Spoilers: up through Dog With Two Bones
Rating: R (some difficult topics)
Summary: J&A angst, some Butch and Sundance.
Disclaimers: Blah, blah, blah. Not mine.
Huge thanks to my betas: Aeryncrichton and WalkingTheBeam
DISPOSSESSION
PART 2
*************
"Harvey! Knock it off!" John growled surly, trying to will away his throbbing headache. He opened his bleary eyes into slits to take a look around him.
"I'm bored," the clone pouted by way of an explanation.
John spotted him sitting on the floor, propped against the bunk on which he was lying flat on his stomach. The clone was dressed in military fatigues and repeatedly throwing a ball against the door of what appeared to be a holding cell that smelled Peacekeeper all over, straight lines everywhere and practically no decorum. So, he was a prisoner again. "Just stop, will you? My head is hurting like hell." He closed his eyes, looking forward to some peace and quiet but his bunk kept vibrating from the clone's activity, jarring his teeth and perpetuating his headache. "Harvey!" he growled again, "I thought I had asked you to stop!" He propped himself up on one elbow to stare irritatedly at him.
"I have!" Harvey exclaimed in outrage, showing him his empty hands. "Hezmana, John! You are one cranky survivor!"
John's brows furrowed in puzzlement, Harvey had indeed stopped his throws. "What's this then?"
"What's what?"
"This," John put his hand on the metallic side of the bunk and felt it vibrating under his palm.
"I don't know," Harvey shrugged disinterestedly.
John took a roundabout look at the low lit cell. "We're on a spaceship, right?"
"Yes."
"It's not falling apart, is it?" John placed his hand on the wall where the bunk was fixed and could feel the vibrations there too, though somewhat fainter and mixed with others. "These vibrations could be caused by some mechanical failure."
"I doubt it," Harvey replied coldly, still peeved at John's behavior.
John bit his lip and put his hand back on the metallic part of the bunk. Concerned, he kept it there, trying to determine what the vibrations were. He soon detected a pattern, three short vibrations, three long, three short again, a pause and then the whole pattern would resume. He tried to dredge up technical data from his tired brain that could explain that sort of manifestation but found none. It wasn't exactly surprising, he didn't have such an extensive knowledge of spaceships' characteristics this side of the universe. The only thing it reminded him of… realization dawned and he couldn't help the scornful snort.
"Frell!"
"What?"
"Nothing!" John snapped. Mind frell. Been there, done that. He removed his hand and curled up on his bunk. "Nice try," he muttered into the thin hard mattress.
**********
Aeryn felt the pain shoot from her busted knee to her entire leg and collapsed on the bunk with a grunt. She massaged her knee with both hands, trying to nurse it back to neural oblivion. She'd been going at it for an arn, alternately using her wounded leg to stand or kick but either way had only made the pain worse. And she still had received no reply.
She could think of many possibilities why, all of them with valid explanations but none was satisfying.
Maybe, in spite of her assumptions, her message was not getting through. The cells were thickly padded, made to either cut off all exterior sound or broadcast it on embedded loudspeakers, whichever would most upset the prisoners. After careful examination, she had determined that by kicking her bunk at the most horizontal angle she could manage, she would be able to send a vibration coursing along the wall, likely reverberating on anything attached to that wall, namely other bunks. Her cell was at one end of the group of three and it was possible that the vibration caused by her kicking was not travelling far enough along the wall.
She massaged her knee some more, wishing that she had been able to use Peacekeeper codes, that human morsh code message was too long for her knee's sake. John had taught her that particular message one evening as they had been reviewing ways to relay information and status on one another should they have to communicate in different ways and she had taught him back a few codes of her own. But it had been on Talyn, with another John and even if this John had somehow learned about those codes, the Peacekeepers around them knew them too and would catch on the pattern.
So she had to contend with a message that asked for rescue when she was the one most likely to be doing the rescuing and with a total uncertainty as to whether that unsuitable message even reached its goal. Then again, maybe John could hear it, had recognized it, guessed it could come from her but was too angry with her to reply.
Maybe, they had not put him in a cell yet because he was being interrogated.
Maybe, he was in a cell but unconscious or sleeping.
Maybe, he was dead.
The door to her cell burst open and a now familiar group of four soldiers entered. They were back for her.
***********
Commandant Mele-On Grayza could not believe her luck.
She leaned back in her chair and tapped her nails on her desk. This, of course, would call for a little change in plans. She had not considered interrogating Aeryn Sun herself at first. Crichton was her main target, she had only very little interest in the Peacekeeper deserter and had meant for Cidra to run the interrogation, as part of her necessary training. But, the situation called for finesse and however efficient the girl had been on the last interrogation session she had conducted, she had nearly killed the prisoner. Not that his death would have mattered much but such risks could not be taken this time.
She called up Aeryn Sun's record on her display and went digging for weapons. She smiled thinly as she reviewed the first entries. It seemed that Officer Sun and herself had had a similar start in life. Both had been considered flawed at birth, offspring of unassigned or contrary procreations, meant to join the ranks of those sent on secondary paths before they even learned to walk and yet, unlike her, Aeryn Sun had been left in the soldiers' crèche, a favor from High Command for reasons left unclear. Her placement there could have been rescinded any time afterwards but the young Aeryn had proved to have top of the scale piloting skills and that had kept her from being pulled out of the soldier path. It was not enough, though, to have her procreation value upped to meet the required standards. Not only had her making been unassigned but it was also a deliberate violation of the rules by her parents. Such a flaw could not be tolerated in future recruits.
Mele-On snorted. High Command had such blind faith in its abilities to breed the best soldiers, even though every quarterly review brought a new batch of failures toward the Peacekeeper genetic excellence. Cidra, a pure product of that quest, had been pulled out of the so-called supreme way two cycles ago when her father had unexpectedly proved to have unwanted genetic traits for a Peacekeeper soldier, traits that had not been foreseen during the evaluation of his procreation value thirteen cycles before, when leadership and ambition had not equalled delusions of grandeur and murder. The girl didn't even know why she had been pulled out, parentage was kept out of the recruits' knowledge. Only those high enough inside the procreation department or the chain of command could access such information. Extensive tests had deemed her unfit for any tech or administrative work and, short of sentencing her to the living death, the training supervisors had sent her to serve under Mele-On's authority. Cidra 'was' psychologically unbalanced at times Mele-On had to admit but she knew better than to trust Peacekeeper procreation tests blindly, she was a living example of their unreliability and so Cidra would prove under her guidance. The girl had interesting abilities and she would have use for someone like her in the future.
She flipped through the rest of Aeryn Sun's record disinterestedly, flying and fighting statistics bored the hezmana out of her. Even though Mele-On had once envied those in the soldiers' ranks when she thought her chances of promotion were slim, she had long since lost that feeling. Soldiers were hardly more than drones, very few had the slightest strategic or political abilities, their very education and training prevented that. They were not taught to think, only to obey orders. Truth be told, the average tech was smarter than the majority of soldiers. And people like herself, for all the scorn and the rejection they received from the soldiers' ranks, they could never have been better prepared for High Command.
The procreation department would never list her in their files but High Command had a weakness for smart people and she had been so good, they simply hadn't been able to ignore her anymore. Scorpius had followed the same strategy but the hybrid was too single-minded in his hatred of the Scarrans to seize his opportunities and truly rise inside the hierarchy.
Mele-On closed the outdated Peacekeeper record and opened the intelligence files her department had provided on John Crichton and his allies. Ex- officer Aeryn Sun was rarely singled out in those, except for the fact that she was never far from him. Yes, indeed, Mele-On thought to herself with a smirk. Aeryn Sun could very well prove to be Crichton's weakness and in the meantime provide some useful information. Mele-On switched off the display and tapped her comms. "Cidra, my office, now."
**********
"Where's Bialar Crais?"
Mele-On Grayza observed with a disinterested expression the carefully neutral look letting the slightest feigned surprise shine through on the features of the woman before her. She could have enumerated all the Peacekeeper interrogation rules Aeryn Sun was dutifully following and knew the exact microt the answer was supposed to come.
"He's dead."
Unblinking eyes, flat voice. Excellent control, Officer Sun.
"Really?" Mele-On put a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she cocked her head to gaze levelly at Aeryn Sun. "How so?"
She knew that this questioning was not what Prowler Pilot Aeryn Sun had prepared herself for. She kept the excitement away from her face. When possible, she avoided using violence, which really had the deplorable effect of taking the thrill out of the chase and she thoroughly enjoyed the chasing time before the kill.
"You know how."
Worried and puzzled, that's it.
"How would I know? I wasn't there." Her eyes rounded ever so slightly to suggest genuine ignorance.
First blink. Ex-officer Aeryn Sun was flipping through the perfect Peacekeeper soldier interrogation guidelines, debating between following rule 58, enter your opponent's game to gain time and information or rule 74, remain silent until further tortured. In the present circumstances, 58 was likely to win.
"Crais was on Talyn when Talyn starburst inside the Command Carrier."
"And," Mele-On prompted from behind Aeryn's back. She had begun circling her soon after she had started replying.
"And?"
More puzzlement.
"And…" She came full circle to stand before Aeryn again, threw a not so furtive glance over Aeryn's shoulder at the ship's physician standing conspicuously four paces away then tilted up one questioning eyebrow.
First shifting of the feet.
"Leviathans can't starburst inside confined spaces. The energy doesn't dissipate, it destroys the Leviathan and all those inside."
"I see." Mele-On raised her eyes to the ceiling, her features drawn into a deep pensive frown. "You've spent some time on that Leviathan." She stared Aeryn square in the eyes and made an emphatically long pause before pronouncing the particular name, "Talyn." After Crichton's, the gunship's name was the one most mentioned alongside Aeryn Sun's; that this Leviathan would bear her father's name was the indication of an absurdly emotional inclination for a Peacekeeper Officer. "Would you agree on saying that he is no ordinary Leviathan?"
A long silence and then just a simple nod. Not trusting your voice to speak, Officer Sun? Or could that be an almost daring switch to rule 74?
"We've found the debris you left among the other Leviathans' debris. Such a big ship and so little debris." Mele-On allowed herself a frozen smile of sympathy. "Where's the rest of him?"
"Gone."
"Gone where?"
"Everywhere."
Mele-On felt the slight positive shift in her prisoner's confidence. Time to change the game. "I don't think so," she murmured sweetly. "Why don't you take some time to think about it too?" She turned to leave and stopped after two steps. "Oh, and in case you're worried?" She mentioned casually over her shoulder as if she had just remembered it. "The stun beam has had no secondary effects on your health."
She exited the medbay with a satisfied smile on her lips.
**********
John had to admit the final judgment would have to wait until he found out when this day was officially over. Otherwise, it was pretty much a tie. Yes, as far as busy days went, this one was fast approaching the top spot held in the steady hands of day one in the Uncharted Territories for the past three years, an incredible feat considering some of what had happened to him since then. But, then again, how could anything top: breaking quarantine, making a dream come true and seeing it turn into a nightmare, accidentally killing a person, meeting flesh and blood aliens, escaping imprisonment and death, having a life experience no one else from Earth was ever likely to have? Day one had such a uniqueness to it that it really should be pulled out of the race. Aliens aside, today had just been the crappiest day. He had buried a sentient spaceship, helped kill another one, said goodbye to his only friends, lost the love of his life, died of asphyxia, been revived to the painful end of undergoing interrogation by an ill-meaning military bitch, been mind-frelled for the umpteenth time and while he waited for the interrogation to take place, he was nursing a pounding headache and felt so physically weak that he was actually thankful for the tight bonds tying him to his chair and keeping him upright under the babysitting supervision of Miss Lord of the flies, standing silent and erect in a corner of the room.
His gaze drifted toward the girl and he took a good look at her. There was something truly eerie about her and the nickname had sprung immediately to his mind. She seemed to be no more than 15 years old with the gawky figure often associated with teens grown too fast, even though she wasn't actually that tall. She had dark hair held in a loose braid, an olive-toned complexion and dark doe-like eyes that seemed unable to rest on the same spot for more than two seconds; the hand resting on the butt of the pulse pistol strapped to her thigh was hardly steadier. The more he looked at her, the more perturbed she made him feel. He didn't know whether he wanted to hold her tight and let her cry her young heart out against his chest or kill her before she could kill him. Not so long ago, he would probably have tried to get her to talk, find out whatever he could from her about his situation, perhaps even win her sympathy but her sullen presence brought disturbing images of a similarly young Aeryn and he didn't have the energy to drill through another fortress.
He frowned and brought his attention on Harvey. The neural clone was sniffing the air every other step as he prowled around what was most probably Grayza's office. He thought he had recognized her voice in the medbay and later had his suspicion confirmed when the soldiers bringing him here had mentioned her name.
"Is your sniffing supposed to achieve anything?" He snapped at the clone with a grimace of annoyance.
Harvey glanced up, surprised and looking slightly guilty. "Huh?"
"Couldn't you tell me what you know about Grayza instead? Assuming you know anything, of course."
Harvey shifted uncomfortably on his feet, sending quick fearful glances around him.
John raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Did Scorpius have dealings with her before? Did he ever hear anything about her?" He asked in exaggerated clarification to prompt the clone into speaking, wondering at the same time if the girl might not have proven easier after all.
"She's evil," Harvey finally whispered as if afraid to be overheard. "Very evil."
John snorted. "Very evil, right! That's deep, Harv, that's really deep." He closed his eyes and wished his hands were free so he could dig the heels of his palms into them and rub them raw. "Would you care to elaborate? It's not like Scorpius is a choir boy himself."
The clone left the other side of Grayza's desk and came to stand before John. He leaned forward to bring his mouth closer to John's ear. "She's overly ambitious and exceedingly good at not leaving traces of her actions. Scorpius believed that she was aiming for the top position at High Command, regardless of the people in her way."
"I suppose they were adversaries?"
"No. Why would they have been?" Harvey asked, surprised by John's question. "Scorpius never cared for High Command. He only wants to defeat the Scarrans."
"How did he get to know her so well then?"
Silence greeted his question and he turned his head to stare at Harvey's face.
"They were… acquaintances," Harvey replied with clear reluctance.
John repressed a shudder. "Acquaintances?" He asked, enunciating each syllable in sickened disbelief.
The entrance door behind him swooshed open and an overbearing waft of powerful perfume assaulted his nose. Harvey quaked and vanished from his consciousness with a poof Samantha the witch would have envied.
Great. Thanks for the help, Harv! John thought, hearing the rustle made by Grayza's clothes as she glided fluidly into her office.
She didn't spare him a glance on the way, only nodded sharply to the girl in the corner, sending her into a clipped military walk behind him. She slipped into her chair and John held her cold assessing stare, bracing himself to remain upright on his chair without the help of the ties that the girl had loosened up in a quick and efficient manner, leaving him only with manacles on, before returning to her silent vigil in the corner.
"So we meet again, John Crichton."
John remained silent at first, fighting against the urge to rub the sore spots on his legs and arms as he watched a victorious smirk spread over her lips. He sighed deeply and decided that he was not in the shape for amenities and mind games after all and would rather be done with it as soon as possible.
"What do you want from me?"
He watched her gaze wonderingly at the ceiling, unfazed by his abrupt question then stare back at him with the same cold assessing eyes. "What could I possibly want from you?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Personality, manners, push-up bras, wormholes," he enumerated ironically.
"I don't care about wormholes," she replied with a sickeningly sweet tone.
"You should."
She laughed lightly and shook her head. "Don't let Scorpius' obsessions fool you. Wormholes won't matter in this war, none of the players have mastered the technology and it will remain so for quite a long time. When and if wormholes ever become necessary, there'll be plenty of scientific minds to tap into." She leaned toward him over her desk and gazed at him with a disturbingly benevolent expression as another waft of strong perfume assaulted his senses. "I want your death."
"My death?!" John choked out. "Hey lady, you had it and you blew it! Shouldn't have asked your doc to revive me!"
"Not that kind of death," she corrected him calmly. "A public death, for everyone to see and ponder. The same fate awaits all of your associates."
"Ooh, that's cool, Roman circus games have always been my favorites!" John quipped in false bravado, perturbed by the iron determination he could detect underneath her silky tones. He slumped in his chair in a controlled casual manner. "So, when should I expect to die?"
"Soon." Grayza leaned back comfortably into her chair. "Your group's activities have been bad publicity for the Peacekeepers' image of strength, High Command wants to show its affiliated worlds that such rebellious behaviors will be severely punished so as to regain some edge in its negotiations with the Scarrans." She played idly with a couple of Peacekeepers data chips on her desk. "We already know where we'll be able to find some of your crewmates, we want information on the others: the Nebari, the Interion, Crais and both Leviathans."
"Crais is dead," John supplied automatically. "Haven't you heard?"
"All I've heard are rumours. I prefer accurate information." She raised an expectant eyebrow. "Well?"
John looked at her in complete disbelief. "You actually expect me to rat on my friends? Just like that?" He shook his head and straightened on his chair. "And what would I gain from it?" He leaned toward her, placing his elbows on his knees for support. "No senseless beating? No Aurora chair? A quicker, painless death? Oh, or perhaps a true carrot, the opportunity to make it out alive with a heartfelt act of contrition and to hell with the others?" He asked in mocking tones. He wavered on his seat at the fleeting flash of light in her eyes, he could have sworn he had just been hooked to the line.
"No. You will die, painfully and publicly like the others," Grayza replied coldly, then paused to lean forward again, "but your son will live."
John braced himself not to let his voice crack on the words. "My son?"
Grayza flicked a switch on her desk and an image of the medbay sprung up between them on a transparent display.
John swallowed hard as he discovered Aeryn seated on an examination table, wearing just her shirt and underwear and surrounded by four well armed soldiers making sure she wouldn't go anywhere. She seemed to be struggling to keep a calm composure. He clamped his hands into painful fists. The old woman had said the truth.
"You care for children of your own blood, don't you, John Crichton?" Grayza's words cut through his haze. "I seem to remember something about a Royal planet."
John eyed her determinedly through the display, seething rage starting to coil inside him. You should have listened to me before, he thought, or remained 'acquainted' with dear Scorpy, he would have told you that's a really bad strategy with me. "I see you've done your research, talked to some disruptors." His gaze ran up and down her figure. "Probably would have made a good one yourself."
"I was," Grayza replied smugly. "The best ever."
John's gaze flicked briefly over her wrists then focused back on the display, disgusted by her oozing superiority. He observed the doctor's back as the man was making preparations he couldn't see on a table and then rested his gaze on Aeryn's stiff figure. "And Aeryn Sun?" He asked in his most detached tone.
"Now, now, don't be too greedy," Grayza chided him almost playfully and cut the display before John could figure out what the doctor had in his hands as he approached Aeryn. "She's not indispensable for that child to live anyway."
John felt sick in the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a mind game after all and one huge gamble. Let's hope the others manage to elude the Peacekeepers' grasp for a good while and buy me enough time to find a way out of this latest mess. He stared at Grayza with cold calculating eyes.
"You've got the wrong John Crichton here. Not my shift, not my child."
***********
John walked his way back to his cell on his own, surrounded by the soldiers who had pretty much carried him on the way out. Seething rage flowed through his system, keeping him up. He was dimly aware that the cell was probably under video surveillance and that he could very well ruin the deception he had managed to set up but he had to let it his rage out.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" He punctuated each swear word with a liberating kick to the only visible appliance in his cell, the bunk.
He didn't know whether he was angrier at Grayza and the rest of the universe for handing him such impossibly frelled situations or at himself and the easiness with which the hurt, jealousy and anger had genuinely flared while he had told Grayza about his twin and Aeryn's betrayal, digging deeper and deeper in his negativity until he had convinced her of the reality of his tale, earning himself a reprieve from what would probably turn into a physical interrogation in the future.
"Shit!" One even more vicious kick sent him stumbling backwards, the bunk protesting against the abuse with a vibrating feedback spreading along his leg. He massaged his knee and thigh, casting a dark stare at the rebellious furniture, then suddenly cocked his head at the metallic structure of the bunk. He took a step forward, kicked the bunk again for good measure and felt the vibration jar his leg again. He stepped back slowly and collapsed on the floor against the wall, facing the bunk. He rested his elbows on his bent knees and wearily rubbed his face with his hands.
I'm such a moron. It wasn't a mindfrell.
He removed his hands from his face and rested his chin on his crossed arms, his gaze fixed on the bunk before him but not quite seeing it. And now what?
The more he thought about using the bunk to send a message, the more complicated it became in his mind. If Aeryn knew the Morse code for SOS, she probably also knew the meaning of it and that was one meaning he didn't want to send her. He doubted that it was the meaning her own message had wished to convey but he didn't want to risk a misunderstanding on her part. He didn't want her to rescue him, quite the contrary, he wanted her to rescue herself, against him. He also doubted that she knew any Morse code message other than SOS, teaching someone Morse code meant teaching that person English or any other Earth language based on the same alphabet and as far as he knew, which wasn't very far at all these past months, she couldn't speak or read English. He brushed his lower lip with his thumb. Unsuitable means, unclear meanings, there just seemed to be no accurate way to communicate with her. He smiled wryly. As if that was a surprise. He could only hope that she would make the right decision and play along his game to protect herself and the unborn child.
Don't let me down, Aeryn, he urged, staring at the empty bunk before him. Please make the right decision.
"She's already done that," Harvey pointed out, sitting next to him. "She left you, remember?"
The angry punch of the clone toward the dumpster felt sickeningly good.
***********
Aeryn tried to relax her grip on the bunk's side but found it hard to let go. She was confused. Whatever message John had tried to send her, she had been unable to decode it and yet she was sure she had caught it at the beginning. And so, she had been waiting for hundreds of microts now, hands clamped painfully around the metallic structure, wondering if perhaps he was unable to go through with the rest, hoping that he would tell her what to do or say. She drew in a shaky breath. At least, he was alive. A sudden dread hit her. Unless, it wasn't him making the vibrations…
She bolted up and started pacing her cell nervously. It was not as if she remembered enough of that morsh code to make sense of any frelling vibration anyway, much less a whole message. She punched the wall in frustration. John had not answered her first message and he would not know about her presence unless someone told him. Would Grayza do that? Was it something that was part of her agenda? Aeryn punched the wall again.
She had no idea what the tralk was up to exactly. She had thought the soldiers were going to get into the physical part of the interrogation when she had been left standing in the medbay after Grayza's departure instead of being brought back to her cell. They had taken her there quite sometime before Grayza showed up, the medic finally running on her the tests he had been unable to run when John had been rushed inside earlier on. The information of her pregnancy was now officially out and she had been expecting her captors to use it as means of pressure. And in a way Grayza had, but all her questions at first about Crais and Talyn had seemed somewhat irrelevant. Aeryn wasn't even sure that Grayza truly believed Crais and Talyn had managed to live through the starburst. She herself hadn't even needed much deceptive strength to lie to Grayza. When Crais had made her promise to come look for them, he had only had the smallest hope of them living through it and had not wished to give Moya cause for further pain should he be proven wrong. He had even asked her to be careful not to give the others any hints of what she was going to do, reasoning that if the starburst left them in a near death situation, she would never make it in time to save them anyway. Yes, she roughly knew where Crais and Talyn had gone, they had starburst on the smallest possible vector, but only when she found them would she know whether she had to perform another burial or would help Crais nurse Talyn back to sanity.
She wearily rubbed her face with her hands. If only she could already be there. She sighed deeply. It had been easy making that promise to Crais, she had known she would have to leave once they were done with the Command Carrier, assuming they didn't die in their attempt to destroy it. She needed a purpose that would take her away from John for some time while she tried to make sense of the confusion in her heart. She had wanted time to think, or not to think, and she could have done that whether they were dead or alive. But she wasn't any closer to finding out about their fates and in the meantime, she was left wondering about her own situation.
Grayza's last words had clearly been a threat and yet, she had been left standing idly and nearly forgotten in the medbay for half an arn under the soldiers' supervision until all of a sudden the medic had asked her to remove her pants, sending a cold dread along her spine. She had been forced to comply only to watch him treat her wounded knee with disbelieving eyes and then be sent back to her cell, unharmed and in better physical condition. What the frell was wrong with these Peacekeepers?
Grayza was a former disruptor, Aeryn was sure of that. She had heard rumors about those people and Jenavian Chatto had confirmed some of them. They were the scum of the Peacekeepers ranks, children pulled out of the soldier way because of shameful genes, unbalanced personalities or failing scores, irreversibly contaminated on purpose and adept at psychological manipulations and political deceits, often said to be working for their own agenda amidst their missions. They were not supposed to ever truly become part of the Peacekeeper elite and yet Grayza had secured a Command position, which could only mean that she had had an outstanding record as a disruptor. She was an enemy to be reckoned with and John had had the nerve to threaten her with a pulse pistol on the Command Carrier, which was not an act that would easily be dismissed. Aeryn could sense Grayza was going to use her to get to John and perhaps she had already tried.
She paced even more nervously around her cell. What did John know? What would he trade this time? The frelling idiot just couldn't help giving his life so others could live.
She flopped back down wearily on the bunk, staring at the wall in front of her.
You'd better not die in my arms again, John Crichton or I will kill you myself and make sure your death is as painful for you as it is for me.
Rating: R (some difficult topics)
Summary: J&A angst, some Butch and Sundance.
Disclaimers: Blah, blah, blah. Not mine.
Huge thanks to my betas: Aeryncrichton and WalkingTheBeam
DISPOSSESSION
PART 2
*************
"Harvey! Knock it off!" John growled surly, trying to will away his throbbing headache. He opened his bleary eyes into slits to take a look around him.
"I'm bored," the clone pouted by way of an explanation.
John spotted him sitting on the floor, propped against the bunk on which he was lying flat on his stomach. The clone was dressed in military fatigues and repeatedly throwing a ball against the door of what appeared to be a holding cell that smelled Peacekeeper all over, straight lines everywhere and practically no decorum. So, he was a prisoner again. "Just stop, will you? My head is hurting like hell." He closed his eyes, looking forward to some peace and quiet but his bunk kept vibrating from the clone's activity, jarring his teeth and perpetuating his headache. "Harvey!" he growled again, "I thought I had asked you to stop!" He propped himself up on one elbow to stare irritatedly at him.
"I have!" Harvey exclaimed in outrage, showing him his empty hands. "Hezmana, John! You are one cranky survivor!"
John's brows furrowed in puzzlement, Harvey had indeed stopped his throws. "What's this then?"
"What's what?"
"This," John put his hand on the metallic side of the bunk and felt it vibrating under his palm.
"I don't know," Harvey shrugged disinterestedly.
John took a roundabout look at the low lit cell. "We're on a spaceship, right?"
"Yes."
"It's not falling apart, is it?" John placed his hand on the wall where the bunk was fixed and could feel the vibrations there too, though somewhat fainter and mixed with others. "These vibrations could be caused by some mechanical failure."
"I doubt it," Harvey replied coldly, still peeved at John's behavior.
John bit his lip and put his hand back on the metallic part of the bunk. Concerned, he kept it there, trying to determine what the vibrations were. He soon detected a pattern, three short vibrations, three long, three short again, a pause and then the whole pattern would resume. He tried to dredge up technical data from his tired brain that could explain that sort of manifestation but found none. It wasn't exactly surprising, he didn't have such an extensive knowledge of spaceships' characteristics this side of the universe. The only thing it reminded him of… realization dawned and he couldn't help the scornful snort.
"Frell!"
"What?"
"Nothing!" John snapped. Mind frell. Been there, done that. He removed his hand and curled up on his bunk. "Nice try," he muttered into the thin hard mattress.
**********
Aeryn felt the pain shoot from her busted knee to her entire leg and collapsed on the bunk with a grunt. She massaged her knee with both hands, trying to nurse it back to neural oblivion. She'd been going at it for an arn, alternately using her wounded leg to stand or kick but either way had only made the pain worse. And she still had received no reply.
She could think of many possibilities why, all of them with valid explanations but none was satisfying.
Maybe, in spite of her assumptions, her message was not getting through. The cells were thickly padded, made to either cut off all exterior sound or broadcast it on embedded loudspeakers, whichever would most upset the prisoners. After careful examination, she had determined that by kicking her bunk at the most horizontal angle she could manage, she would be able to send a vibration coursing along the wall, likely reverberating on anything attached to that wall, namely other bunks. Her cell was at one end of the group of three and it was possible that the vibration caused by her kicking was not travelling far enough along the wall.
She massaged her knee some more, wishing that she had been able to use Peacekeeper codes, that human morsh code message was too long for her knee's sake. John had taught her that particular message one evening as they had been reviewing ways to relay information and status on one another should they have to communicate in different ways and she had taught him back a few codes of her own. But it had been on Talyn, with another John and even if this John had somehow learned about those codes, the Peacekeepers around them knew them too and would catch on the pattern.
So she had to contend with a message that asked for rescue when she was the one most likely to be doing the rescuing and with a total uncertainty as to whether that unsuitable message even reached its goal. Then again, maybe John could hear it, had recognized it, guessed it could come from her but was too angry with her to reply.
Maybe, they had not put him in a cell yet because he was being interrogated.
Maybe, he was in a cell but unconscious or sleeping.
Maybe, he was dead.
The door to her cell burst open and a now familiar group of four soldiers entered. They were back for her.
***********
Commandant Mele-On Grayza could not believe her luck.
She leaned back in her chair and tapped her nails on her desk. This, of course, would call for a little change in plans. She had not considered interrogating Aeryn Sun herself at first. Crichton was her main target, she had only very little interest in the Peacekeeper deserter and had meant for Cidra to run the interrogation, as part of her necessary training. But, the situation called for finesse and however efficient the girl had been on the last interrogation session she had conducted, she had nearly killed the prisoner. Not that his death would have mattered much but such risks could not be taken this time.
She called up Aeryn Sun's record on her display and went digging for weapons. She smiled thinly as she reviewed the first entries. It seemed that Officer Sun and herself had had a similar start in life. Both had been considered flawed at birth, offspring of unassigned or contrary procreations, meant to join the ranks of those sent on secondary paths before they even learned to walk and yet, unlike her, Aeryn Sun had been left in the soldiers' crèche, a favor from High Command for reasons left unclear. Her placement there could have been rescinded any time afterwards but the young Aeryn had proved to have top of the scale piloting skills and that had kept her from being pulled out of the soldier path. It was not enough, though, to have her procreation value upped to meet the required standards. Not only had her making been unassigned but it was also a deliberate violation of the rules by her parents. Such a flaw could not be tolerated in future recruits.
Mele-On snorted. High Command had such blind faith in its abilities to breed the best soldiers, even though every quarterly review brought a new batch of failures toward the Peacekeeper genetic excellence. Cidra, a pure product of that quest, had been pulled out of the so-called supreme way two cycles ago when her father had unexpectedly proved to have unwanted genetic traits for a Peacekeeper soldier, traits that had not been foreseen during the evaluation of his procreation value thirteen cycles before, when leadership and ambition had not equalled delusions of grandeur and murder. The girl didn't even know why she had been pulled out, parentage was kept out of the recruits' knowledge. Only those high enough inside the procreation department or the chain of command could access such information. Extensive tests had deemed her unfit for any tech or administrative work and, short of sentencing her to the living death, the training supervisors had sent her to serve under Mele-On's authority. Cidra 'was' psychologically unbalanced at times Mele-On had to admit but she knew better than to trust Peacekeeper procreation tests blindly, she was a living example of their unreliability and so Cidra would prove under her guidance. The girl had interesting abilities and she would have use for someone like her in the future.
She flipped through the rest of Aeryn Sun's record disinterestedly, flying and fighting statistics bored the hezmana out of her. Even though Mele-On had once envied those in the soldiers' ranks when she thought her chances of promotion were slim, she had long since lost that feeling. Soldiers were hardly more than drones, very few had the slightest strategic or political abilities, their very education and training prevented that. They were not taught to think, only to obey orders. Truth be told, the average tech was smarter than the majority of soldiers. And people like herself, for all the scorn and the rejection they received from the soldiers' ranks, they could never have been better prepared for High Command.
The procreation department would never list her in their files but High Command had a weakness for smart people and she had been so good, they simply hadn't been able to ignore her anymore. Scorpius had followed the same strategy but the hybrid was too single-minded in his hatred of the Scarrans to seize his opportunities and truly rise inside the hierarchy.
Mele-On closed the outdated Peacekeeper record and opened the intelligence files her department had provided on John Crichton and his allies. Ex- officer Aeryn Sun was rarely singled out in those, except for the fact that she was never far from him. Yes, indeed, Mele-On thought to herself with a smirk. Aeryn Sun could very well prove to be Crichton's weakness and in the meantime provide some useful information. Mele-On switched off the display and tapped her comms. "Cidra, my office, now."
**********
"Where's Bialar Crais?"
Mele-On Grayza observed with a disinterested expression the carefully neutral look letting the slightest feigned surprise shine through on the features of the woman before her. She could have enumerated all the Peacekeeper interrogation rules Aeryn Sun was dutifully following and knew the exact microt the answer was supposed to come.
"He's dead."
Unblinking eyes, flat voice. Excellent control, Officer Sun.
"Really?" Mele-On put a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she cocked her head to gaze levelly at Aeryn Sun. "How so?"
She knew that this questioning was not what Prowler Pilot Aeryn Sun had prepared herself for. She kept the excitement away from her face. When possible, she avoided using violence, which really had the deplorable effect of taking the thrill out of the chase and she thoroughly enjoyed the chasing time before the kill.
"You know how."
Worried and puzzled, that's it.
"How would I know? I wasn't there." Her eyes rounded ever so slightly to suggest genuine ignorance.
First blink. Ex-officer Aeryn Sun was flipping through the perfect Peacekeeper soldier interrogation guidelines, debating between following rule 58, enter your opponent's game to gain time and information or rule 74, remain silent until further tortured. In the present circumstances, 58 was likely to win.
"Crais was on Talyn when Talyn starburst inside the Command Carrier."
"And," Mele-On prompted from behind Aeryn's back. She had begun circling her soon after she had started replying.
"And?"
More puzzlement.
"And…" She came full circle to stand before Aeryn again, threw a not so furtive glance over Aeryn's shoulder at the ship's physician standing conspicuously four paces away then tilted up one questioning eyebrow.
First shifting of the feet.
"Leviathans can't starburst inside confined spaces. The energy doesn't dissipate, it destroys the Leviathan and all those inside."
"I see." Mele-On raised her eyes to the ceiling, her features drawn into a deep pensive frown. "You've spent some time on that Leviathan." She stared Aeryn square in the eyes and made an emphatically long pause before pronouncing the particular name, "Talyn." After Crichton's, the gunship's name was the one most mentioned alongside Aeryn Sun's; that this Leviathan would bear her father's name was the indication of an absurdly emotional inclination for a Peacekeeper Officer. "Would you agree on saying that he is no ordinary Leviathan?"
A long silence and then just a simple nod. Not trusting your voice to speak, Officer Sun? Or could that be an almost daring switch to rule 74?
"We've found the debris you left among the other Leviathans' debris. Such a big ship and so little debris." Mele-On allowed herself a frozen smile of sympathy. "Where's the rest of him?"
"Gone."
"Gone where?"
"Everywhere."
Mele-On felt the slight positive shift in her prisoner's confidence. Time to change the game. "I don't think so," she murmured sweetly. "Why don't you take some time to think about it too?" She turned to leave and stopped after two steps. "Oh, and in case you're worried?" She mentioned casually over her shoulder as if she had just remembered it. "The stun beam has had no secondary effects on your health."
She exited the medbay with a satisfied smile on her lips.
**********
John had to admit the final judgment would have to wait until he found out when this day was officially over. Otherwise, it was pretty much a tie. Yes, as far as busy days went, this one was fast approaching the top spot held in the steady hands of day one in the Uncharted Territories for the past three years, an incredible feat considering some of what had happened to him since then. But, then again, how could anything top: breaking quarantine, making a dream come true and seeing it turn into a nightmare, accidentally killing a person, meeting flesh and blood aliens, escaping imprisonment and death, having a life experience no one else from Earth was ever likely to have? Day one had such a uniqueness to it that it really should be pulled out of the race. Aliens aside, today had just been the crappiest day. He had buried a sentient spaceship, helped kill another one, said goodbye to his only friends, lost the love of his life, died of asphyxia, been revived to the painful end of undergoing interrogation by an ill-meaning military bitch, been mind-frelled for the umpteenth time and while he waited for the interrogation to take place, he was nursing a pounding headache and felt so physically weak that he was actually thankful for the tight bonds tying him to his chair and keeping him upright under the babysitting supervision of Miss Lord of the flies, standing silent and erect in a corner of the room.
His gaze drifted toward the girl and he took a good look at her. There was something truly eerie about her and the nickname had sprung immediately to his mind. She seemed to be no more than 15 years old with the gawky figure often associated with teens grown too fast, even though she wasn't actually that tall. She had dark hair held in a loose braid, an olive-toned complexion and dark doe-like eyes that seemed unable to rest on the same spot for more than two seconds; the hand resting on the butt of the pulse pistol strapped to her thigh was hardly steadier. The more he looked at her, the more perturbed she made him feel. He didn't know whether he wanted to hold her tight and let her cry her young heart out against his chest or kill her before she could kill him. Not so long ago, he would probably have tried to get her to talk, find out whatever he could from her about his situation, perhaps even win her sympathy but her sullen presence brought disturbing images of a similarly young Aeryn and he didn't have the energy to drill through another fortress.
He frowned and brought his attention on Harvey. The neural clone was sniffing the air every other step as he prowled around what was most probably Grayza's office. He thought he had recognized her voice in the medbay and later had his suspicion confirmed when the soldiers bringing him here had mentioned her name.
"Is your sniffing supposed to achieve anything?" He snapped at the clone with a grimace of annoyance.
Harvey glanced up, surprised and looking slightly guilty. "Huh?"
"Couldn't you tell me what you know about Grayza instead? Assuming you know anything, of course."
Harvey shifted uncomfortably on his feet, sending quick fearful glances around him.
John raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Did Scorpius have dealings with her before? Did he ever hear anything about her?" He asked in exaggerated clarification to prompt the clone into speaking, wondering at the same time if the girl might not have proven easier after all.
"She's evil," Harvey finally whispered as if afraid to be overheard. "Very evil."
John snorted. "Very evil, right! That's deep, Harv, that's really deep." He closed his eyes and wished his hands were free so he could dig the heels of his palms into them and rub them raw. "Would you care to elaborate? It's not like Scorpius is a choir boy himself."
The clone left the other side of Grayza's desk and came to stand before John. He leaned forward to bring his mouth closer to John's ear. "She's overly ambitious and exceedingly good at not leaving traces of her actions. Scorpius believed that she was aiming for the top position at High Command, regardless of the people in her way."
"I suppose they were adversaries?"
"No. Why would they have been?" Harvey asked, surprised by John's question. "Scorpius never cared for High Command. He only wants to defeat the Scarrans."
"How did he get to know her so well then?"
Silence greeted his question and he turned his head to stare at Harvey's face.
"They were… acquaintances," Harvey replied with clear reluctance.
John repressed a shudder. "Acquaintances?" He asked, enunciating each syllable in sickened disbelief.
The entrance door behind him swooshed open and an overbearing waft of powerful perfume assaulted his nose. Harvey quaked and vanished from his consciousness with a poof Samantha the witch would have envied.
Great. Thanks for the help, Harv! John thought, hearing the rustle made by Grayza's clothes as she glided fluidly into her office.
She didn't spare him a glance on the way, only nodded sharply to the girl in the corner, sending her into a clipped military walk behind him. She slipped into her chair and John held her cold assessing stare, bracing himself to remain upright on his chair without the help of the ties that the girl had loosened up in a quick and efficient manner, leaving him only with manacles on, before returning to her silent vigil in the corner.
"So we meet again, John Crichton."
John remained silent at first, fighting against the urge to rub the sore spots on his legs and arms as he watched a victorious smirk spread over her lips. He sighed deeply and decided that he was not in the shape for amenities and mind games after all and would rather be done with it as soon as possible.
"What do you want from me?"
He watched her gaze wonderingly at the ceiling, unfazed by his abrupt question then stare back at him with the same cold assessing eyes. "What could I possibly want from you?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Personality, manners, push-up bras, wormholes," he enumerated ironically.
"I don't care about wormholes," she replied with a sickeningly sweet tone.
"You should."
She laughed lightly and shook her head. "Don't let Scorpius' obsessions fool you. Wormholes won't matter in this war, none of the players have mastered the technology and it will remain so for quite a long time. When and if wormholes ever become necessary, there'll be plenty of scientific minds to tap into." She leaned toward him over her desk and gazed at him with a disturbingly benevolent expression as another waft of strong perfume assaulted his senses. "I want your death."
"My death?!" John choked out. "Hey lady, you had it and you blew it! Shouldn't have asked your doc to revive me!"
"Not that kind of death," she corrected him calmly. "A public death, for everyone to see and ponder. The same fate awaits all of your associates."
"Ooh, that's cool, Roman circus games have always been my favorites!" John quipped in false bravado, perturbed by the iron determination he could detect underneath her silky tones. He slumped in his chair in a controlled casual manner. "So, when should I expect to die?"
"Soon." Grayza leaned back comfortably into her chair. "Your group's activities have been bad publicity for the Peacekeepers' image of strength, High Command wants to show its affiliated worlds that such rebellious behaviors will be severely punished so as to regain some edge in its negotiations with the Scarrans." She played idly with a couple of Peacekeepers data chips on her desk. "We already know where we'll be able to find some of your crewmates, we want information on the others: the Nebari, the Interion, Crais and both Leviathans."
"Crais is dead," John supplied automatically. "Haven't you heard?"
"All I've heard are rumours. I prefer accurate information." She raised an expectant eyebrow. "Well?"
John looked at her in complete disbelief. "You actually expect me to rat on my friends? Just like that?" He shook his head and straightened on his chair. "And what would I gain from it?" He leaned toward her, placing his elbows on his knees for support. "No senseless beating? No Aurora chair? A quicker, painless death? Oh, or perhaps a true carrot, the opportunity to make it out alive with a heartfelt act of contrition and to hell with the others?" He asked in mocking tones. He wavered on his seat at the fleeting flash of light in her eyes, he could have sworn he had just been hooked to the line.
"No. You will die, painfully and publicly like the others," Grayza replied coldly, then paused to lean forward again, "but your son will live."
John braced himself not to let his voice crack on the words. "My son?"
Grayza flicked a switch on her desk and an image of the medbay sprung up between them on a transparent display.
John swallowed hard as he discovered Aeryn seated on an examination table, wearing just her shirt and underwear and surrounded by four well armed soldiers making sure she wouldn't go anywhere. She seemed to be struggling to keep a calm composure. He clamped his hands into painful fists. The old woman had said the truth.
"You care for children of your own blood, don't you, John Crichton?" Grayza's words cut through his haze. "I seem to remember something about a Royal planet."
John eyed her determinedly through the display, seething rage starting to coil inside him. You should have listened to me before, he thought, or remained 'acquainted' with dear Scorpy, he would have told you that's a really bad strategy with me. "I see you've done your research, talked to some disruptors." His gaze ran up and down her figure. "Probably would have made a good one yourself."
"I was," Grayza replied smugly. "The best ever."
John's gaze flicked briefly over her wrists then focused back on the display, disgusted by her oozing superiority. He observed the doctor's back as the man was making preparations he couldn't see on a table and then rested his gaze on Aeryn's stiff figure. "And Aeryn Sun?" He asked in his most detached tone.
"Now, now, don't be too greedy," Grayza chided him almost playfully and cut the display before John could figure out what the doctor had in his hands as he approached Aeryn. "She's not indispensable for that child to live anyway."
John felt sick in the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a mind game after all and one huge gamble. Let's hope the others manage to elude the Peacekeepers' grasp for a good while and buy me enough time to find a way out of this latest mess. He stared at Grayza with cold calculating eyes.
"You've got the wrong John Crichton here. Not my shift, not my child."
***********
John walked his way back to his cell on his own, surrounded by the soldiers who had pretty much carried him on the way out. Seething rage flowed through his system, keeping him up. He was dimly aware that the cell was probably under video surveillance and that he could very well ruin the deception he had managed to set up but he had to let it his rage out.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" He punctuated each swear word with a liberating kick to the only visible appliance in his cell, the bunk.
He didn't know whether he was angrier at Grayza and the rest of the universe for handing him such impossibly frelled situations or at himself and the easiness with which the hurt, jealousy and anger had genuinely flared while he had told Grayza about his twin and Aeryn's betrayal, digging deeper and deeper in his negativity until he had convinced her of the reality of his tale, earning himself a reprieve from what would probably turn into a physical interrogation in the future.
"Shit!" One even more vicious kick sent him stumbling backwards, the bunk protesting against the abuse with a vibrating feedback spreading along his leg. He massaged his knee and thigh, casting a dark stare at the rebellious furniture, then suddenly cocked his head at the metallic structure of the bunk. He took a step forward, kicked the bunk again for good measure and felt the vibration jar his leg again. He stepped back slowly and collapsed on the floor against the wall, facing the bunk. He rested his elbows on his bent knees and wearily rubbed his face with his hands.
I'm such a moron. It wasn't a mindfrell.
He removed his hands from his face and rested his chin on his crossed arms, his gaze fixed on the bunk before him but not quite seeing it. And now what?
The more he thought about using the bunk to send a message, the more complicated it became in his mind. If Aeryn knew the Morse code for SOS, she probably also knew the meaning of it and that was one meaning he didn't want to send her. He doubted that it was the meaning her own message had wished to convey but he didn't want to risk a misunderstanding on her part. He didn't want her to rescue him, quite the contrary, he wanted her to rescue herself, against him. He also doubted that she knew any Morse code message other than SOS, teaching someone Morse code meant teaching that person English or any other Earth language based on the same alphabet and as far as he knew, which wasn't very far at all these past months, she couldn't speak or read English. He brushed his lower lip with his thumb. Unsuitable means, unclear meanings, there just seemed to be no accurate way to communicate with her. He smiled wryly. As if that was a surprise. He could only hope that she would make the right decision and play along his game to protect herself and the unborn child.
Don't let me down, Aeryn, he urged, staring at the empty bunk before him. Please make the right decision.
"She's already done that," Harvey pointed out, sitting next to him. "She left you, remember?"
The angry punch of the clone toward the dumpster felt sickeningly good.
***********
Aeryn tried to relax her grip on the bunk's side but found it hard to let go. She was confused. Whatever message John had tried to send her, she had been unable to decode it and yet she was sure she had caught it at the beginning. And so, she had been waiting for hundreds of microts now, hands clamped painfully around the metallic structure, wondering if perhaps he was unable to go through with the rest, hoping that he would tell her what to do or say. She drew in a shaky breath. At least, he was alive. A sudden dread hit her. Unless, it wasn't him making the vibrations…
She bolted up and started pacing her cell nervously. It was not as if she remembered enough of that morsh code to make sense of any frelling vibration anyway, much less a whole message. She punched the wall in frustration. John had not answered her first message and he would not know about her presence unless someone told him. Would Grayza do that? Was it something that was part of her agenda? Aeryn punched the wall again.
She had no idea what the tralk was up to exactly. She had thought the soldiers were going to get into the physical part of the interrogation when she had been left standing in the medbay after Grayza's departure instead of being brought back to her cell. They had taken her there quite sometime before Grayza showed up, the medic finally running on her the tests he had been unable to run when John had been rushed inside earlier on. The information of her pregnancy was now officially out and she had been expecting her captors to use it as means of pressure. And in a way Grayza had, but all her questions at first about Crais and Talyn had seemed somewhat irrelevant. Aeryn wasn't even sure that Grayza truly believed Crais and Talyn had managed to live through the starburst. She herself hadn't even needed much deceptive strength to lie to Grayza. When Crais had made her promise to come look for them, he had only had the smallest hope of them living through it and had not wished to give Moya cause for further pain should he be proven wrong. He had even asked her to be careful not to give the others any hints of what she was going to do, reasoning that if the starburst left them in a near death situation, she would never make it in time to save them anyway. Yes, she roughly knew where Crais and Talyn had gone, they had starburst on the smallest possible vector, but only when she found them would she know whether she had to perform another burial or would help Crais nurse Talyn back to sanity.
She wearily rubbed her face with her hands. If only she could already be there. She sighed deeply. It had been easy making that promise to Crais, she had known she would have to leave once they were done with the Command Carrier, assuming they didn't die in their attempt to destroy it. She needed a purpose that would take her away from John for some time while she tried to make sense of the confusion in her heart. She had wanted time to think, or not to think, and she could have done that whether they were dead or alive. But she wasn't any closer to finding out about their fates and in the meantime, she was left wondering about her own situation.
Grayza's last words had clearly been a threat and yet, she had been left standing idly and nearly forgotten in the medbay for half an arn under the soldiers' supervision until all of a sudden the medic had asked her to remove her pants, sending a cold dread along her spine. She had been forced to comply only to watch him treat her wounded knee with disbelieving eyes and then be sent back to her cell, unharmed and in better physical condition. What the frell was wrong with these Peacekeepers?
Grayza was a former disruptor, Aeryn was sure of that. She had heard rumors about those people and Jenavian Chatto had confirmed some of them. They were the scum of the Peacekeepers ranks, children pulled out of the soldier way because of shameful genes, unbalanced personalities or failing scores, irreversibly contaminated on purpose and adept at psychological manipulations and political deceits, often said to be working for their own agenda amidst their missions. They were not supposed to ever truly become part of the Peacekeeper elite and yet Grayza had secured a Command position, which could only mean that she had had an outstanding record as a disruptor. She was an enemy to be reckoned with and John had had the nerve to threaten her with a pulse pistol on the Command Carrier, which was not an act that would easily be dismissed. Aeryn could sense Grayza was going to use her to get to John and perhaps she had already tried.
She paced even more nervously around her cell. What did John know? What would he trade this time? The frelling idiot just couldn't help giving his life so others could live.
She flopped back down wearily on the bunk, staring at the wall in front of her.
You'd better not die in my arms again, John Crichton or I will kill you myself and make sure your death is as painful for you as it is for me.
