Farscape and characters don't belong to me; I just sneaked them out for a bit. Shh - don't tell! They
belong to various people who aren't me - like the Henson lot, and Rockne - what kind of name is that? -
O'Bannon. Anyway, don't bother suing, cause I'm a student without a penny to my name.
This is set fairly early on in the first series, say after PK Tech Girl. Spoilers for that, Throne for a Loss,
and…nope, that's it. Enjoy. I'll love you if you send me feedback.
If you want the story, go ahead, but keep my name on it, and send me an e-mail telling me where you
put it. Thanks :)
Summary: John is feeling depressed. Life is a big pile of p**. Nobody loves him. Oh feel the woe. I'm
going to write a companion piece that isn't woeful. And this one isn't that bad.
*** *** ***
Loitering in Command, John Crichton was extremely bored. At the best of times, i.e. when Moya and her crew were under
attack, he still had little to do. His incompetence, according to Aeryn and D'Argo had reached near legendary proportions.
However, at least when they were being attacked there was a sense of excitement, of anticipation. Right now, there was
nothing. One big, fat zero on the excitement-o-meter.
Pilot was running some kind of diagnostic on Moya, with D'Argo offering what were presumably helpful comments. Aeryn
was studying…something. It looked technical, and was in Sebacean, so John didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of
understanding it. Zhaan wasn't in Command. She was in what passed for the med bay, no doubt experimenting with the best
way to use her selection of remedies. Something else John knew squat about.
And Rygel wasn't around. John seriously doubted that the Dominar…sorry, ex-Dominar of over six billion subjects was doing
anything technically superior enough to guarantee John's total incomprehension, but he still didn't fancy going to find out. If
he did find him, the Hynerian would doubtless take the opportunity to impress on the ignorant Human the full scale of the
atrocities committed by his evil, usurping brother, and expound on the power he had once held over the aforementioned six
billion-plus subjects. Rygel was nothing if not consistent.
John had often dreamed of meeting aliens. Intelligence that wasn't Human. Hell, that had been the ultimate goal of the
Farscape project. The ultimate goal of all space programs. Studying lumps of rock floating in space was, well, John wouldn't
exactly go all the way to 'fun'; perhaps mildly interesting, but the eventual hope of everyone involved in space technology
was to discover other species, other intelligent life forms. There would be dignified 'first contact' meetings - diplomatic and
ordered. A great day for mankind, yadda yadda yadda. Think Star Trek, and you got the idea. All those dress uniforms, and
everyone being terribly dignified. And looking Vulcan.
But it hadn't happened like that, had it? One minute, he was testing his slingshot theory, the next, he was earning himself a
life-long enemy, and getting involved with a band of escaped prisoners. Since that day, he'd been shot at, stunned, attacked,
had worm things stuffed in him, not to mention a whole slew of other indignities. And his shipmates considered him a 'lower
life form', an idiot who couldn't tell one end of a pulse rifle from the other. So, okay, maybe they had a point there, but what
did they expect? It wasn't as if he was even a soldier; he was just a scientist. Weapons training hadn't really figured highly in
his education.
They made him feel stupid. Useless. Superfluous. I mean, what did he actually do, other than get them into trouble at every
available opportunity? Okay, so that was an exaggeration, but that was how it felt. How it was made to feel. And he liked
them. Maybe D'Argo was a little…well, yeah, aggressive. Prone to acting violently without thinking? Homicidally maniacal?
Hmm, going a little too far. Or not. I mean, the hyper rage, and all…
And Zhaan, with all that home-grown Delvian wisdom she doled out on every available occasion. At she didn't treat him like
some kind of incapable child masquerading as a man. But she thought it. Quite often. She got that look in her eyes, the one
that said, I am understanding you. The only problem was that John didn't want to be understood. At least, not in that I'm your
teacher but let's be 'friends' kind of understood. That…well, patronising. Heck, Zhaan, I'm not that incompetent!
Rygel. Slug-like, was sadly the first thing that comes to mind. Arrogant, also featured pretty highly up the list. Tyrannical?
No doubt, when there were over six billion subjects to tyrannise, instead of a handful of misfits who didn't give a damn.
And last but not least, Aeryn. No, never least. Her opinion of him was possibly even lower than D'Argo's, if such a thing be
possible. He was an inconvenience to her. It wasn't all bad though - the others were an inconvenience to her as well. But
they weren't the ones she had stood up for, the ones she had lost everything that mattered for. They weren't the ones who
went round kissing PK tech girls…
What was the deal with that? Why should Aeryn care one way or the other if he kissed Gilina? She said she had found him
interesting. But that was understandable, right? A whole new species, one that looked so similar to hers. She was bound to
be curious. Any interest had to have died when they went to the Tavloids…Tavleks' world, and he'd blown up her pulse rifle.
And she'd hit him. On the jaw, for Christ's sake! That wasn't the action of someone who was interested in the other person.
Although there was the incident between uncle Mel and the waitress in Little Rock. They swore they couldn't stand each
other, and then had gotten married only weeks before the Farscape experiment.
You're making too much of that, John warned himself. Aeryn is not a waitress from Little Rock. And she isn't interested. So
give it a rest, okay? Besides, why would he want Aeryn to be interested? He really hadn't considered her as anything other
than a shipmate. That's all she was: a shipmate. A shipmate who thought he had crap for brains. Who couldn't defend
himself, who was completely out of his depth. Why would he want someone who thought of him like that to be remotely
interested in him? Woody Allen floated into John's mind. "I wouldn't want to be a member of any club that would have me."
Right. Exactly. The man had a point. Would any normal man want someone who wanted an idiot? Did any of this make
sense? John was beginning to doubt.
The lady doth protest too much. Hey, another Earth quote. Way to go, John! One more thing that no one else is going to
understand. Anyway, in this case, it's not the lady doing too much protesting, but the man. Hell, who was he kidding? Aeryn
fascinated him. He'd been right when he'd said she could be more. Every day she was proving it. She was smart, and
beautiful, and…entrancing. When they'd been stuck on the red world where D'Argo had gone after the hyper rage incident,
and she had described working out Rygel's little…problem, he had wanted to kiss her right there. Well, apart from the fact
that she had been irritating the Hell out of him at the time. She did that a lot. It was endearing - in an annoying kind of way.
She was wonderful. And he had crap for brains. Any relationship was doomed. God, what he wouldn't do for a beer. Or a
whiskey. Or anything alcoholic, actually. Something to drown his sorrows. Of which there were many. Oh woe. Why
bother? What was the point?
Moya lurched, and Command suddenly hummed with activity. John looked up in interest. Hmm, adventure. No doubt there
was some new alien wanting to kill them, or use them in some nefarious plan that was doomed to failure. Okay, drowning the
sorrows could wait. Hey, wasn't that one of those PK fighter whatchamacallits? Time to make a plan….
belong to various people who aren't me - like the Henson lot, and Rockne - what kind of name is that? -
O'Bannon. Anyway, don't bother suing, cause I'm a student without a penny to my name.
This is set fairly early on in the first series, say after PK Tech Girl. Spoilers for that, Throne for a Loss,
and…nope, that's it. Enjoy. I'll love you if you send me feedback.
If you want the story, go ahead, but keep my name on it, and send me an e-mail telling me where you
put it. Thanks :)
Summary: John is feeling depressed. Life is a big pile of p**. Nobody loves him. Oh feel the woe. I'm
going to write a companion piece that isn't woeful. And this one isn't that bad.
*** *** ***
Loitering in Command, John Crichton was extremely bored. At the best of times, i.e. when Moya and her crew were under
attack, he still had little to do. His incompetence, according to Aeryn and D'Argo had reached near legendary proportions.
However, at least when they were being attacked there was a sense of excitement, of anticipation. Right now, there was
nothing. One big, fat zero on the excitement-o-meter.
Pilot was running some kind of diagnostic on Moya, with D'Argo offering what were presumably helpful comments. Aeryn
was studying…something. It looked technical, and was in Sebacean, so John didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of
understanding it. Zhaan wasn't in Command. She was in what passed for the med bay, no doubt experimenting with the best
way to use her selection of remedies. Something else John knew squat about.
And Rygel wasn't around. John seriously doubted that the Dominar…sorry, ex-Dominar of over six billion subjects was doing
anything technically superior enough to guarantee John's total incomprehension, but he still didn't fancy going to find out. If
he did find him, the Hynerian would doubtless take the opportunity to impress on the ignorant Human the full scale of the
atrocities committed by his evil, usurping brother, and expound on the power he had once held over the aforementioned six
billion-plus subjects. Rygel was nothing if not consistent.
John had often dreamed of meeting aliens. Intelligence that wasn't Human. Hell, that had been the ultimate goal of the
Farscape project. The ultimate goal of all space programs. Studying lumps of rock floating in space was, well, John wouldn't
exactly go all the way to 'fun'; perhaps mildly interesting, but the eventual hope of everyone involved in space technology
was to discover other species, other intelligent life forms. There would be dignified 'first contact' meetings - diplomatic and
ordered. A great day for mankind, yadda yadda yadda. Think Star Trek, and you got the idea. All those dress uniforms, and
everyone being terribly dignified. And looking Vulcan.
But it hadn't happened like that, had it? One minute, he was testing his slingshot theory, the next, he was earning himself a
life-long enemy, and getting involved with a band of escaped prisoners. Since that day, he'd been shot at, stunned, attacked,
had worm things stuffed in him, not to mention a whole slew of other indignities. And his shipmates considered him a 'lower
life form', an idiot who couldn't tell one end of a pulse rifle from the other. So, okay, maybe they had a point there, but what
did they expect? It wasn't as if he was even a soldier; he was just a scientist. Weapons training hadn't really figured highly in
his education.
They made him feel stupid. Useless. Superfluous. I mean, what did he actually do, other than get them into trouble at every
available opportunity? Okay, so that was an exaggeration, but that was how it felt. How it was made to feel. And he liked
them. Maybe D'Argo was a little…well, yeah, aggressive. Prone to acting violently without thinking? Homicidally maniacal?
Hmm, going a little too far. Or not. I mean, the hyper rage, and all…
And Zhaan, with all that home-grown Delvian wisdom she doled out on every available occasion. At she didn't treat him like
some kind of incapable child masquerading as a man. But she thought it. Quite often. She got that look in her eyes, the one
that said, I am understanding you. The only problem was that John didn't want to be understood. At least, not in that I'm your
teacher but let's be 'friends' kind of understood. That…well, patronising. Heck, Zhaan, I'm not that incompetent!
Rygel. Slug-like, was sadly the first thing that comes to mind. Arrogant, also featured pretty highly up the list. Tyrannical?
No doubt, when there were over six billion subjects to tyrannise, instead of a handful of misfits who didn't give a damn.
And last but not least, Aeryn. No, never least. Her opinion of him was possibly even lower than D'Argo's, if such a thing be
possible. He was an inconvenience to her. It wasn't all bad though - the others were an inconvenience to her as well. But
they weren't the ones she had stood up for, the ones she had lost everything that mattered for. They weren't the ones who
went round kissing PK tech girls…
What was the deal with that? Why should Aeryn care one way or the other if he kissed Gilina? She said she had found him
interesting. But that was understandable, right? A whole new species, one that looked so similar to hers. She was bound to
be curious. Any interest had to have died when they went to the Tavloids…Tavleks' world, and he'd blown up her pulse rifle.
And she'd hit him. On the jaw, for Christ's sake! That wasn't the action of someone who was interested in the other person.
Although there was the incident between uncle Mel and the waitress in Little Rock. They swore they couldn't stand each
other, and then had gotten married only weeks before the Farscape experiment.
You're making too much of that, John warned himself. Aeryn is not a waitress from Little Rock. And she isn't interested. So
give it a rest, okay? Besides, why would he want Aeryn to be interested? He really hadn't considered her as anything other
than a shipmate. That's all she was: a shipmate. A shipmate who thought he had crap for brains. Who couldn't defend
himself, who was completely out of his depth. Why would he want someone who thought of him like that to be remotely
interested in him? Woody Allen floated into John's mind. "I wouldn't want to be a member of any club that would have me."
Right. Exactly. The man had a point. Would any normal man want someone who wanted an idiot? Did any of this make
sense? John was beginning to doubt.
The lady doth protest too much. Hey, another Earth quote. Way to go, John! One more thing that no one else is going to
understand. Anyway, in this case, it's not the lady doing too much protesting, but the man. Hell, who was he kidding? Aeryn
fascinated him. He'd been right when he'd said she could be more. Every day she was proving it. She was smart, and
beautiful, and…entrancing. When they'd been stuck on the red world where D'Argo had gone after the hyper rage incident,
and she had described working out Rygel's little…problem, he had wanted to kiss her right there. Well, apart from the fact
that she had been irritating the Hell out of him at the time. She did that a lot. It was endearing - in an annoying kind of way.
She was wonderful. And he had crap for brains. Any relationship was doomed. God, what he wouldn't do for a beer. Or a
whiskey. Or anything alcoholic, actually. Something to drown his sorrows. Of which there were many. Oh woe. Why
bother? What was the point?
Moya lurched, and Command suddenly hummed with activity. John looked up in interest. Hmm, adventure. No doubt there
was some new alien wanting to kill them, or use them in some nefarious plan that was doomed to failure. Okay, drowning the
sorrows could wait. Hey, wasn't that one of those PK fighter whatchamacallits? Time to make a plan….