Hello again. Trying something new this time around. Can and I are writing
this fic together. Our own idea of what could, but probably won't, happen
at the beginning of season 4. Thanks for reading, hope you like it.
Fic: Nothing's Quite The Same
Story by: Neuroscpr and Can
P3 by: Neuroscpr
Setting: After DWTB, spoilers up until that ep.
Rating: R
Summary: John and the other displaced members of the crew embark on their own missions as Moya heads into unknown territory.
All little screens and blinking lights shut off in unison around him. D'Argo sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair in response. His eyes passed over the cold sterile instruments, causing him to realize that he had never looked at them that way before. He muttered something about Crichton's frelling influence and then ordered the exit hatch to open.
The exit hatch lowered dramatically into the Luxan ship's hangar. A heavy mist descended around D'Argo's ship. He lifted himself up slowly from the pilot's seat and stepped over to the opening. Through the haze he could see two men. One was Luxan and the other of indeterminate origin. One thing sprung to his mind.
'This is a trap.'
D'Argo dropped down onto the platform and looked around. His keen sense of smell told him the other man was Sebacean, probably peacekeeper. That fact alone was enough to make him reconsider his decision. He didn't get to however.
"Ka D'Argo! It is good to see you under more relaxed circumstances," said the Luxan. He was a diplomat, obvious by the stylish garments he wore and the smoothness of his hands. The man did not look as pleased as his voice made him sound.
D'Argo narrowed his eyes at the man and considered brandishing his Qualta Blade. For the moment at least, he decided against it. "Relaxed?" he asked.
The diplomat returned his suspicious look and then nodded curtly. "My name is Kor Tosko, ambassador for the Luxan government. You have nothing to fear from me."
He didn't like politicians. Three cycles with Rygel had not helped the opinion. "And the Luxan government? Should I fear them?"
A thin smile spread across Tosko's lips. "That remains to be seen," he said.
With those words, the diplomat turned to the third man occupying the ship's hangar. The message sent by that short glance was enough to set certain future events in motion.
D'Argo, however, was too occupied by his surroundings to notice. It had been over ten cycles since he had set foot on a modern Luxan ship and the effect was a bit overwhelming. Luxans were proud of their history and the hangar was evidence of this. Adorning the walls were murals of great warriors in the heat of battle. Most were dead and all revered. D'Argo recognized most of them.
"Your Qualta Blade, sir."
The voice was thin and obviously not Luxan. D'Argo turned towards it with a growl already forming at the bottom of his throat. He found himself facing a young peacekeeper.
Officer Dent's insides quivered though his face remained motionless. He'd been assigned to this duty only solar days earlier and there had been no mention of unarming ex Luxan prisoners. He stood as fully upright as possible and repeated the order.
D'Argo complied, though not exactly to the peacekeeper's specifications. His blade was out of its sheath in less than a microt. At a full microt, it was pressed against the peacekeeper's tender throat.
"Tosko, why is there a peacekeeper aboard your ship?"
The diplomat cleared his throat before answering. "An unfortunate necessity, Ka D'Argo. Part of the treaty just recently secured."
"I didn't agree to any treaty," he growled. The blade slid just enough to make a point without shedding blood.
"You're on a political vessel. There are no weapons allowed within the secure area." Tosko said this with enough force to show that he would not bend. A castrated diplomat perhaps, but still very much a Luxan.
The Qualta Blade swung away from Officer Dent and back against D'Argo's shoulder. He growled one final time before slamming the weapon down on the table beside them.
The sound was uncomfortably loud.
-
"Is that what I think it is?"
Two pairs of eyes stared in wonder at the object in front of them. It had nearly torn the wooden table in half with the blow. Neither of the two had ever seen one before.
D'Argo slid his hand over the Qualta blade and grinned. "Absolutely."
The two Luxan teenagers took in the relic with awe. They'd heard stories all their lives of great warriors that carried such things. Seeing one up close was a thrill their mates would soon hear about.
"Can we try it?"
D'Argo laughed at this and picked the blade off the table. He narrowed his eyes at the two boys like his instructors had taught him too. Their chairs slid back a little.
"It's not a toy. Only a true warrior can wield a Qualta Blade."
He raised the weapon above his head and let it fall into its sheath. The weight of it against his back was a constant reminder of the honor that had been bestowed upon him. D'Argo carried it for his ancestors, his wife, and at the moment for himself. It felt good.
The candle lit room would have looked menacing to anyone besides a Luxan. For them, every meeting place was like this. A strong wind blew in with the night and made the lights flicker, sending shadows dancing across the walls.
Outside, the rain poured down like it hadn't for many cycles. Drops flew down from the sky and turned the ground into lakes of mud. Mixed in with the brown water were streaks of crimson blood. They fell from a man's outstretched fingers. He was there to send a message. He was there for D'Argo.
-
They'd passed through two more security checkpoints to get to the room D'Argo now sat in. The fact that no one else was carrying weapons did little to calm him. He could not see everyone.
The room was basic in shape. Square, small, with cold stone walls that screamed 'Peacekeeper!' in his head. D'Argo looked across the table at Tosko and waited. The diplomat had something to say and he was willing to listen for the moment.
"There are dangerous forces rising against us, Ka D'Argo. You more than anyone else should understand that. Make allowances for it."
D'Argo shook his head. "I don't ally with peacekeepers." He missed the feel of the Qualta Blade at his back. "Luxans don't need that kind of help."
Tosko raised an eyebrow at this. Being tactful was difficult when a fellow Luxan challenged his honor. "I am not the first Luxan to make a deal with the peacekeepers. As you are well aware of."
"That is not your concern."
The diplomat smiled. "Only when it suits you, I see."
D'Argo smashed his fist down on the table. "My own people turned me over to the peacekeepers! Let them call me a murderer!" He stood up and tossed his chair against the wall. It clanged loudly before hitting the floor. "You have no right to question my motives."
"I have every right!"
Tosko was out of his seat now too. The anger inside him hadn't been allowed out for many cycles. He liked it. "When your vendetta threatens the future of our race, I have the right!"
It hadn't fully registered with D'Argo until that moment that this man knew what Scorpius had given him on the command carrier. That meant others knew as well.
"The Scarrens are a threat we cannot face alone. Is killing this man worth that much to you?"
D'Argo looked Tosko right in the eyes with an almost rabid expression. "I didn't say I was going to kill him."
Tosko shook his head. "You're a Luxan. You don't need to."
-
"Ka D'Argo!"
The bar's flimsy wooden door swung open as the force of a black military boot connected with it. Out of the storm, a solitary figure walked in. His body and clothing were soaked through to the skin from the short trek he had taken to get there. The man's face was twisted in hatred.
D'Argo connected the voice instantly with an image in his head and turned around to meet it. His blade was at his side and ready to do battle. How he hoped that was the case.
"I'll see you dead for-."
The sentence was only half out of Macton's mouth when the full strength of a young Luxan sent him flying back out the door. He landed back first in the mud and slid away from his assailant.
"She, we are none of your concern! You stay away from us!"
D'Argo felt the rain falling down and pasting his hair to his face but he didn't care. His eyes burned with fury at the man he had just knocked to the ground.
"Come here again and I'll kill you," he hissed.
Macton lifted himself off the ground with a great show of strength. Most of it came from the burning anger inside him at the moment. "I'm here! Do it! Kill me!"
The Luxan took a step forward with his Qualta Blade but stopped. There was trickery involved in this, he knew. "Stay away from us." He turned to re- enter the bar.
"How can I? When you defile my own blood by marrying her!" Macton wiped the mud from his face and grinned maliciously.
There was only so much verbal abuse that D'Argo could take. He spun around and sent his fist straight into Macton's jaw. The peacekeeper was airborne for a microt before landing in the mud again.
"She's my wife! She loves me! There's nothing you could ever do to change that!"
Macton raised his head out of the mud once more and shook his head. Blood oozed from his mouth and nose at an alarming rate but he paid no attention.
"There is one thing."
-
D'Argo felt the room swerve under his feet as he stood there. The memories of that night replaying over and over in his head. The race back to his home in a blind panic that outweighed any he had experienced before or since. Seeing blood caked on the blankets that had once made up their bed. Hearing the sirens from outside as he wept uncontrollably for the life that had been taken from him.
"I'm going to kill him."
Tosko nodded slowly. He knew the events that swam through D'Argo's head as well as anyone who had not experienced them for themselves. Under different circumstances, he might have supported it.
"Ka D'Argo, I am sorry to hear that." He shot a momentary glance at the surveillance camera in the corner of the room before turning to leave. "I truly am."
D'Argo didn't seem to register those last words properly. Moving silently, he picked the chair off the floor and placed it in front of the table. He sat down and watched as Tosko left the room.
The guards had weapons after all. He wasn't surprised.
There are two types of peacekeeper colonies in the uncharted territories. The first, and more dangerous of the two, is an actual outpost for military activity. Fully armed ships ranging from prowlers to vigilantes travel through them daily and they are usually the staging grounds for future attacks. These colonies are characterized by tall stone buildings, made to look dark and menacing.
The other type of peacekeeper colony is located in the more remote areas. Populated mostly by civilians, these makeshift towns are usually home to traveling soldiers and people looking to hide. They are characterized by desert locations and one story buildings of local design.
John Crichton was now running through one of the latter type colonies.
With the sun out in full force, a ship passing overhead would have had a perfect view of what was happening. A lone man, covered in dirt and blood, ran wildly down the main colony road. His black boots tossed up sand with each pump of the legs. On the left and right of him, figures in black were running covertly on the rooftops. These men carried weapons.
The merchant watched the scene unfold with a smile on his face. He still had no idea exactly what was happening, but that was usually the case when working with peacekeepers. They gave you something to and you did it. That or they put a pulse blast in your chest and burned down your home.
"There he is! John Crichton!"
It was the signal for the peacekeepers to move in. Then again, that name sounded somewhat familiar. Perhaps he'd heard it on a newscast somewhere. 'Oh well, frell him.' The merchant laughed as the wad of bills in his pocket pressed against his leg.
Before he heard a sound, a thin dagger slid out from behind and pressed dangerously against his throat. The assailant was very strong.
"You've been talking about me behind my back, old man." The voice was low and raspy.
The merchant's eyes went wide. "Torvald! I swear, they made me do it."
Torvald shook his head and pressed the dagger closer. "Don't make excuses. Just tell me how they knew."
It troubled him to learn that someone else had been tracking the man's movements. Someone who knew about Aeryn Sun, knew about him. "Tell me!"
The merchant gagged. His payoff suddenly seemed way too small. "I don't know! Please, they made m-."
His throat made a low gurgling sound as the dagger slid through it. The old man fell to his knees and dropped face first into the sand. Blood collected around his limp neck.
Torvald wiped the blade clean and shoved it back into his belt. "Useless." He spat on the ground and looked up where the new arrival had gone running. That was even more unsettling. The stranger he'd beaten now had a name. A name Torvald knew well.
John shielded his eye from the sun as he tried to look back at who was following him. The other one was still swollen shut so there was really no point. He couldn't hear anything now but the human knew his luck was not that good.
"What the hell?"
The street behind him was empty save for a few meandering peasants begging for change. John scratched his head and then turned to look in the opposite direction.
"Oh, they're all gone. You can just go about your business."
There was no image this time, just the voice.
"Shut up Harvey. I'm not in the mood for sarcasm."
"Then take this small piece of advice."
John sighed and waited for the voice to make its point.
"Look up."
He did this. "Oh frell!" John said. Backing himself up against the wall, he waited.
Standing on the roof above him, a peacekeeper surveyed the area with a large pulse rifle in his hands. Considering the full uniform, John guessed that it wasn't one of the rebels he'd heard about. 'That's right John. Peacekeepers!'
The soldier chose that moment to look down. "I have him!"
John took off down the road again. This time pulse fire rained down with each step as he went. He wondered if they would arrest him or just go for the kill.
A nearby storefront window exploded into shards of glass in front of him. John stopped short and stared at the gaping hole. 'The kill then.'
"Crichton!"
Before he could react, a hand reached out from where the window used to be and grabbed the lining of his coat. John closed his eyes and jumped through the opening.
Torvald stepped back as the human came tumbling into the room. He took in the man's features and almost gasped. "I can't frelling believe it."
"What?" John checked his hair for glass as he stood up. He was not comforted by what he saw. "Hey! You're the guy that-."
Moving quickly, Torvald covered Crichton's mouth and pushed him towards the back of the store. They couldn't risk being seen now.
"Yes, I'm the one from your hotel room."
John went for his gun and instead found himself staring down the barrel of one.
"Please don't do that," Torvald said. "I'm trying to help you."
"Help me? You beat the crap out of me." John moved his hand away from his gun but not too far.
Torvald nodded quickly and then checked the window. There was no one coming.
"All I knew is that you were looking for Aeryn Sun. I did not realize you were John Crichton."
A look of amusement crossed over John's face. "So, you know who I am."
Torvald nodded again. "Yes, and what you've done. All of us know."
It took a moment for Crichton to connect the dots. "Peacekeepers? The rebels?" He didn't need Torvald to confirm it. "Where's Aeryn?"
"No longer here. I had her evacuated just yesterday." Torvald motioned back towards the window. "The peacekeeper presence here is increasing. I could not risk her being captured." He
John cursed silently to himself. "Where'd they take her?"
"I won't know until they contact me." Torvald didn't know why he lied just then. Perhaps it was the look on Aeryn Sun's face when they'd asked her about her crewmates. It didn't matter now.
On a rooftop across the street, a single peacekeeper soldier sat watching them. He smiled as John Crichton's head appeared in the cross-hairs of his rifle scope.
"I have a shot."
A loud pop was all either of them heard before the bullet did its work. It exploded out of the peacekeeper rifle and went shooting through the store's broken window.
"Oh fu-." John didn't even get to finish his curse word before the blast tore into his left shoulder and spun him like a top. His legs slipped out from under him and he was on the ground.
The human's eyes roamed wildly over the room as he tried to make sense of what had happened. All he knew was that he couldn't feel his shoulder and there was blood in his mouth.
"Hey!" He forced the word out before even that was impossible. John had been hit more than once but nothing had ever felt like this. His good eye found the man who had saved him only moments before.
Torvald lay in a much larger pool of blood. The pulse shot that had hit Crichton's shoulder sailed right on through and hit the peacekeeper in his right cheek. Most of his insides were incinerated instantly.
"Hey! Hey!" John didn't know the man's name and he couldn't ask it now. "Please don't be dead, please don't be dead!"
There was no response from the dead man. Only the sound of many footsteps moving closer by the microt. John managed to turn his head to the other side in time to see it. The store's front door swung open and a figure stepped inside.
With all the light streaming in from outside, John could not see his face.
Fic: Nothing's Quite The Same
Story by: Neuroscpr and Can
P3 by: Neuroscpr
Setting: After DWTB, spoilers up until that ep.
Rating: R
Summary: John and the other displaced members of the crew embark on their own missions as Moya heads into unknown territory.
All little screens and blinking lights shut off in unison around him. D'Argo sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair in response. His eyes passed over the cold sterile instruments, causing him to realize that he had never looked at them that way before. He muttered something about Crichton's frelling influence and then ordered the exit hatch to open.
The exit hatch lowered dramatically into the Luxan ship's hangar. A heavy mist descended around D'Argo's ship. He lifted himself up slowly from the pilot's seat and stepped over to the opening. Through the haze he could see two men. One was Luxan and the other of indeterminate origin. One thing sprung to his mind.
'This is a trap.'
D'Argo dropped down onto the platform and looked around. His keen sense of smell told him the other man was Sebacean, probably peacekeeper. That fact alone was enough to make him reconsider his decision. He didn't get to however.
"Ka D'Argo! It is good to see you under more relaxed circumstances," said the Luxan. He was a diplomat, obvious by the stylish garments he wore and the smoothness of his hands. The man did not look as pleased as his voice made him sound.
D'Argo narrowed his eyes at the man and considered brandishing his Qualta Blade. For the moment at least, he decided against it. "Relaxed?" he asked.
The diplomat returned his suspicious look and then nodded curtly. "My name is Kor Tosko, ambassador for the Luxan government. You have nothing to fear from me."
He didn't like politicians. Three cycles with Rygel had not helped the opinion. "And the Luxan government? Should I fear them?"
A thin smile spread across Tosko's lips. "That remains to be seen," he said.
With those words, the diplomat turned to the third man occupying the ship's hangar. The message sent by that short glance was enough to set certain future events in motion.
D'Argo, however, was too occupied by his surroundings to notice. It had been over ten cycles since he had set foot on a modern Luxan ship and the effect was a bit overwhelming. Luxans were proud of their history and the hangar was evidence of this. Adorning the walls were murals of great warriors in the heat of battle. Most were dead and all revered. D'Argo recognized most of them.
"Your Qualta Blade, sir."
The voice was thin and obviously not Luxan. D'Argo turned towards it with a growl already forming at the bottom of his throat. He found himself facing a young peacekeeper.
Officer Dent's insides quivered though his face remained motionless. He'd been assigned to this duty only solar days earlier and there had been no mention of unarming ex Luxan prisoners. He stood as fully upright as possible and repeated the order.
D'Argo complied, though not exactly to the peacekeeper's specifications. His blade was out of its sheath in less than a microt. At a full microt, it was pressed against the peacekeeper's tender throat.
"Tosko, why is there a peacekeeper aboard your ship?"
The diplomat cleared his throat before answering. "An unfortunate necessity, Ka D'Argo. Part of the treaty just recently secured."
"I didn't agree to any treaty," he growled. The blade slid just enough to make a point without shedding blood.
"You're on a political vessel. There are no weapons allowed within the secure area." Tosko said this with enough force to show that he would not bend. A castrated diplomat perhaps, but still very much a Luxan.
The Qualta Blade swung away from Officer Dent and back against D'Argo's shoulder. He growled one final time before slamming the weapon down on the table beside them.
The sound was uncomfortably loud.
-
"Is that what I think it is?"
Two pairs of eyes stared in wonder at the object in front of them. It had nearly torn the wooden table in half with the blow. Neither of the two had ever seen one before.
D'Argo slid his hand over the Qualta blade and grinned. "Absolutely."
The two Luxan teenagers took in the relic with awe. They'd heard stories all their lives of great warriors that carried such things. Seeing one up close was a thrill their mates would soon hear about.
"Can we try it?"
D'Argo laughed at this and picked the blade off the table. He narrowed his eyes at the two boys like his instructors had taught him too. Their chairs slid back a little.
"It's not a toy. Only a true warrior can wield a Qualta Blade."
He raised the weapon above his head and let it fall into its sheath. The weight of it against his back was a constant reminder of the honor that had been bestowed upon him. D'Argo carried it for his ancestors, his wife, and at the moment for himself. It felt good.
The candle lit room would have looked menacing to anyone besides a Luxan. For them, every meeting place was like this. A strong wind blew in with the night and made the lights flicker, sending shadows dancing across the walls.
Outside, the rain poured down like it hadn't for many cycles. Drops flew down from the sky and turned the ground into lakes of mud. Mixed in with the brown water were streaks of crimson blood. They fell from a man's outstretched fingers. He was there to send a message. He was there for D'Argo.
-
They'd passed through two more security checkpoints to get to the room D'Argo now sat in. The fact that no one else was carrying weapons did little to calm him. He could not see everyone.
The room was basic in shape. Square, small, with cold stone walls that screamed 'Peacekeeper!' in his head. D'Argo looked across the table at Tosko and waited. The diplomat had something to say and he was willing to listen for the moment.
"There are dangerous forces rising against us, Ka D'Argo. You more than anyone else should understand that. Make allowances for it."
D'Argo shook his head. "I don't ally with peacekeepers." He missed the feel of the Qualta Blade at his back. "Luxans don't need that kind of help."
Tosko raised an eyebrow at this. Being tactful was difficult when a fellow Luxan challenged his honor. "I am not the first Luxan to make a deal with the peacekeepers. As you are well aware of."
"That is not your concern."
The diplomat smiled. "Only when it suits you, I see."
D'Argo smashed his fist down on the table. "My own people turned me over to the peacekeepers! Let them call me a murderer!" He stood up and tossed his chair against the wall. It clanged loudly before hitting the floor. "You have no right to question my motives."
"I have every right!"
Tosko was out of his seat now too. The anger inside him hadn't been allowed out for many cycles. He liked it. "When your vendetta threatens the future of our race, I have the right!"
It hadn't fully registered with D'Argo until that moment that this man knew what Scorpius had given him on the command carrier. That meant others knew as well.
"The Scarrens are a threat we cannot face alone. Is killing this man worth that much to you?"
D'Argo looked Tosko right in the eyes with an almost rabid expression. "I didn't say I was going to kill him."
Tosko shook his head. "You're a Luxan. You don't need to."
-
"Ka D'Argo!"
The bar's flimsy wooden door swung open as the force of a black military boot connected with it. Out of the storm, a solitary figure walked in. His body and clothing were soaked through to the skin from the short trek he had taken to get there. The man's face was twisted in hatred.
D'Argo connected the voice instantly with an image in his head and turned around to meet it. His blade was at his side and ready to do battle. How he hoped that was the case.
"I'll see you dead for-."
The sentence was only half out of Macton's mouth when the full strength of a young Luxan sent him flying back out the door. He landed back first in the mud and slid away from his assailant.
"She, we are none of your concern! You stay away from us!"
D'Argo felt the rain falling down and pasting his hair to his face but he didn't care. His eyes burned with fury at the man he had just knocked to the ground.
"Come here again and I'll kill you," he hissed.
Macton lifted himself off the ground with a great show of strength. Most of it came from the burning anger inside him at the moment. "I'm here! Do it! Kill me!"
The Luxan took a step forward with his Qualta Blade but stopped. There was trickery involved in this, he knew. "Stay away from us." He turned to re- enter the bar.
"How can I? When you defile my own blood by marrying her!" Macton wiped the mud from his face and grinned maliciously.
There was only so much verbal abuse that D'Argo could take. He spun around and sent his fist straight into Macton's jaw. The peacekeeper was airborne for a microt before landing in the mud again.
"She's my wife! She loves me! There's nothing you could ever do to change that!"
Macton raised his head out of the mud once more and shook his head. Blood oozed from his mouth and nose at an alarming rate but he paid no attention.
"There is one thing."
-
D'Argo felt the room swerve under his feet as he stood there. The memories of that night replaying over and over in his head. The race back to his home in a blind panic that outweighed any he had experienced before or since. Seeing blood caked on the blankets that had once made up their bed. Hearing the sirens from outside as he wept uncontrollably for the life that had been taken from him.
"I'm going to kill him."
Tosko nodded slowly. He knew the events that swam through D'Argo's head as well as anyone who had not experienced them for themselves. Under different circumstances, he might have supported it.
"Ka D'Argo, I am sorry to hear that." He shot a momentary glance at the surveillance camera in the corner of the room before turning to leave. "I truly am."
D'Argo didn't seem to register those last words properly. Moving silently, he picked the chair off the floor and placed it in front of the table. He sat down and watched as Tosko left the room.
The guards had weapons after all. He wasn't surprised.
There are two types of peacekeeper colonies in the uncharted territories. The first, and more dangerous of the two, is an actual outpost for military activity. Fully armed ships ranging from prowlers to vigilantes travel through them daily and they are usually the staging grounds for future attacks. These colonies are characterized by tall stone buildings, made to look dark and menacing.
The other type of peacekeeper colony is located in the more remote areas. Populated mostly by civilians, these makeshift towns are usually home to traveling soldiers and people looking to hide. They are characterized by desert locations and one story buildings of local design.
John Crichton was now running through one of the latter type colonies.
With the sun out in full force, a ship passing overhead would have had a perfect view of what was happening. A lone man, covered in dirt and blood, ran wildly down the main colony road. His black boots tossed up sand with each pump of the legs. On the left and right of him, figures in black were running covertly on the rooftops. These men carried weapons.
The merchant watched the scene unfold with a smile on his face. He still had no idea exactly what was happening, but that was usually the case when working with peacekeepers. They gave you something to and you did it. That or they put a pulse blast in your chest and burned down your home.
"There he is! John Crichton!"
It was the signal for the peacekeepers to move in. Then again, that name sounded somewhat familiar. Perhaps he'd heard it on a newscast somewhere. 'Oh well, frell him.' The merchant laughed as the wad of bills in his pocket pressed against his leg.
Before he heard a sound, a thin dagger slid out from behind and pressed dangerously against his throat. The assailant was very strong.
"You've been talking about me behind my back, old man." The voice was low and raspy.
The merchant's eyes went wide. "Torvald! I swear, they made me do it."
Torvald shook his head and pressed the dagger closer. "Don't make excuses. Just tell me how they knew."
It troubled him to learn that someone else had been tracking the man's movements. Someone who knew about Aeryn Sun, knew about him. "Tell me!"
The merchant gagged. His payoff suddenly seemed way too small. "I don't know! Please, they made m-."
His throat made a low gurgling sound as the dagger slid through it. The old man fell to his knees and dropped face first into the sand. Blood collected around his limp neck.
Torvald wiped the blade clean and shoved it back into his belt. "Useless." He spat on the ground and looked up where the new arrival had gone running. That was even more unsettling. The stranger he'd beaten now had a name. A name Torvald knew well.
John shielded his eye from the sun as he tried to look back at who was following him. The other one was still swollen shut so there was really no point. He couldn't hear anything now but the human knew his luck was not that good.
"What the hell?"
The street behind him was empty save for a few meandering peasants begging for change. John scratched his head and then turned to look in the opposite direction.
"Oh, they're all gone. You can just go about your business."
There was no image this time, just the voice.
"Shut up Harvey. I'm not in the mood for sarcasm."
"Then take this small piece of advice."
John sighed and waited for the voice to make its point.
"Look up."
He did this. "Oh frell!" John said. Backing himself up against the wall, he waited.
Standing on the roof above him, a peacekeeper surveyed the area with a large pulse rifle in his hands. Considering the full uniform, John guessed that it wasn't one of the rebels he'd heard about. 'That's right John. Peacekeepers!'
The soldier chose that moment to look down. "I have him!"
John took off down the road again. This time pulse fire rained down with each step as he went. He wondered if they would arrest him or just go for the kill.
A nearby storefront window exploded into shards of glass in front of him. John stopped short and stared at the gaping hole. 'The kill then.'
"Crichton!"
Before he could react, a hand reached out from where the window used to be and grabbed the lining of his coat. John closed his eyes and jumped through the opening.
Torvald stepped back as the human came tumbling into the room. He took in the man's features and almost gasped. "I can't frelling believe it."
"What?" John checked his hair for glass as he stood up. He was not comforted by what he saw. "Hey! You're the guy that-."
Moving quickly, Torvald covered Crichton's mouth and pushed him towards the back of the store. They couldn't risk being seen now.
"Yes, I'm the one from your hotel room."
John went for his gun and instead found himself staring down the barrel of one.
"Please don't do that," Torvald said. "I'm trying to help you."
"Help me? You beat the crap out of me." John moved his hand away from his gun but not too far.
Torvald nodded quickly and then checked the window. There was no one coming.
"All I knew is that you were looking for Aeryn Sun. I did not realize you were John Crichton."
A look of amusement crossed over John's face. "So, you know who I am."
Torvald nodded again. "Yes, and what you've done. All of us know."
It took a moment for Crichton to connect the dots. "Peacekeepers? The rebels?" He didn't need Torvald to confirm it. "Where's Aeryn?"
"No longer here. I had her evacuated just yesterday." Torvald motioned back towards the window. "The peacekeeper presence here is increasing. I could not risk her being captured." He
John cursed silently to himself. "Where'd they take her?"
"I won't know until they contact me." Torvald didn't know why he lied just then. Perhaps it was the look on Aeryn Sun's face when they'd asked her about her crewmates. It didn't matter now.
On a rooftop across the street, a single peacekeeper soldier sat watching them. He smiled as John Crichton's head appeared in the cross-hairs of his rifle scope.
"I have a shot."
A loud pop was all either of them heard before the bullet did its work. It exploded out of the peacekeeper rifle and went shooting through the store's broken window.
"Oh fu-." John didn't even get to finish his curse word before the blast tore into his left shoulder and spun him like a top. His legs slipped out from under him and he was on the ground.
The human's eyes roamed wildly over the room as he tried to make sense of what had happened. All he knew was that he couldn't feel his shoulder and there was blood in his mouth.
"Hey!" He forced the word out before even that was impossible. John had been hit more than once but nothing had ever felt like this. His good eye found the man who had saved him only moments before.
Torvald lay in a much larger pool of blood. The pulse shot that had hit Crichton's shoulder sailed right on through and hit the peacekeeper in his right cheek. Most of his insides were incinerated instantly.
"Hey! Hey!" John didn't know the man's name and he couldn't ask it now. "Please don't be dead, please don't be dead!"
There was no response from the dead man. Only the sound of many footsteps moving closer by the microt. John managed to turn his head to the other side in time to see it. The store's front door swung open and a figure stepped inside.
With all the light streaming in from outside, John could not see his face.
