1 Nothing's Quite The Same
Story by: Neuroscpr and Can
P19: 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.
He was used to this sort of thing. Any peacekeeper soldier was subjected to weeks of training in the areas of torture, interrogation, and imprisonment. He knew what to say, what not to say, and how to get himself killed. All the basics for this sort of thing.
His hair was once a shiny black but years of battle had taken care of that. Now the top of his head was frayed and gray. Uneven gaps marked where the stuff had been removed to get at some wound or another. It didn't really matter. Vanity doesn't go well with soldiering.
Macton's eyes were continuously narrow, watching everything around him as if through a camera. He always knew where the players were. The good ones and the bad ones.
He could see the woman, Aeryn they'd called her, standing off to the side with a somber expression on her face. There was more there than she let on. He'd seen enough young faces over the years to understand. Any face has a story to tell. This woman's was a tragedy.
She looked over at him then, their eyes meeting for no more than a microt or two. Such pain behind those eyes. And yet, a bit of warmth. Macton could see that she was not like the others. While they looked at him as a prisoner, she saw a monster. This Aeryn saw who he really was. A killer of innocents. Of family.
'You'll know what it feels like too. Just wait, I'll have you.'
As if hearing his own thoughts, Aeryn looked over again and matched his own ugly stare. Macton wondered what she was thinking now. Perhaps she'd kill him before this ordeal was over. The thought did not really trouble him. A pair of eyes like that need to shed some blood. It's what takes the warmth away.
"Don't get any ideas," Aeryn said.
If only she knew what ideas he was having. Macton relished her anger towards him. If, for only a moment even, she let that anger rise, he'd have his chance. Maybe they'd fight, or then again she might just shoot him. He said nothing in reply.
His uniform collar rubbed against the tender skin of his neck. It had turned red by now but he paid little attention. There would be time for healing later. First he would escape. Kill those eyes and all they held dear. Then he'd get a hot bath, maybe a female of less discriminating tastes.
Yes, that would be good.
If drinking had been a possibility, Harvey would have called his master's condition a 'drunken stupor.' However, the neural clone knew very well that there were no alcoholic beverages nearby to sate John Crichton's thirst. Nothing could.
"Please John, you need to stop this," he said. His voice grew ever closer to panic with each passing microt.
The human looked up through red-encircled eyes and grinned. At the moment, it was the idea that they were looking at each other that made him laugh. 'We're the same frelling person! He can't be looking at me.' Then again..
Footsteps could be heard coming from down the hall. A preface to the inevitable arrival of Commandant Mele-On Grayza. That could mean any number of things. As the two waited, the noise grew closer.
"Give me a reason, Harv."
The clone turned to his host again and frowned. Seeking a thread of sanity in Crichton's mind became more difficult in times like these. Harvey considered that they might need therapy.
"You want a reason to live," he said quietly.
John backed himself up against the wall and sought out purchase with his muddied fingers. He nodded vigorously all the while.
"A reason to keep fighting," the human said.
Harvey let his eyes wander back to the figure across the hall. He could just see the Luxan, sleeping uncomfortably on the floor. 'Perhaps a bit of friendly advi-
"I'm talking here!" John shouted. "Frell, I'm boring my own delusion."
"That is not it John, and you know it," Harvey said softly. An outburst might only serve to push Crichton over the edge. "Consider everything you'd be leaving behind."
The astronaut, 'Naw, I can't even call myself that anymore,' attempted a smile. "That's right, Harv," he said. "Play the Aeryn card again. It's been a real winner so far."
Before either of them could respond, the cell door slammed open. Metal crashed against metal and the entire room seemed to shake. John felt the shivers go up and down his spine. He wasn't sure if they made him feel more alive or dead.
"Get up Crichton!"
Grayza stepped into the cell with her pulse pistol drawn. She watched the human carefully and took notice when he remained on the ground. A less observant soldier might have taken his non-compliance as a protest. She saw only a broken man.
"You have nothing to fear now, John," she whispered sweetly. "It'll be over soon."
Aeryn walked up to the automatic door and swept her hand over the remote sensor. Several moments of strained silence followed. She shot a negative glance at the control and the door shot up about one-third of the way. The ex-peacekeeper wondered if it was not time to invest in a newer ship.
With a sharp smack to the sensor, the door opened all the way and revealed two men. Both appeared to be deep in thought, which troubled her. Peacekeeper soldiers were not known to be philosophers. Which left room for only one thing.
"What's wrong," she asked.
Jaron suddenly broke from his rigid gaze and looked up at her. A smile came to his face but was immediately replaced by the requisite blank look. He stood up and walked over to within whispering distance.
"Nothing, though I think he's sizing me up," he said almost inaudibly.
Aeryn turned her attention away from him and focused on the prisoner. She'd caught him staring at her earlier as well. It would not be a giant leap of the imagination to think that Macton was planning something.
"What did Malot say," Jaron asked.
She nodded.
"The same thing you did when I told you," Aeryn said. "But he made no objection. We can proceed as planned."
Macton made no move to overhear what they were saying. He was busy plotting at the moment. A simple neck breaking would do for the young male. But something special was called for with Aeryn. The peacekeeper smiled.
"Then it's settled," Jaron replied. "Do you want me to stay with this one?"
Aeryn looked from him to Macton without ever changing her expression.
"No, go on ahead. I'll keep watch for now." She refused to lock eyes with her subordinate. "Notify me when we're within range."
Jaron nodded and headed out into the hallway. As he left, he swiped the remote sensor and the door slid down halfway. Aeryn smacked it from the inside, which did the trick.
She was alone with the monster.
John's head slammed against the back wall and he went down. Almost by instinct, his hand went back and felt warmth. He was bleeding.
"John Crichton, your crimes against the peacekeepers have been numerous," Mele-On Grayza said. Her voice was almost soothing. Like a snake whispering that it was about to consume its prey.
"Not to mention ambitious," she added. "I'd list them, but that might allow you some satisfaction before your death. I'd prefer to have you as you are."
The commandant looked down on him, a ruined figure ready to be put of its misery. She raised her pulse pistol and touched it lightly to his head.
John opened his eyes and managed a rough cough. He saw two people, Grayza and Harvey, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of him. The clone was yelling something but he couldn't quite make it out. Grayza was giving him his last rights.
'It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.'
He remembered the phrase from some far off place in the back of his mind. It swept itself further away with each moment that he gave up hope.
"I suppose you want to know what will come of your friends," Grayza said in a slightly angrier tone. There was menace under that calm exterior.
John shrugged and fell farther back against the floor.
"Ka D'Argo will most likely be dead very soon. A close personal friend will be arriving to speak with him shortly."
Grayza paused.
"As for the Nebari, she will be of great use to us. I imagine the doctors are taking her apart right now in search of their contagion."
She relished the look of anger that suddenly spread across her prisoner's face. There was supreme satisfaction in her knowing that John Crichton would die having failed in all his endeavors.
"As for the others, we'll find them soon enough. They'll be killed, perhaps imprisoned. It doesn't matter."
Without warning, John lunged forward and managed to wrap his grimy hands around the commandant's throat. He did this with such force that the two were thrown, in one intertwined heap, across the room and onto the metal table that adorned its center. Grayza landed first and screamed in agony. The first crack in her composure.
John, still holding her neck in his hands, lifted the commandant up and slammed her back down against the cold steel. As blood began trickling from her nose, Crichton grinned madly.
"Stop!" Grayza managed with little effect.
"Please Crichton! Stop!" she cried.
He slammed her again and then moved within inches of her wildly searching eyes. Saliva almost dripped from his open mouth.
"You're asking the wrong person!" He shouted. "John Crichton doesn't live here anymore!"
Harvey threw her off the table with one powerful push. Smiling, he jumped off it himself and stalked towards her.
Grayza stared at him and a look of horrified realization spread across her face. She felt for the pulse pistol and found it gone.
"Scorpius? That's impossible," she whispered. Her make-up was running.
Harvey shook his head.
"Not quite."
The control panel sparked with her last assault and then went blank altogether. Its little red buttons burned out and left the door effectively locked down.
Aeryn groaned and went back to it. Slipping her fingers under the panel's cover, she managed to pry it open and get at the tangle of wired beyond. Carefully, so as not to shock herself, she separated them.
It was in that moment that she sensed the movement behind her. Aeryn had considered more than once that Macton would try to escape. Adding to that his apparent fixation on her, she realized that the opportunity had presented itself.
Macton rose too eagerly from his chair. It fell back and clattered loudly against the worn metal floor. Reacting like a true soldier, he compensated by moving as quickly as possible. The peacekeeper threw himself with all his might and caught his prey seemingly unawares.
Aeryn felt the crushing blow of his body weight against hers and did the only thing she could. She flew forward and had her face plow into the control panel. Cables sparked and fried the mat of hair that partially blocked her way. It was not a good sensation.
Before she could pull back, Macton struck her again. Aeryn tasted blood in her mouth and began sinking to the floor.
Macton, very excited at this point, sent a vicious kick into Aeryn's back. When she screamed, he almost giggled. Things had turned out more fun than he'd anticipated.
Aeryn tried to take a deep breath but failed as her attacker hit again. She moaned in pain and reached out for the door controls. Her hand made it over the sensor but nothing happened. They were trapped together.
"What do you think of my idea so far?" Macton spat.
That was all she needed. Pooling all her strength, Aeryn pushed herself off the wall and straight into Macton's triumphant stance. Making contact across his legs, she sent him to the ground.
She did not speak a word in reply. Aeryn simply removed the pulse pistol from its holster and aimed it directly at Macton's chest.
Macton, hardly wounded, looked up and smiled at the bloodied woman in front of him. It had felt good, if only for a little while.
"What will D'Argo say?" he growled. "When you explain that you had to kill me now? How will he take the news?"
Aeryn stiffened her grip but did not fire. The frustrating weight of his words hit her and all she could do was sigh. Her pistol lowered.
"You're a dead man," she whispered.
Before Macton could say anything, the intercom burst to life.
"Aeryn, the prowlers are in position. You better get up here."
Aeryn spat blood and then turned to leave.
Harvey stopped moving as his opponent struggled to her feet. The knowledge that he could kill her swept through him like a drug.
"You're a neural clone?" Grayza said with more than a little excitement.
Her own thoughts turned back to scheming. There in front of her was a preserved mental clone of Scorpius. Grayza knew well that the real thing was too emotionally involved in his work to be effective. But a neural clone, devoid of passion or obsession, could be very valuable to her. Things would have to be handled just right.
"At your service, commandant," Harvey replied.
The clone's thoughts were of a much different kind. Searching relentlessly, he found John Crichton's consciousness hiding in the darkness of their dumpster. He pried the lid open and showed his host what had been done.
'Listen to me John! Look at what we can accomplish together. Even this foe is not too much for us. We will find your friends and rescue them. Because that's what you do, John. You're the hero in this tale. Now do your frelling job!'
Harvey felt Crichton growing stronger from within. But his human host was not quite ready yet. He'd have to deal with Grayza a little longer.
Grayza felt below her battered body and found the weapon she had been searching for. Raising it up, she aimed it at her new prize.
"Whatever you are, you belong to me now," she said. "Crichton is quite the lucky-
"Commandant!"
She looked up at the ceiling and located the comm system.
"What is it?" she growled.
"Your guest is arriving, sir."
Grayza smiled broadly. Her luck appeared to be improving as well.
"Thank you, lieuten-
"His ship is under attack, sir!"
Her smile disappeared.
Story by: Neuroscpr and Can
P19: 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.
He was used to this sort of thing. Any peacekeeper soldier was subjected to weeks of training in the areas of torture, interrogation, and imprisonment. He knew what to say, what not to say, and how to get himself killed. All the basics for this sort of thing.
His hair was once a shiny black but years of battle had taken care of that. Now the top of his head was frayed and gray. Uneven gaps marked where the stuff had been removed to get at some wound or another. It didn't really matter. Vanity doesn't go well with soldiering.
Macton's eyes were continuously narrow, watching everything around him as if through a camera. He always knew where the players were. The good ones and the bad ones.
He could see the woman, Aeryn they'd called her, standing off to the side with a somber expression on her face. There was more there than she let on. He'd seen enough young faces over the years to understand. Any face has a story to tell. This woman's was a tragedy.
She looked over at him then, their eyes meeting for no more than a microt or two. Such pain behind those eyes. And yet, a bit of warmth. Macton could see that she was not like the others. While they looked at him as a prisoner, she saw a monster. This Aeryn saw who he really was. A killer of innocents. Of family.
'You'll know what it feels like too. Just wait, I'll have you.'
As if hearing his own thoughts, Aeryn looked over again and matched his own ugly stare. Macton wondered what she was thinking now. Perhaps she'd kill him before this ordeal was over. The thought did not really trouble him. A pair of eyes like that need to shed some blood. It's what takes the warmth away.
"Don't get any ideas," Aeryn said.
If only she knew what ideas he was having. Macton relished her anger towards him. If, for only a moment even, she let that anger rise, he'd have his chance. Maybe they'd fight, or then again she might just shoot him. He said nothing in reply.
His uniform collar rubbed against the tender skin of his neck. It had turned red by now but he paid little attention. There would be time for healing later. First he would escape. Kill those eyes and all they held dear. Then he'd get a hot bath, maybe a female of less discriminating tastes.
Yes, that would be good.
If drinking had been a possibility, Harvey would have called his master's condition a 'drunken stupor.' However, the neural clone knew very well that there were no alcoholic beverages nearby to sate John Crichton's thirst. Nothing could.
"Please John, you need to stop this," he said. His voice grew ever closer to panic with each passing microt.
The human looked up through red-encircled eyes and grinned. At the moment, it was the idea that they were looking at each other that made him laugh. 'We're the same frelling person! He can't be looking at me.' Then again..
Footsteps could be heard coming from down the hall. A preface to the inevitable arrival of Commandant Mele-On Grayza. That could mean any number of things. As the two waited, the noise grew closer.
"Give me a reason, Harv."
The clone turned to his host again and frowned. Seeking a thread of sanity in Crichton's mind became more difficult in times like these. Harvey considered that they might need therapy.
"You want a reason to live," he said quietly.
John backed himself up against the wall and sought out purchase with his muddied fingers. He nodded vigorously all the while.
"A reason to keep fighting," the human said.
Harvey let his eyes wander back to the figure across the hall. He could just see the Luxan, sleeping uncomfortably on the floor. 'Perhaps a bit of friendly advi-
"I'm talking here!" John shouted. "Frell, I'm boring my own delusion."
"That is not it John, and you know it," Harvey said softly. An outburst might only serve to push Crichton over the edge. "Consider everything you'd be leaving behind."
The astronaut, 'Naw, I can't even call myself that anymore,' attempted a smile. "That's right, Harv," he said. "Play the Aeryn card again. It's been a real winner so far."
Before either of them could respond, the cell door slammed open. Metal crashed against metal and the entire room seemed to shake. John felt the shivers go up and down his spine. He wasn't sure if they made him feel more alive or dead.
"Get up Crichton!"
Grayza stepped into the cell with her pulse pistol drawn. She watched the human carefully and took notice when he remained on the ground. A less observant soldier might have taken his non-compliance as a protest. She saw only a broken man.
"You have nothing to fear now, John," she whispered sweetly. "It'll be over soon."
Aeryn walked up to the automatic door and swept her hand over the remote sensor. Several moments of strained silence followed. She shot a negative glance at the control and the door shot up about one-third of the way. The ex-peacekeeper wondered if it was not time to invest in a newer ship.
With a sharp smack to the sensor, the door opened all the way and revealed two men. Both appeared to be deep in thought, which troubled her. Peacekeeper soldiers were not known to be philosophers. Which left room for only one thing.
"What's wrong," she asked.
Jaron suddenly broke from his rigid gaze and looked up at her. A smile came to his face but was immediately replaced by the requisite blank look. He stood up and walked over to within whispering distance.
"Nothing, though I think he's sizing me up," he said almost inaudibly.
Aeryn turned her attention away from him and focused on the prisoner. She'd caught him staring at her earlier as well. It would not be a giant leap of the imagination to think that Macton was planning something.
"What did Malot say," Jaron asked.
She nodded.
"The same thing you did when I told you," Aeryn said. "But he made no objection. We can proceed as planned."
Macton made no move to overhear what they were saying. He was busy plotting at the moment. A simple neck breaking would do for the young male. But something special was called for with Aeryn. The peacekeeper smiled.
"Then it's settled," Jaron replied. "Do you want me to stay with this one?"
Aeryn looked from him to Macton without ever changing her expression.
"No, go on ahead. I'll keep watch for now." She refused to lock eyes with her subordinate. "Notify me when we're within range."
Jaron nodded and headed out into the hallway. As he left, he swiped the remote sensor and the door slid down halfway. Aeryn smacked it from the inside, which did the trick.
She was alone with the monster.
John's head slammed against the back wall and he went down. Almost by instinct, his hand went back and felt warmth. He was bleeding.
"John Crichton, your crimes against the peacekeepers have been numerous," Mele-On Grayza said. Her voice was almost soothing. Like a snake whispering that it was about to consume its prey.
"Not to mention ambitious," she added. "I'd list them, but that might allow you some satisfaction before your death. I'd prefer to have you as you are."
The commandant looked down on him, a ruined figure ready to be put of its misery. She raised her pulse pistol and touched it lightly to his head.
John opened his eyes and managed a rough cough. He saw two people, Grayza and Harvey, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of him. The clone was yelling something but he couldn't quite make it out. Grayza was giving him his last rights.
'It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.'
He remembered the phrase from some far off place in the back of his mind. It swept itself further away with each moment that he gave up hope.
"I suppose you want to know what will come of your friends," Grayza said in a slightly angrier tone. There was menace under that calm exterior.
John shrugged and fell farther back against the floor.
"Ka D'Argo will most likely be dead very soon. A close personal friend will be arriving to speak with him shortly."
Grayza paused.
"As for the Nebari, she will be of great use to us. I imagine the doctors are taking her apart right now in search of their contagion."
She relished the look of anger that suddenly spread across her prisoner's face. There was supreme satisfaction in her knowing that John Crichton would die having failed in all his endeavors.
"As for the others, we'll find them soon enough. They'll be killed, perhaps imprisoned. It doesn't matter."
Without warning, John lunged forward and managed to wrap his grimy hands around the commandant's throat. He did this with such force that the two were thrown, in one intertwined heap, across the room and onto the metal table that adorned its center. Grayza landed first and screamed in agony. The first crack in her composure.
John, still holding her neck in his hands, lifted the commandant up and slammed her back down against the cold steel. As blood began trickling from her nose, Crichton grinned madly.
"Stop!" Grayza managed with little effect.
"Please Crichton! Stop!" she cried.
He slammed her again and then moved within inches of her wildly searching eyes. Saliva almost dripped from his open mouth.
"You're asking the wrong person!" He shouted. "John Crichton doesn't live here anymore!"
Harvey threw her off the table with one powerful push. Smiling, he jumped off it himself and stalked towards her.
Grayza stared at him and a look of horrified realization spread across her face. She felt for the pulse pistol and found it gone.
"Scorpius? That's impossible," she whispered. Her make-up was running.
Harvey shook his head.
"Not quite."
The control panel sparked with her last assault and then went blank altogether. Its little red buttons burned out and left the door effectively locked down.
Aeryn groaned and went back to it. Slipping her fingers under the panel's cover, she managed to pry it open and get at the tangle of wired beyond. Carefully, so as not to shock herself, she separated them.
It was in that moment that she sensed the movement behind her. Aeryn had considered more than once that Macton would try to escape. Adding to that his apparent fixation on her, she realized that the opportunity had presented itself.
Macton rose too eagerly from his chair. It fell back and clattered loudly against the worn metal floor. Reacting like a true soldier, he compensated by moving as quickly as possible. The peacekeeper threw himself with all his might and caught his prey seemingly unawares.
Aeryn felt the crushing blow of his body weight against hers and did the only thing she could. She flew forward and had her face plow into the control panel. Cables sparked and fried the mat of hair that partially blocked her way. It was not a good sensation.
Before she could pull back, Macton struck her again. Aeryn tasted blood in her mouth and began sinking to the floor.
Macton, very excited at this point, sent a vicious kick into Aeryn's back. When she screamed, he almost giggled. Things had turned out more fun than he'd anticipated.
Aeryn tried to take a deep breath but failed as her attacker hit again. She moaned in pain and reached out for the door controls. Her hand made it over the sensor but nothing happened. They were trapped together.
"What do you think of my idea so far?" Macton spat.
That was all she needed. Pooling all her strength, Aeryn pushed herself off the wall and straight into Macton's triumphant stance. Making contact across his legs, she sent him to the ground.
She did not speak a word in reply. Aeryn simply removed the pulse pistol from its holster and aimed it directly at Macton's chest.
Macton, hardly wounded, looked up and smiled at the bloodied woman in front of him. It had felt good, if only for a little while.
"What will D'Argo say?" he growled. "When you explain that you had to kill me now? How will he take the news?"
Aeryn stiffened her grip but did not fire. The frustrating weight of his words hit her and all she could do was sigh. Her pistol lowered.
"You're a dead man," she whispered.
Before Macton could say anything, the intercom burst to life.
"Aeryn, the prowlers are in position. You better get up here."
Aeryn spat blood and then turned to leave.
Harvey stopped moving as his opponent struggled to her feet. The knowledge that he could kill her swept through him like a drug.
"You're a neural clone?" Grayza said with more than a little excitement.
Her own thoughts turned back to scheming. There in front of her was a preserved mental clone of Scorpius. Grayza knew well that the real thing was too emotionally involved in his work to be effective. But a neural clone, devoid of passion or obsession, could be very valuable to her. Things would have to be handled just right.
"At your service, commandant," Harvey replied.
The clone's thoughts were of a much different kind. Searching relentlessly, he found John Crichton's consciousness hiding in the darkness of their dumpster. He pried the lid open and showed his host what had been done.
'Listen to me John! Look at what we can accomplish together. Even this foe is not too much for us. We will find your friends and rescue them. Because that's what you do, John. You're the hero in this tale. Now do your frelling job!'
Harvey felt Crichton growing stronger from within. But his human host was not quite ready yet. He'd have to deal with Grayza a little longer.
Grayza felt below her battered body and found the weapon she had been searching for. Raising it up, she aimed it at her new prize.
"Whatever you are, you belong to me now," she said. "Crichton is quite the lucky-
"Commandant!"
She looked up at the ceiling and located the comm system.
"What is it?" she growled.
"Your guest is arriving, sir."
Grayza smiled broadly. Her luck appeared to be improving as well.
"Thank you, lieuten-
"His ship is under attack, sir!"
Her smile disappeared.
