Ray of Smoke

by Tassos

COMPLETE: Ten cycles in the future, Moya returns to Earth, only John's not aboard. Extra's include political intrigue, family angst and a descision that will tear John apart.

3. Battlefield Moya

Ray of Smoke
by Tassos

Part Three is dedicated to my friends who encouraged me while I panicked and were patient with me when I left them to write in the library, even without understanding why the hell I'm doing this or even what it's about exactly. (Et non, je ne vais pas la traduire!)



Ray of Smoke
**************************************************
**************************************************
Part 3: Battlefield Moya
**************************************************
**************************************************
Chapter 1: M*oya's A*erial S*ort of a H*ospital
**************************************************
**************************************************



"I need bandages!" John couldn't think farther than stopping the blood. His leather coat was all but useless for staunching Aeryn's shoulder wound. She was unconscious too, but a quick eye check promised no major head damage from the fall. But the blood loss worried him.

The objective part of his brain told John that the transport pod was both noisy and crowded. He saw DK through several pairs of legs sitting stunned and out of breath on the floor. Louder shouts pulsed around him, one sounded like D'argo over the comm, but John barely noticed. Right now his head had space for only one thought.

"Chiana!" he shouted. Aeryn's blood pooled around his knees; under his fingers her pulse grew weaker. The thud of the aid kit dropping beside him came none too soon with Chiana just behind. Quickly, the Nebari helped him replace his coat with a compress.

"How bad?" she asked breathlessly.

"Dunno. She's losing blood." John rummaged one handed through the aid kit for the syringe of blood clotters. Finding it, he emptied it into Aeryn's collarbone. Now there was nothing more to do except keep pressure on the wound until they got to Zhaan's apothecary. Nothing but frelling wait.

"John, are you there?" D'argo's voice finally penetrated the haze of his mind.

"Aeryn's hit," he lost no time telling the Luxan. "Looks bad so tell Jool to be ready when we land."

"What the frell happened down there?"

"We were attacked by a news van."

"Some of the Humans were shot too," added Chiana.

"Humans?"

"We've got a podfull with us." John glanced around. Shock was settling in among the scientists and politicians. Arguments, tears, and in some cases blank silence mixed with the moans of pain from those wounded. No one knew who to turn to. Chiana, also looking around, patted his shoulder then rose with the aid kit to help those hurt. John turned back to Aeryn's pale face, silently praying to gods he didn't believe in for her to be okay.

The trip to Moya was short; to John it didn't seem long before the docking web hauled them into the hangar where D'argo was waiting at the bottom of the steps. Together they rushed Aeryn to the apothecary where Jool shot questions at John as she hooked up monitors and a blood transfusion for the downed ex-Peacekeeper. He answered as best he could while he watched, helplessly holding onto a slack hand.

It had happened so fast - but then it always took just one moment for things to spin wildly out of control. As soon as Chiana had uttered her warning, John had stopped thinking and simply reacted. Now, standing still while Jool worked, the adrenaline high that had gotten him through the last twenty minutes suddenly crashed, leaving John feeling empty. The bitter taste of betrayal settled on his tongue - having half-expected it only made it worse. And now Aeryn had paid the price for his misplaced trust.

He closed his eyes. "Just tell me I didn't kill her again," he said.

He could hear Jool and D'argo breathing and the noise of the approaching Humans in the corridor.

A beat. "You didn't kill her," said Jool.

The wave of relief was almost too much for John to bear, but nevertheless the weight of guilt eased somewhat. Reluctantly, he moved aside at Jool's prodding so she could get at the shoulder and let D'argo shove him onto a stool.

"Here," the Luxan handed him a wet cloth before going back to help Jool. Accepting it, John noticed the blood on his hands for the first time. More blood. And they'd been so close to leaving in peace this time.

John had just begun cleaning himself up when the noise from the corridor burst into the apothecary. The shell-shocked escort followed Fil and Medri in, clamoring for doctors and explanations. "Crichton! Crichton!" he recognized Oursler bearing down on him, followed by Regie and his father - Dad was here? Here and apparently not wounded, he saw with relief. "Crichton, what the hell is going on?! Why did you bring us here? I want explanations and I want them now, you hear me?!" shouted Oursler.

"Director -" Regie laid a hand on Oursler's shoulder that was roughly shaken away.

"No! This man was throwing grenades and I want a goddamned explanation!"

"And what the frell was I supposed to do?!" John shook off his momentary surprise and jumped to his feet. "Let them kill us?!"

"You *murdered* them!!"

"I seem to remember them attacking us first! It was self defense and you'd be dead if we hadn't fought back!"

"You -"

"Everyone not bleeding get the frell out!" Jool interrupted. "OUT!" She stamped her foot and pointed at the door.

"I'll not be ordered around -"

"GET OUT!" D'argo's roar silenced the room. Oursler stared slack-jawed up at all of D'argo's seven feet for the first time. With a last wide-eyed look at John, the Director let Regie pull him away.

"Son?" His father looked at him with compassion but also the same expression he'd worn each time John had tried to sneak in after curfew, his first car accident, and every other teenage transgression that had betrayed his father's trust.

John turned away. He finished wiping the blood away angry at Oursler for being stupid, angry at his Dad for not understanding, and angry at himself that he ever thought he could go back to Earth.

"John, please," his Dad tried again.

"Not now," he said harshly, throwing the rag on the table. He wanted neither lecture nor comfort. A hand on his back made him start, but it was only Chiana with Winona. Grimly, he accepted his weapon and strapped her to his leg.



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




Of all the people they'd brought onto Moya, the Humans were, in Medri's opinion among the most curious. They were more subdued now that their comrades were being looked after, the panic replaced by acceptance for the moment. For a non-stellar society they were handling the situation well. A handful still had that wild look of terror of the unknown in their eyes but the others kept them close while they murmured to each other about Moya. Medri supposed discovery was a way of escaping the reality of their situation.

"This way, you frelling coclemied welnitz!" Filalla's sudden loud shout brought the group up short, the Humans falling silent as suddenly as a comm cutting off. Craning his neck over heads, Medri saw the three legged man pulling one of the Humans back from a wrong turn. He could practically feel their guests holding their collective breath as they watched the scene, the calm a microt before melting into tension. The poor things couldn't understand a single word they spoke and it didn't help that, while Filalla was shorter than most of the Humans, he was still terrifying when he was as angry as he was now.

"Follow. Me." Fil enunciated carefully, poking his chest on each word for emphasis. The Human smiled weakly and nodded, eyes wide and scared. "Idiot," Fil muttered then turned back down the main tier. Tentatively and with another growl from Filalla, the Humans followed. They passed through another tier before they resumed their quiet chatter in relief.

"I thought he was going to shoot him or something," one of the men in front of Medri said quietly.

"Me too. It's so nerve wracking not knowing what's going on," his companion replied. "At least at Canaveral we knew they wouldn't hurt us, but after what happened and what the director said...it's all different now. Like playing with fire."

Medri snorted. In his experience, just about *everything* was like playing with fire. The two men turned in surprise and stopped suddenly when they saw him, apprehension on their faces. Giving them both a soft push to get them walking again Medri said, "I'm not going to eat you," which only made them flinch. Right, couldn't understand; they thought he was going to eat them anyway. "This is ridiculous. Pilot, can we get some DRD's with microbes down here?" The two men were glancing over their shoulders at him every few microts. Medri tried smiling to reassure them but it didn't seem to help. Instead it made him feel like a moron with defective children.

Didn't they have interspecies cultures different of their own? Every planet did, or at least had factions of some sort. Of course, looking at his own planet where the Blues had been fighting the Yellows for millennia even after they'd gone out into space, Medri really couldn't fault them for being afraid. He himself had been a partisan, fighting against the Blue government in the streets of Moran for the better part of his life until the Nebari Takeover had changed everything. He'd rallied mobs, helped organize coups d'etats, and been a twisting knife in the foot of the authorities in general.

Sometimes a leader would pop up calling for cooperation but Medri had never believed in it, hadn't even wanted to try until the Takeover. Who knew? The common Nebari threat had temporarily united his people, maybe it would last. An idle wish, he knew. Not after the new joint government had exiled almost everyone who'd put it in place, including him. Three cycles and Medri still wanted to pound the Senate into the concrete for it. He'd lost everything: power, respect, the only home he'd ever known, his meager family. He had been broken by the news of his exile, after everything he'd done, the difficulties of working with Blues and off-worlders, the loss; he didn't know what would have become of him if Chiana hadn't offered to take him with her to Moya.

He'd thought it was another planet under the Nebari's heavy hand that he had no desire to help liberate. But Chiana had tilted her head in that way of hers when he'd asked. "She's a leviathan," she'd told him. "I guess she's home. The closest I'll ever find anyway," which had surprised Medri. Chiana had been a part of the Resistance when he'd met her and she'd clearly been around the galaxy a few times. He hadn't thought her the type to call anyplace home, much less a ship where order was the norm. When he'd asked if the captain would take him, she'd laughed. "All of them will take you, at least the ones that count." With nowhere else to go, he'd followed her on that slim recommendation. He'd been shocked at first by the flotsam and utter chaos - his own gang was better organized - but he didn't regret it.

As they reached tier 21, one of the tiers outfitted for refugees, a commotion up by Filalla jolted Medri back to the present and the little party to a halt. "They're gonna kill us!" "Watch your feet!" "They sting!" The DRD's had arrived. Medri rolled his eyes then quickly grabbed a pair of Humans trying to run back the way they'd come. He managed to hold them still long enough for them to be injected before they broke away shouting. Medri let them go. They wouldn't get far if they ran since he'd locked the last door they'd come through. But they didn't run, merely pressed themselves against the bulkhead, staring at Medri with a mix of resignation and fear. He thought they looked silly. One of them was one of the two he'd scared earlier.

"I told you I'm not going to eat you," he told them, a slight smile dancing across his mouth. The two stared then looked at each other, then back at Medri. "And you're not going to die; it was just microbes." They continued to stare stupidly.

"Um... You're speaking..."

"And you understand. That's generally what translator microbes do." Medri glanced towards the rest of the group. They'd calmed as well, no longer terrified. Many smiled in relief at their unbased fear, taking comfort like John often did in humor. Up at the very front however Fil was shouting with someone, their two voices carrying easily down the corridor. Filalla was winning.

"I don't frelling care if it was not authorized by *you*!" His friend overrode the Human's argument forcing him to shut up. "We need to frelling communicate and thanks to *you*, Aeryn is bleeding to death and John has definitely had enough correllious dren for one day - I will not ask him to waste his time translating! So don't you dare accuse me of breaking any frelling agreement! That was done by *you* before we left the damn surface! So you will shut up and listen while I explain how the frelling door works!!!"

The other blustered but Fil quickly and loudly cut him off. "Either you shut up or you won't see the outside of a cell until you leave! And I won't waste any food on you either."

The negotiator, Reginard, pulled the other back. "I'm sure that won't be necessary," he said, placatingly. "Mr. Oursler was simply surprised. It has been a trying day."

"Make whatever excuses you want. He yells again and I'll throw him out an airlock myself. He wants to talk to us, he talks through you. Is that understood?"

"Absolutely," Reginard nodded. "Now, I believe you were going to explain the
door."

Following his lead, the Humans all looked at the cell door next to Fil and quietly listened while he showed them how it worked. Communication or dictation, Medri shrugged to himself as his friend began the same speech they gave the refugees. Filalla certainly had a way with people.



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



Rhia hurt. Her stomach clenched, her chest burned, and her eyes stung but she didn't want to cry. That was for babies. She was older and braver and besides, Seth wasn't crying anymore so she couldn't start now in front of everyone. No, she had to eat like normal. Except nothing was normal now.

"I don't like these things," she declared, stabbing savagely at the fried vegetables with her fork. They tasted old and sour in her mouth after weekens of eating them, even fried. And they were on a *gray* plate which didn't help the taste.

"Rhia, just eat." Dad sighed beside her. He looked at her tiredly until she shifted her death grip then turned toward his other side. "Seth, use your fork." He put said utensil into her brother's greasy hand. Rhia watched him and Dad, D'argo and Emmerit, Chiana and Essor. All of them ate as if it was normal. Her stomach knotted in protest.

"I don't like them!" she repeated louder this time.

"Rhia, eat. We'll trade for new food with Earth before we leave, all right?"

"No! I won't eat it!" The burning pounded till she could hardly breathe.

"Rhia," Dad set his fork down but she didn't wait for him to finish.

"Never! I hate Earth! I hate Humans! An' I'll never eat their frelling food!" Needing to scream, strike, anything before she exploded, Rhia grabbed her plate and flung it as hard as she could at Dad, because somehow it was all his fault. Then she ran, sobbing in pain because nothing was right: Mama was wounded bad, the stupid Humans who were supposed to be good were bad, everyone was eating as if it was all right, and it was old food off a gray plate!

Rhia couldn't see through the tears that burned down her cheeks, but it didn't matter. Her cries echoed strangely off Moya's ribs while she searched for a place to hide. Everything hurt inside and it would never get any better. Never! Because it was all *wrong*!

She didn't know when or where she finally collapsed from exhaustion, just that her fists hurt wonderfully from pounding the floor in frustration. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair, she sobbed. Dad's shirt had had blood on it, so had Chiana's. Mama was hurt and unconscious and might never wake up like Edinnal. The Humans were her Dad's people but they were nothing like him. They were stupid and mean and...and..., they were!

"Shh," a hand on her back gently curved to pull her close. Rhia was too tired to resist and instead latched onto her Dad with what little strength she had left. It was easier to cry into his shoulder than Moya's floor. Wrapped in his arms she felt safe. The burning eased but the holes were still tearing her to shreds. "Shhh. It's all right," he crooned. "It'll be all right." He repeated it softly and just held her while she sobbed her heart onto his sleeve.

Time stilled and her emotions lay like a weight over them while she cried, too thick to move. Why was everything so wrong again? Dad's soothing voice eased the rage Rhia didn't want to let go of. She *wanted* the pain and the misery, to fight against the peace he offered, but she found in the end she didn't have the strength, and her sobs softened into hiccups.

"Why do the Humans hate us?" she demanded when she caught her breath enough to ask. "Is it 'cause we're different?"

"Some of them," Dad answered. He brushed her hair out of her face with a gentle hand. "But not all the Humans hate us."

"But they shot Mama!"

"And they shot at the Humans with us. Humans aren't all the same, Rhia." He hugged her close rubbing her back. Rhia wiped her eyes with a corner of his sleeve. "It's like the Nebari or the Peacekeepers," Dad went on. "They've done some pretty terrible things. But does that make Mama or Chiana bad?"

Rhia thought about it. She thought about the refugees she'd seen on Moya, battered and chased from their homes by the war. Emmerit had lost her home because of the Peacekeepers, Medri his because of the Nebari. But he loved Chiana anyway. And Mama would never hurt defenseless people, ever! And she'd been a Peacekeeper.

"No," she finally answered. "But *why* would they would want to be mean like that?" Rhia didn't get it. They weren't at war; they were Dad's people!

"I don't know, baby," Dad sighed. "They have their reasons, I'm sure. Fear maybe."

Rhia cuddled closer, tired of everything. Dad didn't say anymore. It still wasn't fair, but the burning rage had drained away with her tears. They sat together in the corridor for some time, Dad's hand on her forehead soothing away the rest of everything.

"John," his comm broke the silence.

"Yeah, Jool." Rhia looked up at Dad who in turn looked down at her. It was about Mama.

"Aeryn's waking up. You can come see her for a few minutes if you'd like."

A smile split Dad's face. "We'll be right there," he said. Rhia suddenly felt light as air, tired but ready to fly because Mama had woken up. Maybe things would be okay after all. She scrambled to her feet and looked down at Dad who was still sitting. She offered him a hand up which he accepted saying, "What do you say we go find Seth?"



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



A throbbing pain welcomed Aeryn back to consciousness. It emanated from her left shoulder, behind her eyes, and just about everywhere else. All in all, it was bearable; she'd certainly had worse.

From the hum, she was back on Moya which was a relief. She'd woken up injured in too many strange places, most not holding the best of intentions toward her, for her to be comfortable anywhere else. She still hated being wounded, always would, but at least she didn't have to think of escape plans at the same time. Thinking was not a good idea at the moment.

"Aeryn?" It took her a microt to recognize Jool's voice but with the question came another level of awareness. Little noises of people moving, cloth rustling, various machinery, the drip of water. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to open them. Once she succeeded, she closed them again - the light hurt. She tried again, and this time the gold-skinned Interion came into focus above her.

Speaking was more difficult; her first attempt grated on her dry throat. Gratefully, she accepted the water Jool offered. "John?" she finally managed.

"He's on his way. He wasn't hurt," Jool told her. Aeryn closed her eyes again, this time in relief. "Chiana and Filalla are fine too."

"The vehicle?" Aeryn remembered it bearing down on them, and her pulling out an explosive, but she had been hit before she could throw it. Afterwards everything went black - the source of her headache she imagined.

"I think John destroyed it. One of the Humans was yelling at him about it." Aeryn frowned, puzzled. "The ones with you on the landing pad are all on Moya. Five of them are wounded," Jool explained. "How does your shoulder feel?"

"Hurts, but not bad." Jool made a sound that was probably disbelief, but she didn't have time to interrogate further because just then two sets of small footsteps pattered through the door.

"Mama!" Aeryn turned and smiled when she saw her children running towards her, John following just behind. He'd shed his coat and vest and looked tired but nonetheless happy to see her awake. He and Jool helped the kids up onto stools on her uninjured side of the high examining table.

"Are you okay?" asked Seth as soon as he was installed. "Dad says Jool says you'll be okay." He gingerly touched her hand, his forehead pinched with worry.

Aeryn smiled. "I'm doing better now that you're here." She still hurt, but knowing her family was safe was enough to dull the pain.

"Dad killed the bad Humans for you," put in Rhia. "And there's good Humans here now." Her eyes and nose were red from crying, and Aeryn wanted nothing more than to hold her close. Instead she settled for taking her hand and giving it a weak squeeze.

"Are there? You'll have to tell me about them since I don't think Jool will let me go soon," she said. "But I'll be better in a few days."

"Really?"

"Really," Aeryn smiled. Rhia bent and hugged her arm. Seth too leaned in for a handhold, imitating his sister. John stepped forward and laid a hand on each of their backs murmuring, "Gently, gently."

"I love you, Mama!"

"I love you, too."

"Come on," said John. "Mama needs her sleep. And so do you." He eased the pair back but they were reluctant to let her go.

"I'll be here in the morning," she said. "Now go get ready for bed. No arguments." Surprisingly, they didn't offer any. When she looked at him, John gave her only a tiny smile as he ushered them away.

"Go finish supper with Chiana, then pj's and dentics. I'll be by to tuck you in, okay?"

"Night, Mama." The pair waved like two lost urchins, walking backward out of the apothecary.

John watched them go, turning to Aeryn only when they were out of sight. "They were real worried about you," he said. He looked down and paused before going on. "Aeryn, I'm sorry for all this. If -"

"John," she cut him off before he could start blaming himself out loud. "It's done. There were no guarantees." She waited till he looked at her then opened her hand which he gently took into his.

"Are you in pain?"

Aeryn considered it and shook her head. "I'll live."

"Don't play the stoic soldier with me."

"Really, I'm all right. I'm tired."

"I'm staying right here." He squeezed her good hand; his was warm and comforting where hers was cold. Aeryn closed her eyes and let herself drift to sleep. They had time to talk later.



******************************
******************************
Chapter 2: Carnival Mirrors
******************************
******************************



The conference room was in an uproar when President Landers walked in. Secretary of State Andrew Clermont and Secretary of Homeland Defense Brian Wheeler were each talking with their people, voices rising and papers shuffling anxiously back and forth. A few generals from the Pentagon were also there, as well as Locher from IASA, and most of Landers' own staff. Each group drowned out the others while they competed with ringing cell phones.

Perhaps the most disturbing part of the chaos before him was the sight of Lewis Sheinson in his shirtsleeves with his tie loosened around his neck. His aide hadn't looked this harried since the embassy attack in Pakistan had sent him running all over Capitol Hill. He was presently standing in a corner of the conference room talking on his cell phone while he worked his Palm Pilot which he had hooked up to the hardworking printer.

"Mr. President." The two words brought the room to a halt as everyone turned to look at Landers. Then like a freeze frame released back into motion, there was a flurry of rearranging and last minute paper shuffling - Lewis scooped up his printouts and, with Richard's help, rapidly sorted them into folders, one of which landed in front of the president, blue as usual.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Landers began after his people finally settled into their seats, "I have gotten some very mixed reports in the last half hour and some worried phone calls from our partners overseas." Across from him, Clermont nodded in agreement. "The press is calling for the heads of just about everyone involved with IASA and specifically the US Government. Now I want answers." He made eye contact with the serious faces listening to him. "What happened, how, and what we are facing now. Locher, let's start with you."

To the left, the IASA liaison cleared his throat and stood up. "Mr. President, preliminary reports from Canaveral - eyewitness accounts and distance news footage - show a breach in press security. The perpetrators hijacked a news van, bluffed their way past the secondary perimeter around the runway and opened fire on our departing guests. The sentry that let them by said they showed authentic looking documents permitting them within two hundred meters of the aliens. He gave a description of the men to the police who are currently running them through local, federal, and international databases. They should have more evidence for the investigation once the remains of the van cool down." He paused, pulled out a folder and passed it to Landers. A quick look showed it was a copy of the report with the details. He'd read it later. Locher continued when he looked up.

"The escort headed by Director Oursler and Thomas Reginard took refuge in the alien shuttle when the van opened fire. We believe there were wounded; we know that the alien woman, Erin Sun, was shot. John Crichton destroyed the van and its occupants with some sort of explosive he had on his person then boarded the shuttle, which then took off immediately at 6:14 PM. IASA has been trying to contact Moya since the attack, but they're not answering."

"All the people on the runway are now on Moya?"

"Yes, sir." Locher motioned to the report. "There is a complete list there. Among them, IASA Director Phil Oursler; the First Contact Team liaisons Thomas Reginard from the State Department, Jeremy Seymore from IASA, and Michel Soutien from the EU. Eight other IASA personnel, seven diplomats - two US, the rest foreign - and Jack Crichton, John Crichton's father."

"The Canadian, French, Russian, German, and Japanese embassies have been calling us non-stop demanding action," added Clermont. "The other IASA member countries are also holding us responsible for the breach in security. Everyone wants their people back on Earth a.s.a.p., but I don't know what we can do until Crichton talks to us. Everyone I've spoken to is on edge, especially since Crichton blew up the van. Added to the intergalactic war he brought us that sounds as fanciful as 'Star Wars', people are wondering what his real intentions are and if he's even Human. The good faith that started this has cracked and is disintegrating as we speak. If we don't get results soon, we're *really* going to have a crisis on our hands."

Silence met Clermont's words. Looking at him, Landers read the seriousness of the situation on his friend's face and wished everything could have just gone right for once. The world did not need this now. Disconnected as they incident might be from geopolitics, the ramifications would no less shake the balance and web of trust that held the nations of the world in peace. Who knew how the Middle East would react to another failing of the Great Capitalist Nation; the new arms treaty would probably fall apart as a result, a piece of paper they desperately needed.

"Do we know where the shooters came from?" asked Landers.

"We're still looking into it. We should know soon," said Wheeler. "If it is a terrorist group, they'll probably claim responsibility. But with all the unrest, they could just as easily have been unaffiliated Americans."

"What about Crichton? How did he get past security armed?"

"To be honest, we didn't thoroughly screen Crichton or the aliens," said Locher. "They were skittish enough as it was, and we were more concerned with threats from the protesters. After all their demands, no one thought they would betray the conditions by bringing weapons. In my opinion, they would have left without using them. It was just another precaution."

"Opinions won't convince the press," muttered Richard. Landers could only agree.

"I want to know as soon as Crichton responds. He is going to explain himself one way or another." Paranoid son-of-a-bitch had just lost him a lot of good will and Landers didn't plan of forgiving him. "What else do I need to know?"




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



Reginard was proud of his little group and thanked God he was with IASA personnel and diplomats, people who were trained to deal with crises. The situation, however bizarre and unprecedented, had only cracked three people: Oursler, a junior diplomat from Canada on his second assignment, and one young woman with IASA. After the scene earlier, each one had been assigned a buddy to make sure they stayed separated and calm. Reginard didn't want any more outbursts complicating issues, especially from Oursler. The threat earlier hadn't looked like a bluff, and even if it was, he had no intention of calling it.

Reginard and the fifty-year-old flight director, Tony Prow, had taken charge of the group now assembled in one of the four large rooms on their hallway. Filalla had informed them that they were locked in, so to take their minds off the imprisonment and restore a feeling a control, they had called a meeting to organize the household, so to speak. Looking down at the notes on his left arm - the scientists of course had pens but no paper - Reginard wondered how long they would have to stay here. One of the many questions on the list. God, he hoped they saw Crichton soon. He tried not to be prejudiced, but the aliens frankly unnerved him.

Pulling his thoughts together, he turned back to the matter at hand. But before Reginard could announce the final list of room assignments, Filalla and the leopard spotted man walked in, each carrying a tray. The Human group watched in silence as the aliens brought what appeared to be food to the table next to Reginard - where he suddenly found himself under a pair of curious stares. Filalla's eyes squinted and he hunched forward slightly as if he was looking for a speck of dirt. Reginard had to force himself not to squirm under the close inspection. Finally, the alien straightened and looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. He exchanged a glance with his companion who just gave him a puzzled shrug, then said, "You know you could have just written on the floor."

Startled in spite of himself, Reginard stepped back a little to re-establish his personal space. "We were not aware of your customs."

"I don't write on the floor either but it's better than my skin," Filalla said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We usually use chips. Don't you use real paper? John does when he can find it."

"Yes." Reginard was a little embarrassed. "We unfortunately don't have any paper and we didn't want to sully the ship," he explained. "Is there any available, you could get for us?"

"I'll ask," the alien shrugged slowly, his shoulders rolling oddly under his shirt. The strange gesture was disconcerting. "Supper," Filalla waved a hand at the trays. Reginard looked away from him toward the unrecognizable food. Sci-fi visions of raw, wriggly worms popped into his head but this looked safe enough, cooked at least. The hand-sized pieces were off-white, but he couldn't tell if it was animal or vegetable.

"You eat it. And don't worry, we wouldn't waste food poisoning you." Reginard looked up startled by the new voice: the leopard spotted alien had spoken for the first time. He seemed amused. Looking around, Reginard realized that they had all been staring at the food as if they had never seen its like before. They hadn't in many ways, he thought defensively, glancing back at the food. Well, here it goes. He picked up a piece with his fingers since there were no forks and, before he could think about it, took a bite. It tasted fried with a slight orangey tang mixed with something else he couldn't describe. It was definitely *not* chicken.

"It's good," he smiled politely and took another bite. It really wasn't that bad, if a bit unusual.

Filalla snorted. "Taste's like dren if you ask me."

"You're only sick of it because we've been eating it for a monen," his companion retorted.

Reassured by Reginard's approval, the group of Humans came up in twos and threes for their own portions. "You're not going to eat us for variety's sake are you?" one of the IASA men suddenly asked. There was a pause; everyone turned to the aliens.

"Anything's edible fried," said the leopard man seriously. A shot of panic stabbed through Reginard, but before it could settle, a wicked grin revealing yellow tinted teeth spread across the alien's face. And to his surprise, the IASA engineer's as well.

"Edible if you're Rygel," Filalla grumbled, turning to leave.

Seeing his chance to get answers leaving, Reginard hurriedly crossed the room to their departing hosts. "Wait! Please wait, sir." When Filalla turned back around he added, "I'd like just a minute of your time."

"It's late. We'll talk in the morning," said Filalla. He started to move off again but Reginard hurried after him.

"No. We need to make a few things clear," he pressed on. "Are we prisoners here?"

"Technically?" the alien sighed, stopped, and turned. "No. Practically, we're locking you on the tier for the late watch because you outnumber us. But we do that with just about everybody whose not paying us for transport. Nothing against you except the attack. We'll see about the morning."

"Who will make that decision? The captain?"

"We'll put it to a vote," he shrugged and turned to go again, but Reginard laid a restraining hand on his arm that he quickly snatched back again. The skin was cold and clammy. Filalla looked at him with a fierce gaze.

"Enough of this. I'm going to sleep," the leopard alien broke the staring contest by walking between them towards the door. Watching him go, Reginard glanced at his watch. It was only seven.

"What do you mean a vote?" he turned back to Filalla. From the way the gray alien stared at him, he had just dropped a few notches on the list of intelligent life forms.

"A vote: everyone chooses either yes or no."

Letting it go, Reginard moved on. "I'd like to see our wounded."

"In the morning. Jool says they'll live. That it?" Filalla leaned forward to scratch his middle knee. Watching him, a shiver ran down Reginard's back and he was reminded just exactly where he was.

"Yes, for now. I'll see you in the morning?" he asked.

All he got in answer was another rolling shrug. "Maybe." Filalla turned down the hallway then without a backward glance. The door was still open from the other's departure. Reginard watched him walk through it on his three legs, then as it closed and the light turned red. One of the little yellow robots was staring at him. Unnerved, Reginard returned to his blessedly normal Humans.




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



Jack couldn't sleep. Old bones and tangled thoughts kept his eyes searching the curved ceiling for answers that remained in the unfamiliar shadows. Life was never simple, Jack knew that, but lost in its complexity he felt like he was floundering in deep water. In his mind's eye, he kept seeing John throw that damn grenade at the van, over and over again, without a flicker of emotion on his face. He saw John turn away from him in the medical bay and buckle the gun around his waist as if it naturally belonged there. He didn't want to think about it or consider what it meant, but his old brain wouldn't let the images go.

His hopes of a happy reunion had been destroyed along with the news van, and he hadn't even realized it at first. John had had every reason to fight back, he'd told himself. *They* had opened fire first on a peaceful delegation; Aeryn was one of the wounded, it had been self-defense. But his arguments, reasonable at first, fell flat the more he thought about it, sounding like a bunch of excuses.

Beneath was something Jack didn't want to touch but that nonetheless struggled to surface. *Why* had John been armed in the first place for a peaceful mission? How did he explain the cold face that didn't even bother to look back? The questions roiled in Jack's stomach as he slowly came to understand that he no longer knew his son. And it hurt, worse than when he thought him dead because the hole that had begun to heal with John's return was suddenly ripped anew, leaving raw, jagged edges.

He'd believed another John had come home, one who would pop over for the afternoon to tell him about the latest on the Farscape Project and end up staying for diner and the game on TV. A John who hated guns and didn't wear black leather like some Hell's Angel. One who would never dream of actually killing another Human being as if it were part of the goddamned daily routine! It wasn't fair of God, Jack thought bitterly, to give him his son back just to have him be the kind of person Jack and Leslie raised him not to be. From the hour they had spent together, Jack had believed that everything would work itself out, but now he felt nothing but biting disappointment and a wellspring of grief. Jack feared the son he had lost was truly dead.

He closed his eyes against the hailstorm of condemning images. Why, goddammit? Why had he been armed? Even if the change had saved his life, it was nothing like his John.

Sighing in frustration, Jack rolled onto his side - and came face to face with a little girl not five feet away. She crouched by the wall with an adult's t-shirt pulled over her knees. Her black hair tumbled messily over her shoulders, and she watched him with clear blue eyes that made Jack's breath catch. Except for the hair color, she looked much as Melanie had as a child. There could be no mistake he was looking at his granddaughter, Rhia. She was beautiful.

"Hello there," he said quietly.

She didn't break eye contact, didn't move in fact, simply continued to watch him. Jack met her eyes and smiled to reassure her, enchanted. Her angelic face held a serious expression it wasn't quite comfortable with, but that was endearing nevertheless. Jack didn't know what she saw, but he didn't want her to be afraid.

"You're my grandfather," she stated clearly after a few moments. "Jack."

"And you must be Rhia," he replied. "It's an honor to finally meet you." She blinked once but didn't say anything. Jack wondered for a second if she had heard him but decided to let her take her time.

"I have parents, but I've never had a grandfather before," she finally said. "Did you?"

Surprised by the odd statement, Jack nodded, "I sure did."

"Dad says he has two sisters and I have Human cousins. Do you know them?" Rhia went on.

"Yes, I do." Jack smiled. He thought of his grandsons and wondered how they would react to the girl before him. "They're all boys. Robert and Ben are 14 and 10, and David and Peter are 4 and 1."

"I'm six cycles old and I only know Seth and Essor, but they're little. Essor hasn't even started to talk yet," she imparted this news seriously. Jack smiled wider, amused by her sincerity and loving her for it.

"You'll get to meet your cousins soon, I bet," he told her.

"They'll come here?" she asked with wide-eyed surprise.

"I don't know if they'll be able to, but you'll probably go down to Earth. You'd get to see your Dad's home too."

Rhia shook her head, a small frown marking her forehead. "I don't like Earth, right now," she answered quietly but just as seriously as before. She looked away for the first time towards DK and Jeremy who were sharing the room. "But Dad says not all Humans hate us. Is that true?" Uncertainty showed through as her eyes bored into his for an answer.

Suddenly, the conversation that had finally pulled his thoughts away from the attack brought it crashing back down on him as Jack realized what she was talking about and why she would hate Earth: her mother had been shot by Humans. The realization sent a wave of anger through Jack that his *granddaughter* whom he loved already, so innocent and vulnerable, had been touched by the violence. She should be playing with dolls and on a playground, for Christ's sake, not asking about how many people hated her. What kind of place did she live in where parents were special, grandparents unheard of, and violence the norm? His John would have protected her, he thought angrily, but the one he saw yesterday was a part of it.

"Yes, it's true," Jack said strongly. "In fact, most Humans like you and would never hurt you."

"How do you know?" Rhia asked, looking unconvinced.

"I just do."

Rhia digested this with another frown, then asked again, "But how?"

"Because I've seen a lot of people who welcome you to Earth," Jack hoped that would be enough for her curiosity.

"Did you really walk on Earth's moon?"

The sudden change of subject evoked another smile out of Jack. It was just like Lisa, and Jack was happy to follow her to safer ground. "Yes, I did," he answered. Then Rhia surprised him by getting up, crawling under the covers, and making herself comfortable beside him.

"Dad says its gravity is one sixth of Earth and it's like walking on Sorres without an atmosphere. Is that true?"

"Walking on the moon was one of the best days of my life," Jack embraced the familiar subject.

"Tell me." Rhia yawned. So Jack quietly told her about the selection and training, the flight, and finally the day he'd spent on the moon. By the time he finished, she was fast asleep with her head pillowed happily on his shoulder. Jack felt his heart go out to her again. His granddaughter. Holding her, his earlier turmoil eased. Somehow, he knew, he'd figure things out.

A moment later it seemed, a soft noise woke Jack from a light doze; Rhia however didn't stir. Looking around for the cause, Jack found his son leaning against the wall just inside the open door.

"Good morning," he said when he saw Jack was awake. He looked barely awake himself, hair mussed from sleep. He still wore black: an untucked t-shirt, the same leather pants, and unbuckled boots, but he was relaxed now, not a sign of his earlier anger and distrust. For the moment Jack saw the old John, and in this moment of peace, the one he wanted to hold onto. No matter what had changed, he was still his son.

"Lose something?" Jack asked quietly. He sat up, careful not to wake Rhia.

John smiled. "She does this every day. Our early bird alarm clock. Pilot keeps an eye on her." He nodded toward the red and yellow machine by the wall where Rhia had been sitting.

"Everyday? Do you ever sleep?" Jack chuckled.

"It's not just us, luckily. She pretty much rotates through everyone except Rygel and Filalla - they're apparently not very cuddly," John grinned and Jack smiled back. The gray alien taking care of them earlier didn't seem the cuddly type to him either.

John pushed himself of the wall and came and sat down on the side of the bed. He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen on his daughter's face. The contrast with his earlier coldness was startling. "I think she does it to make sure we're safe," John said after a moment.

Safe because their universe wasn't safe, thought Jack. Again he saw John throwing the grenade and putting on the gun that, when he looked, was still there. There had to be a reason.

John was watching him look at the gun. "I need you to be okay with this, Dad," he said. Hurt and hope vied for dominance across his face. The face of one who wasn't a killer.

"What happened to you, son?"

"What didn't?" John snorted and looked down at Rhia. "I've changed, Dad. Maybe not for the better, but I had to change to survive."

"By killing?"

"When I have to."

"There are other ways," Jack bit out before he could stop himself. John's calm admittance without a trace of shame went against every principle he held. There was no way he could just let his son act as if it were all right. "You have a family, John! What do you think you're teaching your daughter by solving problems with a gun!?"

"How to survive to the ripe old age of seven!" John hissed back angrily. "It's not a nice universe out there, Dad, and I have to *protect* my family. If it's a choice between us or them, I'm gonna make frelling sure it's them!"

"And that justifies it!?" Jack snapped back, his voice rising. Beside him Rhia stirred as did DK and Jeremy, woken no doubt by the argument. John noticed, throwing a quick glance in their direction.

"Look, I didn't come here to fight," John turned back to him. He offered a weak smile without any of his earlier warmth behind it. "Just for Rhia. It's time for her to get up. Tell Regie someone will be by in about half an arn to take you to the center chamber for breakfast."

He stood then, gently shaking his little girl awake. Rhia blinked her eyes open. "Mama?" she asked.

"She's doing fine. We'll visit her as soon as she's awake, okay?" John held out a hand for her to take then looked back at Jack. He was going to say something but in the end simply nodded.

Jack watched them leave, wishing things were different.



***************************************
***************************************
Chapter 3: Spinning Magic Eight Ball
***************************************
***************************************



"Does 'Chiana' mean anything in your language? I only ask because our names often have ancient meanings from old languages. Mine for example, Peter, means rock, the symbol of solidarity that dates back about two thousand years to the founding of Christianity, one of our major religions, and you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" The Human smiled self consciously and looked away. The woman of the bunch, Maria, chuckled and exchanged a knowing glance with Chiana.

The two of them along with an older IASA man and John's father made up the small group Chiana was taking to the center chamber to eat. Since these Humans posed a minimal threat, they had decided to let them off their tier for breakfast in manageable groups as a show of trust. That and no one had wanted to haul food up to them again. After getting Essor fed, Chiana had jumped on the opportunity to change the routine.

"I don't know if my name means anything," Chiana smiled at Peter. He looked up, his longish hair falling back into his face. He'd been asking questions the whole time they'd been walking, mostly about her, the Nebari and their customs, trying to get to know her as if they were chatting in a bar. He was very young by Chiana's standards and had an air of innocence about him that was endearing as he fumbled to make an impression. "What do you think it means?" she asked.

"Me?" he asked, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "To me it will always mean 'Angel from the Stars'."

Maria and the IASA man nearly choked trying to muffle their laughter. John's father, preoccupied by his thoughts, only smiled.

Chiana paused, an amused twist to her lips: even she had to admit that was smooth. "You know, stars burn if you get too close," she blinked slowly and trailed a hand lightly down his arm.

"I guess I'll just have to be careful then."

"Peter, give it a rest already," Maria broke in. "I'm losing my appetite here."

He looked at her with another sheepish smile. Tilting her head to get a better look at him, Chiana also smiled slowly. He was adorable.

Turning down the next tier, they soon reached the center chamber where Emmerit was busy cooking, her way of getting out of escorting a group. "Sorry it's the same as your last meal, but it's all we have left," Emm apologized setting the plate of white vegetables on the table. From the shelf by the refrigeration unit, Chiana grabbed plates and cups.

"Can we help?" asked Maria.

"Nah, everything's ready," she told them, snagging the water jar and taking a seat.

"Thank you again for allowing us to eat here," the older IASA man said as they followed her example. Chiana couldn't remember his name; she thought it started with a 'T' sound but she wasn't quite sure. She watched curiously while he patted the table around his plate, then, not finding a fork, shrugged and took two of the vegetables with his fingers.

"You won't hurt us," Chiana belatedly replied. "It felt like the right thing to do."

"After what happened..." Peter shifted uncomfortably and wouldn't meet her eyes. "We're really sorry about that."

"Could have been worse," Chiana acknowledged. She actually would have been more surprised if nothing had happened at all. "What's John's phrase? Dren happens?"

"Have you known him long?" John's father asked. Looking at him, Chiana noticed for the first time how much they resembled. They had the same set of the jaw, the same eyes.

Realizing she was staring again, Chiana blinked and looked away. "Yeah, a long time. He's a good friend," she added, thinking back over the cycles.

"How did you meet?" Jack asked.

"I was being taken back to Nebari Prime to be mind cleansed. We took passage on Moya. To cut a long story to pieces, John set me free and convinced the others to let me stay."

The Humans stopped eating in surprise. "You were a prisoner?" asked Peter quietly. He looked more shocked by this news than by everything else he'd seen.

"Why? Do you like restraints?" she returned seductively, grinning when he blushed.

"I didn't know you were a prisoner," Emmerit interrupted their flirting. "You were on Moya before you left the Resistance?"

"I came aboard when Moya was pregnant," said Chiana, surprised Emm hadn't known.

"The ship?" the T-man asked. "The *ship* was pregnant?!"

Before Chiana could answer, John appeared in the doorway followed by Reginard. "Hey," he said. His eyes flickered over the room, locking on his father. "Sorry to interrupt your breakfast," he glanced at Chiana briefly before looking back at Jack, "but Rhia wanted me to ask if she and the boys could spend the day with you?"

There was a silence, confusion once again passing over the other Humans' faces. The tension between father and son was palpable, making Chiana wonder how much John had told him while they were together on the planet. Obviously about Aeryn - he'd have to have been blind not to see it - and the children, maybe about his life the past few cycles. Whatever, his father was troubled by it.

Finally a genuine smile eased over the old man's face. "I'd love for them to."

John smiled as well, but his was in relief. "Thanks," he said before turning to Chiana. "Pip, that okay with you?"

"It's fine -" She didn't have time to finish because just then the wall exploded. Rhia, Seth, and Essor burst from between two ribs in the shadows, the two boys tripping over each other and landing in a heap on the floor. Rhia nimbly jumped over them and ran to her grandfather.

"See?" she called to Essor and Seth as they picked themselves up. "I told you he was real! I told them you were real," she turned to Jack. "That's my brother Seth, he's the white one, and Essor, he's the black one. He's Chi's. You'll really play with us today?"

Chiana wanted to laugh at the wide eyed surprise on the others Humans' faces that quickly turned to amusement when the little girl started pulling Jack out of his seat talking as fast as an auctioneer.

"Rhia, let him finish eating first," John admonished.

"But Daad! It's already late and we only have now," Rhia whined, still tugging on Jack's arm.

"He's not hungry," piped up Seth. He climbed onto a nearby stool and tipped Jack's plate. The vegetables slid to the floor in three successive plops. He showed the now empty plate to John. "See, Dad? Al' finished!"

"Seth -"

"John, it's all right," Jack interrupted laughing. He picked Seth up and settled him on his hip. "He's right, I'm not hungry."

John rolled his eyes. "At least take a doggy bag." The tension between them gone, Jack did as ordered with help from Rhia who took extra "to feed the bats."

"I'll be on the phone with Earth if you need me," John said. "They're all yours." Then with a final general wave, he and Reginard left turning toward command while Rhia pulled Jack in the opposite direction.

Turning back to her charges, Chiana wanted to laugh. The Humans looked like they'd been hit by a transport pod. Maria opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, "I'm confused."



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



John was relieved his dad had accepted; he'd been half afraid he'd say 'no' after their earlier fight. Seeing him smile and laugh gave John hope that they could work things out like they finally had after Mom's death. He didn't want to go back to the sterile discussions and half hearted pretension that they were there for each other. Now they had another wall to tear down, even more formidable than the first, but it looked like some of the ice was beginning to thaw.

John smiled to himself, thinking about the pleased surprise on his dad's face when the floorfleas had appeared out of nowhere. Regie gave him a quizzical glance but didn't break the silence that had accompanied them since the center chamber. Probably thought he belonged in the loony bin, thought John. Hell after yesterday, everybody probably did.

"You have beautiful children," Regie said suddenly. His voice was neutral, not a hint of what he thought beneath the words. "How old are they?"

"Six and three," John answered, his good mood turning defensive. "And don't get any ideas about science experiments. The first person who touches them is dead."

"Whoa," Reginard held up a hand. "No one said anything about science experiments. No harm will come to them if they go down to Earth."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Thinking about it now, John should have made them wait outside for Dad. Of course, knowing the kids, they would have popped up again somewhere else, their curiosity getting the better of them.

"Commander Crichton," Regie broke the silence, "don't take this the wrong way, but may I ask why you insist on seeing the worst of us? We welcomed you with no strings attached. I know there was a bomb and the shooting, but those people represent only a small portion of our population."

"Small but effective," John replied lightly, noting the irony of being given the same lecture he'd given Rhia.

"A step up in security -"

"Regie, there are always holes in security. Trust me on that." He sighed, running a hand over his face. "As to why I'm so paranoid, my kids are half Human, half Sebacean. Unique in the universe. I've met enough psychos who would kill just for the chance to study such - how did that one guy put it, 'rare specimens'." The normally cool diplomat paled around the edges. "You know as well as I do, the same type of people exist on Earth. A few alien recreations, a brief look into history, you bet Humans scare me. We're here."

John led the way into command and up to the strategy table. On the clamshell, Pilot's image flickered on. "Crichton," he said in greeting.

"Hey, Pilot, how's it going? Regie meet Pilot. Pilot, Regie."

The diplomat nodded politely, his lingering eyes betraying his surprise. "It's a pleasure."

"Moya and I welcome you aboard, Ambassador Reginard."

Regie started at the use of his proper name. "Uh... Thank you."

"Pilot, anytime you're ready," said John. Might as well get it over with. A few microts later the view screen changed from the view of Earth to a suit in Mission Control. The poor man jumped, obviously startled by the sudden change of status.

"Commander Crichton? Mr. Reginard?"

"Good morning. I'd like to talk to the head honcho," John said cheerfully. The young man nodded hurriedly and picked up a cell phone.

"Hold on please," he said as he dialed a number off a scrap of paper. "Excuse me, sir. Commander Crichton has contacted us. Yes, sir, he's still here." He listened for a moment, then hung up with a shaky smile. "They're on their way. It'll be about five minutes."

Pilot had told him that Earth had been trying to get in touch with them since the attack but with John angry and occupied first by Aeryn, then the kids, there hadn't been anyone to reply. Now after half a night's sleep, he was ready to talk and find out just what the hell had gone wrong. Regie's reassurances of Earth's good intentions didn't mean squat: they hadn't stopped the bullets that landed six people flat on their backs in the apothecary.

"So who do you think they've let out of the bag to talk to us?" John asked Regie while they waited.

The man shrugged. "Someone from IASA probably. All alien contact is under their jurisdiction."

"Good ol' global spirit. It's a small world after all," the tune jumped into John's head. "It's a small world after all. It's a small, small world," he sang, earning him another loony bin look from Regie and a slightly fearful one from the kid on the screen not unlike those his shipmates had given him when he had first come aboard. It was the look that said, 'bizarre creature.' So be it, thought John. He continued humming.

They didn't have much longer to wait. A hundred microts later, three more suits replaced the nervous watchman in front of the screen. Introductions revealed an IASA deputy director, an IASA first contact lady, and a government rep. The deputy director, Scott, began with the standard greetings and apologies from IASA for the breach in security, sugar coating the problem in an obviously practiced speech. "IASA feels *certain* that we can resolve our differences and reopen channels of communication," he concluded earnestly. John had the impression he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"Commander Crichton," Giller, the government rep, continued. Unlike Scott, his tone was abrupt and far from apologetic. "I'd like Mr. Reginard's report first before we begin talks." Without waiting for permission, Giller asked about the Humans and the wounded to which Regie told him all was well. They were fed and watered, and the wounded were being cared for in the medical bay. He gave their names and reported that the doctor expected them all to recover with minimal long term effects. He failed to mention the ravid scientists and the five star lodgings, but it was accurate enough.

"So, Commander Crichton," Giller turned his cool gaze back to John. "It seems we have a situation on our hands."

"You could say that," John replied.

"Would you care to explain *why* you thought it necessary to kidnap twenty diplomats and IASA personnel? And *why* you refused to answer our hails?" The acid practically dripped from his words, sizzling the connection between them.

"You want to tell me what the frell happened down there and why a peaceful conference turned into Tiananmen Square?" John met fire with fire.

Giller didn't wither under his glare, in fact his own hardened under it. "Three men hijacked a news van and use forged papers to get within the perimeter. We are still investigating their identities."

"Do you know who was behind it?"

"We are still *investigating*." And would be every time he asked, John bet. Couldn't be sharing information with the enemy, now could they. "Now would you care to explain yourself?"

"We were under fire, we had wounded, Moya was closer. And I wasn't about to let Aeryn be taken to a hospital."

"She would have been cared for with the others."

"In twice as much danger of being kidnapped herself to be someone's personal lab rat," John snapped back. Giller's nostrils flared, reminiscent of a fairy tale
dragon about to fry his enemies to a crisp. Bring it on, John thought. He was more than ready.

"You -!"

"Mr. Giller," Regie interrupted over the other's rising voice. "To be fair everything happened very quickly. It was a snap decision and I'm sure the Commander will be more than willing to return us at the earliest convenience."

Giller's lips thinned. "We would like our people back on the ground today."

"When Jool gives the okay for the wounded we'll be happy to drop them off," John told him. There was a pause.

"That's acceptable," Giller finally conceded. "How long will that be?"

"Couple days maybe."

"You have two days."

"Or you'll what? Blast us with your photon torpedoes?"

"Gentlemen, please," Regie interrupted once more, his diplomat sensibilities taking over. Scott and Henley, Jeremy's First Contact replacement, shifted uncomfortably.

"Two or three days. We'll let you know," John repeated lowering his voice.

"Thank you," Giller grated out. "Now, why didn't you respond to our calls yesterday? We were very worried about our people, especially the embassies of the ambassadors in your escort."

"Sorry." John hadn't spared much thought for the folks waiting back home. "I was busy."

"Commander Crichton, as you are aware, is the only English speaker aboard," Regie cut in before Giller had a chance to attack.

"And the translator?" Henley hesitantly yet hopefully asked. Even as John's gut clenched, Giller turned his frosty gaze on her, but waiting for an answer, Henley didn't notice.

"She was indisposed," Regie replied smoothly. John glanced at him sideways, grateful he hadn't said anything about Rhia. Giller could draw his own frelling conclusions.

"I see," the bastard said. "Very well, that brings us to the matter of you being armed."

"If you want an apology, you won't get one. It was self defense."

"You broke our trust by coming to the meeting armed!"

"If all had gone well you would never have known. It was only a precaution, and apparently a necessary one in light of your screw-up!" John was sick and tired of having to defend his desire to stay alive.

"Commander Crichton!" said Regie, ever the peacemaker.

"It doesn't matter," John went on bitterly. "After we drop off your people, we'll be leaving anyway." There was no home left for him on Earth, that much was clear. Giller smiled, tight and cold, probably skippy-dancing in his head.

"Leaving?" Henley however jolted upright in shock. "We were under the impression that you would stay."

"You know what they say, assuming makes an ass out of you and me," John replied.

"But you *can't* leave!! There's so much we can learn from you!" The woman was indignant. "I've been charged with offering you and the aliens a formal invitation on behalf of The IASA First Contact Commission to stay on Earth. We are prepared to take all security precautions, including a press ban to ensure your safety. We will not have a repeat of yesterday's incident, that's a guarantee!"

"And cashing in the warranty might cost me my life," John retorted. Stay! That was insane. Moya's crew, if sometimes crazy, was not stupid.

"But you can't leave after giving us an unexplained taste of a galaxy we will never see!" She looked ready to tear John apart, angrier than even Giller had been earlier at his blasphemy. "You come here bearing gifts only to take them away!?" her voice rose shrilly. "IASA is offering you a paid position, benefits. You'll be home with your family, working for the good of Humanity. 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind!' That is you! You cannot turn away!" Her face was as red as her words were fierce. Knowledge: that's what she wanted, the keys to the universe.

"I've had enough brain surgery for one lifetime, thanks," said John quietly. He felt distanced suddenly from Earth, as if he saw it through a tunnel. "Giller, if there's nothing else you want to shout about, we'll contact you within the next day or so about when we'll drop your people off."

Mr. Giggles choked out a, "Very well," through clenched teeth, then Pilot broke the connection. John turned to Regie who's face was clean of all emotion.

"At the meeting yesterday you mentioned a war," he said. "If you are leaving in two days, I would like you to brief me in as much detail as possible."

John sighed and leaned back against the table. Knowledge about space technology, about wormholes, about the war that always loomed on the horizon. It was all the same.



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



D'argo stared at the scene before him in disbelief. Whoever's idea it was to let eight Humans loose in the secondary hangar was going to have to do some fast talking if he - and D'argo suspected either John or Filalla, who had taken a somewhat bizarre interest in Crichton's species - wanted to escape the Luxan's wrath. They were crawling all over the half destroyed transport pod like children, touching systems the crew was in the middle of carefully dismantling for spare parts. From this mess, it would take weekens to put everything back in order! And Medri was just letting the frelling Humans play, twirling a wrench as if watching a cycle's worth of work destroyed was nothing to get upset about.

"Medri!" D'argo shouted across the hangar to get his attention. The spotted man jumped slightly, the wrench stilling in his hands. "Who the frell let them in here?"

"Chiana. And they're just looking," Medri replied turning back to the Humans. "She's making sure they don't touch anything important."

Looking over again, D'argo finally noticed the Nebari near the back landing leg talking with the man who'd attached himself to her earlier. Her surveillance seemed to be limited to the conversation. Making sure they didn't touch anything! Yeah, right! One glance at Medri and D'argo resisted the urge to knock him on the head. He was Chiana-watching again and to hezmana with everything else.

"Medri!" he snapped again.

"What?!" This time the spinning wrench didn't stop as the spotted man acknowledged him, annoyed.

"Anything they mess up, you get to put back in order! I am not cleaning up after them."

Medri waved an unconcerned hand at him and turned back to Chiana. Rolling his eyes at the younger man, D'argo left in disgust. It was like talking to a wall.



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



Aeryn grit her teeth against the pain, her headache getting worse with each jarring step she took. But with Jool beside her silently waiting for her to ask for help, she held it in as she'd been trained and worked through it. After arguing for the better part of an arn, there was no way she was going to eat her words. She'd frelling won and was going to make damn sure the whiny brat knew it. Though at the moment, Aeryn was beginning to wish she'd let herself be convinced otherwise. She stole a glance at the Interion who simply raised an eyebrow.

Frell them! Aeryn glared at the DRD Pilot had insisted on and ignored the sheen of sweat she could feel on her brow. She was *not* going to be an invalid!

In the distance, Aeryn heard the low hum of voices coming from her tier and sighed in relief. Almost there. One foot after another, that was all she had to do: ignore her throbbing head and shoulder and simply walk. She could do that, and if she couldn't she would die trying. From the pain, she was halfway there already.

They had just turned down her tier, when the voices coming from the kids' room stopped and transformed themselves into the patter of feet. First Seth then Essor then Rhia burst into the hallway, breaking into a run when they saw her with happy cries. If Jool hadn't been there to steady her, they would have knocked her over. Aeryn let the babble of little voices wash over her as she regained her balance, a medicine of it's own kind that while good for her spirit wasn't as good for her headache.

"Quietly, quietly," she patted heads, calming them.

"Grandpa's spent the who'e day with us! Can you play with us too now?" Seth asked.

"I think your Mom needs to rest now." Jack Crichton approached from the kids doorway, a thin book in his hands. "You shouldn't be up and about," he told Aeryn, throwing a disapproving glance at Jool.

"Don't look at me. I tried, but she wouldn't listen," Jool said in her defense.

"I'm not an invalid," said Aeryn, annoyed by their fussing. "I know my limits."

"Right, death," Jool muttered. The ex-Peacekeeper glared at her.

"Come on, let's get you to bed. Standing out here arguing is not helping matters any." Jack came up and put an arm around her waist, easily batting off her attempts to brush him away. "Stop. You're as pale as a ghost and you need rest. You should be taking better care of yourself," he admonished.

So Aeryn let him help her to her room and onto the bed; the kids trailed behind with Jool who sighed in relief. When she was finally safely installed and given an I-told-you-so by Jool, the Interion left, leaving Aeryn alone with Jack and the children who'd gathered around her knees at their grandfather's insistence.

"You really should be in the medical bay," he said again, his tone much like John's when she did something he disapproved of.

"I prefer recuperating here," Aeryn replied, slightly defensive.

"Will you read the story now?" Rhia asked Jack before he could reply to that. With a last lingering look at Aeryn, Jack nodded and accepted the small book Rhia held out to him. John had made it, along with fifty others over the years for the children. He'd written the stories in both English and the intergalactic script and illustrated them. The pages had been sewn together then bound with leather from old Peacekeeper uniforms.

Aeryn closed her eyes as Jack began to read, recognizing the story as soon as she heard the first line. It was a favorite of the kids about a cargo hauler that had to pass through the edge of a gravity well to bring food and toys to a planet's children on the other side before morning. The poor cargo hauler isn't strong enough to make the journey, so the toys aboard contact three other haulers and ask them to take them through the gravity well. The first two refuse, but the third small one says it will try, and succeeds, repeating 'I think I can' as it passes through the well.

"And as they flew into the planet-rise, the Little Hauler was heard to say, I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could," Jack finished, a slight smile on his lips. "You know, that was one of John's favorite stories when he was a boy," he told them, closing the book. "I can remember reading it to him every night for almost a year." Aeryn smiled. That sounded about right, she thought looking at her children.

"Let's get another!" Rhia yelled, making Aeryn wince at the noise as they scampered off.

"Do they have any Sebacean stories?" Jack asked when they were gone. Aeryn shook her head.

"I grew up in a military barracks," she said by way of explanation. Her bedtime stories had been of battles and long dead Peacekeeper heroes who'd sacrificed their lives for the mission. They weren't stories she wanted to pass on to her children. "My childhood was very different. When Rhia was born, I didn't have the least idea how to be a parent."

Jack smiled. "That's perfectly normal. I can remember feeling both overjoyed and terrified when John was born. But you learn fast. You and John have done a fine job. Whatever else, I'm very happy I've had this chance to meet you and my grandkids." Jack glanced towards the open door. He was different from the Ancients version Aeryn had met, older and more careworn, but at the same time he had more of a presence, more humanity. He was much like John - or rather John was like him.

"I'm glad I've finally met you, too," Aeryn said. "John thinks very highly of you. Sometimes you were all he had to hold onto." Jack looked at her sharply, eyes searching hers. She held them, sensing the undercurrents she'd felt in John when he had come to see her earlier.

A flurry of arms and legs tumbled into the room, arguing over three books they each wanted read and drawing both Jack and Aeryn's attention. "Hey now, we'll read them all," Jack said pulling Seth and Essor apart.

"Mine first!" "No, *mine*!"

"Let's go in the other room and decide," Jack stood and pushed them towards the door. "Your mom needs rest." Aeryn smiled and watched them go gratefully. At the door however, Jack paused. "Thank you," he said smiling warmly. Aeryn nodded, not sure what he was thanking her for.



******************************
******************************
Chapter 4: Return to Sender
******************************
******************************



"So what's the scoop?"

Shannon looked up from her notes at Dave and Henry who were waiting by the van. The press conference had been called a day early and the two equipment men had been unluckily taking a coffee break from their vigil at Canaveral. "Big news," she said with a grin. "Tomorrow morning, Crichton is returning the kidnapped delegation."

Finally something to work with! The only thing they'd had in the four days since the conference and subsequent shooting was the investigation and the influx of personnel on the Cape. The authorities weren't making very much progress. The descriptions and dental records hadn't turned up any terrorists or criminals and no groups had claimed responsibility. The police had broadcast the sketches the night before, hoping someone would recognize one of the would-be assassins, but so far nothing.

It was actually the international and political press that was getting all the headlines as a result of the attack. Failed negotiations in Israel and Russia, and political tension making itself felt in the economic sector in Europe and Japan had sent out rumbles over the last couple of days.

Shannon had done a short piece on local reactions but, all in all, it wasn't very exciting. The religious right was throwing a party and the pro-alieners were preparing for the Second Coming. But now, *finally*, something to sink her teeth into!

"Camera's going in?" asked Dave.

"No. That's the bad news. There's still a five hundred meter perimeter around the runway and all the meetings are closed to the media this time at Crichton's insistence." She waved the restricting document from the press packet. "Security. IASA is approving their archivists to do the video recording and they'll feed out the landing live. The rest we'll get at the press conference Saturday after the aliens leave again."

"Crichton staying?"

"IASA's offered him a position. I talked to Gary Wolfe but apparently they haven't gotten a definitive answer yet. We're going for drinks later so I'll find out what's happening then." Shannon shrugged out of her suit jacket and laid it over the front seat's open window.

"He's considering *not* staying?" Henry asked, offering Shannon a cup of coffee.

She accepted happily, turning and looking back at the IASA building complex. "Apparently. Makes for a good story, doesn't it?"



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



DK looked around the messy room in amazement. Four days and they had used up all of John's paper and moved on to the chips the crew used to store information with notes on anything and everything they could get their hands on. Now Tony was organizing their data for the ride home to make absolutely sure nothing got lost.

"I still wish they would have let us take DNA samples of everyone," Dr. Amelia Hargrove commented joining DK and Jeremy where they were alphabetizing diagrams. "Especially the children. Just think, a successful crossbreeding of a Human with another species. I'd give anything to study them!"

"You want to kidnap them and plug them into a computer?" DK asked sarcastically.

Amelia waved a nonchalant hand. "Bad choice of words. I'd never run direct experiments on them, you know that. But a DNA or blood sample is not asking much. John Crichton gave us one when he landed."

"But you're talking about his kids. It's not very surprising that he was against it," DK argued.

"His kids, the only half-Humans in existence," Amelia retorted. "It's not an opportunity to pass up. Who knows what we could find in their genes that would benefit mankind: natural antibodies to cancer cells or AIDS. Anything."

"Don't tell me you're not curious, DK," Jeremy said with a teasing smile. "You have to admit it's pretty cool."

DK shrugged. He could see the logic of Amelia's argument: taking a blood sample wasn't anything a regular checkup wouldn't do. And he was curious, he admitted a tad guiltily. "John seems pretty touchy on the issue."

"Touchy like a hair-trigger," Jeremy snorted. "He bit my head off when we brought it up. And all I asked for was a DNA sample, no tests or experiments or anything. Said he'd kill the first person who touched them." Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. "You know, DK, I don't know about him anymore. Threats and violence? That's not John. I'm actually uncomfortable around him now and we used to be great friends."

DK had felt it too, that distance of two lives gone in different directions. The few conversations he'd had with John had turned flat and ended in a heavy silence after they had exhausted the small talk. Neither one of them knew how to take the first leap beyond the what's-happened-to-who-in-the-last-ten-years. John was unwilling to talk about his life, and for his part DK didn't want to talk about his. How did he tell John he'd quit IASA after the investigation to live off squat for a year and a half? That at the time, he'd blamed John?

"So are you and Colonel Crichton really staying for a few extra days?" Amelia changed the uncomfortable subject.

"Yep," DK nodded. He hadn't expected the offer but he certainly wasn't about to turn it down. With fewer distractions, he and John would be able to talk and hopefully find their footing again. "Jack was thrilled to have more time with his grandchildren, and I figure I can keep researching the technology up here. Figure out that hetch drive," he added with a wry smile. It had become a running joke that even after ten explanations, they were no closer to understanding the damn thing than they had been on Earth. But then, DK reflected, thinking of that awkward moment when John had asked him to stay, that was true of everything up here.



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



Ryan wasn't sure if this had been a good idea after all. The tension between John and Melanie was palpable as they faced off, each one sizing the other up. Part of him was still amazed his wife had agreed to come to the meeting at all given that since his arrival, she'd completely ignored her brother's existence. But here they were: tongue-tied and with matching unreadable expressions.

"Hi," John finally said awkwardly. Melanie didn't answer, preferring instead to simply glare. "How are you?" John pushed forward.

Melanie stared a moment longer then shook her head. "This was a mistake," she said turning for her purse that was lying on the couch. "I don't know why I came." She started for the door, but John caught her arm. Mel shook his hand off as if she'd been burned.

"That's it?" he demanded. "You were just going to say 'hi' and leave?"

"What else is there to say, John? 'Hi, how are? How's life been while I was *dead*?!"

"How 'bout I'm glad to see you?"

"Oh, because that would solve all our problems now wouldn't it! Don't expect me to worship the goddamned ground you walk on with the rest of the world," Melanie bit back caustically.

John looked at the ceiling briefly. "Great. I haven't seen you in ten cycles and already I've pissed you off. What could I have possibly done?"

"What do you think?!" Melanie shoved him back a step, her voice rising in anger. "You *died*. You went up in your little spaceship and didn't even say goodbye! 'Don't worry, Mel, I've been in space before. We'll go out for Mexican when I get back!' Well guess what, you never *came back*!"

"I'm here now."

"You arrogant asshole! You come back from the dead and think everything will go back to normal! Well it doesn't! We buried a goddammned box with your name on it! What gives you the fucking right to be alive again?!"

Her words lingered in the air, as she and John stared at each other, their hard expressions mirror images of stubborn anger. Finally, John said softly, "I didn't die."

"You died for me, you bastard! You died for me and Lisa and Dad and every fucking person on this planet!"

"And I can't change that! I can't frelling change what happened! What else do you want from me?!" John gestured in frustration with his hands.

"I wanted you to be there, goddammit!!" Melanie's voice cracked. "You were supposed to be there for my wedding, when Steven started drinking, when my kids were born, for Lisa's... You were supposed to be there!!" Angry tears pooled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks, but she ignored them. "You were supposed to be there but you weren't! Just like you weren't there for Mom!" She spat the words like poison, and John flinched as if he'd been slapped. "It would have been better if you'd just stayed dead!"

Roughly, Melanie wiped her tears away and pushed past John for the door, slamming it behind. In the sudden silence, John remained where he was, still as a statue, staring at the floor where Melanie had stood. Ryan looked over at Lisa who was as stunned as he.

"John?" she asked tentatively.

He looked up at them, eyes blank and obviously on other things. His lips twisted into the semblance of a smile for a brief second. "I hate coming back from the dead," he said, then turned and strode out the door, leaving them to wonder what he meant.



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



"In conclusion, it's a violent, total war out there. You saw some of the images Crichton gave me... unspeakable horrors that rival our worst. I don't know whether, even with Crichton's help, we would ever be prepared for a spatial attack. The good news is that we are really far out, and it's unlikely that the Scarrans, Peacekeepers, or Nebari will come here in the near future," said Ambassador Reginard. "I'll have all the details typed up as soon as possible for you."

"It can wait till tomorrow," Landers told him. He was at the debriefing unofficially as it was, and the poor man looked beat. Small wonder after his four day crash course in intergalactic politics, his express flight to Washington that morning, not to mention the stress of the attack and consequent space walk. Landers could only imagine what it was like, but he doubted he even came close.

Reaching into his pocket, the president pulled out his bottle of Excedrin. "Catch," he tossed it to Reginard who stared at it a second before opening the bottle and taking two of the white pills. Modern medicine at it's greatest, thought Landers, as the ambassador returned the bottle.

"So what kind of technology are we looking at?" he asked. "Weapons and defenses?"

Reginard shook his head. "You'll have to ask your IASA liaison about the technology the scientists gathered. However, Crichton's head is a storehouse of information, and from what I saw on Moya, he's very good at adapting what he knows to serve his purposes. The original Farscape Module he built here on Earth for his experiment has been completely changed to meet the fuel and speed requirements of the other galaxy. It's amazing what he's done with it."

"So if we want to be able to defend ourselves, we need him on the payroll," Secretary of State Clermont clarified.

"If we want it done well and efficiently, I'd say so, yes," Reginard nodded. "Nothing makes up for practical experience. But as I said, I don't think we'll even be discovered soon."

That was the only positive thing in this whole mess, Landers thought. But whoever said they would simply use the technology against space invaders who'd most likely never come. With negotiations in the Middle East stalled, the cease fire in Kashmir rekindled, and mixed messages showing up on the CIA's radar, the US needed more than global good will to make up for what the blunder in security had cost them.

"I understand IASA has offered Crichton a job?"

"Yes, sir," answered Clermont. "Five hundred thousand a year to him and any alien that will stay."

"Are any of them likely to?" Landers asked.

"Crichton himself didn't seem too keen on the idea," Reginard replied.

"Then we'll make him an additional offer he can't refuse," said Landers. He wasn't about to let a resource like Crichton go if he could help it. The man was going to help clean up the mess he made whether he wanted to or not. "I want it done by tonight." Landers' cell phone rang as Clermont made the note. Checking the number, it was Lewis.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. President," his aide began, "but you wanted to know as soon as the investigation in Florida had anything."

"Yes. What is it?" Landers stood and retreated to the corner for privacy.

"The sentry that let the attackers through was bribed. Fifty thousand dollars in cash," Lewis reported. "The FBI is trying to trace it now."

Landers let out a slow breath, not liking the implications. A sum like that wasn't inconsiderable for a lowly National Guardsman. "I want to know as soon as they find out who's money it is."

"Richard's already standing by," said Lewis. "I'm meeting a friend for lunch so I'll be back at the office by 1:30 if that's all right."

"Take all the time you need. I'll see you then." Landers hung up. If Lewis was ferreting him out more information, he could have the week.



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



The mood in the center chamber was the most relaxed Jack had seen it since he had come aboard. Apart from Aeryn who was with the children, and John and D'argo who were on the planet, the entire crew was eating together for the first time. The elusive Rygel had even shown up, the alien Jack had seen maybe three times, bearing with dignity - and cutting comebacks of his own - the others' teasing. The food was still the same, but the preparation a little more creative changing the taste somewhat. Around the table, conversation hummed back and forth.

"I'm just glad the Humans are finally gone," Medri sighed.

"I thought you liked them," Emmerit looked curiously at the spotted man.

"I did," his eyes flickered across to Jack and DK, "but so many of them at once got stressful."

"I liked them," commented Chiana to no one in particular.

"We *know* that." Fillala threw a piece of vegetable at her with a teasing grin. " 'Chiana, what's this called?'" he said in a high falsetto.

" 'Chiana, will you show me how this works?'" Emmerit joined in.

"Frell you!" the Nebari returned.

" 'Chiana, can you scratch my back?'"

"Hey, that's enough," Medri interrupted, smiling himself. But Jack noticed that his shoulders were tense. Of course, Jack didn't know the guy all that well. For all he knew it could be normal. He'd spent most of his time with his grandkids and Aeryn and consequently, aside from Jool, didn't know the others at all. He wanted to though, because by getting to know them, he got a glimpse into his son's universe. Maybe if he understood where John had been, they could heal the schism between them.



*******************************
*******************************
Chapter 5: Wondering Weather
*******************************
*******************************



All was quiet. The children were finally clean and asleep below with Speckles and Stipes standing guard. Most of the crew had retreated to their quarters to get some sleep before tomorrow crashed down upon them. On the Terrace, John sat alone against the wall staring off into space. He'd been there since he and D'argo had returned, Aeryn knew, wanting at the time to be alone. She watched him from the doorway, unnoticed for the moment, noting the grim expression that told her he was lost in thought.

"Hey."

John turned at the sound of her voice, a tired but genuine smile lighting up his face as she approached. "Hey," he replied softly, making a spot for her in front of him. Aeryn settled in, careful of her shoulder; John lightly wrapped his arms around her like a warm blanket, pulling her close. "You doing all right?" he asked, rubbing his cheek against hers.

"Mmm. I was going to ask you the same question," Aeryn replied. She felt his chest rise and fall against her back. Outside, the stars shone brilliantly. To one side was Earth, huge and beautiful and, from this distance close enough to touch.

"They want me to stay," John said finally.

"Who does?"

"Everyone: IASA, the government, my father..." he trailed off. In the quiet, Aeryn reflexively glanced at the planet. "They made me some offers, 'for the good of mankind' and all that crap. Oursler even shook my hand before we left, asking me to stay."

"And what do you want?" she asked.

"I've told you before, Aeryn, I'll choose you over Earth."

"But what do *you* want?" she repeated. Earth was more than just another planet; it was his home, the place he was born. He had ties there that were stronger than he maybe cared to admit sometimes, but that were there nonetheless.

John sighed, his arms tightening slightly and his breath tickling her skin. "I don't know," he said. "If I went back for good, it'd be a zoo. Even with agreements and precautions, there'd be the media to deal with, men in black to avoid, more attacks maybe. And with you and the kids it'd be even worse. I don't want to put you in that kind of danger."

"Life on Moya is no safer. Every time we take on refugees or meet an armed ship..." Aeryn trailed off. "Remember when I first became pregnant, we wanted to find a planet to settle down on? Maybe this is our chance."

"You're saying you want to stay on Earth?" Disbelief colored John's voice.

Aeryn smiled, surprised a little by her own words. "I don't know. I don't trust the Humans any more than I did before, but listening to your father tell Rhia and Seth stories about you and your sisters when you were young...maybe we can work around the problems and give them that."

"A childhood?"

"Peace."

They fell silent, each contemplating the other's words. Aeryn thought back over the meetings on Earth. Warmly, almost suffocatingly welcomed and almost cleanly away. She and five others wounded, only one with serious complications; they were lucky to be alive. This was usually John's type of suggestion, she realized suddenly, the suicidal one. Thinking of it that way, Aeryn wondered whether it was worth the risk. The Uncharted Territories, it was true, had become even more dangerous since the war, but they knew the terrain, and on Moya they even had a degree of control. The only one who knew Earth was John, and recent events had shown that even for him the rules had changed.

Around them, the light dimmed bit by bit, then was gone as Moya passed into the Earth's shadow. The stars sharpened and clarified now that they didn't have to compete with the sun's light.

"I saw Melanie this morning," John said suddenly. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "She wasn't happy to see me. Hates me for dying."

"And Lisa?"

"Lisa's Lisa. She takes what she can get and is grateful for it. Melanie can hate you forever."

"Sometimes it's easier to hate than to forgive," said Aeryn. Behind her John remained silent.

After a moment, he asked, "So what should we do?"

It was Aeryn's turn to sigh, but carefully. Hidden by the shadows and wrapped in John's arms, this was where Aeryn wanted to stay, in this moment. But life never gave them easy choices. "I don't know, John. I don't know."



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



From the look on D'argo's face, he was crazy for even suggesting it. Under normal circumstances, John took that as a good sign, but in this situation he wasn't sure that it was.

"You're not," D'argo asked for verification.

"We don't know." John bit his lip, waiting for the hyper-rage. He wasn't disappointed.

"How can you even consider staying on Earth?! You'll be locked in a cell before you even get off the transport pod!" D'argo shouted, angry but thankfully not lost to it.

"We'd make sure it's safe," John told him, trying to reason, but it didn't work.

"Safe? The meeting was supposed to be safe, John! Look what happened! You can't trust Humans!"

"Can't trust me!" John retorted, getting a little angry himself. He knew it was his misplaced trust that had gotten Aeryn shot. He kept kicking himself in the head about it enough as it was.

"You're different!" D'argo pointed a finger at him. "I trust you even when I know I shouldn't! But this time, I'm locking you up before you get yourself hurt!"

"You know, all I wanted was your opinion."

"You are frelling insane!"

"It's Earth! My home planet! You once told me I'd regret it if I never went back!"

"You went back. They tried to kill you. I think that's a pretty clear indication that it's not safe for you down there!"

"People try to kill me all the time, D'argo! What makes this any different?!"

"Arrrgggg!" the Luxan growled in frustration, turning away and kicking the wall. Better it than him, John thought. "What did Aeryn say?" D'argo demanded after he'd vented.

"She didn't say no." John rubbed his eyes, a headache pounding against his forehead. D'argo stared at him in silence for several microts.

"John," he finally said. The astronaut looked up with a sigh, hands resting on his hips. The Luxan fixed him with a stern look. "You and Aeryn are my best friends. I'd give my life for you and your children, and I'll respect the decision you make - even if that means tongue-ing you and locking you in a cell until we starburst the frell away, so I can respect it with a clear conscious!" Ultimatum given, the warrior stormed off, leaving John in a vacuum of silence.

All things considered, he thought, it had gone pretty well. But D'argo was right, he was insane for even considering it. How could he go back now? How could he expose the children to that kind of danger? Better to just forget about it.

"That is one being I would not want pissed off at me." John looked up just as DK walked in. "He looked ready to kill something."

John snorted. "If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it." DK nodded in sympathy, taking the fact as exaggeration.

"So why's he mad at you?" he asked, making himself comfortable in the closest chair.

John considered how much to tell him, then told himself not to be stupid. This was DK. They'd been closer than brothers; he shouldn't be worrying about offending him like some stranger. "He's mad because Aeryn and I are thinking 'bout staying on Earth."

"But that's wonderful!" DK's face lit up. "Shouldn't he be happy for you?"

"In D'argo's book, staying on Earth is tantamount to suicide," John told him. "And I'm not sure he's wrong."

DK opened his mouth no doubt to protest, but shut it again. "Yeah, I guess I could see that," he said.

"Yeah," John agreed, sitting down himself.

"But that's not going to stop you is it?"

"We don't even know who was behind the attack, DK. What if it was the government? And there's more to it than that."

"Like what?"

John didn't even know where to begin with that one. "It's complicated."

"How so?"

"DK -"

"Goddammit, explain it to me," DK suddenly snapped. "Jesus, John, you've spent the last five days avoiding me. We haven't had a real conversation since you've been back. Every time I even get close to asking about what happened to you, you change the subject or give me some vague bullshit! What is with you? Why did you even ask me to stay if you don't want to talk?!" DK looked at him, brow furrowed waiting for an answer. He too had changed since John had last seen him. "I'm your friend, John," he went on when John didn't say anything. "I may not understand or like some of the things you do, but I love you no matter what. You can *talk* to me and I won't turn away like D'argo there."

John looked down, feeling guilty for doubting DK. Why had he asked him to stay? To try and find what they had lost? He wanted to tell DK but at the same time was terrified by the idea. How could John explain his life in the Uncharted Territories, the Ancients recreation, Scorpius, Harvey, the Farders' experiment? Talking of those things was difficult even with those who'd been there. How could he expect DK to understand? How could he explain how far he'd fallen without losing his friend?

But he had to try or it looked like he'd lose him anyway. He had asked him to stay, he couldn't back out now.
"I don't know where to start," he confessed, meeting DK's eyes.

"Start with why you're afraid to come home."

The most complicated question of them all. Where did he even begin? "I've had some bad experiences with coming home scenarios," John finally said. "In one I was locked up. When the others came after me their lives were forfeit in the name of science. I can't let that happen, DK."

"But it won't happen," DK said earnestly. "Where did you get theses scenarios from?"

John rubbed his lip uncomfortably. "The Ancients and Farders made them from my memories." DK's eyes widened.

"How did they do that?"

"I dunno, but it reminded me of what Humans are capable of."

"But how could they get in your head?" DK asked again. John couldn't believe it! He was stuck on the science, completely missing the point. "No, really," said DK upon seeing his expression. "How did they get in your head? How do you know it really came from you, that they weren't just making it up?"

"Because every face was a familiar face!" John snapped. "That's how I figured out their game after I thought even my Dad had betrayed me!" DK looked taken aback. "The second time everything kept getting more insane; with the Farders I got to watch the Humans torture my friends. I didn't even know if it was all in my head or only the Humans who weren't real."

"But it's still not real. Just because there's the possibility doesn't mean that's what will happen." DK leaned forward resting his arms on his knees.

John regarded him. Underneath that graying hair was still the same bright eyed scientist John had always known, believing the best of everybody. "Doesn't mean it won't either."

"Is the glass half full or half empty?" DK asked, exasperated.

"You don't get it, DK," John brushed aside the question. "I don't have trust to spare, not when Aeryn and the kids' lives depend on it. D'argo was right. It was a crazy idea!" He stood and started to pace.

"We're Human, John. We learn from our mistakes."

"So have I." And the price he'd paid for some of those lessons had been too high. "Look, DK, I know you mean well, but after the attack, what reason do I have to trust Earth?"

DK stared at him a long time until finally he too sighed and stood up. "I dunno," he said, "but with all the shit going on right now in the world, I think maybe *we need* to be trusted to do something right for once." That said, he left.

John stared at the wall, thinking. Before the Ancients he would have gone back without a second thought, but now... he'd been burned one to many times. And with his family on Earth either hating him or disappointed in him, John didn't think it was even worth it.



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



Medri stared at the walls of his quarters without seeing them, trying to figure out what was going on with Chiana. She hadn't stayed tonight, hadn't in fact since before the Humans had come on board. They hadn't even really talked to each other - there hadn't been a *them.* The more he thought about the last five days, the more he saw Chiana and her pet Human together in his mind. At mealtime, in the cargo hold, in the maintenance bay. *They* had been inseparable.

Chiana and the Human. No, she wouldn't, Medri scoffed at the idea, but...she had been flirting. He'd seen her flirt before, of course - it had saved their lives on more than one occasion. But here on Moya, she didn't need too. Yet she had been flirting with the Human. A lot. Medri buried his face in his hands, worry clenching his stomach. What if...no...but... He just didn't know anymore.

At mealtime, in the cargo hold, in the maintenance bay. In the maintenance bay they'd been standing so close together, so close. But that had been the cramped conditions, he told himself. If they were four times as big, a tiny voice piped up. But they hadn't done anything. There.

Medri got up and began to pace off the nervous energy. He had to know. He didn't think she had slept with the Human, she wouldn't do that to Medri. But she had stopped talking to him. She had never done that before. Except after Kyrek... And what the others had said...

Before he knew he had even decided, Medri was out the door and on his way to Chiana's quarters. He had to know. He had to ask. It was ripping him up inside.

Chiana wasn't in her quarters, or in the center chamber. Medri thought about asking Pilot, but decided against it, not wanting everyone to know. Was she hiding from him? Ashamed? Did she not want anything to do with him now? Where was Chiana? Every mircrot that passed made him worry more, like a ratchet grip tightening over his heart. She wasn't in command either. She didn't go down to the planet, did she?

"Whoa!" In his haste Medri rounded a corner right into Filalla. The three legged man grabbed onto him to keep his balance. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Medri tried to move on in his search, but Fil's grip turned to steel.

"You're frelling golden, you mentir! What's wrong?!"

"Nothing!" Medri shoved him back, twisting out of the handhold at the same time. Nothing was *wrong,* he just had to know. Had to know what had gone on between her and that Human. He took off down the corridor, barely aware of where he was headed. Behind him he heard Filalla call out to Pilot, but then he was through the next door.

Medri found Chiana in the cargo bay with Rygel. *Alone* with Rygel, part of him noted darkly, while the other hoped he was wrong.

"What's the matter with you?" Rygel asked when he came in, but Medri ignored him.

"Chiana, I'm sorry but I have to know," he locked eyes with the surprised Nebari. "Did you...do anything with him?"

"What?"

"Your Human. Did you do sleep with him?!" Medri repeated impatiently.

"What? No," said Chiana. She laughed shortly, surprised by the question "Why would I sleep with him? I only guided him around Moya and answered his questions."

"You spent the whole time with him!" Was she telling the truth? There was something different about her voice, wasn't there? Her eyes darted to Rygel like she was hiding something from him.

"So?"

"You did." He was sure of it now.

"No!" Chiana said strongly - too strongly. Medri felt his heart break like a knife slicing through him, anger rushing in to fill the vacuum.

"You did. How could you!" he shouted.

"I didn't do anything with him," she denied again.

" 'You answered his questions.' 'Scratched his back.' I may have missed it then, but I see it now!" Medri snapped. Hurt, betrayed, angry. "You frelling slept with him!"

"I did not!"

"Then what were those smiles for? Taking him to see the damaged pod? I should have forbidden you to talk to him after that!"

"I'd like to have seen you try! We're not on your planet, Medri! I do not belong to you! *No one* orders me around!"

"Maybe someone should, to keep you from spreading your legs for anyone that asks!"

"And that would be you?!"

"Does three cycles together mean nothing? I'm just another conquest to be cast aside?! Do you sleep with Rygel and Filalla when you get tired of me?! How many have there been?!"

"None! But I wish there had!" Chiana yelled in fury. "You want to chain me to your bed and be your sex slave! Well, maybe I'm sick of it! Always checking on who I talk to or even smile at. I can't do *anything* without *you* in my frelling face. You call us *family*! Were not! Frelling me does not make me your wife!"

"So what does it make you?" Medri shouted back. "A slut free to jump ship whenever you want?"

"It makes me free of you! If you don't trust me, then stay away from me and stay away from Essor!"

The words hit Medri like a fist. "Stay away from him?! I'm the closest thing to a father he has!"

"But he's my son and your nothing but an exiled chauvinist who can't stand seeing a free woman! If you think every time I talk to another male means something, I don't want anything more to do with you!"

Nothing more to do with him! Medri felt like he'd been shot all over. When had this happened? She hated him! Blinded by fury, Medri lashed out at her. He didn't remember much after that: rage, pain, terrible words of hate and anger like blasts to his heart. Shouts as the rest of the crew ran in, hands grabbing to pull them apart. Scratches, kicks, and finally, after a blow to the throat, blackness.



****************************************
****************************************
Chapter 6: Here's Looking At You, Kid
****************************************
****************************************



"It was amazing," said Peter. "The ship is actually alive, as in aware. The DRD's let her see and hear what's going on and she communicates through Pilot. We didn't get to meet him personally, only through a hologram."

Dan shook his head and took a sip of coffee. If he didn't know Peter or hadn't seen some of the sketches they had brought back, he would have called him a liar. He wished he could have gone up with them, even at the risk of being shot. A living ship! That hadn't been in the tapes.

"What were the aliens like?" asked Yora leaning in.

Peter shrugged. "Most of them ignored us as much as they could. Filalla, the one with three legs, the gray woman Chiana, and this tall fellow that's green with yellow spots were the ones that showed us around and told us about the ship. They didn't think we were that bright," he chuckled.

"I wish I could have been there!" said Yora.

"And DK's still up there, lucky bastard," said Dan. Some people just got it all. "Did John tell you what it's like out there?"

"No. He spent most of his time with Mr. Reginard, the State Department guy. From what I gathered, there's a conflict brewing out in the galaxy John was in, and they're worried about the bad guys coming to Earth. But from what Tyler told me, the threat's minimal."

"Who's Tyler?"

"The Canadian ambassador. He was in pretty bad shape after the attack and everything so Tony had him stick close to me for the first night," said Peter.

"Even so, it must be incredible out there. What I wouldn't give to have that chance." Dan shook his head again and finished off his cup. To discover new planets and new races, that's what Dan wanted to do, go beyond the horizon just to see what was out there. John was incredibly blessed to have had that chance.



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



DK was in his room filling in his notes when John rapped on the open door. His old buddy looked the worse for wear with scratch marks on his arms and a bruise forming on his wrist.

"Hey. What happened to you?" asked DK. "You look like that time you got beaten up by half the basketball team in high school."

John smiled and looked down at himself. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. "George Parks has nothing on Chiana though," the smile sharpened into a grin DK couldn't help but return.

"Chiana did that? What happened?"

"She and Medri had a fight then tried to kill each other," John told him. "Chiana said it's over between them so we're gonna break out the fire water for Medri. You wanna come?"

Surprised by the invitation, DK's first reaction was to say no. He'd stopped heavy drinking a long time ago. Besides, he didn't know Medri or the others that well. "No, you guys go ahead," he said. "I don't want to intrude."

"Come on, DK. You wouldn't be intruding. Please." And something in John's tone made him stop and look at what was really being offered. So DK nodded and followed his friend to the center chamber where the male crew was sitting around the table. No one commented on his arrival, D'argo simply handed him a cup along with John and poured the alcohol.

It was a subdued group. Medri sat slumped over the table with his head in his hands, his yellow dreadlocks hiding his face from the rest of them. Some of his spots were more green than yellow from what DK assumed were bruises. When D'argo tried to pass him a cup, he shrugged away, acquiescing only when the Luxan forced a hand to take it.

"You get the first toast," D'argo said setting down the jug. "Trust me, you'll feel better once you're drunk."

Medri shot him a querulous glare, looking like any other guy with a broken heart. "Yeah right! I'll never feel better!" he spat out morosely.

"Nope, probably not," John agreed amicably. "Now what are we drinking to?"

Swollen eyes regarded him for a second, before the spotted man finally lifted his cup. "To love. In the end, it never means anything."

"To love," the others echoed and drank, DK with them. It wasn't very good, tasting like cheap wine mixed with grapefruit, but it had enough kick to serve its purpose he supposed. Across from him, Filalla licked his lips in satisfaction.

"We should do this more often," he said.

"At Chiana's rate we ought to be able to," Rygel noted.

"To Chiana," D'argo raised his cup for the second toast, "who has broken yet another heart."

"To Chiana!"

"I don't know what happened!" Medri moaned after they drank. "Everything was fine between us until we came here! Then she hates me and I don't know what I did. It's not fair."

"Hate to break it to you, Spots, but life ain't fair," said John. "And love least of all."

"And you would know," Medri retorted sarcastically, shooting him a glare. "You and Aeryn fight *all* the time!"

John actually laughed at that. "In the beginning that's all we did. She was pretty messed up when it came to emotions." He raised his cup. "To Aeryn Sun, the most complicated, frelled up woman I've ever known!"

"To Aeryn!"

"But it never could have been this bad!" Medri's head fell into his hands again. "How could she do it? Spend all that time with the frelling little Human then say it's all my fault?!"

"That, my friend, is Chiana for you," said D'argo. He took the jug and refilled everyone's mug. "When she feels trapped, she kicks out as hard as she can."

"Complicated creature is the female," Filalla said to no one in particular.

Then the commiserating began about the fickleness of women and their incomprehensible ways. Other break up stories were shared and toasted. D'argo spoke of a girl from his youth and his own affair with Chiana, Rygel his one true love that had been forbidden him by his parents. John told of when Alex left him for the job at Stanford, Filalla of the women he'd left for his work as a trader.

DK listened, getting a comfortable buzz. They weren't really all that different from a group of guys on Earth consoling a heart-broken friend. They'd all loved and lost at one point or another. As the night wore on, DK found himself telling them about Jennifer, his last girlfriend who had told him he was gay before throwing a wooden statue at him.

"Hey, D'argo tell 'em abou' Stanz," called John when he'd finished. After about ten drinks, the group was becoming more drunk than sober.

D'argo shook his head in a shiver.

"Stanz is a Zenetian that had the hots for D there," John began with a happy grin when D'argo remained silent. "Kept making passes, trying to get him to fly off with him into the sunset. D'argo had no clue. Turned out that Stanz was female and D'argo didn't even know it! His one true love, lost forever!" John crooned over their laughter. "To Stanz!"

"To Stanz!" They drank, the laughter dying down.

"Y'know," said Medri, his words slurring together, "I though' Chi was my one t'ue love. But now she's gone. Gone, gone, gone." He peered into his cup. "You don't know what that's like!" he suddenly sobbed. Two teardrops splashed onto the table. They rest were silent under the new, somber mood. Filalla laid a hand on his friend's back.

"I los' Lolhaan, my wife," said D'argo after a moment. "She was murdered by her own brother 'cause she married me. She was Sebacean and Macton couldn't stand the thought of her contaminating the species. He's dead now," he added as an afterthought.

"My wife died in childbirth." Filalla lifted his cup and drained off the rest of his drink. He stared at it for a minute before continuing. "I lost both her and my son. She was so beautiful."

"I lost Aeryn once," John said next. "I killed her." That didn't make any sense, thought DK, but John didn't say anymore, simply held out his cup for D'argo to refill. "To those we've lost forever," he said.

"Lolhaan and Jothee."

"Silla."

"Anise," Medri added. "My sister."

"Danallal and Muilli, my crew," Filalla added.

"Gilina," said John.

"Edinnal." They all stilled at D'argo's quiet addition.

"Stark."

"Zhaan," said Rygel. John and D'argo both looked at the small alien solemnly.

There was silence. "To those we've lost," John repeated softly. There were tears in his eyes.

As they drank, DK wondered through the mist in his head who all these people were that evoked such respect. He didn't dare ask; the spell was too heavy to lift now. All he could do was drink in their honor. Alcohol was a good thing he decided. The revelation deserved another drink.

Things became less coherent after that. DK found it harder and harder to focus on faces and voices, the alien sounds he was now accustomed to understanding became alien again the more he drank. He didn't know how long they sat around the table or notice when they started singing. Everyone, it seemed had a bar song to teach the others, and they were actually pretty good, DK thought, as good as any symphony on Earth in fact. They were a great bunch of guys. Really nice, even D'argo who kept slapping him on the back and telling him to sing louder. His voice hurt. And he needed to stop drinking, but one more cupful wouldn't hurt.

The taste of grapefruit was the last thing DK remembered before passing out.



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



It was late when Jack woke up the next morning. The noise from the center chamber had been just loud enough to keep him awake for most of the night. He'd
asked Aeryn about it the evening before, but she had only shrugged and said they needed to get smashed, before she had gone to find Chiana. Jack didn't really know what was going on, hell, he hadn't even known Chiana was with Medri till after the fight. Coming to Earth had apparently caused more than one rift on the ship.

With a sigh, Jack got up. It was pointless to try and sleep anymore, he was too awake now. What he needed was a cup of coffee, something he couldn't get on Moya. He almost wished they'd go home soon. He was getting too old to go traipsing around on a second's notice.

The center chamber was quiet, empty except for Jool and surprisingly John. They were talking quietly over steaming bowls and didn't notice at first when he came in. Giving them space, Jack went over to the fridge to see what was new for breakfast. That was another thing he missed: variety. He was getting sick of the vegetables they'd been eating for the last week.

"Good morning," said John when he joined them at the table. He had bags under his eyes and definitely looked paler than usual.

"Morning," Jack returned. "I'm surprised to see you up after last night."

"Jool's miracle hangover cure," his son picked up his bowl with both hands and took a sip. "Hot tea. Doesn't really work."

"It does if you drink it before you go to sleep. Or you could not drink all night like a barbarian," Jool replied archly, standing. She took her bowl to the basin.

Jack smiled. "Sound advice," he said.

"Too late now," muttered John.

Ignoring his grumbling, Jack poured himself a mug of hot water from the pitcher on the table and sprinkled in tea herbs from the box beside it. John grimaced when he opened the tin. "So why aren't you in bed sleeping it off if the hangover cure's not working?" Jack asked.

"It's louder in our quarters," John told him dryly. "Besides I couldn't go back to sleep once I woke up."

"Crichton," Pilot's image appeared on the hologram clamshell. John flinched again from the sudden noise. "The planet has responded to your call."

"I'll be right there Pilot." John stood with his tea bowl. "Time to face the firing squad," he said with a sigh. "I'll be back soon, Dad."

John left, followed soon after by Jool, leaving Jack alone with his tea and wondering what John wanted to talk to Earth about. He was tempted to go after him, but no, he was too old to go chasing him around the ship. He'd ask John later when he came back.

Jack gazed out the window at the stars twinkling in the distance. He never imagined he'd be back in space again. He'd never imagined either that his son had survived all these years. Possibility, faith. Maybe it all meant something after all.




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



Reginard looked at his office in despair. It was an absolute wreck. His inbox was overflowing from the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated in the time he had been gone. It was almost November now, he suddenly realized. The time since Moya returned on the 4th had gone by in the blink of an eye.

He sighed and set his briefcase down on the desk. He needed to pick up Halloween candy on the way home. Find out if Debra would talk to him after he took off like that for Florida. So much to do, so little time. His brief stay on Moya already felt like years ago.

He opened his briefcase and took out his planner; it was filled with meetings for the rest of the week. Secretary Clermont, the Defense Department, and the National Security Council just for starters. It would probably just get worse when IASA started sending in the technological information.

A mid-level diplomat suddenly jumped up to Ambassador Extraordinaire because of one throwaway assignment. Funny how life turned out. If someone had told him a year ago that he'd be personally briefing the president, he would have laughed and said they were out of their minds. Probably what Crichton would have said about what happened to him, he thought. Now there was an interesting man. At times dark and closed off, at others funny and amiable. He'd never talked directly about what had happened to him over the years but from his explanations of the Scarran-Peacekeeper conflict, Reginard got the feeling he'd seen a lot of it personally.

The phone rang and Reginard answered tiredly. "Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Reginard, but Mr. Gamges is on line one," his secretary informed him.

"Thank you," Reginard told her before switching lines. Morning phone calls from his boss, what was next? "Reginard, here."

"Thomas, glad you're there. How's your first day back been?"

"Fine, sir. I have a lot of work to catch up on."

"Yes, well, you might not get that chance," Gamges sounded more pleased than he should have been. "This morning," his boss continued, "Crichton contacted Canaveral announcing his intention to stay on Earth."

Oh. The news surprised Reginard. The last time he'd spoken to Crichton, he'd been dead set against the idea.

"Since you are a member of the First Contact Team," Gamges said cheerfully, "Clermont wants you down there. You have the right to say 'no,' of course," but his boss' tone said that such a response would lead to a slow and painful death.

Move to Florida. Work with Crichton and IASA. Reginard sighed inwardly. He wanted a vacation. "I'd be honored," he said.

"Wonderful! I'll have the details sent to you right away." Reginard could hear Gamges racking up the prestige points in his head.

"Thank you, sir," said Reginard. He replaced the receiver in its cradle, staring absently at the buttons.

So Crichton was staying on Earth. He sat back in his chair, trying not to think of what exactly that would entail, but it was no use. If Crichton was coming home, he was going to need a few more of the president's Excedrin before long. He could feel the migraine forming already.



******************
******************
End Part Three