Ok, I know it's been a long wait, but here's chapter three. All standard disclaimers apply, i.e. neither Farscape nor Stargate SG-1 belong to me and no copyright infringement is meant. BTW guys, I realize it's been a while and it's aggravating when an author takes forever between posts (believe me, I've got stories that I wish writers would finish), and while I love receiving reviews, I would appreciate it if people would refrain from posting in caps. Internet etiquette dictates that posts in caps essentially mean that the person typing the message is yelling.
On a lighter note, I make a reference in this chapter about the RMS Queen Mary. If you're not familiar with this ship, here's a little background info. It's the largest ocean liner in the world (even bigger than the Titanic), and is supposed to be severly haunted. If you'd like to know more about it, just pop RMS Queen Mary into a search engin and you should get their site.
Crichton felt like he had just been used as a lightning rod. He was taking gasping breaths and he couldn't move for a full minute or so. There were some groans off to his left, by the sounds of it, the SG-1 team had experienced a similar reaction. Everything was still pitch black, and he blinked his eyes several times, but it made no difference. Crichton wondered if there was no light on Moya, of if he was now blind. He hoped for the former.
"Is everyone alright?" O'Neill's voice rang out from the darkness.
"I think so," Doctor Jackson replied somewhat hesitantly, "except for the fact that I can't see anything."
"Nor can I." Teal'c confirmed.
"Did we loose power or are we all blind?" Carter asked. Crichton could hear somebody feeling around on the floor, no doubt, they were trying to track down each other.
"Maybe the Commander could fill us in." O'Neill's said sarcastically. "How about it Commander, you still with us?"
"Yeah, I'm still here." Crichton replied. He got to his feet and drew his pulse pistol, "I would suggest that you all remain laying on the floor for the next couple seconds or so." Before anyone could reply, Crichton fired, and to his relief, a bright orange burst erupted from his pulse pistol. Something had knocked out the lighting on Moya.
"What was that?" The voice sounded like it belonged to Daniel Jackson. "Did you just shoot something?"
"No, but now we know for sure why it's pitch black." Crichton had to admit to himself that this worried him more than if they had been blind. He had never experienced a situation where Moya lost all lighting, if that had happened, he had an inkling they were dead in space also.
"There was no other way to figure that out?" Jackson was grumbling.
"I know, could have had my hair scorched off." O'Neill joked.
Crichton ignored them and opened a comm channel. "Hey Pilot, is everything alright up there?" He waited a few minutes, but the only response he got was dead air. "Pilot, you ok?" he tried again, but again, there was no reply. Crichton decided to try someone else, "Aeryn, D'Argo, Chiana, Jool, Rygel... hey role call, is there anyone out there listening?
"Yes John, I'm here." D'Argo's voice came over the line, "I'm with Aeryn and Rygel. I've no idea where Chiana or Jool are." Crichton could hear some squawking in the background.
"Hey, what's going on over there, I can hear some god awful noise."
"It's Rygel, apparently he's afraid of the dark." Aeryn's cool, detached voice came over the line.
"Well that explains everything." Crichton said with a slight chuckle.
"I am not afraid of the dark," Rygel was insisting. "This is worse than the dark, this is an absence of anything!"
"That boarding party is probably already onboard Moya." Aeryn said, "I'm heading towards the docking bay."
"We're not that far from there." Crichton replied, "Want some back up?" There was a long pause on the other end of the line, he had a feeling that Aeryn was still extremely wary towards SG-1. "Listen Aeryn, I really doubt they have anything to do with this and I also doubt they're going to try to shoot us in the back."
There was another moment of long silence, and then Aeryn finally replied. "Alright, meet me in the docking bay." The channel went dead and John sighed heavily.
"Ok then, time to take a field trip." Crichton was trying to think of a way to make a temporary torch, he knew there were some flares in the docking bay, but that was two tears away and on the opposite side of Moya. It'd be a long trip in the dark, especially since O'Neill and Co. would have no idea where they where going. He considered trying to light a piece of cloth with his pulse pistol, but it would probably blast away most of the cloth he was trying to light. "I don't suppose any of you happen to have matches on you?"
"We do, but I have a feeling you'd be more interested in flares." Carter's voice answered from somewhere off to his left. "We've got those also."
"Exactly." Crichton replied, "We've got some down in the docking bay, but word is that every tear of Moya is completely in the dark, so we've got to head that way."
"And here I was thinking you wanted a cigarette." O'Neill drawled.
"I've got enough people trying to kill me, I'm not about to let those up the ante." Carter lit a flare and it washed the cargo bay in an Erie orange light. "Alright, to the cargo bay it is. Before Pilot cut out, he said there was someone trying to board Moya. We've got to try and stop them."
"Why is it that I'm not surprised." O'Neill said with a sigh. "We're here for barely an hour and already we're in the middle of a raiding party."
Crichton stalked through the corridors of Moya, the others following closely behind. "Stick close kids." He said over his shoulder. "Moya takes a bit of know-how to navigate, even when it's not pitch black."
"So how big exactly is Moya?" Daniel Jackson asked.
"Well, picture the RMS Queen Mary, and then take that times two."
"Interesting that you would compare Moya to the Queen Mary when we're stumbling around in the dark. I hope you're not planning any ghost stories." Carter said, smiling slightly.
"I wasn't planning on it, but I've got some doozies. You guys ever hear the one about the hitch hiker with the hook?"
"At least you didn't compare Moya to the Titanic. I'd be forced to wonder how much longer it'd be before somebody spotted an ice burg." Dr. Jackson said, straightening his glasses.
Suddenly, a blinding light erupted about a half a foot from Crichton's head, hitting the wall of the corridor. "Shit," Crichton said, ducking for cover. "don't count your chickens before they hatch.
"You there, surrender or I'll shoot." A voice called out.
"You've got to be kidding me." Crichton mumbled to himself. "This is the last thing I need right now."