Title: Old Haunts: Bk 2, chptr 1
Author: Auna
Rating: PG-13 for language and some violence
Disclaimer: Farscape is not mine, and I promise not to ever try to make any money off anything I write that is Farscape related. Please don't sue me, I'm merely trying to bring you new viewers. Honest.
Credits: Several BIG thank you's are in order: ScaperRed for a fast, but thorough, beta job; Shipsister for reading the beginning and letting me know it was ok to keep going; and as always, to Sanchez, my awesome creative consultant.
Author's Notes: Ok, I admit it. This was shelved for a while due to our family's bouts with that awful flu, (during which, the only thing I managed to get out was simple Things), an abscessed tooth over Christmas (which is an interesting story in and of itself, but not what you're here for) and then a BIG hang-up over a very minor plot point, which resulted in a lack of interest. (Don't you hate it when something little stops you dead cold?) But enough people asked, poked, prodded and hinted that I got started. And then it wouldn't stop. So here it is. I'm sorry for the delay. Thank you for hanging in there with me.
NOW… if you're new to this whole Futurefic series, you have some serious catching up to do, because I promise you that you won't know what's going on. You can try it, but keep an open mind. Previous stories in order: Finding Herself, Death and Resurrection, Revelations, Target Practice, Reckoning, Snapshots in Time, Deliverance, Old Haunts Book One
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The lights were set to low. Everyone was sleeping… or at the very least, pretending to sleep. She couldn't anymore. It had been three solar days since she'd had any kind of sleep at all, but her mind would not stop to rest, would not give her body the respite she desperately needed. She knew he was out there somewhere, she knew he needed help, and it was driving her mad not being able to get to him.
Instead, she found herself getting out of bed and moving to the mirror her father had hung in her room. As she looked at her reflection, she couldn't help but ask herself what Sethya had seen when he looked at her. What drew him to her?
Her hand reached up and traced the outline of her jaw, her nose, her lips… everywhere he'd kissed her. It felt the softness of her hair and she grabbed a fistful, pulling it tight from her scalp. He loved her hair. He'd never said it, but she knew he did; he seemed to constantly touch it, play with it. Frelling idiot. If he had stayed behind, like she'd begged of him, he'd be here right now. D'Argo and Chiana would have their son home.
But he did leave. He had to play the hero and go running off, proving something. She missed him. She was angry. Her fist pulled even harder on her hair and the slight sting was almost preferable to the constant ache that had settled in her chest and belly.
Beneath the mirror was a small table with various items; her brush, some cream for her hands, a dagger she'd found at the last commerce planet they'd visited. Perfect. Without hesitation she reached out with her free hand and grabbed the knife, holding it tightly in her fist.
Before she could change her mind, she whacked violently at the fistful of hair and watched in fascination as the long reddish-brown fibers fell loose into her hand. Dropping the strands onto the table, she grabbed another fistful of hair and whacked again. Fist after fist, she slashed away her anger and her hair, until there was almost nothing left to cut.
Tears were coursing down her face in two streams, the drops falling to mix with the nest of hair piled on the table. Something inside her had been released, and the tension and feeling of helplessness was fading. The ache still dominated, but felt more bearable now.
In the mirror was a reflection she'd never seen before. Her head felt light, free; and she wondered why she'd never cut her hair in the past. She smiled to herself. Her hair was even shorter that Chiana's, with the exception of one longer clump that hung over the bridge of her nose, right between her eyes. And it wasn't as neatly trimmed as the Nebari's either.
With the loss of her hair, she felt like a new woman; as if by choosing to shed the tresses, she'd initiated herself into adulthood. Choices would be hers from now on. No matter what D'Argo or her father said, she would be there for the rescue. She was in control of her own life, and that would include Sethya.
She needed to DO something. Now that her decision had been made, she was restless and ready for action. She thought about going and picking a fight with her father, but Aeryn would be there, and her mother needed all the rest she could get.
Without having a plan or destination, she dressed in her favorite brown leather pants and Sethya's shirt that she usually saved for her training sessions. She'd been wearing it a lot lately. It was big on her and bloused slightly when she tucked it in. After slipping on her knee length black boots, she slid her new dagger into the right one, adjusting it until she was used to the new fit, and sure she could access it quickly.
Lastly, she buckled her dual holsters around her waist and thighs. Strange how she never felt fully dressed anymore without those hugging her. Lovingly, she picked up her two pulse pistols from the small table beside her bed and slid them into their proper place on her thighs.
Now she was ready.
She stepped from her room in to the corridor, aimlessly heading to the right. She paused at the first rib of Moya's she came to, patting it gently and silently thanking Moya for her protection and friendship. Warmth surged through her hand, and she knew that Moya was listening, loving, tolerating, them all.
Her feet began traveling again, and she lost herself in her own thoughts, not caring where she would end up. Sethya. Always you. She blushed a little, remembering how brazen she'd been with Sethya, how uncharacteristically shameless in her actions.
She felt his lips, his teeth and the darting of his tongue on her neck. His arms were around her, his hands caressing her back, holding her eema. She heard his voice faintly whisper "I love you," in her ear and shivers of pleasure cascaded down her spine.
A little uneasily, she shook herself out of her reverie. She was getting way too good at that. Maybe she'd inherited some insanity from her father. How many times growing up did she find him staring at the stars, talking to some phantom named Harvey? It was as if he had some invisible friend that he used to hash through all his problems with.
Was that to be her fate? Was she to be left alone with the imaginations of her heart? No. She would not become her father. He'd changed this last cycle, but how many cycles before that had he wasted in hiding and regret? He'd explained his reasoning, and she understood that he'd been trying to protect her.
But he'd also been hiding from himself and his own grief. She would not do that, be that. She forced her mind to the present, to her surroundings, and found that she was in the maintenance bay, not three steps from Shadow's lowered ramp.
She knew it was just fanciful thinking but it seemed to her that Shadow was lonely, mourning the loss of her inhabitants. It sat destitute, calling to her to enter and breathe life into her once again. "I miss them too," she told the hunk of metal. She was glad no one else was around to hear her. Didn't she just tell herself she wouldn't become her father?
Sighing, she stepped onto the ramp and began to ascend. This would be only her third time onboard. The first was the day they'd saved her from the mercenaries on that commerce planet. He'd fought her that day, showed her how much she needed to learn. She remembered her humiliation, her anger, all directed at Sethya.
The second time was right after Shadow had boarded Moya the last time, when they'd learned the men were missing. All of them had searched the ship for any clue to what might have happened, where they could have gone, who could have taken them. She'd been horrified by the sight of the blood on the walls, the destruction of anything not secured to the vessel.
Any clue to what transpired had been erased. All of the logs were destroyed, any physical clue eradicated, with the exception of the one dead blood tracker and the blood splatters on the walls. She felt a sick satisfaction that the majority of the splatters were blue and green, with comparatively little red. They'd kicked eema before they were taken.
She wandered through the ship, familiarizing herself with its design, its feel. Until the men returned, she had somehow become its unofficial curator. It was now her responsibility to keep Shadow in prime condition until her true owners could return. She wasn't here for that, though.
She passed the small command, vaguely telling herself she'd return later and inspect everything. Instead, she continued down the narrow hall, past the small food room, past Tean's room, until she was standing in front of Sethya's doorway.
She felt odd, standing outside his door, contemplating going in. It was his private chamber, something you just didn't enter without permission. She didn't want to invade his private space, but knew the feeling was irrational.
He wasn't here to care, and he wouldn't be for a long time. There was no way to know what happened, or where to start searching. The crew, at this moment, was headed to a commerce planet to begin enquiries. It was a hopeless shot in the dark, but they all agreed they had to start somewhere.
Taking a deep breath, Brennik reached out and pushed open the door. Someone else had searched this room earlier, and this was her first look inside. It was small. Very small. How did he live in this on a permanent basis?
There was enough space for his bunk, a small closet and a chest of drawers. That was it. She entered the room and shut the door behind her, fighting off the subtle feeling of claustrophobia. She could still smell him, his unique scent of leather, chalkan oil, and soap. How long would that last? How long would his presence permeate the room, giving her a haven?
Over his dresser was a blank, white wall, whereas the rest of the room was a dull grey color. Odd. On the dresser sat a small cylindrical object beside a jar of dentics and a comb. Simple things. Who would have thought that a man such as he would have to clean his teeth or comb his hair? Not that you could ever actually tell that he combed his hair.
She smiled at the thought, thinking of her own shorn hair. Would he get mad? Probably. She'd think about that later. Right now, she wanted to absorb the atmosphere, pretend he was there with her. Tomorrow she would be strong. Tomorrow she would be sane and eradicate the senile gene from her habits. Tonight, she was going to lie in his bunk and surround herself with his presence.
She went to the dresser and picked up the cylindrical object, holding it in her hands, inspecting it. She had no idea what it was, or what it did. What kind of hygiene tool could this be? She sat on the edge of the bed, twisting it in her fingers, feeling the smoothness of the metal.
Abruptly, two halves twisted in opposite directions and she was terrified that she'd already broken something. The metal fell to the floor and she leaned over to retrieve it.
"Brennik."
She froze, bent over, arm extended, hand reaching for the metal object. She had finally gone completely crazy.
She wasn't any better than her dad. Sethya had come to haunt her. His voice was above her, calling her name. He was dead, and she was doomed to hearing him in her thoughts, never letting her go. She was too terrified to look up. Would she see him as well as hear his voice? She wasn't sure if that was preferable or not. She wanted the man, not a spectre.
"Brennik, I really don't know why I'm doing this. I'm going to see you in about five arns…" What? That didn't make any sense at all. She sat up to see Sethya's face, larger than life on the wall above his dresser. Her heart leaped into her throat, lodging there.
She scooped up the object and it twisted slightly, stopping the picture from progressing, leaving Sethya's face frozen above the dresser. Every part of her was shaking. There he was looking at her, smiling one of his reluctant smiles. It was obvious this had been recorded in this room, sitting in this spot, looking at the dresser.
For a while she simply stared at his face, relearning everything she'd already memorized. His brown hair was flying in all directions, as usual. His brown eyes shone and his scar was slightly hidden behind the smile. A days' worth of dark stubble on his jaw line seemed to only accent the white of his teeth. Was this to be the last image of him? The thought was unbearable. She twisted the object again, and the message continued.
"…but I… don't know. This is stupid. When I get back, there's so much we need to talk about. I'm restless, I can't sleep, and I have to get this off my mind." He smiled ruefully. "Look at what you do to me, woman, I'm a mess."
She choked on a sob and stopped the message again. Tears clouded her vision, distorting his face into a fuzzy image. She wiped the tears away and forced herself to calm, trying to swallow the lump that refused to dislodge. Realizing it was useless, she started the message again.
"How would you like to start over? We could go far away, where no one knows of either of us, where we have no past and we could be whatever we want. How about Bearth? Wasn't that what John called his home world? Maybe we could find Bearth and you could meet your family, John's family. No one here knows how to get there; I've heard them say so. You… I mean we… would be safe, no one hunting us…"
The door behind him opened and his face turned from view to see who was entering so abruptly. Laighn's head poked in, the boy obviously out of breath. "Two Jivihsten slaving ships have just come within range. They're closing fast."
Sethya jumped up, pulling on his holster that had been resting off screen. "How the FRELL did they find us?" he asked angrily. "They didn't know who we were!"
"You're blaming ME?" the hybrid asked incredulously, the rest of his statement lost as both men hurried away, slamming the door behind them. The video was now recording an empty room.
A thousand thoughts and feelings were racing through her mind. She was distraught over the thought of them lost in the endlessness of the Jivihsten mines. She was overjoyed that there was some clue as to where they were, and some hope that they were still alive.
"Dad," she said with a shaky voice into her comms, pausing the recording of the empty room. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Dad, D'Argo, you need to get up here. Now. I know where the boys are."
"Where are you?" D'Argo asked immediately, obviously not losing any sleep because of her interruption.
"I'm on Shadow. Hurry."
"Coming," John declared at the same time D'Argo confirmed he was en route.
She sat on the bed, waiting for them, knowing that Chiana and Aeryn would come as well. She fiddled nervously with the controller, trying to divert her racing thoughts by figuring out how to access the beginning of the message again. How the hezmana were they supposed to rescue them from a place like the mines?
It was a motley, sorry looking group sitting around the large table in the Center Chamber. John was wearing only his leather pants, Aeryn, a pair of knee length underwear and one of his t-shirts. D'Argo was in a robe, while Chiana sat next to him in a skimpy nightie.
Brennik was the only one fully dressed, though she matched everyone else with her tousled hair, pale complexion and dark circles under her eyes. Everyone was exhausted from anguish and lack of sleep, and it was evident. Pilot, included in the meeting via clamshell, was the only one in the group who looked like his normal self, but she could see the same worry in his eyes as the rest of the group.
Earlier, John had been the first to rush into Sethya's room, only to freeze instantly with a look of horror at Brennik's hair. He was speechless, just staring for a microt, but didn't say a word about the cut. Instead, he'd asked what she had discovered. The others had similar reactions, but nobody had said a word, didn't ask questions, just pulled themselves together and pretended she'd always looked like that.
Only now that they had moved to accommodate everyone, John kept staring at her head, as if mourning the loss. Well, he'd get over it. It was hers to cut, and she didn't miss it.
"So what do we know about these Jivihsten slavers?" John asked, pulling his eyes from her hair to address the whole group. "I've never heard of them."
"They are the company that Shedya and Sethya infiltrated just before finding Moya, to rescue Rygel," D'Argo supplied.
"How much of the operation did he tell you?" Aeryn asked.
"Not a lot. I know he was leaving parts out. The mines are run by a man who goes by the name Netrijon. Shedya didn't say much about him. He said that the mines are huge. There are thousands of slaves working there, both mining and domestic. Their headquarters are a castle on the sea shore, and the interior is a maze of hallways and corridors. There is no way to land a ship on the ocean side, and the entrance is heavily fortified by a wall and armed guards. That's all we know."
"Well, they must have pissed off somebody important, for them to go to the effort to hunt them down," John mumbled.
"I got the impression everything is very organized," Chiana added. "They keep detailed reports on everyone there, visitors, employees, slaves."
"So you think that if we could gain access to one of their databases, we might be able to find the location of the boys?" Aeryn asked.
"Got a better plan?"
"We've had worse," John answered. "Do we even know where this place is?"
"Yes," Pilot answered, speaking for the first time. "We do. Moya is already headed for the mining colony."
"Do you know how long, Pilot?" Chiana asked, impatience pushing to get her to her son.
"Estimated arrival in twelve arns."
A collective sigh breathed throughout the room. At last, they were finally doing something.
Everyone on this frelling ship was farhbot, including himself. Here they were on Tenberique Three, home of the Jivihsten mines. For the last six arns he'd watched Chiana pace the halls of Moya, D'argo sharpen his Qualta Blade, Mom clean her pulse pistols, Dad write in his notebook, and Brennik fight a punching bag.
And speaking of Brennik, what the frell did she do to her hair? When he went to bed last night, they were headed for the nearest commerce planet and Brennik had a full head of neatly trimmed hair. When he woke up, they were headed for some slaving operation and Brennik looked like her hair had gotten stuck in the blades of ol' Furball's tractor.
And she had a whole new attitude to go with her haircut. It wasn't anything definable, but she seemed to hold herself a little straighter, walk with more purpose; have more confidence in herself. It was as if she had come to decision, and the rest of the universe could frell themselves, she was going to follow through with whatever she'd decided.
He'd have given a thousand crendars to see the look on Dad's face when he saw what she'd done. But he'd missed it. Like he'd missed the meeting about the discovery of the boy's whereabouts. No one had thought to call him.
But back to everyone else being farhbot. Here they were on Tenberique Three, home of the Jivihsten mines, planning a raid on a heavily guarded slaving operation… and the only plan they had was to get to a database center, find out where the missing crew were, then go get them. Even he knew the plan was frelled, and he was only thirteen cycles.
The worst part of this whole situation was being left behind on Moya, to be baby-sat by Noranti and Pilot. How many cycles had he worked all day in the field with no supervision, other than the threat of a whip from the master if he messed up? The whip was no longer there, but his freedom hadn't increased at all.
He had assets. He could contribute to the group, but here he was being left behind. Nobody thought about the fact that he could fly almost as well as Brennik. He didn't have the instincts she had with the biomechaniod ships, but he could hold his own in the module or the prowler. For all the overbearing attitude John had been showing, he'd taken the time to train him.
Sometimes, the old man could be drad. Other times, well… he was a dad.
He wasn't going to be left behind this time. So what if he couldn't bring himself to pick up a pulse pistol? He could help SOME way! Tean was his friend, and that's what friends did, they helped each other.
Grabbing his skateboard, he headed from his room, determination in his step. He had to hurry if he was going to make it in time. "Pilot, I'm going to the lower tiers to skate. I think I saw some good ramps down there last weeken, I want to check it out."
"Yes, Aeric. Please keep your comms ready, in case Moya and I should need some assistance."
Stepping onto his board, he rolled his eyes dramatically. Oh, please. How old did Pilot think he was, that he would fall for THAT? "Sure, Pilot. Let me know."
"Thank you, Aeric."
He pushed off, gaining speed quickly. He took the side routes, the little used halls, and kept his speed high, taking each turn faster than he ever had. He had to get there quickly, but he had to get there unnoticed as well.
Aeryn was pacing in front of the transport pod, one hand tapping against her thigh as she walked, the other absently holding her slightly swollen belly. Every few microts, she'd look up to an empty room, impatiently waiting for the others to join her. A thousand thoughts crowded through her mind, each fighting for her attention.
She was worried about leaving Aeric alone on Moya with Noranti. The old witch could be lucid at moments, but she wasn't exactly someone she wanted watching her sulking teenager. He was old enough to be left alone under normal circumstances, but these were no longer normal circumstances. She doubted if they ever would be again.
She worried about Brennik, and the choices her daughter would be making, had been making. Her haircut was awful, but Aeryn couldn't tell her that. Had she been spending enough time with her children? Had she tried too hard to make up for the lost time with Bren? She wanted a closeness with her, and sometimes it felt as if they were making headway. Other times, she felt like they would never really know each other.
She worried about her friends, Chiana and D'Argo. They had been true and loyal, even when she didn't remember them. Chiana had been a female companion to her these last several monens, helping her adjust to a lifestyle that was foreign, and as she slowly regained memories, the woman had been there to listen and help fill in blank spots. And now her friend's son was missing, possibly dead. No! Not dead.
The boy had been respectful, intelligent, and had D'Argo's sense of loyalty and honor. They'd done a good job with him, and Aeryn had looked forward to knowing him, to having his influence help Aeric where she seemed to be falling short. John was doing the best he could, but maybe if the boy had someone closer to his own age, things wouldn't be so hard or lonely for him.
She worried about Sethya and Tean. They were good boys. They were so young, yet so old in many ways. Sethya would take care of Brennik, once they hauled his eema home where it belonged. Did the boys realize yet that their fates were now irreversibly connected to those of Moya? They were alive. They had to be. She didn't have Noranti's power of divination, but she had begun to feel like a mother to those two, and her instincts were telling her they were alive.
But for how long?
Light boot steps sounded in the hall and Chiana appeared, tired, bedraggled, with dark circles under her eyes. "Sorry, I… uh… fell asleep and D'Argo didn't wake me."
"He and John left about two arns ago to conduct recon surveillance in Lo'La. There wasn't anything we could do yet, and we thought you needed your sleep."
"Did they find anything? And where's Brennik? We need to get moving."
"She's on her way. They have topographical scans of the entire compound, now, and they found a way for us to get to the castle without going through the front gate."
"Why not just cloak Lo'La and land on her front doorstep?" Brennik asked, approaching the two women.
"They thought of that, but there's a force field surrounding the castle and we don't know what it is. John thinks it might be an electronic impulse shield, which disables any ship flying into it."
"So how do we get in?" Chiana asked, headed for the pod.
"Where did he come up with that?" Brennik asked doubtfully.
"I don't know, he didn't explain. But he sounded pretty sure of himself, so I'm going to take his word for it," Aeryn said.
Chiana was already in the transport, waiting for her companions. "Get your eemas on board, time is wasting. So, how do we get into the castle?" she asked again. Everyone was onboard and they were lifting off, Brennik flying.
"I'm not sure of the specifics yet, but between the wall and the castle is a desert, several metras wide. In the middle of the desert is an oasis. They say it looks like a tourist city. You can land there with your ships, but that's it."
"That doesn't make any sense at all. Why have a tourist city in the middle of a heavily guarded compound?" Brennik asked logically.
"I don't know. We're about to find out."
"There's always a catch," Chiana mumbled, voicing the concerns of everyone on board.
This compound was one giant litter box. It reminded him too much of Dam Ba Da, and that was one memory he was willing to live without. Would Aeryn think of it? Her memory was still Swiss Cheese, but some things came through clearly, and usually overwhelmingly. She didn't need this crap right now. None of them did.
He didn't want her down here, didn't want her anywhere near this slaving operation. But he didn't have much choice in the situation. She was going to do what she wanted to do. That much hadn't changed. And she was doing this for her daughter and for Chiana.
So was he, but he wasn't pregnant either, damn her. He was starting to get hot in his long leather coat and gloves, but he didn't dare take them off. They were probably the only things protecting him from the dust being blown around. That was another issue, the heat. She could take it for a short amount of time, she had been fine on Dam Ba Da, but he didn't like chancing it.
He and D'Argo were standing outside of Lo'La, waiting for the women to join them at the landing pads before taking them into the town. He'd optimistically referred to it as a city earlier, but it had only taken them a quarter arn to walk from one end to the other. Not exactly the metropolis. Why would tourists come here? What was supposed to be the big draw?
Maybe they had really good stage shows or something. He really didn't care.
What he cared about was his wife on her way down to this planet with their daughter. And he cared about his two friends, and how badly they were suffering. D'Argo had already been down this road once. It had to be hell to relive it all over again. Was D'Argo thinking of Jothee right now?
The big Luxan was pacing, scanning the few other loiterers, restless. "We'll get him out, D."
"I know, John."
"He's a good kid. He's smart, and he has Chiana's sense of self-preservation. I'm sure he can handle himself."
"I know."
"Sethya and Tean are taking good care of him. They won't abandon him."
"They will try for as long as they can."
"And he has your heart, D'Argo. You taught him well."
D'Argo stopped pacing and looked at John, tears in his eyes. "I didn't even want him at first. Chiana brought him home, like every other soul she'd tried to rescue in the past. And I wanted to send him away."
"But you didn't. And you loved him, and he knows that you love him." D'Argo didn't say anything, but John saw the tension ease slightly from his tired frame, and his eyes didn't look quite as haunted. "Where are the women?" John asked to fill the silence.
On cue, a transport pod became visible in the bright sky, slowly descending until it landed perfectly beside Lo'La.
It was cramped under the floor plating of the transport pod. His knees, kissing his chin, were beginning to lose all feeling. It was dark and breathing was difficult, but he managed to hold still and remain quiet. He was actually pretty proud of himself. The women had boarded, sat right above him for a quarter arn while they traveled to the planet, and none of them had realized he was there.
The landing was harder than he'd have liked. The air was knocked from his lungs, but luckily the sound was masked by the noise of the pod hitting the ground. He waited until all the voices had disappeared for several hundred microts before he lifted the floor plating, peeking into the pod. All was clear.
Now to put into action some of the skills he'd learned long ago, as a slave. It was amazing what you could discover about those around you, when you were a boy that no one chose to see, a piece of the furniture.
She was tired. And she was hungry… again. They'd been walking around this township for three arns, and they were no closer to their goal than when they'd arrived. Everyone in this frelling waste dump was mute. All they were looking for was a land vehicle to go on a sightseeing tour, and no one seemed to have any.
Time after time they were told to find Jeleen, she could help them, if she felt like it. But no one would say where she was or how to contact her. And they all seemed to get this scared, wary look when speaking of her, as if by merely mentioning her name some horrible fate was going to befall them.
No one had any information about the castle or the mining operation either. They were all frelling idiots. "This is getting us nowhere," Aeryn fumed as they stepped out of yet another business dwelling onto a boardwalk. "I hope D'Argo and Chiana are having better luck than we are."
"I doubt it. They'd have called by now. D'Argo, Chiana, how you guys doin'?"
"This is a total waste of time. Nobody is talking," D'Argo seethed over the comms.
"They're all a bunch of frelling idiots," Chiana grumbled. "All they'll say is to find Jeleen, but then nobody knows how to find her. Or they just won't say."
"We're having the same problem," John agreed.
"There was a tavern on the fourth street from the landing pads," D'Argo told them. "Meet us there and we can come up with a new plan."
"Does it have food?" John asked, slanting a look at his wife, who was starting to look a bit tired. "I'm starving."
"If not, we'll find some," D'Argo returned, understanding that the human was concerned for Aeryn and not his own comfort.
"Mom, Dad," Brennik's voice filtered through the comms. She'd separated from them an arn ago to conduct her own enquiries. "Aeric is here in the city somewhere."
"WHAT?" Four voices shouted at the same time.
"I went back to the transport pod, to make sure everything was all right. I found one of the floor panels loose and when I checked under it, I found his skateboard."
Swearing erupted over the comms in a cacophony of ten different languages, with all four adults using each language proficiently. "Brennik, stay there in case he comes back," John finally broke though the noise.
"All right."
"He has to be around here somewhere, this place isn't all that big," John said pragmatically.
"Yeah, but if he has your talent for hiding," Chiana started.
"Twenty-eight cycles and you guys STILL harp about that! Let's just start searching."
"We will search the first seven streets, you two search the other seven," D'Argo said before their comms fell silent.
Aeryn raised an eyebrow, looking at him inquiringly. "Remind me."
"Some other time," he hedged. "You start down that side of the street, I'll go down this side. We'll meet up at that bar at the end." She nodded, and headed off to look for her son. He was glad that the town seemed to be built in one large square. It made canvassing the establishments much easier.
He knew Aeric wasn't in the shop they had just left, so he went to the next one and opened the door, stepping in to find a scene from Andy Griffith, if Andy Griffith ever had pink and yellow aliens with various amounts of eyes or tentacles.
Four men were sitting on chairs lining a wall, waiting their turn in what he assumed was a barber chair. What he hoped was a barber chair. Two other men were in chairs, each with a green-smocked, purple-nosed, orange-fanged man standing behind them, doing… something to their heads.
They looked up as he entered; some acknowledged him with a nod, others waving in that casual "manly" way that seemed to be universal to every species.
"…so then Fredplin," one of the men waiting for his turn continued his story to the general group, "walked down to Ghorshin's with a pulse rifle and told him to give her up!"
One of the barbers shook his head, some of the men laughed, others groaned. One man "tsked." "That idiot wasn't blessed with the common sense of a Ratfling," someone said.
"Ghorshin isn't going to give anything up to that drunken Hennoot, especially his daughter!"
"Someone needs to take him out to the Wyrms," another joined in. "Teach him a lesson."
"Excuse me," John interrupted, waving his hand slightly. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm looking for my son. He looks a lot like me, comes up to about my shoulder," he said, indicating with his hand how tall Aeric was. "Have any of you seen him?"
"Isn't that like kids today?" one of them asked. "Disappear the moment you turn your head. No respect, I tell you. Why, just two days ago, little Nefrt Denaqthidon disappeared for three arns!"
"Yes, well…" John tried.
"His mother was in a panic, thought he'd wandered in to the Wyrmland," another patron offered.
"But…"
"So that's what the commotion was all about! She was running around, trying to convince everyone that Jeneel had kidnapped little Nefrt," yet a third one contributed.
"Who is…"
"She's convinced that child is an angel," someone else piped up.
"I just…"
"Jeneel wouldn't go near that monster, even to feed the Wyrms. He'd be too much trouble."
"You mean she feeds…"
"And he'd probably give one of those things indigestion and be spat back anyway."
"JUST HOLD ON A MICROT!" John finally hollered. All eyes turned to him in surprise, as if they were seeing him for the first time.
"Have you seen my son?"
"No," they all said, nearly in unison.
"Who is this Jeneel, and please tell me that I misunderstood that part about her feeding kids to some kind of creature?"
"Oh, she wouldn't do that," one of the patrons offered and John began to sigh in relief. "She usually goes for young adults."
His gut clenched up again.
"She's the guide to the castle," someone else offered. "Works for that pretty boy Netrijon. She's been given the secret of getting through the Wyrmlands."
"Wyrmlands?"
The door behind John crashed open, and in walked a mutant Roman soldier. The man was roughly six feet tall with metal shin guards, a metal helmet with obnoxious flowing feathers protruding from the top, and a metal breastplate. But the best of the outfit was the green skirt flowing around his thighs that showed just enough knobby knee to turn John's stomach.
He was impressed with the man's security in his masculinity, to wear something like that and not be embarrassed. The one time John had worn a dress… well… some things were better forgotten. Hopefully that was one image that would remain in the dark recesses of Aeryn's lost memories.
He turned back around to the group of men to find that all of them were suddenly busy doing other things, the conversation obviously very closed. Frustrated, he nodded to the skirted man, who was now sitting in a vacant chair, and walked out the door.
Shop after shop, it was the same thing. No one had seen a young boy looking like him. By the end of the street, he was frustrated and beginning to get worried. Aeric could take care of himself, but if there was a psychotic woman out there who wanted to use him for bait, he didn't stand much of a chance.
He was going to wring his neck. What was it with his children? First Brennik, now Aeric. You'd think they had trouble with authority or something. Where did they get THAT trait? It wasn't from him; that was for sure.
Finally, he was at the bar he'd agreed to meet Aeryn in. Anger building with each failure, he pushed the door open harshly, nearly slamming it against the wall with his force. Oops. Maybe Aeric was in here. The boy had obviously wanted to help with the search; maybe he thought he'd learn something in a bar. It wasn't like aliens had age requirements.
The inside was dark, made even darker by his sunglasses, and it was difficult to see much of anything, let alone a boy wanting to remain hidden. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but figures started coming into focus.
The bar was only half filled. At one table in the middle of the room was a small group of individuals doing their best to get drunk. In a corner watching them, obviously slightly amused, was a woman, sipping at a teal glass in her hand as she returned John's gaze.
Aeric was nowhere to be seen. Damn.
The door opened behind him and Aeryn walked in, her long black coat swirling around her ankles. Even five months pregnant and over 50, she was still beautiful. No, not beautiful. She was exquisite… more now than ever.
He had to take off his sunglasses to see her eyes, and the worry and anger he saw in their depths matched his own. "No luck, with me either," he confirmed, stating the obvious.
"He is in so much trouble," she said, her temper barely held in check. Any second now she was going to switch to tears, and he wasn't sure how he was going to handle that. He preferred the anger.
"Why don't you sit down and rest a microt. I'll start on the next street…"
"No, I can't stop until we find him. It will be dark soon."
"I did manage to find out more about the elusive Jeneel. Seems she works for The Elected, Netrijon. She's the only guide to the castle." He left off the psychotic part. That was the last thing she needed to hear right now.
"All we need is a frelling vehicle. We can get to the castle on our own."
"Except you have to cross through something called the Wyrmlands, which from what I can gather is a nasty place. But everyone clammed up after that."
"Dad, Mom, D'Argo, Chiana," Brennik called over the comms. "Aeric came back, he's fine and back at the transport pod."
"Keep him there," John ordered, seeing the tears of relief pool in Aeryn's eyes before she turned away and headed for the door. "We're on our way."
"Don't worry, Dad. He isn't going anywhere." Well… it sounded like she had things under control. If he wasn't so angry, he'd feel sorry for the boy.
Aeryn lay in the darkness next to John, listening to his heavy breathing, wishing she could sleep that well. Every position she tried, she was uncomfortable. If she lay on her back, the baby pushed against her spine. Her stomach was impossible. The only truly comfortable position was to lay on her side and use John as a body pillow. But it was a hot night out and to drape herself over him would invite an uncomfortable amount of heat for them both.
So she lay wide-awake, uncomfortable, on her back and watched the shadows on the ceiling slowly move with the orbit of the moon. Aeric and Brennik were in the room next to them, D'Argo and Chiana across the hall. Once they'd found out that air travel was forbidden after midday, due to safety regulations, they had all been forced to find a hotel for the night.
The one they had found was small, but well cleaned and was the only one in the area that had rooms available. John called it a "Bed and Breakfast," which seemed generous to Aeryn. But it was only for a night. They had resolved to find this Jeneel woman the following day.
To do that, they were going to have to use Aeric, against her better judgement. But the boy had a gift to convince people he was their best friend and confidant, getting them to talk to him about things they would normally keep to themselves.
He had managed to garner the information no one else had been able to acquire. He'd gone back to the transport pod earlier, filled with knowledge of the area and contacts they'd need. After he'd been yelled at and grounded for the rest of his natural life, the crew had managed to sit quietly enough to listen to what he had to say.
Jeneel was the key. She was the guide for Netrijon, and was given instructions when to bring visitors to the castle, and when to lose them. But she was also homicidal, with a penchant for torture. Which made her perfect to escort guests through the Wyrmland.
The Wyrmland was a vast desert that was infested with giant, translucent worms, known as Wyrms. They were creatures that had to be avoided at all costs, though nobody would say why. There were unmarked safe trails through their territory to the castle, but the only one who knew the route was Jeneel.
Evidently, there was a safe road leading from the front entrance of the compound to the castle, but that was for official business transactions only. If you were dealing in the business of slaves, you could enter through the front door. Everyone else had to take the circuitous route through the "Tourist City."
It was a way for Netrijon to play with people's minds, and to discourage anyone from an attempt to free friends or family members from bondage. Well, it was too frelling bad. How did Sethya and Shedya manage to free Rygel, with not one weapon being fired?
The Elected had a vast number of guards stationed throughout the compound, in his mines, his castle and several in the township itself; the men with the green skirts that always managed to be a conversation stopper.
As her thoughts continued to drift over everything that happened that day, all that they had learned, something indefinable changed in the air around them. She became more alert and listened intently to the dark night.
Nothing. She could hear John's heavy breathing, accentuated by her own heart pounding in her ears. No other sound broke into the silence. But there was an electric charge in the air, as if someone, or something, was too close, sharing her breath.
Slowly, quietly, she reached under John's pillow and wrapped her fingers around Winona. She lay still, making sure not to show any trace of movement, and watched the room, the shadows on the ceiling. Sure enough, they changed.
Still there was silence, but a long, thin shadow shifted abruptly. Someone was in the room. Her grip on the weapon tightened, her finger wrapping itself over the trigger. She would be ready.
A tall, dark figure lunged toward her. She pulled John's pulse pistol from under his pillow, knocking his head to the side with her force, and aimed it at the center of the mass. "Stop right there!" she commanded, the anger in her voice so cold it had to have dropped the temperature in the room by several degrees.
The figure stopped as John woke instantly on his side of the bed and sat up in alarm, automatically reaching for his missing pulse pistol. "Aeryn, what's happening?" The sheet fell down around his waist, exposing his bare chest. His hair was all matted to one side, made worse when his hand brushed through it in frustration.
Aeryn kept the gun aimed at the mass standing directly at the end of their bed. "That is what is happening."
"Do not be alarmed," a sweet, feminine voice broke through the darkness. "I am here to help you."
"You should have used the front door… and knocked," John said, his anger matching Aeryn's.
The moon glinted off something shiny, metallic, before a soft swooshing sound preceded its disappearance. "I have to keep a low profile," she said. "I am not very popular around here. You wouldn't believe some of the stories they tell about me. They are pretty fantastic."
"What do you want," Aeryn asked flatly.
"Oh, it's not what I want. I'm told you want passage to Netrijon's headquarters. I can assist you with that."
"Jeneel," John realized.
"At your service." The dark figure bowed low, an arm sweeping in the darkness.
Aeryn continued to train Winona on the figure as John climbed from the bed and turned on the lights. He'd slept in his underwear that night, and when the lights turned on, he was standing beside his side of the bed, naked except for a pair of black PK issued underwear.
Aeryn's attention was instantly divided between her husband and the woman at the edge of the bed, ogling him. She couldn't blame her, he was gorgeous. But the look in her olive green eyes was more than just idle appreciation.
The woman was of a medium build with soft ivory skin and sky blue, curly hair. Her eyes were olive green, her lips blood red. She was smiling with a sweetness to match her voice, and her eyes held the innocence of a young child. Aeryn didn't trust her. Nervousness snaked down her spine, and an instinct told her to be careful, that not everything was as it seemed.
She was ogling him, and there he was, standing like an idiot, nearly naked, letting her inspect him. Aeryn's eyes narrowed slightly and he knew he was going to be in trouble later. But, dammit, he couldn't shake the feeling he knew her from somewhere.
He stared at her face, trying to place where he might have met her. "Uh, have we met before?" Ok, it was one of the oldest used pick-up lines in the entire universe, he didn't care which end you were from. But he couldn't take his eyes away. Something was holding him hostage, and he felt that until he could figure out that small piece of information, he'd be held entranced forever.
"I don't believe so," she said, joy spreading across her features.
"Are you sure? I could've sworn I've seen you before."
"Who knows? It's a small town."
Her eyes shifted to Aeryn and he was finally released. Now he was just irritated. He would place where he'd seen her before, just give him time. Scrambling to his clothes, he shoved his legs into his pants and fastened them, his mind still working. "AHA!" he exclaimed, standing up and pointing at her. "You were the woman in the bar, watching the drunks. I knew I'd seen you before."
Triumphant, he looked over to Aeryn to see her scowling at him. What did he do this time? Crap. She thought he was flirting with another woman—while standing around in his underwear. But it wasn't LIKE that! He saw the scowl deepen and knew it wouldn't matter. He had some smooth talking to do, to get him out of this one.
Pregnancy; there had to be a better way to bring children into the world- one that didn't involve hormones.
That woman had to go. Dad might not see it, but every time he wasn't looking at her, she eyed Aeryn with pure venomous hatred. What was this woman's problem? She wasn't to be trusted, that was for sure. And Brennik was starting to get the opinion that she was leading them in circles.
They'd been traveling for three arns in the back of an unpowered, wooden vehicle, pulled by a beast of burden. And the poor best looked like it had seen its share of burdens in its lifetime. They were surrounded by sand as far as the eye could see. There were no landmarks, the hills obviously transient with the wind.
Three arns traveling, and still it seemed as if they were no closer to their goal. They also had yet to see one of these dreaded Wyrms. Brennik was beginning to wonder if they were nothing more than a fable to keep the slaves and villagers obedient.
Jeleen was steering their vessel with a set of leather reins, Aeric sitting beside her on the high seat. John, Aeryn, Brennik, D'Argo and Chiana all sat in the back in various stages of exhaustion and boredom. They all held their weapons of choice loosely in their hands, keeping an eye out for the elusive beasts. As time dragged on, their vigilance grew less and less… well… vigilant.
"I have to pee," Aeryn declared firmly.
"How much longer until we reach the castle?" John asked.
"I have to pee now," Aeryn reiterated. "I've held it for three frelling arns, and this wagon will stop right now."
"Aeryn, it's not…"
"It's all right; there is an oasis in this area. She can go behind that dune and she'll be fine," Jeleen interrupted, sympathy and concern dripping from her voice.
"I'll go with you…" John started, only to be interrupted by Aeryn cutting him off.
"No, you won't. I have been peeing for over fifty cycles by myself, I think I can handle it this time as well."
"I'll hold your gun for you," he said, only to stop abruptly by the look on her face and Chiana's choking laugh.
Aeryn glanced at Chiana, smirking at what she knew the Nebari woman was thinking. "If I were a man, I'd take you up on that…"
"You KNOW what I meant, Aeryn," he started, but she was already climbing out of the wagon, refusing help from D'Argo to get down.
"I'll be fine."
He stood on the high seat, trying to see over the dune and keep an eye on her. She hadn't really gone very far. She was actually only a few motras away, the distance an illusion by the dirt mounds surrounding them.
She'd only been gone a few microts when a low rumble could heard deep below them.
"What the hezmana is THAT?" Chiana asked the question everyone was too stunned to voice.
Break to clarify the two actions more. The ground began to shake, knocking John off the seat and forcing the others to grab onto the wagon. The shock wave also flattened the dune, giving everyone a clear view of Aeryn. She was in the process of fastening her pants, but chose to abandon the effort to draw her pulse pistol and run for the wagon. In her expanded state, she was only able to get three steps before the ground beneath her shot upward, sending her flying into the air.
Her pulse pistol flew out of her hand, landing beside Brennik in the back of the wagon and a massive, translucent, slimy worm shot out of the ground directly beneath her, flying into the air in pursuit. John screamed, trying to run to her, but the ground was still shaking too violently, and nobody could gain any footing.
Aeryn reached the pinnacle of her ascent and began traveling downwards, straight in to the open jaws of the awaiting wyrm. Stunned, John, Aeric, Brennik, D'Argo and Chiana, watched in shocked horror as she slid downwards into the creature's maw, fighting the entire time as the wyrm landed in the dirt. With a slight sucking sound, the mouth closed. Jeneel sat in silent fascination, enthralled by the drama playing out before her.
"You BITCH!" John yelled to Jeneel, jolting the group from their moment of shock. He opened fire on the massive wyrm, now lying sedately as it digested its meal. D'Argo transformed his Qualta Blade, and Chiana joined into the fight with her pulse rifle. Brennik aimed her shots at the monster's face.
At first, the wyrm merely ignored the pounding, but one shot hit its mouth and suddenly, with amazing speed, it turned its attention to the group in the wagon. "Oh, frell! Here it comes!" Chiana yelled uselessly.