Section 14: Storm Front
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"But couldn't we find a sun within a reasonable distance that has flares. Your ship is a deep space ship isn't it?"
She wouldn't let up. Ever since they had left his latest wormhole room, Sam Carter had been bombarding John with questions and ideas, one after another, trying to figure out a way to make or modify another wormhole. She started with the easy stuff - making a wormhole and was now getting into the parts John didn't rightly understand. He tried to be patient with her. He understood where she was coming form, really he did, but dammit, he was tired and hungry and sick of wormholes.
"Maybe," John replied with a sigh. "Thing is we'd also need a planet to use as a gravity source that wasn't too far away."
"But if we found one, you could do it?"
"Maybe," he repeated. "The wormhole wouldn't be that stable though, and since I've never been to your reality, I probably wouldn't be able to find it."
"And how do you find these alternate realities?" asked Teal'c.
Now there was the $64,000 if John ever heard one. John didn't answer for a minute, trying to pinpoint what went on in his head. "It's kinda like . . . I can get to places I've been, times that are close enough to where I'm supposed to be, though Einstein said that was real dangerous. It's like a . . . familiar scent . . . like you wake up in the morning and your mom's cooking breakfast and it takes you a minute to sort out what's she's frying, but you know it's breakfast. And then suddenly, you know it's bacon and French toast. And that's when I come out."
"French toast?" Teal'c raised a puzzled eyebrow.
John turned to the wide-eyed Major. "You understand what I'm saying right?" Though from the looks of it, she didn't. With a sigh, John continued down the corridor.
"You navigate by smell?" she asked for clarification.
"Yeah." He didn't look at her.
"Okay." Sam was silent and, when John snuck a look at her, processing his hound dog technique. He could have sworn he saw a grin etch across her face before she turned back to him. "Okay," she repeated. "Let's just say for the moment that you could navigate back to our reality. Could you still make the wormhole?"
This time John turned to face her. "*If* we find a sun with flare activity, *if* that sun has a planet I can slingshot off of while the flares are going, *if* the wormhole was stable enough afterwards, and *if* I could nose out your reality, the plan would work. That's a lot of 'ifs," he added gently. Sam looked away, hurt by his sudden attack, making John feel like he had just kicked a puppy. "Look. . . It's not that I don't want to help. We'll figure something out. Just . . . I don't know yet."
Sam mustered up a smile that John returned. They continued on in silence until John led them to Chiana's quarters. Surprised, Sam and Teal'c stopped at the doorway, unsure of their welcome. Chiana was in bed, nestled against a sleeping D'argo. Her eyes flickered open as soon as she heard him come in, following him as he came and sat beside her.
"Hey, Pip." John reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "How you doin'?"
Chiana's smile faded into a grimace. "Hurts. Grandma won't give me anymore stuff since I was so loaded before. Said it'd kill me. Like I'm not dying now."
"You're not," John told her. God, he hated seeing her like this: still, quiet, and in pain. Normally she was full of cynicism and life, but now bitterness had crept back in and taken root. He could see it now that she was off the old woman's drugs. She was frail and tired, striped for the moment of the anger that would come. John wanted to ask her about what had happened, let her vent and rage as she never would against D'argo, help hold her together when she finally fell apart. Then he wanted to find the bastards that had done this to her and tear them to shreds with his bare hands, but he knew he'd have to fight the Luxan for that privilege.
"How are you?" asked Chiana when the silence dragged on.
John glanced down when she grabbed his hand. He didn't want to think about how he was because then he'd have to think about his last few days held in naked captivity, being prodded by scientists, cutting himself away from his home, cutting Pilot away from Moya, Aeryn, and his impending fatherhood. Except that last one wasn't so bad.
"Did Aeryn tell you we're having the baby?"
"You are?" Delight lit Chiana's face up like a Christmas tree.
"You are?" D'argo quit pretending to be asleep. John smiled at the simple grin that split his friend's face. "We knew you proposed - "
"*I* knew you proposed," Chiana broke in. "But you're really having a baby?"
"Yep," John grinned proudly, once again feeling the sudden happiness that made him want to shout out the good news. "It's mine. . . or his, but that doesn't matter. Ours, anyway."
"So when are you getting married?" asked Chiana.
"Soon as we can," he said. Just thinking about it made John grin wider. Married. To Aeryn. It was finally happening. Both Chiana and D'argo were smiling back at him. "D'argo, you'll be my best man, right?"
"That stand by you thing? I'd be honored."
"Hey! What about me? Can I be best woman?" Chiana asked.
John squeezed the hand he still held. "You'll have to ask Aeryn, but I doubt she wants Granny to do it."
Chiana giggled. "Rad. Cool," she added the earthism as an afterthought.
"You gotta be mobile for the ceremony though, so I'll let you rest," said John. "I'll bring you guys something later."
"Right. Go. Kiss Aeryn," D'argo ordered sternly. "And don't keep us waiting."
"I won't." John dropped a kiss on Chiana's forehead and patted D'argo on the shoulder before leaving, the two humans in tow.
"Congratulations," said Sam once they started down the hallway again.
"Thanks." John smiled at her. "Do you have kids?"
"No," she answered, startled by his question. "I'm not married either."
"Married to your work?" He wasn't surprised when she nodded. After all, she went planet hopping for a living, and given the size of her gun, it was dangerous work. That and the sheer dedication it took to get into astrophysics didn't leave a lot of time for a social life. "What about you, T?"
Teal'c regarded him for a moment before answering. "I have a half grown son." The dude seriously needed to get a second facial expression. "I do not get to see him very often."
"I'm sorry," said John. He thought of Jothee and Talyn, the first broken, the second dead. "Is he safe?"
"Yes."
"That's something," he offered. Really he didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine being separated from his child, and honestly he didn't want to think about it. So much could go wrong . . . better not to drive himself crazy by dwelling on possibilities.
They reached the center chamber where Rygel, Aeryn, Joe, and Jackson were already fixing a meal. Well, Aeryn and the humans were. Rygel had taken on the 'managerial' role.
"Carter, Teal'c!" Joe - Jack, John reminded himself - was the first to notice their arrival. "Figured out how to get us home yet?"
"Working on it, sir," Sam replied.
John ignored the friendly banter that picked up around him about alternate realities as he made his way over to Aeryn. She smiled as he approached. "You stopped and saw Chiana?" she guessed the reason for his lateness, and John nodded. "How is she?"
"Wants to be best woman in the wedding," he replied.
"Jack said only the groom had a best man. I get a matron of honor and bridesmaids. We don't have any maids on board."
"We'll improvise."
"How is she really?"
"In pain. Granny can't give her any more meds right now, so she's riding it out with D'argo, and before you say it, not that way." Aeryn grinned at him. "I'm worried about her," John went on soberly.
"She's a survivor," said Aeryn. Her eyes were calm when they met his, saying so much more than words. They were all survivors and they would get through this random act of cruelty like they got through everything, by holding onto each other no matter how impossibly.
"Aeryn, Crichton," Pilot's voice interrupted over the comms. Around them, the humans fell silent, waiting for an explanation.
"What's up, Pilot?"
"Moya senses . . . a ship approaching. Like the one before that took you only. . . much bigger."
"Frell!" Aeryn spat the word out. "The last one was a fighter. This must be a troop transport."
"What's going on?" asked Jack. All traces of his earlier joviality were gone leaving the colonel in charge.
"Our friends didn't appreciate us leaving the party early," John told them.
"Looks like a troop transport," added Aeryn in English this time.
"Right. So what's the plan?"
Plan? Frelled if John knew. Moya was a sitting duck and the fridge-faces were pissed off. Oh well. Like anything else was new.
"Hide?" Aeryn suggested.
"Split up and ambush?" he threw back. "D'argo?"
"I heard," his friend's voice came back. "Everyone meet in Chiana's quarters. Pilot says they'll be here in a couple hundred microts."
"No time," John and Aeryn said in unison. Exchanging wry smiles, they headed out. "We're on our way."
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Okay, sorry there wasn't more here. But it's totally not my fault that John decided to go see how Chi was doing. I tried, I really did, but I couldn't stop him, (you know how he stubborn he gets). Anyway, I hope to have the next bit out by Sunday. Keep the pressure on.
*
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"But couldn't we find a sun within a reasonable distance that has flares. Your ship is a deep space ship isn't it?"
She wouldn't let up. Ever since they had left his latest wormhole room, Sam Carter had been bombarding John with questions and ideas, one after another, trying to figure out a way to make or modify another wormhole. She started with the easy stuff - making a wormhole and was now getting into the parts John didn't rightly understand. He tried to be patient with her. He understood where she was coming form, really he did, but dammit, he was tired and hungry and sick of wormholes.
"Maybe," John replied with a sigh. "Thing is we'd also need a planet to use as a gravity source that wasn't too far away."
"But if we found one, you could do it?"
"Maybe," he repeated. "The wormhole wouldn't be that stable though, and since I've never been to your reality, I probably wouldn't be able to find it."
"And how do you find these alternate realities?" asked Teal'c.
Now there was the $64,000 if John ever heard one. John didn't answer for a minute, trying to pinpoint what went on in his head. "It's kinda like . . . I can get to places I've been, times that are close enough to where I'm supposed to be, though Einstein said that was real dangerous. It's like a . . . familiar scent . . . like you wake up in the morning and your mom's cooking breakfast and it takes you a minute to sort out what's she's frying, but you know it's breakfast. And then suddenly, you know it's bacon and French toast. And that's when I come out."
"French toast?" Teal'c raised a puzzled eyebrow.
John turned to the wide-eyed Major. "You understand what I'm saying right?" Though from the looks of it, she didn't. With a sigh, John continued down the corridor.
"You navigate by smell?" she asked for clarification.
"Yeah." He didn't look at her.
"Okay." Sam was silent and, when John snuck a look at her, processing his hound dog technique. He could have sworn he saw a grin etch across her face before she turned back to him. "Okay," she repeated. "Let's just say for the moment that you could navigate back to our reality. Could you still make the wormhole?"
This time John turned to face her. "*If* we find a sun with flare activity, *if* that sun has a planet I can slingshot off of while the flares are going, *if* the wormhole was stable enough afterwards, and *if* I could nose out your reality, the plan would work. That's a lot of 'ifs," he added gently. Sam looked away, hurt by his sudden attack, making John feel like he had just kicked a puppy. "Look. . . It's not that I don't want to help. We'll figure something out. Just . . . I don't know yet."
Sam mustered up a smile that John returned. They continued on in silence until John led them to Chiana's quarters. Surprised, Sam and Teal'c stopped at the doorway, unsure of their welcome. Chiana was in bed, nestled against a sleeping D'argo. Her eyes flickered open as soon as she heard him come in, following him as he came and sat beside her.
"Hey, Pip." John reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "How you doin'?"
Chiana's smile faded into a grimace. "Hurts. Grandma won't give me anymore stuff since I was so loaded before. Said it'd kill me. Like I'm not dying now."
"You're not," John told her. God, he hated seeing her like this: still, quiet, and in pain. Normally she was full of cynicism and life, but now bitterness had crept back in and taken root. He could see it now that she was off the old woman's drugs. She was frail and tired, striped for the moment of the anger that would come. John wanted to ask her about what had happened, let her vent and rage as she never would against D'argo, help hold her together when she finally fell apart. Then he wanted to find the bastards that had done this to her and tear them to shreds with his bare hands, but he knew he'd have to fight the Luxan for that privilege.
"How are you?" asked Chiana when the silence dragged on.
John glanced down when she grabbed his hand. He didn't want to think about how he was because then he'd have to think about his last few days held in naked captivity, being prodded by scientists, cutting himself away from his home, cutting Pilot away from Moya, Aeryn, and his impending fatherhood. Except that last one wasn't so bad.
"Did Aeryn tell you we're having the baby?"
"You are?" Delight lit Chiana's face up like a Christmas tree.
"You are?" D'argo quit pretending to be asleep. John smiled at the simple grin that split his friend's face. "We knew you proposed - "
"*I* knew you proposed," Chiana broke in. "But you're really having a baby?"
"Yep," John grinned proudly, once again feeling the sudden happiness that made him want to shout out the good news. "It's mine. . . or his, but that doesn't matter. Ours, anyway."
"So when are you getting married?" asked Chiana.
"Soon as we can," he said. Just thinking about it made John grin wider. Married. To Aeryn. It was finally happening. Both Chiana and D'argo were smiling back at him. "D'argo, you'll be my best man, right?"
"That stand by you thing? I'd be honored."
"Hey! What about me? Can I be best woman?" Chiana asked.
John squeezed the hand he still held. "You'll have to ask Aeryn, but I doubt she wants Granny to do it."
Chiana giggled. "Rad. Cool," she added the earthism as an afterthought.
"You gotta be mobile for the ceremony though, so I'll let you rest," said John. "I'll bring you guys something later."
"Right. Go. Kiss Aeryn," D'argo ordered sternly. "And don't keep us waiting."
"I won't." John dropped a kiss on Chiana's forehead and patted D'argo on the shoulder before leaving, the two humans in tow.
"Congratulations," said Sam once they started down the hallway again.
"Thanks." John smiled at her. "Do you have kids?"
"No," she answered, startled by his question. "I'm not married either."
"Married to your work?" He wasn't surprised when she nodded. After all, she went planet hopping for a living, and given the size of her gun, it was dangerous work. That and the sheer dedication it took to get into astrophysics didn't leave a lot of time for a social life. "What about you, T?"
Teal'c regarded him for a moment before answering. "I have a half grown son." The dude seriously needed to get a second facial expression. "I do not get to see him very often."
"I'm sorry," said John. He thought of Jothee and Talyn, the first broken, the second dead. "Is he safe?"
"Yes."
"That's something," he offered. Really he didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine being separated from his child, and honestly he didn't want to think about it. So much could go wrong . . . better not to drive himself crazy by dwelling on possibilities.
They reached the center chamber where Rygel, Aeryn, Joe, and Jackson were already fixing a meal. Well, Aeryn and the humans were. Rygel had taken on the 'managerial' role.
"Carter, Teal'c!" Joe - Jack, John reminded himself - was the first to notice their arrival. "Figured out how to get us home yet?"
"Working on it, sir," Sam replied.
John ignored the friendly banter that picked up around him about alternate realities as he made his way over to Aeryn. She smiled as he approached. "You stopped and saw Chiana?" she guessed the reason for his lateness, and John nodded. "How is she?"
"Wants to be best woman in the wedding," he replied.
"Jack said only the groom had a best man. I get a matron of honor and bridesmaids. We don't have any maids on board."
"We'll improvise."
"How is she really?"
"In pain. Granny can't give her any more meds right now, so she's riding it out with D'argo, and before you say it, not that way." Aeryn grinned at him. "I'm worried about her," John went on soberly.
"She's a survivor," said Aeryn. Her eyes were calm when they met his, saying so much more than words. They were all survivors and they would get through this random act of cruelty like they got through everything, by holding onto each other no matter how impossibly.
"Aeryn, Crichton," Pilot's voice interrupted over the comms. Around them, the humans fell silent, waiting for an explanation.
"What's up, Pilot?"
"Moya senses . . . a ship approaching. Like the one before that took you only. . . much bigger."
"Frell!" Aeryn spat the word out. "The last one was a fighter. This must be a troop transport."
"What's going on?" asked Jack. All traces of his earlier joviality were gone leaving the colonel in charge.
"Our friends didn't appreciate us leaving the party early," John told them.
"Looks like a troop transport," added Aeryn in English this time.
"Right. So what's the plan?"
Plan? Frelled if John knew. Moya was a sitting duck and the fridge-faces were pissed off. Oh well. Like anything else was new.
"Hide?" Aeryn suggested.
"Split up and ambush?" he threw back. "D'argo?"
"I heard," his friend's voice came back. "Everyone meet in Chiana's quarters. Pilot says they'll be here in a couple hundred microts."
"No time," John and Aeryn said in unison. Exchanging wry smiles, they headed out. "We're on our way."
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Okay, sorry there wasn't more here. But it's totally not my fault that John decided to go see how Chi was doing. I tried, I really did, but I couldn't stop him, (you know how he stubborn he gets). Anyway, I hope to have the next bit out by Sunday. Keep the pressure on.
*