wires and electronics, powered by a small but incredibly powerful electro-battery. The fall had caused considerable damage to the connections and inter-weavings of the conduits; most had been displaced and Pilot had to admit, to his own chagrin, that replacing them would be less down to skill and more to trial and error. Closer examination gave him a rough idea at least of how exactly the thing was able to manipulate Moya's body; the device emitted an electro-charge that stimulated a response. But this charge could behave in different ways. One frequency enabled a mechanism to be triggered and activated. Another emitted a jamming signal. Another caused overload in pulse weapons. It all depended on the intricate inter-connection of the wiring; the inter-connection that the fall had obliterated. And Pilot didn't have a clue how to put it back together.

Pilot sighed to himself as he picked up a small metal tool. Well, he'd faced worse in his time. It wasn't like he needed the thing to be fully functional. All he had to repair were the frequencies for the manipulation of Moya's systems and the destructive capability; so he could regain at least rudimentary control of Moya and have some means by which to defend himself. Awkwardly, he settled himself down against one of the pillars, his back to the circular hatch as he set to work intently.

It surprised him how well he could see. The room was very dark, shadows whispering in corners to the abyss outside, but yet he found that even in the very limited light, Aeryn's eyes were coping easily. He had no trouble whatsoever in observing the various fiddly little wires within the black device, although his inexperience with fingers meant he had a great deal of trouble when it came to manipulating them. It surprised him to say the least. Earlier, he had felt limited by her narrow spectrum vision. Now it seemed to be almost as good as his.

But clear vision did not make his task any easier. Pilot was an intelligent being, and his experience with DRDs gave him a good basic understanding of this kind of electronics. But yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the thing to work. The wires were in place and secure; as far as he could ascertain, he had replaced them correctly. But every time he tested the thing, nothing happened. Oh, the transmitter would flash, the wiring would hum, but this had no effect on any of the adjacent systems. It was most baffling and more than a little frustrating. What the frell was he doing wrong?

Suddenly very tired, Pilot laid Aeryn's dark head back against the pillar and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so drained. Certainly not in the three cycles since he had bonded to Moya. In his role as navigator, Pilot never slept. Moya provided him with nutrients that energized him and removed the need for unconscious regeneration. But suddenly, he found his mind was yearning towards a state of blissful shutdown he had not experienced for cycles and jerked himself awake with a shock. He didn't have time for this! Unsteadily, he came to his feet and tried to move around to revive himself, admonishing himself for even considering such an action. But his borrowed body wasn't listening. Quietly, unwillingly, Pilot slipped back against the wall, and slumped to the ground. His hand came down against a bundle of conduits, closing on the Rani device and pressing on the activator.

The shock was tremendous. Waves of electric energy coursed along his arm and rippled through the wall, bolting him upright with a start, all thoughts of sleep erased in an instant. He jerked his arm away from the wall with a cry of pain, stumbling forward onto his knees. The shock was gone as quickly as it had come. For a moment, Pilot couldn't breathe, doubled over gasping on the floor. What the frell had that been?

Still breathing hard, he sat back and opened his still-shaking hand. The black device glistened innocently, looking for all the world as though it wouldn't hurt a drak. But something had shocked him. His gaze shifted suspiciously from the device to the conduits and back again. His eyes narrowed in thought. He glanced at the wall again as the possibility solidified in his mind. Could that be the reason it wasn't working?

Hurriedly, Pilot flipped the device in his hand, leaning over close to examine the battery. He noticed the crack in the casing almost at once. Why he hadn't seen it before, he didn't know, but now was not the time for such thoughts. It was clear was had happened. The battery had been damaged in the fall and had leaked, severely reducing the range of the transmitter. It simply did not have the power to affect items at a distance. But place it in close proximity to a power source and a system…

Pilot smiled to himself. Well now he knew what was wrong, at least. All he needed now was a decent battery. If he could gain access to one of the maintenance bays, he should be able to adapt one of the power chargers from one of Aeryn's rifles….

Rising carefully, mind lost in thought, Pilot turned to the hatch and came face to face with Areni.

The shock was easily as powerful as the one he had just received. Pilot jumped backwards, clutching the Rani device like a talisman, knowing even as he retreated that there was nowhere to run. The pirate was stood in the circular hatchway, foot resting easily on the rim, rifle-shod fist placed upon his up-raised knee. He was watching him with his intense dark eyes, his expression intent. His gaze slid slowly from Aeryn's face down her body and back up again, lingering at times in a way that Pilot found distinctly disturbing. A slow, predatory smile spread across his cheeks.

"Hello there, pretty," he murmured softly. "And what are you doing hiding down here all alone?"

Pilot suddenly had a very bad feeling.

He took another step back.

Areni's smile spread. "Now there's no need to be afraid of me," he drawled. Slowly, almost languorously, he stepped up and pulled himself through the hatchway, jumping to the ground. His eyes never left Aeryn's face.

"Your voice doesn't do you credit, you know," he said smoothly, as he moved forward in small, easy strides, an air of confidence hanging about him like a halo. "I had no idea those dulcet tones I heard over the comms would belong to such a beauty."

Pilot was no fool. He had seen enough of this kind of thing, most notably involving Chiana, to realise what was going on. Knowing what was happening was no comfort though. In fact it made it worse. He had a strong suspicion what this swarthy pirate was after and he had absolutely no intention of letting him take it. He continued to back away, circling the neural cluster, one hand gripping the Rani device, the other slipping cautiously in the direction of Aeryn's pulse pistol, hoping that Areni would be too caught up in his conquest to notice.

But the pirate was no fool either. He caught the furtive movement almost at once and cocked his rifle casually, powering its chamber with a lazy hum. Pilot froze in his tracks, hand instantly still. The hatch was no more than a few steps to his left, but it might as well have been metras away. Areni saw the flicker of consternation across the Sebacean features and smiled.

"Now, is that polite?" he said easily. "I was only being friendly, you know. But then, you Sebaceans have never been renowned for your courtesy." He frowned suddenly, gazing into Aeryn's eyes. "You are Sebacean, aren't you?" Suddenly he didn't sound quite so sure of himself. "You look Sebacean, except for your eyes. I'd say you were a hybrid, but I know how your people feel about that kind of thing." He moved cautiously around, circling the neural cluster to get a better look. Pilot for one had no idea what he was talking about. Aeryn's eyes looked perfectly normal to him.

Areni was watching him. "You are an unusual one," he commented dryly. "Quiet as space itself, with eyes like a pair of suns." He grinned, a disturbing site. "Doesn't make you any less worth having though."

Pilot wasn't listening. His mind was whirling. Eyes like suns? But Aeryn had blue eyes! It was his eyes that were….

Oh frell.

He had known from the start that his DNA had allowed him to settle so well into Aeryn's body. Now, it appeared, he was settling too well. The DNA, dormant for so long, had reacted to his presence strongly and now it appeared, had begun making changes to accommodate him. If he didn't get out of Aeryn's body, it was entirely possible that more changes would occur; changes that Aeryn was unlikely to appreciate.

But now was not the time to ponder it. Areni was leaning casually against an upright, eyeing Aeryn's body with unmistakable intent. Pilot knew he had to do something and fast or he was going to end up in a situation so bizarre as to be almost farcical.

Areni was smiling that worrying smile again.

"You look like a reasonable girl," he said suavely. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Pilot might almost have laughed at how far off the mark that statement was.

"Why don't we cut to the chase? You know what I want and I think you want it to. Care to get down to business?"

He began to advance. Pilot backed away almost at once, covering the few steps to the hatch with a speed that surprised even him. For a microt, he considered risking a bolt for safety but Areni's deceptively casually flick of his rifle stayed any such thought in his tracks. He turned reluctantly to face the pirate.

Areni's eyes had narrowed. "Is there a problem?" he said, his deceptively quiet voice masking an unspoken threat. Pilot felt ill. He smiled wanly.

"You're really not my type," he stammered. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but it was all that came to mind.

"Oh?" Areni smiled like a predator who had cornered his prey. He was in complete control and he knew it. "And what will it take to make me your type?"

Pilot rolled his eyes. "Tripling your size and changing gender would be a start," he muttered to himself. Luckily Areni didn't hear. Pilot cursed silently under his breath. What the frell was he going to do? He had to get out of this and fast. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate. He glanced to one side almost plaintively, searching desperately for a solution. His eyes fixed almost at once on the ring of half-exposed conduits that looped their way around the circular hatch. In his hand, he felt the pressure of the Rani device, still warm from its earlier run-in with Moya's systems. An idea coalesced hurriedly in his mind. He glanced at Areni warily but the pirate seemed oblivious, too intent upon his prey. Pilot knew what he had to do now. He needed to get Areni closer, but at the same time distance himself. He pursed Aeryn's lips, her forehead furrowing on his behalf as he realised what he was going to have to do. It would be humiliating beyond belief; but if it saved him from the next phase, it would be worth it.

Silently, Pilot thanked whoever watched over these things that none of the rest of the crew were here to see this. Watching the crew day after day had given him an intimate knowledge of their mannerisms, their style and their character. He thought of Chiana, of the way she moved, the way she smiled and closed his eyes with despair. He really wished there was another way!

Abruptly, he sat back, swinging Aeryn's legs up onto the rim of the hatch and leaning back languorously against the edge. One hand reached up to stroke the metal overhead; the other, carefully concealed behind his back, positioned the Rani device firmly against the exposed conduit.

"Maybe we could….talk… about it," he drawled, doing his best to imitate Chiana's seductive inflections. "But this isn't really the place. I know somewhere better we could go."

Areni's grin filled his face. "I knew you'd come to your senses!" He advanced hungrily, hands outstretched but Pilot dodged neatly, slipping through the hatchway in one quick movement, one hand still daintily covering the presence of the transmitter.

"Not here," he repeated, moving back until only his fingertips still touched the rim. With Aeryn's free hand, he beckoned, smiling broadly. Areni's replying smile was wolfish. With a playful lunge, he leaned forward, draping himself across the rim.

Pilot pressed down.

The sudden light was blinding. Pilot dove for cover, collapsing in a ball on the far side of the passageway. Areni's scream echoed through the cluster, expanding out into the chamber beyond to bounce off the walls in a rippling tide. For a moment it seemed he would cry out forever. But abruptly the light was gone and the neural cluster fell silent. An unpleasant burning smell drifted across in the air.

Reluctantly, Pilot looked up.

Areni lay slumped across the rim of the hatchway. Most of his hair was gone; his face was a mass of orange burns. Steam was rising in lazy spirals from his clothes. Carefully, warily Pilot approached. He poked gently at the steaming pirate, but he simply rocked and fell back into place. Reluctantly, the navigator checked his vital signs. To his surprise, the pirate wasn't dead.

But it would be a while before he made any more advances.

Smiling to himself, Pilot retrieved the device. It was very hot – he almost dropped it – but a pair of tools solved that problem. The navigator turned to leave when his eye feel upon the pirate's fallen rifle. He bent, lifted it gently and turned it examining the power source.

Fully charged.

Pilot's smile spread. Grinning to himself, the navigator settled cross-legged on the floor, and began to take the rifle apart. Perhaps the encounter hadn't been a total waste of time after all!

*****************************************

It had definitely been a scream.

There was no mistaking it. Aeryn had heard it distinctly. Concentrating tediously on Pilot's panels, pretending to her two monosyllabic guards that she was hard at work on their behalf, she had all but given up hope that any of them would live out the day. If nothing else, she would die of sheer boredom. Helpless, annoyed and frustrated, she had paused in her pretend diligence, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths in an attempt to maintain some shadow of composure.

And then she had heard the scream.

It had caught her attention at once. Her eyes snapped open, head raised, listening intently as the echo of the cry died away, fragmented into swirling eddies of sound by the vaulted walls of the chamber. For a microt, she had thought she was imagining things, but the two Taurax had jerked into alertness as well, casting around with their rifles, expressions a mixture of confusion and anxiety. So it had been real. Aeryn lowered Pilot's cumbersome head quickly, anxious not to draw the guards attention as her mind raced. As far as she could tell, the sound had come from somewhere below them; probably from one of the neural clusters. To her trained ears, supplemented by Pilot's excellent hearing, it had sounded like a male, probably a pirate. That in itself was a relief – she had briefly feared that something had befallen Pilot and her body. But what had caused such an agonised cry? Had some fool made a mistake and had an accident or had someone assaulted him? Had the others got free somehow? Were they fighting to reach her? Desperately, she wished that there were some way that she could discover what was happening on the rest of the ship. She felt trapped and isolated, alone in Pilot's chamber with a pair of silent idiots, shunted to the one side and held out of the action. She suppressed a sudden urge to add a scream of her own to the echoing corners of the room. How the frell did Pilot live like this? And where was he now? Why couldn't someone please tell her what was going on?

"Aeryn?"

The quiet voice made her start. She swept the chamber with her eyes, searching for it's origin but there was no one to see. She felt an odd little shiver. Was she imagining things? Had the solitude driven her insane? She had heard someone say her name, she was sure of it. But there was nobody there!

"Aeryn!"

That time, she knew she wasn't dreaming. Once more she glanced around her. Once more no face came to view. The two pirates, Ragit and Nuin, were lounging together on the far side of the walkway, rifles raised, gazing uneasily down the immense drop to either side. They were talking quietly, nervously between themselves, obviously unaware that Pilot's superior hearing meant that she could hear every word they said. But they had not spoken her name. That voice that been much closer…

"Aeryn!" There was an air of impatience to the voice this time. It was female and very familiar. "I'm down here!"

Aeryn felt a gentle touch against the lower part of Pilot's massive body. Her mysterious visitor was in the bonding chamber. This time, the sound of the voice filled her with recognition and a mild euphoria. She peered down, trying to catch a glimpse of herself, mouth half-open in greeting.

"Don't look!" Her own voice rang out in a sharp whisper of admonishment. "And don't answer me either! Their hearing is insufficient to catch my words, but not so weak that they wouldn't hear you! Just listen!"

Aeryn felt a rush of impatience, but she did as she was told. She had a thousand questions to ask, and it was frustrating that she couldn't request any answers. But Pilot was a thorough being. Hopefully he'd answer without the need for her to ask.

"I know what has happened to Moya," There was a note of anxiety to Pilot's borrowed voice that was unmistakable. "Do you remember when we first changed places? You told me that Moya's senses had run out of control for a microt then shut down entirely. Well, there was a reason for that. It wasn't Moya you were sensing, Aeryn. It was Chiana."

Aeryn stared at the panels in disbelief, barely able to restrain herself from sending forth a torrent of questions. What the frell was he talking about?

Pilot must have sensed her confusion. "I know that sounds strange but it's true. When the Halosian weapon hit, it did not just affect you and me. It caused Moya and Chiana to change bodies as well. Chiana was apparently unable to deal with leviathan form and her mind shut down, deactivating Moya along with it. Moya is trapped in Chiana's body and is a prisoner of the pirates along with the others. I believe they are being held in the command." He paused to take a breath as Aeryn gazed off into the darkness, letting this information sink in. Frell! Chiana in Moya! No wonder nothing was working. The useless trelk could barely function in her own body at times!

"I am now the only member of this crew still at liberty," There was a definite edge of strain to Pilot's voice now. "But I believe I may have a way to set you all free. Do you remember the Rani?"

A flood of memories filled Aeryn's mind, unpleasant visions that tumbled over and over. Did she remember the Rani? Of course she did! Better than anyone else did! Better than anyone else could!

Pilot had moved on, unaware of her abstraction. Like the others, he had no memory of the true sequence of events that had occurred when the Rani invaded the ship and if Aeryn had her way he never would. Telling her best friend that he had died and she had been responsible was not a prospect she ever intended to face.

"Well, when I was hiding in the lower tiers, I found that Rani device - the little black one that they used to manipulate Moya and destroy your pulse pistol."

Aeryn recalled it vividly; the frelling thing had nearly killed her. What was Pilot doing, playing around with something as dangerous as that? She almost said so, but her eye fell on Ragit and Nuin; in frustration, she bit down on her lip and held her tongue.

Pilot had swept on. "Well, I've had some time to study it and I think I've got it partially functioning. It can certainly effect Moya's systems and it ought to be able to ignite pulse chambers as well." There was a pause. "I haven't been able to test that yet. But I am fairly certain I did it right."

Aeryn wanted to scream at him. You think? How could Pilot be so foolish as to tamper with something that dangerous and not even test it out?

"I am currently in the process of tapping into Moya's systems." This was news to Aeryn. She suddenly noticed for the first time that there was the barest hint of life flickering in the lower panels of the console. She felt a strange combination of apprehension and hope. If Pilot could give her even a little control, she would be immensely grateful. But the idea of such a benefit coming from a device forged by the Rani…. It made her apprehensive, to say the least.

"Once I have re-established partial function to my console, I need you to seal off this chamber. You must make sure that it is completely isolated, especially the conduit flows." There was an intensity to Pilot's voice that Aeryn was not familiar with. "This is very important, Aeryn. I cannot explain it now; I do not have much time. But later, you will understand."

There was a buzz and a flurry of light. A patchwork of panels, islands of light scattered randomly across the console fluttered abruptly into life. At once, Aeryn jerked to attention, co-ordinating Pilot's four arms awkwardly as she examined what she had. It wasn't much. Minimum functions were restored in several crucial systems and she had full access to the functions that surrounded the chamber. But it was better than nothing. Quietly, the displaced peacekeeper set to work, carefully severing every link and connection that gave access to the chamber.

"That should be enough." Her own voice drifted softly from below, sprinkled with Pilot's familiar inflections. "I have to go now. I need to get to command. I'll be back just as soon as I'm done. Remember, isolate the chamber and then wait until you hear from me. Good luck, Aeryn."

Then he was gone. She neither saw nor heard him leave, but she immediately sensed the absence of his presence. She felt heavy inside, scared for his fate, for the fate of them all. She was unable to shake a terrible feeling of apprehension. Pilot was not accustomed to this kind of situation, at least not from an active perspective. She wished she had been able to question him, to find out in more depth exactly what he had planned. She could have advised him, stopped him if she considered his intentions foolhardy. The presence of the Rani device only added to her unease. How sure could Pilot be that it would function as he thought? That thing was as dangerous as the race who had been responsible for it's creation. Did he even have the slightest idea what he was getting himself into? She admonished herself for having so little faith in his ability, but she simply couldn't help it. She was worried about him. She found herself wishing desperately that she could have spoken to him properly, if only to say one little thing. With a sigh she closed her eyes. He wouldn't hear her, of course. But she had to do it, if only to comfort herself. She cast a quick glance at Ragit and Nuin; they were not paying her any heed. Quietly, she lowered her head and gazed down at the flickering panels, praying that by some miracle, her words would reach their target.

"Good luck, Pilot," she whispered.

***********************************

Was he really doing the right thing?

Pilot sighed to himself as he hurried along the dark and deserted curve of Moya's passageways. He knew that he worried too much – he had heard the others comment as much when they thought he wasn't listening. Indeed, he had even overheard Crichton remark once that he had raised self-doubt to an art form. But this was more than some minor decision over a trade or a technical problem. This was serious – deadly serious. He would be putting his life – all their lives - at risk, placing himself, his ship and his crew at the mercy of a device he barely understood and could hardly function! What if he made a mistake? He could kill them all!

He wished he could have asked Aeryn's opinion. The extended period he had spent in solitude, without the benefit of a friend to share ideas with, had left his mental state more than a little unnerved. He wasn't used to making decisions and acting them out alone. It wasn't that he relied on the input of others – he was more than capable of thinking for himself – but always before, he had had someone to discuss it with, even if it was only Moya. Much as he hated to admit it, his time under the oppressive peacekeeper regime had badly eroded what confidence he had possessed prior to his bonding, and now he found himself almost reliant on the approval of others. True, his time with his present crew had gone some way to restoring his self-esteem – albeit after a rocky start – but he was painfully aware that he still had some way to go. It would have been reassuring to hear Aeryn's view on his plans, perhaps have her suggest amendments, but it simply hadn't been possible without endangering them both. Like it or not, this time he was on his own.

He just wished the prospect didn't make him so nervous.

In an attempt to dispel the doubts, he tried to focus his mind on running through the details of his plan. Had he made all the correct preparations? Yes. The device was a functional as he was going to be able to get it and Aeryn was already at work, isolating the chamber as a safe hold. He had used the battery from Areni's rifle to boost the signal but he had also integrated the safety catch, to limit any damage and protect Moya's body from harm. Now all he needed to do was get close enough to the pirates without being seen and find some way to draw them far enough away from Moya and the crew.

Some all.

In the silence of his mind, Pilot made a vow that he would never underestimate the problems of his bipedal crew again. How did they live like this?

Ahead, a shaft of light cut through the dark oblivion, dancing across the glistening golden walls. Pilot halted at once, his newly enhanced eyes peering into the darkness ahead. He could see nothing but just audible a little way around the next bend were the sounds of unfamiliar voices. Pilot knew that just beyond the next corner lay the entrance to the command – most likely these were the men set to guard it. As silently as he was able, Pilot crept forward down on all fours, well below the beam of light and poked a cautious head passed the golden bulkhead. Three large, burly Taurax stood gathered in the open entry, silhouetted by the light that glowed from within. Beyond, he could see several more shadowy figures, lounging in various states of indolence around the controls. A further three stood in a tight ring, blocking in one of the alcoves along the command's right flank. Between their solid shapes, he caught a glimpse of blue and black.

Pilot pulled back quickly, breathing hard. So that was where they were holding the others. It was good in that they were all close together tucked out of the way, but bad in that they were worryingly proximate to the three armed pirates. The last thing Pilot wanted was for Moya or the others to get caught up in a backlash. And there were so many! Given the number of pirates he had observed patrolling the corridors, he had hoped that the command would contain no more than three or four. But from what he could establish from so brief a reconnaissance, there were at least eight and probably more than that. Because of his uncertainty regarding the range and performance of the Rani device, he would need to drop that number by half if this plan was going to succeed. So how the frell was he supposed to do that?

Thinking hard, Pilot retreated a way down the corridor and ducked into a dark backwash chamber. He needed to draw some of the pirates out. How? By giving them something they wanted. What did they want? The ship. They already had that. Wealth. He had nothing of any value to offer them. And what good would it do anyway? They was no way that the pirates were all going to troop out and stare at it. They would just pick it up and take it back to the command. So it needed to be something else – preferably something mobile. Something they were anxious to get hold of. Something they were looking for…

Pilot felt himself go cold.

They were looking for him.

Could he really use himself as live bait? He didn't want to, of course – the prospect was terrifying. But it also had possibilities. Several arns of roaming the ship had allowed him to come reasonably close to mastering Aeryn's body – he now had no problem with walking and climbing. If he had to, he reckoned he could probably keep ahead of any pursuit – at least for a short distance. But where would he lead them? It was all very well to get them out of command, but it would be a useless exercise if he couldn't get away from them and return to the command himself. So he needed a trap – some way to imprison them and prevent them from interfering. He glanced around at the backwash chamber. It was a large room with a single door and only two vents that gave access, one too narrow for bipedal traversion, the other a direction release into space.

Pilot smiled, albeit nervously.

It would do nicely.

**********************************

Edril waited. He was good at that.

Guard duty was one of the things that Edril did best. It involved no thinking. All he had to do was stand there and look menacing. If there was one person in the galaxy who was designed to stand still and look menacing, it was Edril. He never got bored. He never argued. As long as he was told to stand and guard, he would do so until the very end of time.

The corridor outside the command was quiet. That was no surprise. The whole frig-cursed leviathan was quiet. The ship was non-operational, all but one of her crew in custody. There was no one left to make any noise except the mystery female still at large and she had shown no inclination for a confrontation, preferring to stay hidden and wait. Edril did not care much about the female. If he saw her, he would shoot her. If he didn't see her, he wouldn't. That was all he knew.

So Edril waited.

The shot came out of nowhere. Red light seared the air, exploding against the doorframe above their heads in a shower of crimson sparks. Even as Edril started, half-turned towards in the direction of the attack, a second blast hammered into the shoulder of the guard standing to his left, catapulting him back into the bulkhead with a cry of pain. From inside the command, Jak Cordak had turned, his eyes wide with shocked surprise at the assault, bellowing orders at his men. The pirates scrambled to attention; all but Grajul the tech and two of the three guarding the prisoners snatched weapons to hand and made for the door even as a third shot lit the darkness, missing Edril by inches to explode against the wall. But this time the burly pirate had been ready. As the shot discharged, he caught a glimpse of a slender, female figure, arm extended with pulse pistol blazing, crouched, half-poised to flee at the apex of the bend. He felt his blood racing; he was not going to let some female make a fool out of him! Cocking his rifle, he took aim and rattled off a series of random shots that set fire to the darkness, ripping it aside like a discarded curtain. The female, stripped of her concealment and suddenly startled, wheeled rapidly and bolted down the corridor.

Jak had appeared at his side. "Don't just stand there, you imbeciles!" he roared. "After her!"

Edril did not need to be told twice. Bellowing a cry of war, he hurled himself into the black.

***********************************

So far so good.

Pilot hurled himself around the corner at such velocity that he almost fell. His breath was coming in short, wheezing gasps; Aeryn's lungs were screaming. Desperately, he scrambled, dropping the pulse pistol but managing to maintain his balance as he shied from the wall and leapt clear over the bundle of wires and conduits that snaked out from the threshold of the doorframe to branch out across the backwash chamber floor. It had been a long time since he had been required to do exercise at all, let alone anything strenuous – he had forgotten just how much it could hurt. A glance back over his shoulder told him that five pirates had come in pursuit, lead by the dark, burly one he had seen earlier in the maintenance bay. He saw Aeryn's pulse pistol lying on the floor but he had no time to retrieve it; the pirates were too close. But they had brought no lights.

Even better.

The room was solid black, but Pilot had no problem seeing. Veering to one side, he doubled back into the shadows, grasping a strategically placed, non-conductive container and hauling himself up. Below, the Rani device blended into the blackness almost perfectly; Pilot grabbed the triggering device he had hastily constructed, ducked his head and waited.

He did not have to wait long.

His attack had obviously had the desired effect; not to kill the pirates as some might have thought but to anger them, make them lose their circumspection. They piled into the room without even looking, bellowing at the top of their lungs, waving their weapons and rattling off random shots into the darkness. Pilot waited carefully, concealed by the darkness that blinded them, knowing that in just a moment, their world would come alight. One, two; they tumbled in without a thought, stumbling and tripping mindlessly on the very conduits that would lead to their downfall. Three, four; he just had to wait, just a moment, one moment more and then it would all be over. Just a little longer….

Five!

Pilot pressed the trigger.

The floor caught fire.

Not literally of course; Pilot would never have done anything that would cause such damage to Moya's body. But it must have looked that way to the confused and terrified pirates. The golden floor coursed with violent blue light; it reached up in grasping tendrils to engulf their legs, pulling them down into the haze, their cries of shock consumed by the brightness in an instants time. It wouldn't kill them of course – Pilot had no wish to be a mass murderer. But it would put them out of contention for a while. For a microt more, the room blazed with blinding light. But then, the echoes of their screams died into nothingness and the room fell dark and silent once more.

But something had gone wrong.

Only four still shapes lay slumped on the chamber's floor. The burly pirate was still standing.

Pilot felt a rush of horror. By some fluke, the pirate had stepped onto a sheet of Ashyn fibres – a non-conductive material – just as Pilot had triggered his trap. In the shocking blaze of light that had followed, he had turned and caught sight of a Sebacean female huddled atop a container on the far side of the room. Even through the darkness, Pilot could see that his eyes were burning dangerously. Gripping his rifle with menace, he began to advance.

There was no time to re-ignite the floor – the conduit relay was only designed for a single short burst of power and another attempt would involve recharging – and he had dropped the pulse pistol in his stumble in the doorway. Pilot barely had time to tumble to the ground as the air around him was set alight by a barrage of fire. Scrambling on hands and knees, he rolled clumsily to the nearest shelter behind a pile of crates as the pirate advanced, firing in a steady stream of energy. The crates splintered and shattered under the assault; metal shrapnel cut the air to shreds. Pilot flattened to the floor, gasping, eyes wide and fearful. This had gone very bad indeed. What the frell was he going to do?

A glimmer of light caught his eye; he risked a glance. The shiny black of the Rani device was reflecting the light from the energy almost playfully, twinkling like a beacon through the night. Pilot's heart leapt. The device! If he could just get to it…

But the pirate was already too close. With a roar, he hurtled forward, careening into the metal crates that made up Pilot's concealment, scattering them far and wide. Pilot scrambled desperately aside just in time even as the pirate, with a cry of triumph, wheeled to face him. The barrel of his rifle was aimed at Aeryn's head; Pilot knew he had a microt to act or he would die. Snatching the first thing that came to hand – in this case, a piece of metal piping – he hurled it with all his might at the pirate and prayed with all his strength for a miracle.

He got one. The pipe contacted solidly with the pirate's arm; the rifle went flying. With a grunt of astonishment, the pirate lurched aside, scrambling for his weapon and Pilot took the given chance; he rushed forward and snatched up the Rani device, wheeling to face his foe. The rifle had fallen behind a pile of debris; the pirate was scrabbling behind it. Pilot had no intention of letting him get weapon to hand. Flicking to a new frequency, he pressed the activator.

The result was not what he expected. Instead of a violent explosion to knock the pirate from his feet, there was a loud fizzle and a bang. The pirate jerked back, ringing his hand as a flash of golden light burned briefly in the air but then all fell to silence.

Pilot felt a chill run through his borrowed body as he realised his mistake. The violent explosion of the past had been caused by the ignition of a pulse chamber. But these pirates were armed with electro-rifles. They looked like pulse rifles – many even called them so – but they did not work in the same way. There was no hidden store of energy to ignite so when the Rani device was activated they did not explode. They simply shorted out, giving a nasty shock to anyone who was unlucky enough to be in contact. It might make you dizzy for a few microts but it wouldn't knock you out.

Frell.

The pirate slowly turned. He fixed Pilot with an icy stare.

Pilot bolted.

He could hear the heavy sound of footsteps in pursuit but he dared not turn to look. He reached the door with a speed that astonished even him, scrambling for the lock mechanism. He could see the furious features of the pirate closing on him fast and he walloped the lock frantically, willing it to shut with speed. The door swung lazily, slowly, with a heinous disregard for the danger he was in. Pilot pushed on it with all his might, back to the golden surface as he hurried it to a close. Almost there…

A huge hand grasped his shoulder; Pilot felt the huge weight of the pirate in opposition as he tried to barge his way through. He braced Aeryn's feet against the floor, battering at the hand with his fists as he heard his adversary cry out furiously. Slowly, but surely, the door began to creak the other way.

This was not good.

Glancing around desperately, Pilot's eye fell on Aeryn's fallen pulse pistol. It lay on the floor, just beyond his foot, glittering enticingly. But he knew there was no way to get it without moving away from the door. He could feel his footing slipping; in a few microts it wouldn't matter anyway. He took a rapid decision – it was all or nothing.

He dived for the gun.

He heard the door give behind him, heard the pirate's angry roar. But the pistol was already in his hands. He spun frantically, hideously aware of the looming shadow and blindly opened fire. He heard a cry, caught a glimpse of a giant form stumbling back through the half-closed door and hurled himself forward unthinkingly, slamming into the door and forcing it to a close. The Rani device was already in his fist; he shoved it against the lock and pressed the activator. There was a fizzling noise and a small spark as the lock fused in place.

Pilot did not wait around to see if the fusing had been successful. He rushed down the passageway to a small vent opening and pulled himself inside, crawling as fast as he could up the inclined chute to tumble into a small depression beyond an undulating ridge. For a moment, all he could do was lie there, gasping for breath. He was in shock. He had never done anything like that in his life before and if circumstances had been different, he would have vowed never to do it again.

But he couldn't.

Reluctantly, Pilot glanced above up, his eye following the chute as it wound away in the direction of Moya's command. Suddenly, everything seemed a lot less simple.

The encounter had changed things; he learned things about his resources, things that were less than beneficial. His old idea for taking the command had just been rendered unworkable.

It was time for a change of plan.

END OF PART FIVE.