Part 5
When Crichton finally fell asleep, Aeryn woke up. She found herself still in the body of her former Captain.
Her, well actually, physically it was his, right hand was draped casually, and perfectly innocently on the point of Aeryn Sun's hip.
The body of Aeryn Sun seemed to be deep in the throes of sleep. The eyes were closed, and her chest slowly rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.
The female looked so peaceful, so innocent, altogether guileless.
Still in the body of her former Captain, she examined the form next to her more closely. It was odd to see her body like this. For one thing, what she beheld was a mirror image of the sight she usually faced; not that ex-Peacekeeper Officer Aeryn Sun spent a lot of time admiring herself in a mirror. Which was not to say that she never looked at herself in a mirror either.
A long time ago, Zhaan had correctly surmised that while the Sebacean female was not consumed with vanity, she still did care about her appearance. She desired to be not only clean and neat, but to present herself as attractive to those she cared for and whose opinion she valued. The Delvian had understood that balance was not only desirable, but necessary -a good spirit was desirable, but so were a good heart, a good mind and a good body. Zhaan had been able to show her how to accentuate her beauty naturally.
The female body that Aeryn observed was young, having not long ago entered the prime of its life. She was proud to note that the body -her body- was slim and even somewhat wiry, but not unattractively so. It was fit and well muscled but still very essentially feminine. Her raven colored mane was strewn about the pillow. The facial features were regular and generous, the lips now slightly parted in sleep.
Aeryn was finally able to see herself as John saw her. Not as she saw herself when she looked in the mirror but as the flesh and blood self. She could understand his fascination with her. Not that she was vain, but seeing herself in sleep made her understand better.
Her body shifted in sleep. One arm was thrown up and came to rest at a curve over the head. Even in sleep, Crais exuded confidence and Aeryn longed to have that confidence. It was why she had done what she did. Hopefully she would still retain some of that confidence when she was in her own body again.
She sighed and lay back. She scratched her chest and found it strange not to feel the curves when doing so. She smiled. How would it be for Crais? What she was now lacking in curves he would have in abundance to experience. She touched his chest again. Very taut muscles, even when they were relaxed. Crais kept himself in shape. She resisted the urge to explore further. Their body swap, even though non-voluntarily was still based on trust. She thought about the hours still to come that she would be spending in this body.
She was determined that she would do nothing "inappropriate" while she inhabited the body of her ex-Captain. The thought of what might constitute "inappropriate" caused a little twinge such as she had never experienced before.
She looked over again at her own body and saw how it turned over. Crais mumbled in his sleep and was trying to get comfortable. It was obvious that he wasn't used to the different rise on his upper body and was now wriggling to get more comfortable. Small deep grunts escaped Aeryn's lips. He finally turned over on his side and slept on.
Aeryn curled her mouth in a smile she had never thought possible. Although it was her intellect squarely inhabiting this strange yet beautiful body, it definitely seemed to have ingrained "body memory".
Muscles seemed to have retained the habits built up over many years of life. She had conscious control over them, but when she wasn't exerting that control, then she became aware of what was normally not part of her. How was she going to sleep on her stomach knowing that certain parts would get in the way? Would it stretch or crunch? Up or down? She felt it inappropriate to touch that part or even to think about it but how would Crais' body know how to sleep on it? She tried to empty her mind but the more she tried the more she wondered and conscious control was taking over.
Crais' face got a very Aeryn-like scowl. Frell, why did she have to think of that!
She had slept in a jumble of Peacekeeper bodies more than once while out on assignments, and it had never been a very big deal. She minded her business, and everyone else minded theirs, too, unless they agreed not to.
The occasional involuntary reaction was usually considered cause for mirth, and earned the "offending" party a good-natured teasing.
Suddenly the shoe was on the other foot, and she wasn't finding it remotely funny. She had no idea how to "control" this body. She knew the human was asleep on the floor outside the chamber, and had no desire to give him reason to complain of her actions, or more importantly, to doubt her.
She also was aware that she had very complicated and contradictory feelings about the man with whom she shared this bed. Frell if he was in her body, the person she was laying next to *was* Bialar Crais -her one-time Captain, her friend (whether the others understood that or not), and a man whom she admired, and whom she had to admit that she had a very real attraction to, even though it was the human that she was in a relationship with.
Aeryn rolled over again and noticed with a satisfied grin that Crais' body had remembered how to sleep on the various parts.
Her... no... his hair fell forward across her face, silken curly hair, not the straight hair that was hers. She had always secretly envied him his hair, so different from hers. She touched it. It was soft. She had always believed it should have felt wiry; why she didn't know. But she had been wrong; it was very soft to the touch.
She sighed and moved her head over the pillow, the beard made a rasping sound. She touched her face and could feel the stubble on her cheeks.
She flipped her eyes open in panic and thought hard. How was she going to shave tomorrow? Crais always liked to look impeccable, he would not want to walk around with stubble on his face but she had never had to shave. What would happen if she tried to shave this face?
If she neglected this daily "morning" ritual, not only would the others see "Crais" in a state that he normally would never permit. She would spend the day conscious every time he looked at her, at *his* body, that she had not lived up to his expectations, that she had by her actions somehow "failed" him again.
On the other hand, passing her hand over the unfamiliar face, she was acutely aware that below the stubble was very soft and tender skin. She caressed that honey colored skin, and imagined it after she had finished her maiden attempt at shaving it, cut, bleeding, half a moustache gone,and an unruly line on the goatee itself. And what about the two perfectly shaven spaces under his lip? Her hands were already shaking with the thought of those patches alone and the panic rose again. Should she just stay in bed? That would be safer! She wouldn't have to shave or comb that beautiful hair.
No, she couldn't do that to him either. He was an early riser and had a morning routine. She had watched him from the shadows in the Hangar Bay, early in the morning when everyone was still asleep, going through the Vah'ni Panthak regimen, the highest form of exercise. She had marveled at his movements. She had never reached that level. Would his body remember? Would her body be able to do it if he was going through the exercise? And with that happy thought, she fell asleep.
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Part 6
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Crais woke up a few microns after she went to sleep and looked around him. For a few moments, he felt disoriented. He looked at his twin, lying across from him. He looked down at his own body, or what he had expected to be his own body.
It most definitely wasn't.
The events of recent hours came flooding back over him. He still found it hard to believe, but looking at the beautiful female figure, he was forced to accept that this was no nightmare. Somehow, this was real.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and lay quietly. He had been preoccupied earlier with finding a way to accept and handle the situation he had found himself in. Now he began to pay more attention to his circumstances and found that he was in quite a precarious situation. It wasn't the body per se that would cause all sorts of problems. He had a firm belief he could handle that. But the Jhumon, Crichton...
He was well aware, that they were both watched by him. Could almost feel his eyes boring into his. He was lucky that Crichton had poor eyesight.
Crais looked over at his own sleeping form, the slightly half open mouth, the stubble on his cheeks and a panic gripped him as well. But it was different from the panic that Aeryn had experienced earlier. He hoped she wasn't going to try to shave.
He turned on his back and crossed his fingers over his chest as he was wont to do when he lay thinking in the dark. He uncrossed his fingers immediately when they rested on her... no, don't even think about that. He placed his hands at his side on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew how difficult it was to learn to shave. It was an art. Fortunately, when pubescent males first began to need to cope with this situation, their growth was weak and straggly, and it hardly mattered that the results were somewhat haphazard.
Later, by the time the skill was truly needed, youths had usually gained enough experience to make a presentable showing of themselves.
Bialar remembered his own first attempt. He was about 16 cycles old, his beard growth no more than down on his cheeks. When he had been conscripted, his father had bequeathed him his own razor, a very sharp bladed razor. It was still with him even now. He looked in the mirror and had tried his first movement. He hadn't learned the coordination of hand-to-beard-through-mirror yet and instead on angling it away from his cheek the razor had nicked him sharply near the curve of his mouth. A bloodied line trickled down and he tried to stem it. He nearly sliced his nose when he forgot to put the razor down first.
It had left a scar, nicely concealed by his goatee. He brought his hand up to his face to touch the scar and touched soft skin, no beard there. His other fingers touched soft but firm lips. When his hand trailed over them it tickled. He smiled. It felt strange not to touch the rough, prickly beard beneath those lips.
Lying very still, he glanced downward.
He knew the jhumon would be stubborn and unreasonable enough to lie outside in the corridor all night, and since he didn't want to turn around to face him, he wasn't completely sure whether Crichton was awake. He wouldn't give the jhumon the satisfaction of letting him see Crais turn his attention to him. Let him lie there; the jhumon would richly deserve the stiffness and discomfort he felt in the morning.
It would serve him right for what he was putting Crais through, for what he had put Aeryn through.
He thought back on what they had all suffered during the last few cycles, when they met up again, two cycles after he and Talyn had StarBurst in the Command Carrier. They had believed the others lost. Talyn and he had no knowledge of what had happened to the others or whether they were even alive.
He and Talyn had taken a while to recuperate and even now Talyn would sometimes be afraid to StarBurst. Twice it had nearly cost them their lives.
And then they had met up with Moya and her crew again. If Crais had even remotely believed that Crichton would behave differently toward him, Crais had been mistaken. The only reason they stayed was because Talyn took comfort in being with his mother.
It had been harder on Talyn than any of the others. They had been adults making their own decisions, even when they were hard decisions.
Talyn had still been only a child, really. He had experienced one traumatic event after another from the time of his birth, and even that had not been easy -his delivery had been so difficult that both he and Moya had nearly died.
Things had never gotten that much easier for him. Bialar Crais had kidnapped him not that long afterwards, and this was probably one of the things that Moya's crew held most against him.
They had not been willing to consider that the alternative would likely have been worse for all involved. Moya and her crew had just barely escaped obliteration so many times. Had she been burdened with her baby, it likely would have made the difference in whether they all had lived or died.
Crais had not taken up the Leviathan modification project years ago out of benevolence. He had been driven by ambition and pride, and the hatred of what Peacekeepers were now that had been buried so deep since childhood, a hatred that he had never dared admit even to himself until the first time he left his Command Carrier, Scorpius hot on his tail.
But once he found himself at the gunship Leviathan's helm, solely responsible for not only his fate but that of this other innocent, totally dependent creature also, everything had changed completely. He was father, brother, friend, and captain to Talyn. More than anything else, Talyn had stepped into the gaping hole that the death of Tauvo had left in Bialar's soul.
Crais sighed. The others would not understand what he himself had come to realise in the time that he and Talyn had been alone. They had needed each other. Both had needed the comfort and bond they had grown into. A complete separation would devastate both. The others still believed that Crais only wanted Talyn for his own protection and that Talyn would be better off with another Captain. They were wrong.
Only one other realised that, he was sure of it. He looked over at his own sleeping form, which at present housed the mind of the one who believed in him. If they couldn't go back to their own bodies, she was the only one he could trust to guide Talyn. He knew Crichton would kill him first rather than let him stay on Moya in Aeryn's body.
His thoughts were brought back to the body he resided in. He could feel how Aeryn had kept her body in shape. His hands... her hands lying next to the body could feel the smooth and soft skin and the hard muscle tone underneath, not that unlike his own body. He wondered if her body could stand up to the rigours of the Vah'ni Panthak. He would find out in the morning. He tried rolling over and making himself comfortable. It was not easy to get back to sleep, and thoughts kept racing through his mind.
Did Aeryn really think he was that strong? He had struggled all of his life to be strong, and he was painfully aware of the times that he had thought himself lacking. He was only Sebacean.
He had learned from his earliest days that he was expected to depend on no one but himself.
He knew that this was one of his failings. He did not feel that he should, he did not feel that he could discuss his plans with the others, or admit his occasional doubts. It had occurred to him more than once these last few cycles that some of his tactics may have been successful, even brilliant, but that part of the reason they, and he, had not been accepted by the Moyans was that he had never given them much of a chance to accept them. He had not trusted the others enough to share his plans ahead of time with them.
Aeryn, on the other hand, had cycles ago become an essential component of Moya's crew. They had melded themselves into a family. Sometimes a fractious, dysfunctional family, but a family, nonetheless.
Bialar had Talyn. Not that he undervalued him, not at all. Without each other, they might not have survived what life had thrown at them countless times. And although Talyn felt more like family to him than his own kind ever had, whether the Peacekeepers or even Tauvo, Crais was well aware that in essence he was still alone.
He knew that Talyn longed for contact with his own kind but that his gunship abilities made the others shy away from him. And in effect he was to blame for it. He sent a silent apology to Talyn as he had done numerous times.
Bialar Crais smiled, although more solitary than most people, even he longed for company sometimes... even for the Moya crew on occasion.
Was it really strength that Aeryn saw in him or was it merely a different weakness?
Crais shook his head in the darkness. He knew he had his weaknesses. He was finally ready to admit to it. Arns with not a lot to do on Talyn had made him very retrospective. He must have been able to show only his strength if Aeryn believed that she had to borrow from him.
He glanced over at his own form. She didn't know that he admired her for her strength and the readiness to have accepted a life with the Jhumon. It could not have been easy for her to handle the lower species.
Crais caught himself, not a lower species, just a different species with weaker traits. From a Sebacean's point of view, Crichton was nearly deaf and nightblind. On the other hand he was able to walk in the sun with pleasure.
Crais wondered what Aeryn saw in Crichton. It was her choice. At least he didn't have to...
put up with the jhumon's constant inane jokes and nonsense remarks. He had never in all his cycles had to suffer such foolishness from anybody, and it gave him a headache sometimes trying to deal with Crichton. Even when they both were trying to get along with each other, each of them seemed to have a rare gift for aggravating the other one.
Besides, Bialar had never been good about explaining himself to others. If they could not see beyond the facade that he presented to the world, if they could not discern his true motives or judge him fairly by the results of his actions, which had on a number of occasions benefited them and their causes at great peril to himself, then so be it.
Yet Aeryn had mostly seemed content with the life she had built here, and with her connections to the others on Moya.
Bialar had been shocked to discover that she still had such doubts and reservations that she had been desperate enough to trust the priest. He had thought her in many ways the lucky one.
He was a loner by nature, even while he was still with the Peacekeepers and his brother had often playfully scolded him for that. Aeryn was different. More accepting. Crais had a difficult time accepting others or the help of others. She on the other hand seemed to almost embrace it. Life would have been easier for him if he were as able to do this as she could.
He was surprised that she didn't have more confidence in herself. He had watched her in secret on the Command Carrier when he was still Captain of it and had marvelled at her confidence, her determination, her grace.
Involuntarily his hands felt the muscles in her body. He was pleased that she had kept up her training. He dropped the hands back to the bed.
By Cholok, the night was long and what they faced at the end of it uncertain. He had better try and get what rest he could, for both of their sakes.
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Part 7
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Meanwhile, John Crichton slept fitfully. He tossed and turned on the hard floor outside the cell. In the moments that consciousness intruded on his miserable attempt to get through the sleep period, he began to think that he was being the sorry eema about this. No, let's speak plainly, he was just outright being an ass.
Yes, he was jealous of Bialar Crais. He realized, just as much as either Aeryn or Crais did, that they both had complicated feelings for the other. Even though Aeryn Sun had picked him -and more than once- it almost made things worse to know that someone he respected and cared for so much, who was everything to him, actually had deep and honest feelings for this other man.
If he were honest with himself, he would not have been so jealous if he had not such high regard for his rival -potential rival- to begin with. Some pretty buffoon could have been laughed off easily. He would have merely teased his love for her lapse in taste.
Bialar Crais was another matter. He was formidable, implacable, a brilliant strategist, and brave enough to successfully carry off those plans he had rarely been willing to share with anyone else until it was too late.
It hadn't helped that when Crichton had first found himself on this side of the galaxy, Crais had resisted gutting him only because he was intent on a more leisurely dissection of the jhumon. He had very nearly succeeded.
Crichton had to admit that he didn't make Crais' life easy either and secretly didn't want to. He had seen that Crais had tried to fit in but his severity was too grating on the nerves. The man was only dedicated to his work and Talyn. And Crichton had reacted to it, but his attempts to make Crais loosen up had only aggravated the Peacekeeper, sorry, ex-Peacekeeper.
And his moods had affected the others as well. Why couldn't the man just loosen up? Unlike the others on board Moya, Crais' interests had ranged from helping them repair Moya, working on modifications on Talyn and talks with Pilot on navigation, and more work.
Apart from his severity, his physique caused Crichton to envy him. His tunic made him look stockier than he was. Crichton had seen him work in only his sleeveless shirt and he was able to understand why Aeryn would find Crais attractive. The man oozed strength in a catlike way. And even though Aeryn had told him that she had no feelings in that way for Crais, Crichton had not believed her.
If he had, would she still have run for the priests on the planet below? Was he himself to blame for Aeryn's actions which had brought them to this predicament? He would have liked to lay the blame on Crais but knew that it would be unfair to do so.
Still, Crais was not totally blameless, either, even if Crichton had overreacted.
Well, maybe none of them were.
Crichton rolled over again in a vain attempt to find a less uncomfortable position. As he drifted off again, he resigned himself to dealing with this whole ugly mess in what he still couldn't help thinking of as the morning. He couldn't decide whether to look forward to it, or to dread its arrival.
.
Crais woke up at his normally accustomed time, two arns before everyone else.
For a moment he was disoriented when he saw his own sleeping form next to him. A quick look down confirmed that he was still in Aeryn's body. His own body would get the sleep of a lifetime, he smiled.
He rose from the bed and had to find his balance. He walked past Crichton without waking him up. Jhumons were deaf.
With quick strides (his long strides felt strange in Aeryn's body) he reached the training area.
.
In the meantime, Aeryn found herself waking up in a bed, but not her own. She too felt disoriented for a moment. She had dreamed the strangest dream, and it had felt so real.
She looked down at "her" body. Oh, frell.
Something, someone was missing. She was alone, and she should not have been. She had felt a curious comfort during the sleep cycle sharing Bialar's chamber, his bed space, with him. Now she lay here, the sole occupant of the cell.
She would not have blamed him if, hours ago when they had each found their consciousness trapped in the other's body, he had reacted with violence and rage. He had not, though.
He had been shocked at first, and he had not been pleased, and he obviously still harbored serious reservations about the chill... the priests of Lachmon, and their intentions. But he had stood by her, the way -if one were lucky enough- a fellow warrior, the way a friend, would.
The Vah'ni Panthak regimen! She wondered how long ago Crais had awoken. His habit of sleeping fewer hours than any of the others was one small part of why he made them feel uncomfortable... psychologically, it seemed to them as though he "never" slept, even though they all rotated sleep cycles and someone was always on duty.
She would have to hurry if she still intended to follow through on her plan. But first, she felt an uncomfortably "full" sensation and recognised it for what it was. She got out of bed quietly and moved to the bathroom. She sat down and found that the part that would give her relief would also sprinkle over the edge. She frowned. This was not the way to do it. She stood up and faced the bowl. How to aim? It stubbornly pointed upwards and she had to force it down facing the bowl.
After a bit of deliberation, she managed to aim straight and was surprised by the power behind the stream but wondered what to do afterwards when it shrunk after release. It felt cold and she wiped it with some tissues. Men probably had a different way of doing this but it would have to suffice for now. She washed her hands.
She padded back into the room quietly. A quick glance at the corridor found Crichton still asleep. She rummaged through Crais' wardrobe and found a sleeveless shirt to wear. He probably wouldn't be wearing his boots. For a moment she looked at the few clothes he had brought over from Talyn. They were all in black. She wondered whether he had them because he liked the colour black or whether he couldn't let go of his Peacekeeper past. She smiled and had to admit, most of her clothes were in black.
The shirt was very tight fitting and absentmindedly she found it a shame that he covered his form with the bulky tunic he was normally wearing. Her... his hands ran over his torso. It was so well defined. She sighed and left the room quietly, stepped over Crichton's outstretched legs and made her way to the training area, hoping that Bialar was not too far along in his regimen.
.
The others on Moya had outfitted one of the lesser-used cargo bays with a variety of exercise equipment and weapons, which they used to keep themselves as fit and trained as possible. Sometimes they practised alone, other times they worked out in teams.
Bialar Crais took this to an entirely different level. He had appropriated an empty hangar away from the usual bustle.
It was his practice when on Moya to isolate himself in this quiet space and to, on a daily basis, devote himself to practising the highest form of martial discipline known to Peacekeepers.
As Aeryn traversed Moya's lonely halls, she concentrated on how Bialar's body moved, felt different from her own. The center of balance was not where she expected it to be. Furthermore, the feeling of physical power was astonishing, especially since she was used to being the physically dominant one among Moya's crew, excepting of course the huge Luxan.
Aeryn directed herself to that lonely hangar bay expecting to find him there, and she was not mistaken. She hid in the shadows and watched his exercise. Watched how he moved her body through movements she was not aware she was capable of doing. Yet, here he proved that she could, if only she applied her mind to it.
.
The Vah'ni Panthak asked for pure concentration and the use of all muscles. The practise began even slower that the regular Panthak regimen, tensing all the muscles and relaxing them completely. Hardening them until they were almost like steel. Then speeding up, faster than any exercise until the movements became almost like a blur.
She saw that he had already reached the last stage. Her own body moved faster than she had ever done. She could see her own muscles rippling on her body and she wondered how much pain she would feel the next day.
When he slowed down, she walked into the Hangar. Crais turned round and saw himself enter the Hangar. He noticed with amusement that Aeryn put a sway to his hips which he would find rather embarrassing to do, had he been himself.
He was only a little out of breath and the smile he gave her was charming. Aeryn wished he would smile more often, it would be quite becoming on his own face.
"Ready to do your exercise, Aeryn?"
"You made my body move with grace, Crais. I don't think I could return the compliment to yours."
He smiled, "Maybe you should let my body remember the movements." When she looked at him strangely, he continued, "Just follow my lead."
Her body moved in position and he started the slow regimen again. At first she made the movements consciously, falling once when she wasn't prepared to tense Bialar's muscles so slowly. Then she understood what he meant and marvelled at the sheer strength she could now feel surge through her.
She gave herself over to the exercise. Could feel the tightening of her... his muscles, revelled in the sheer power of them. Gradually her movements became like mirror movements of her own body.
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Part 8
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John had woken up as well. Had found the room empty and was fuming! Where were they? Then he remembered Crais' little hidey-hole on board and almost ran to the empty hangar bay. He had wanted to yell at them when he entered, until he saw the "dance". Never before had he seen such grace. Never before had he seen Aeryn move with such confident power. He had frequently taken the opportunity to watch her train, but he had never seen her move like this.
He was mesmerized as he watched the intricate and potentially lethal dance. The two bodies, in some ways so different, and in others so similar, continued to mirror each other.
There were not many who could perform the Vah'ni Panthak regimen. There were fewer who had so mastered it that they could perform it as one of a pair. One false move, a hesitation or a miscalculation, and the other participant risked serious injury. The binary version of the Vah'ni Panthak demanded the same physical skill and absolute attention to detail as the solo form did, but it also required a thorough awareness at all times of the other body's movements, and a trust between the two partners that was rare to find.
Bialar Crais had the skill, enough that he had been able to perform the ritual correctly even in the body of another. His own body, even though currently inhabited by another, also had the physical "muscle" memory which enabled it to successfully execute this most elaborate of rites, although without Aeryn's complete attention and the application of her own considerable warrior's skills, their performance would still not have been possible.
Crichton leaned back against the wall while he watched the dance unfold. Part of him was envious of Crais to have such strength and skill and, he grudgingly admitted it, grace. Another part of him was glad that Aeryn was instilled with confidence to perform the ritual with him.
He could never match them.
The regimen sped up. The circling of the bodies and the movements growing faster, the contacts of the blows and kicks, although light and not meant to hurt much, must have been harder than Crichton would have been able to take. Still the moves were executed with precision. He could now see that even though Aeryn was well trained, the body of Crais was missing some of the attacks, Aeryn's body moved faster. Skill was taking over.
.
Then suddenly Aeryn's body raised her hand and the dance slowed down and then stopped. Aeryn smiled and Crais' voice said, "You move well, Aeryn. If you will allow me, once we are back in our own bodies I will instruct you in the regimen. You have potential and your body is well trained."
He looked at Aeryn's hands and arms and flexed the muscles, "It would be a pleasure to work with this body." A rueful grin spread across Aeryn's face, only to be replaced by a much more serious frown, "Aeryn, is it worth the cost to you? You have a relationship with Crichton, one that I have watched deepen daily. I have tried to treat you appropriately and with the respect you deserve.
Whether because of my history with some of the others before John Crichton ever appeared in his... white death pod, or due to the feelings of... jealousy occasioned by our mutual regard for you, or perhaps simply because I have on occasion acted in consideration of my own interests as well as those of the others, I have not been accepted here on Moya as you have.
No doubt I am not blameless in that regard. Even when I have put myself in peril for the causes of the others, I have not been especially forthcoming about my plans. I have preferred to act on my own as I have seen fit, trusting primarily to my own judgment, which I believe has generally been vindicated. We all have our strengths, and I fear that mine will never be acting as what I believe Crichton would call a "team player". The others do not seem capable of crediting that nevertheless I have on any number of occasions acted in support of that team."
Crais was silent for a moment.
"Aeryn, you belong here. I am not sure that I ever will. Do not risk more for me than you are prepared to lose. I offer you my friendship, again, since we both know that is all you are prepared to accept from me.
Because of the background we share, we understand each other in a way that perhaps the others never will or never can. That understanding might be misconstrued by others. I do not want to jeopardize your position here on board. All I ask is for your friendship, which is very dear to me." Aeryn's eyes looked at her, at his own face.
Aeryn saw the loneliness reflected in her own eyes. Crais was right, the others had never accepted him and maybe never would. She knew, they knew, he had saved their eemas countless times, sometimes at his and Talyn's own peril. Yet, they had almost seen it as a right, never really acknowledging his participation. Herself included.
He never asked for their acceptance nor for their friendship. He was too proud to do that and they had never given it to him. She felt ashamed and at the same time glad that he had changed enough to offer it.
She looked up again and a smile crossed on Bialar's features, "I would be honoured to be called your friend, Bialar Crais."
Was it gratitude she saw flit past her own features? A sudden urge to embrace this man welled up in her and she stepped forwards, arms wide open.As the body of Bialar Crais moved toward that of Aeryn's, they heard a noise from just down the corridor.
They turned to see John Crichton in the process of standing up. It was immediately obvious to both Sebaceans that he must have been seated outside the hangar bay for some time, watching them.
Had they not been so focused on the Vah'ni Panthak regimen, it would never have taken them so long to become aware of his presence. The look on his face...
As they both stared at him, he finished getting to his feet. He turned, and started to walk back down the corridor, retracing his steps. He had seen and heard enough. Peacekeepers! He spat the word.
Aeryn's head hung down and took a deep breath, "Go after him, Aeryn. He will have misunderstood. I don't want you to lose him to a misunderstanding." Crais picked up the towel and turned away from Aeryn.
Aeryn was upset with Crichton and when she saw her own face grow sad again, she had had enough. She stepped closer to her own body and when Crais stood straight again, towel in hand, she flung Crais' big arms around him, giving him the hug she had intended earlier, "I mean that, Crais. I want to be your friend."
Crais was taken aback by the display of friendship and tentatively returned the hug. "Thank you, Aeryn," he replied softly, "Now go and make up with Crichton." He reluctantly let her go.
.
He watched his body leave the area and turned for the refresher. Aeryn's friendship meant a lot to him and he didn't want to lose that and certainly not over a misunderstanding between her and Crichton.
He stepped in the refresher and let the water cascade over him. It felt different. Of course it would. For starters the hair was not as thick as he was used to. He lathered the body, well aware that his hands moved over lines and curves, which were alien to him. He washed quickly. He didn't want to linger on... No, that wasn't completely true. He would like to linger but his sense of honour would not let him. He closed his eyes and tried to block everything from his mind.
When Crichton finally fell asleep, Aeryn woke up. She found herself still in the body of her former Captain.
Her, well actually, physically it was his, right hand was draped casually, and perfectly innocently on the point of Aeryn Sun's hip.
The body of Aeryn Sun seemed to be deep in the throes of sleep. The eyes were closed, and her chest slowly rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.
The female looked so peaceful, so innocent, altogether guileless.
Still in the body of her former Captain, she examined the form next to her more closely. It was odd to see her body like this. For one thing, what she beheld was a mirror image of the sight she usually faced; not that ex-Peacekeeper Officer Aeryn Sun spent a lot of time admiring herself in a mirror. Which was not to say that she never looked at herself in a mirror either.
A long time ago, Zhaan had correctly surmised that while the Sebacean female was not consumed with vanity, she still did care about her appearance. She desired to be not only clean and neat, but to present herself as attractive to those she cared for and whose opinion she valued. The Delvian had understood that balance was not only desirable, but necessary -a good spirit was desirable, but so were a good heart, a good mind and a good body. Zhaan had been able to show her how to accentuate her beauty naturally.
The female body that Aeryn observed was young, having not long ago entered the prime of its life. She was proud to note that the body -her body- was slim and even somewhat wiry, but not unattractively so. It was fit and well muscled but still very essentially feminine. Her raven colored mane was strewn about the pillow. The facial features were regular and generous, the lips now slightly parted in sleep.
Aeryn was finally able to see herself as John saw her. Not as she saw herself when she looked in the mirror but as the flesh and blood self. She could understand his fascination with her. Not that she was vain, but seeing herself in sleep made her understand better.
Her body shifted in sleep. One arm was thrown up and came to rest at a curve over the head. Even in sleep, Crais exuded confidence and Aeryn longed to have that confidence. It was why she had done what she did. Hopefully she would still retain some of that confidence when she was in her own body again.
She sighed and lay back. She scratched her chest and found it strange not to feel the curves when doing so. She smiled. How would it be for Crais? What she was now lacking in curves he would have in abundance to experience. She touched his chest again. Very taut muscles, even when they were relaxed. Crais kept himself in shape. She resisted the urge to explore further. Their body swap, even though non-voluntarily was still based on trust. She thought about the hours still to come that she would be spending in this body.
She was determined that she would do nothing "inappropriate" while she inhabited the body of her ex-Captain. The thought of what might constitute "inappropriate" caused a little twinge such as she had never experienced before.
She looked over again at her own body and saw how it turned over. Crais mumbled in his sleep and was trying to get comfortable. It was obvious that he wasn't used to the different rise on his upper body and was now wriggling to get more comfortable. Small deep grunts escaped Aeryn's lips. He finally turned over on his side and slept on.
Aeryn curled her mouth in a smile she had never thought possible. Although it was her intellect squarely inhabiting this strange yet beautiful body, it definitely seemed to have ingrained "body memory".
Muscles seemed to have retained the habits built up over many years of life. She had conscious control over them, but when she wasn't exerting that control, then she became aware of what was normally not part of her. How was she going to sleep on her stomach knowing that certain parts would get in the way? Would it stretch or crunch? Up or down? She felt it inappropriate to touch that part or even to think about it but how would Crais' body know how to sleep on it? She tried to empty her mind but the more she tried the more she wondered and conscious control was taking over.
Crais' face got a very Aeryn-like scowl. Frell, why did she have to think of that!
She had slept in a jumble of Peacekeeper bodies more than once while out on assignments, and it had never been a very big deal. She minded her business, and everyone else minded theirs, too, unless they agreed not to.
The occasional involuntary reaction was usually considered cause for mirth, and earned the "offending" party a good-natured teasing.
Suddenly the shoe was on the other foot, and she wasn't finding it remotely funny. She had no idea how to "control" this body. She knew the human was asleep on the floor outside the chamber, and had no desire to give him reason to complain of her actions, or more importantly, to doubt her.
She also was aware that she had very complicated and contradictory feelings about the man with whom she shared this bed. Frell if he was in her body, the person she was laying next to *was* Bialar Crais -her one-time Captain, her friend (whether the others understood that or not), and a man whom she admired, and whom she had to admit that she had a very real attraction to, even though it was the human that she was in a relationship with.
Aeryn rolled over again and noticed with a satisfied grin that Crais' body had remembered how to sleep on the various parts.
Her... no... his hair fell forward across her face, silken curly hair, not the straight hair that was hers. She had always secretly envied him his hair, so different from hers. She touched it. It was soft. She had always believed it should have felt wiry; why she didn't know. But she had been wrong; it was very soft to the touch.
She sighed and moved her head over the pillow, the beard made a rasping sound. She touched her face and could feel the stubble on her cheeks.
She flipped her eyes open in panic and thought hard. How was she going to shave tomorrow? Crais always liked to look impeccable, he would not want to walk around with stubble on his face but she had never had to shave. What would happen if she tried to shave this face?
If she neglected this daily "morning" ritual, not only would the others see "Crais" in a state that he normally would never permit. She would spend the day conscious every time he looked at her, at *his* body, that she had not lived up to his expectations, that she had by her actions somehow "failed" him again.
On the other hand, passing her hand over the unfamiliar face, she was acutely aware that below the stubble was very soft and tender skin. She caressed that honey colored skin, and imagined it after she had finished her maiden attempt at shaving it, cut, bleeding, half a moustache gone,and an unruly line on the goatee itself. And what about the two perfectly shaven spaces under his lip? Her hands were already shaking with the thought of those patches alone and the panic rose again. Should she just stay in bed? That would be safer! She wouldn't have to shave or comb that beautiful hair.
No, she couldn't do that to him either. He was an early riser and had a morning routine. She had watched him from the shadows in the Hangar Bay, early in the morning when everyone was still asleep, going through the Vah'ni Panthak regimen, the highest form of exercise. She had marveled at his movements. She had never reached that level. Would his body remember? Would her body be able to do it if he was going through the exercise? And with that happy thought, she fell asleep.
.
Part 6
.
Crais woke up a few microns after she went to sleep and looked around him. For a few moments, he felt disoriented. He looked at his twin, lying across from him. He looked down at his own body, or what he had expected to be his own body.
It most definitely wasn't.
The events of recent hours came flooding back over him. He still found it hard to believe, but looking at the beautiful female figure, he was forced to accept that this was no nightmare. Somehow, this was real.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and lay quietly. He had been preoccupied earlier with finding a way to accept and handle the situation he had found himself in. Now he began to pay more attention to his circumstances and found that he was in quite a precarious situation. It wasn't the body per se that would cause all sorts of problems. He had a firm belief he could handle that. But the Jhumon, Crichton...
He was well aware, that they were both watched by him. Could almost feel his eyes boring into his. He was lucky that Crichton had poor eyesight.
Crais looked over at his own sleeping form, the slightly half open mouth, the stubble on his cheeks and a panic gripped him as well. But it was different from the panic that Aeryn had experienced earlier. He hoped she wasn't going to try to shave.
He turned on his back and crossed his fingers over his chest as he was wont to do when he lay thinking in the dark. He uncrossed his fingers immediately when they rested on her... no, don't even think about that. He placed his hands at his side on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew how difficult it was to learn to shave. It was an art. Fortunately, when pubescent males first began to need to cope with this situation, their growth was weak and straggly, and it hardly mattered that the results were somewhat haphazard.
Later, by the time the skill was truly needed, youths had usually gained enough experience to make a presentable showing of themselves.
Bialar remembered his own first attempt. He was about 16 cycles old, his beard growth no more than down on his cheeks. When he had been conscripted, his father had bequeathed him his own razor, a very sharp bladed razor. It was still with him even now. He looked in the mirror and had tried his first movement. He hadn't learned the coordination of hand-to-beard-through-mirror yet and instead on angling it away from his cheek the razor had nicked him sharply near the curve of his mouth. A bloodied line trickled down and he tried to stem it. He nearly sliced his nose when he forgot to put the razor down first.
It had left a scar, nicely concealed by his goatee. He brought his hand up to his face to touch the scar and touched soft skin, no beard there. His other fingers touched soft but firm lips. When his hand trailed over them it tickled. He smiled. It felt strange not to touch the rough, prickly beard beneath those lips.
Lying very still, he glanced downward.
He knew the jhumon would be stubborn and unreasonable enough to lie outside in the corridor all night, and since he didn't want to turn around to face him, he wasn't completely sure whether Crichton was awake. He wouldn't give the jhumon the satisfaction of letting him see Crais turn his attention to him. Let him lie there; the jhumon would richly deserve the stiffness and discomfort he felt in the morning.
It would serve him right for what he was putting Crais through, for what he had put Aeryn through.
He thought back on what they had all suffered during the last few cycles, when they met up again, two cycles after he and Talyn had StarBurst in the Command Carrier. They had believed the others lost. Talyn and he had no knowledge of what had happened to the others or whether they were even alive.
He and Talyn had taken a while to recuperate and even now Talyn would sometimes be afraid to StarBurst. Twice it had nearly cost them their lives.
And then they had met up with Moya and her crew again. If Crais had even remotely believed that Crichton would behave differently toward him, Crais had been mistaken. The only reason they stayed was because Talyn took comfort in being with his mother.
It had been harder on Talyn than any of the others. They had been adults making their own decisions, even when they were hard decisions.
Talyn had still been only a child, really. He had experienced one traumatic event after another from the time of his birth, and even that had not been easy -his delivery had been so difficult that both he and Moya had nearly died.
Things had never gotten that much easier for him. Bialar Crais had kidnapped him not that long afterwards, and this was probably one of the things that Moya's crew held most against him.
They had not been willing to consider that the alternative would likely have been worse for all involved. Moya and her crew had just barely escaped obliteration so many times. Had she been burdened with her baby, it likely would have made the difference in whether they all had lived or died.
Crais had not taken up the Leviathan modification project years ago out of benevolence. He had been driven by ambition and pride, and the hatred of what Peacekeepers were now that had been buried so deep since childhood, a hatred that he had never dared admit even to himself until the first time he left his Command Carrier, Scorpius hot on his tail.
But once he found himself at the gunship Leviathan's helm, solely responsible for not only his fate but that of this other innocent, totally dependent creature also, everything had changed completely. He was father, brother, friend, and captain to Talyn. More than anything else, Talyn had stepped into the gaping hole that the death of Tauvo had left in Bialar's soul.
Crais sighed. The others would not understand what he himself had come to realise in the time that he and Talyn had been alone. They had needed each other. Both had needed the comfort and bond they had grown into. A complete separation would devastate both. The others still believed that Crais only wanted Talyn for his own protection and that Talyn would be better off with another Captain. They were wrong.
Only one other realised that, he was sure of it. He looked over at his own sleeping form, which at present housed the mind of the one who believed in him. If they couldn't go back to their own bodies, she was the only one he could trust to guide Talyn. He knew Crichton would kill him first rather than let him stay on Moya in Aeryn's body.
His thoughts were brought back to the body he resided in. He could feel how Aeryn had kept her body in shape. His hands... her hands lying next to the body could feel the smooth and soft skin and the hard muscle tone underneath, not that unlike his own body. He wondered if her body could stand up to the rigours of the Vah'ni Panthak. He would find out in the morning. He tried rolling over and making himself comfortable. It was not easy to get back to sleep, and thoughts kept racing through his mind.
Did Aeryn really think he was that strong? He had struggled all of his life to be strong, and he was painfully aware of the times that he had thought himself lacking. He was only Sebacean.
He had learned from his earliest days that he was expected to depend on no one but himself.
He knew that this was one of his failings. He did not feel that he should, he did not feel that he could discuss his plans with the others, or admit his occasional doubts. It had occurred to him more than once these last few cycles that some of his tactics may have been successful, even brilliant, but that part of the reason they, and he, had not been accepted by the Moyans was that he had never given them much of a chance to accept them. He had not trusted the others enough to share his plans ahead of time with them.
Aeryn, on the other hand, had cycles ago become an essential component of Moya's crew. They had melded themselves into a family. Sometimes a fractious, dysfunctional family, but a family, nonetheless.
Bialar had Talyn. Not that he undervalued him, not at all. Without each other, they might not have survived what life had thrown at them countless times. And although Talyn felt more like family to him than his own kind ever had, whether the Peacekeepers or even Tauvo, Crais was well aware that in essence he was still alone.
He knew that Talyn longed for contact with his own kind but that his gunship abilities made the others shy away from him. And in effect he was to blame for it. He sent a silent apology to Talyn as he had done numerous times.
Bialar Crais smiled, although more solitary than most people, even he longed for company sometimes... even for the Moya crew on occasion.
Was it really strength that Aeryn saw in him or was it merely a different weakness?
Crais shook his head in the darkness. He knew he had his weaknesses. He was finally ready to admit to it. Arns with not a lot to do on Talyn had made him very retrospective. He must have been able to show only his strength if Aeryn believed that she had to borrow from him.
He glanced over at his own form. She didn't know that he admired her for her strength and the readiness to have accepted a life with the Jhumon. It could not have been easy for her to handle the lower species.
Crais caught himself, not a lower species, just a different species with weaker traits. From a Sebacean's point of view, Crichton was nearly deaf and nightblind. On the other hand he was able to walk in the sun with pleasure.
Crais wondered what Aeryn saw in Crichton. It was her choice. At least he didn't have to...
put up with the jhumon's constant inane jokes and nonsense remarks. He had never in all his cycles had to suffer such foolishness from anybody, and it gave him a headache sometimes trying to deal with Crichton. Even when they both were trying to get along with each other, each of them seemed to have a rare gift for aggravating the other one.
Besides, Bialar had never been good about explaining himself to others. If they could not see beyond the facade that he presented to the world, if they could not discern his true motives or judge him fairly by the results of his actions, which had on a number of occasions benefited them and their causes at great peril to himself, then so be it.
Yet Aeryn had mostly seemed content with the life she had built here, and with her connections to the others on Moya.
Bialar had been shocked to discover that she still had such doubts and reservations that she had been desperate enough to trust the priest. He had thought her in many ways the lucky one.
He was a loner by nature, even while he was still with the Peacekeepers and his brother had often playfully scolded him for that. Aeryn was different. More accepting. Crais had a difficult time accepting others or the help of others. She on the other hand seemed to almost embrace it. Life would have been easier for him if he were as able to do this as she could.
He was surprised that she didn't have more confidence in herself. He had watched her in secret on the Command Carrier when he was still Captain of it and had marvelled at her confidence, her determination, her grace.
Involuntarily his hands felt the muscles in her body. He was pleased that she had kept up her training. He dropped the hands back to the bed.
By Cholok, the night was long and what they faced at the end of it uncertain. He had better try and get what rest he could, for both of their sakes.
.
Part 7
.
Meanwhile, John Crichton slept fitfully. He tossed and turned on the hard floor outside the cell. In the moments that consciousness intruded on his miserable attempt to get through the sleep period, he began to think that he was being the sorry eema about this. No, let's speak plainly, he was just outright being an ass.
Yes, he was jealous of Bialar Crais. He realized, just as much as either Aeryn or Crais did, that they both had complicated feelings for the other. Even though Aeryn Sun had picked him -and more than once- it almost made things worse to know that someone he respected and cared for so much, who was everything to him, actually had deep and honest feelings for this other man.
If he were honest with himself, he would not have been so jealous if he had not such high regard for his rival -potential rival- to begin with. Some pretty buffoon could have been laughed off easily. He would have merely teased his love for her lapse in taste.
Bialar Crais was another matter. He was formidable, implacable, a brilliant strategist, and brave enough to successfully carry off those plans he had rarely been willing to share with anyone else until it was too late.
It hadn't helped that when Crichton had first found himself on this side of the galaxy, Crais had resisted gutting him only because he was intent on a more leisurely dissection of the jhumon. He had very nearly succeeded.
Crichton had to admit that he didn't make Crais' life easy either and secretly didn't want to. He had seen that Crais had tried to fit in but his severity was too grating on the nerves. The man was only dedicated to his work and Talyn. And Crichton had reacted to it, but his attempts to make Crais loosen up had only aggravated the Peacekeeper, sorry, ex-Peacekeeper.
And his moods had affected the others as well. Why couldn't the man just loosen up? Unlike the others on board Moya, Crais' interests had ranged from helping them repair Moya, working on modifications on Talyn and talks with Pilot on navigation, and more work.
Apart from his severity, his physique caused Crichton to envy him. His tunic made him look stockier than he was. Crichton had seen him work in only his sleeveless shirt and he was able to understand why Aeryn would find Crais attractive. The man oozed strength in a catlike way. And even though Aeryn had told him that she had no feelings in that way for Crais, Crichton had not believed her.
If he had, would she still have run for the priests on the planet below? Was he himself to blame for Aeryn's actions which had brought them to this predicament? He would have liked to lay the blame on Crais but knew that it would be unfair to do so.
Still, Crais was not totally blameless, either, even if Crichton had overreacted.
Well, maybe none of them were.
Crichton rolled over again in a vain attempt to find a less uncomfortable position. As he drifted off again, he resigned himself to dealing with this whole ugly mess in what he still couldn't help thinking of as the morning. He couldn't decide whether to look forward to it, or to dread its arrival.
.
Crais woke up at his normally accustomed time, two arns before everyone else.
For a moment he was disoriented when he saw his own sleeping form next to him. A quick look down confirmed that he was still in Aeryn's body. His own body would get the sleep of a lifetime, he smiled.
He rose from the bed and had to find his balance. He walked past Crichton without waking him up. Jhumons were deaf.
With quick strides (his long strides felt strange in Aeryn's body) he reached the training area.
.
In the meantime, Aeryn found herself waking up in a bed, but not her own. She too felt disoriented for a moment. She had dreamed the strangest dream, and it had felt so real.
She looked down at "her" body. Oh, frell.
Something, someone was missing. She was alone, and she should not have been. She had felt a curious comfort during the sleep cycle sharing Bialar's chamber, his bed space, with him. Now she lay here, the sole occupant of the cell.
She would not have blamed him if, hours ago when they had each found their consciousness trapped in the other's body, he had reacted with violence and rage. He had not, though.
He had been shocked at first, and he had not been pleased, and he obviously still harbored serious reservations about the chill... the priests of Lachmon, and their intentions. But he had stood by her, the way -if one were lucky enough- a fellow warrior, the way a friend, would.
The Vah'ni Panthak regimen! She wondered how long ago Crais had awoken. His habit of sleeping fewer hours than any of the others was one small part of why he made them feel uncomfortable... psychologically, it seemed to them as though he "never" slept, even though they all rotated sleep cycles and someone was always on duty.
She would have to hurry if she still intended to follow through on her plan. But first, she felt an uncomfortably "full" sensation and recognised it for what it was. She got out of bed quietly and moved to the bathroom. She sat down and found that the part that would give her relief would also sprinkle over the edge. She frowned. This was not the way to do it. She stood up and faced the bowl. How to aim? It stubbornly pointed upwards and she had to force it down facing the bowl.
After a bit of deliberation, she managed to aim straight and was surprised by the power behind the stream but wondered what to do afterwards when it shrunk after release. It felt cold and she wiped it with some tissues. Men probably had a different way of doing this but it would have to suffice for now. She washed her hands.
She padded back into the room quietly. A quick glance at the corridor found Crichton still asleep. She rummaged through Crais' wardrobe and found a sleeveless shirt to wear. He probably wouldn't be wearing his boots. For a moment she looked at the few clothes he had brought over from Talyn. They were all in black. She wondered whether he had them because he liked the colour black or whether he couldn't let go of his Peacekeeper past. She smiled and had to admit, most of her clothes were in black.
The shirt was very tight fitting and absentmindedly she found it a shame that he covered his form with the bulky tunic he was normally wearing. Her... his hands ran over his torso. It was so well defined. She sighed and left the room quietly, stepped over Crichton's outstretched legs and made her way to the training area, hoping that Bialar was not too far along in his regimen.
.
The others on Moya had outfitted one of the lesser-used cargo bays with a variety of exercise equipment and weapons, which they used to keep themselves as fit and trained as possible. Sometimes they practised alone, other times they worked out in teams.
Bialar Crais took this to an entirely different level. He had appropriated an empty hangar away from the usual bustle.
It was his practice when on Moya to isolate himself in this quiet space and to, on a daily basis, devote himself to practising the highest form of martial discipline known to Peacekeepers.
As Aeryn traversed Moya's lonely halls, she concentrated on how Bialar's body moved, felt different from her own. The center of balance was not where she expected it to be. Furthermore, the feeling of physical power was astonishing, especially since she was used to being the physically dominant one among Moya's crew, excepting of course the huge Luxan.
Aeryn directed herself to that lonely hangar bay expecting to find him there, and she was not mistaken. She hid in the shadows and watched his exercise. Watched how he moved her body through movements she was not aware she was capable of doing. Yet, here he proved that she could, if only she applied her mind to it.
.
The Vah'ni Panthak asked for pure concentration and the use of all muscles. The practise began even slower that the regular Panthak regimen, tensing all the muscles and relaxing them completely. Hardening them until they were almost like steel. Then speeding up, faster than any exercise until the movements became almost like a blur.
She saw that he had already reached the last stage. Her own body moved faster than she had ever done. She could see her own muscles rippling on her body and she wondered how much pain she would feel the next day.
When he slowed down, she walked into the Hangar. Crais turned round and saw himself enter the Hangar. He noticed with amusement that Aeryn put a sway to his hips which he would find rather embarrassing to do, had he been himself.
He was only a little out of breath and the smile he gave her was charming. Aeryn wished he would smile more often, it would be quite becoming on his own face.
"Ready to do your exercise, Aeryn?"
"You made my body move with grace, Crais. I don't think I could return the compliment to yours."
He smiled, "Maybe you should let my body remember the movements." When she looked at him strangely, he continued, "Just follow my lead."
Her body moved in position and he started the slow regimen again. At first she made the movements consciously, falling once when she wasn't prepared to tense Bialar's muscles so slowly. Then she understood what he meant and marvelled at the sheer strength she could now feel surge through her.
She gave herself over to the exercise. Could feel the tightening of her... his muscles, revelled in the sheer power of them. Gradually her movements became like mirror movements of her own body.
.
Part 8
.
John had woken up as well. Had found the room empty and was fuming! Where were they? Then he remembered Crais' little hidey-hole on board and almost ran to the empty hangar bay. He had wanted to yell at them when he entered, until he saw the "dance". Never before had he seen such grace. Never before had he seen Aeryn move with such confident power. He had frequently taken the opportunity to watch her train, but he had never seen her move like this.
He was mesmerized as he watched the intricate and potentially lethal dance. The two bodies, in some ways so different, and in others so similar, continued to mirror each other.
There were not many who could perform the Vah'ni Panthak regimen. There were fewer who had so mastered it that they could perform it as one of a pair. One false move, a hesitation or a miscalculation, and the other participant risked serious injury. The binary version of the Vah'ni Panthak demanded the same physical skill and absolute attention to detail as the solo form did, but it also required a thorough awareness at all times of the other body's movements, and a trust between the two partners that was rare to find.
Bialar Crais had the skill, enough that he had been able to perform the ritual correctly even in the body of another. His own body, even though currently inhabited by another, also had the physical "muscle" memory which enabled it to successfully execute this most elaborate of rites, although without Aeryn's complete attention and the application of her own considerable warrior's skills, their performance would still not have been possible.
Crichton leaned back against the wall while he watched the dance unfold. Part of him was envious of Crais to have such strength and skill and, he grudgingly admitted it, grace. Another part of him was glad that Aeryn was instilled with confidence to perform the ritual with him.
He could never match them.
The regimen sped up. The circling of the bodies and the movements growing faster, the contacts of the blows and kicks, although light and not meant to hurt much, must have been harder than Crichton would have been able to take. Still the moves were executed with precision. He could now see that even though Aeryn was well trained, the body of Crais was missing some of the attacks, Aeryn's body moved faster. Skill was taking over.
.
Then suddenly Aeryn's body raised her hand and the dance slowed down and then stopped. Aeryn smiled and Crais' voice said, "You move well, Aeryn. If you will allow me, once we are back in our own bodies I will instruct you in the regimen. You have potential and your body is well trained."
He looked at Aeryn's hands and arms and flexed the muscles, "It would be a pleasure to work with this body." A rueful grin spread across Aeryn's face, only to be replaced by a much more serious frown, "Aeryn, is it worth the cost to you? You have a relationship with Crichton, one that I have watched deepen daily. I have tried to treat you appropriately and with the respect you deserve.
Whether because of my history with some of the others before John Crichton ever appeared in his... white death pod, or due to the feelings of... jealousy occasioned by our mutual regard for you, or perhaps simply because I have on occasion acted in consideration of my own interests as well as those of the others, I have not been accepted here on Moya as you have.
No doubt I am not blameless in that regard. Even when I have put myself in peril for the causes of the others, I have not been especially forthcoming about my plans. I have preferred to act on my own as I have seen fit, trusting primarily to my own judgment, which I believe has generally been vindicated. We all have our strengths, and I fear that mine will never be acting as what I believe Crichton would call a "team player". The others do not seem capable of crediting that nevertheless I have on any number of occasions acted in support of that team."
Crais was silent for a moment.
"Aeryn, you belong here. I am not sure that I ever will. Do not risk more for me than you are prepared to lose. I offer you my friendship, again, since we both know that is all you are prepared to accept from me.
Because of the background we share, we understand each other in a way that perhaps the others never will or never can. That understanding might be misconstrued by others. I do not want to jeopardize your position here on board. All I ask is for your friendship, which is very dear to me." Aeryn's eyes looked at her, at his own face.
Aeryn saw the loneliness reflected in her own eyes. Crais was right, the others had never accepted him and maybe never would. She knew, they knew, he had saved their eemas countless times, sometimes at his and Talyn's own peril. Yet, they had almost seen it as a right, never really acknowledging his participation. Herself included.
He never asked for their acceptance nor for their friendship. He was too proud to do that and they had never given it to him. She felt ashamed and at the same time glad that he had changed enough to offer it.
She looked up again and a smile crossed on Bialar's features, "I would be honoured to be called your friend, Bialar Crais."
Was it gratitude she saw flit past her own features? A sudden urge to embrace this man welled up in her and she stepped forwards, arms wide open.As the body of Bialar Crais moved toward that of Aeryn's, they heard a noise from just down the corridor.
They turned to see John Crichton in the process of standing up. It was immediately obvious to both Sebaceans that he must have been seated outside the hangar bay for some time, watching them.
Had they not been so focused on the Vah'ni Panthak regimen, it would never have taken them so long to become aware of his presence. The look on his face...
As they both stared at him, he finished getting to his feet. He turned, and started to walk back down the corridor, retracing his steps. He had seen and heard enough. Peacekeepers! He spat the word.
Aeryn's head hung down and took a deep breath, "Go after him, Aeryn. He will have misunderstood. I don't want you to lose him to a misunderstanding." Crais picked up the towel and turned away from Aeryn.
Aeryn was upset with Crichton and when she saw her own face grow sad again, she had had enough. She stepped closer to her own body and when Crais stood straight again, towel in hand, she flung Crais' big arms around him, giving him the hug she had intended earlier, "I mean that, Crais. I want to be your friend."
Crais was taken aback by the display of friendship and tentatively returned the hug. "Thank you, Aeryn," he replied softly, "Now go and make up with Crichton." He reluctantly let her go.
.
He watched his body leave the area and turned for the refresher. Aeryn's friendship meant a lot to him and he didn't want to lose that and certainly not over a misunderstanding between her and Crichton.
He stepped in the refresher and let the water cascade over him. It felt different. Of course it would. For starters the hair was not as thick as he was used to. He lathered the body, well aware that his hands moved over lines and curves, which were alien to him. He washed quickly. He didn't want to linger on... No, that wasn't completely true. He would like to linger but his sense of honour would not let him. He closed his eyes and tried to block everything from his mind.