Note: John speaking internally to Harvey is shown by italics.
Part Two: Rygel to the Rescue
Rygel watched from the sidelines as John and Chiana both went limp and fell gracelessly to the floor. They were surrounded at once. Rygel noticed one of the guards take possession of both Crichton's pulse pistol and a small piece of paper. His eyes lit up as he spotted it. The ticket, he realized. They had gotten the money before they were taken down.
Discreetly heading off after the lone guard, who had separated from the others that were carrying Crichton and Chiana towards a holding cell, he avoided the gazes of both Manes and his men. He flew silently after the guard and smiled gleefully when the man turned into a small empty hallway. Rygel adjusted his grip on the stolen knife in his hands.
Reminding himself that the guard was no doubt a murderer, and had just taken prisoner two of his friends, he grabbed him around the neck and slit his throat. He made no sound, and Rygel felt no remorse.
He grabbed Crichton's pulse pistol and tucked it safely away in his thronesled. Then he grabbed the ticket and went to cash it before the guard was found dead.
He was careful to avoid both the gazes of the casino guards, and Manes' men, who were still prowling around, angry at having their prize stolen right out from under them. Rygel took what comfort he could in that. At least Crichton was prisoner to the idiot guards of the casino who did not realize his worth, and were more likely to kill him than turn him over to the Peacekeepers. He felt a pang at the thought. Though he would never admit it to them, Crichton and Chiana had always been his favorites. Chiana was a kindred spirit, and Crichton was fahrbot sure, but of all of them, he held the most faith in him.
As he cashed in the ticket, secured the seven million currency pledges to his thronesled, and then crept away to escape in the transport, he felt an intense guilt at not living up to that faith.
But there was nothing he could do, he convinced himself. Not alone. He was a Dominor, of course, but even Dominors had limits. And getting himself killed for something as intangible as loyalty would simply not do, he had a throne waiting for him.
He entered the transport, almost surprised when he was not stopped. He was actually going to get away with it, he realized. Maybe he would even find the others, and could get them to come back to rescue Crichton and Chiana. Yes, he thought. That's what he would do. His throne could wait a little longer for the sake of his friends, and he was sure if he could find D'Argo or Aeryn they would be able to come rescue them.
The thought spurred him on and cleared his conscience, and with a grin he started up the transport. Nothing happened. He tried again, and, slowly, his grin faded.
"Frelling tresneks! Sabotage!" he yelled. "You'd think after three years the frellnik would trust me!"
John groaned, his hand traveling to his holster the moment he was awake enough to move. "They took Winona," he groaned.
Chiana propped herself up on her elbows beside him, and threw him a scathing glance. "Winona? You're worrying about Winona? Worry about us."
"How long have we been here?" John asked, looking around. The cell was pretty standard, as far as he could tell. It had the requisite bare walls, no windows with a view, and very little light. It was also square. He was so tired of square. At least the flying hubcap the Plakavoids--or rather, Plokavians--had was creative. If a little creepy.
"I don't know," she said. "I just woke up a few minutes before you. I ah...I thought you were dead at first." Her voice was stressed and tight.
He pulled himself into a sitting position and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It takes more than a--whatever the hell they hit us with--to stop me."
"Some kind of stun pulse," Chiana said. "Stun pulses, body shields--I didn't know they had such good security."
"Yeah," John said wryly. "It would have been nice to know, but we should have guessed. Look at all the money they're raking in. Hey, don't suppose you still have that ticket?"Chiana glanced at him incredulously. "What? Like we could cash it in if I did?"
He sighed. "Right. So--Plan B."
"Plan B," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You realize, of course, we're going to be here forever if we wait for Rygel?"
He winced and got to his feet. "I'll just check out the locking mechanism on the door."
"You do that."Rygel secured three million of the currency pledges to his thronesled, and then headed back into the casino. "I can not believe I'm doing this," he muttered. "I've become as fahrbot as the rest of them."
He avoided being seen again--made easier by his diminutive size--as he traveled through the casino and back towards the small bar he had gone to meet Manes at. As he expected, Manes and his men were there now, drinking away their failure to capture Crichton. Rygel shook his head in disgust, completely appalled that it had come to this.
Flying up behind them, he pulled the bag of currency loose and tossed it on the ground behind them. They spun as one, six pulse pistols aimed at him almost before the bag hit the ground. He almost grinned, perhaps they were as good as they were supposed to be after all.
"You!" Manes growled. "Do you have a death wish, Hynerian?"
"I have a proposition," he said.
Manes laughed. "You can't be serious."
Rygel nodded towards the bag. "I assume you're after Crichton for the bounty," he said. "You're not a Peacekeeper spy or a command carrier would already be here. That bag holds three million currency pledges. If you want four million more, you'll listen to what I have to say."
Reluctantly, but with some admiration, Manes motioned for his men to lower their weapons. "What do you want?"
"I want you to free Crichton and the Nebari," he said. "Do it, and I'll give you the rest of the money."
Manes laughed. "Are you tinked, little Dominar? If we had Crichton and the girl, we could get more for them than you can pay."
Rygel narrowed his eyes. "You would be getting seven million currency pledges, and the pleasure of not having to interact with the Peacekeepers that hate you."
"Crichton's worth more n' that alone," Manes snapped. "Let alone the prices on your head and the Nebari girl."
"Not so much more that it's worth your trouble," Rygel said slyly. "And you cannot be so dense as to believe John Crichton would allow himself to be taken alive?"
"We wouldn't give him a choice," Manes growled.
Rygel laughed. "You are dense! Do you really think the Great John Crichton would leave such a thing to chance? He had a failsafe implanted, a vial of poison lies in wait in his blood stream, one simple trigger and he's dead--and he's not worth dren dead," he lied smoothly. Sometimes, he impressed even himself.
Manes shared an uncertain glance with one of his men.
"Seven million currency pledges, no strings attached, take it or leave it."
With palpable reluctance, Manes holstered his weapon. "Deal. We always admired what John Crichton was doing anyway, haven't we, boys?"
"That's right," one of the younger ones said with a grin. "We always thought Scorpius needed to get put in his place."
"But," Manes said, striking out in a flash to hold Rygel around his neck with one hand, while the other reached between the Hynerian's robes and the thronesled to retrieve his stolen knife. He let the knife slide threateningly across Rygel's green skin before he re-holstered it. "Double cross us, and you die. The whole lot of you."
"How's it coming?" Chiana asked as she kneeled behind him.
John sighed. "There's nothing. No magic key-hole. No little control panel you can rewire. There's always a little control panel you can rewire on television. Frelling Star Trek. They don't prepare you for anything."
Chiana rested her head on his shoulder and glanced at him curiously. "Star Trek."
"Yeah," he sighed. "They had phasers, and transporters and big ships with huge guns, and what do they do? Complain all the time. They had no idea how easy they had it. I would kill for a transporter."
Chiana shook her head and decided now was not the time to ask. "What are we going to do?"
"Low-tech solution," he said. "You sit over there and look helpless, I'll hide behind the door and when someone comes in I tackle 'em."
Chiana looked at him incredulously. "That is not a plan."
"Sure it's a plan. It's one of my plans, but still, a plan." He grinned at her.
Chiana sighed, and went to the other side of the room to look helpless. "You're going to get yourself killed," she said as she sat down.
"Maybe," he agreed. "But it's the best chance we've got." He stood against the wall beside the door.
They didn't have to wait long. The door swung open just microts later, slamming into Crichton with brutal force. It banged his head and he slid slowly down the wall. "Ow, okay--that did not work. Ow--frell."
Chiana cast him an exasperated look as he was grabbed and pulled to his feet, before being thrown towards her. "Are you okay?" she whispered.
"Ah, yeah--yeah, all part of the plan." He rubbed at his forehead and then looked up to meet the eyes of the guards. There were only two of them. If the damn door hadn't nearly knocked him out, he was sure he could've taken them.
He really had to stop taking his cues from television. Switching clothes with the bad guys never worked either.
"Of course it doesn't work, John, because this is not fantasy. Now focus on the situation at hand."
John cast Harvey a withering glance, not even wincing when he saw him in a white jumpsuit covered in sequins, and a truly awful brown wig with sideburns. He figured this was to be expected, they were at a casino after all. "Look who's talking about fantasy, my own personal imaginary friend--dressed as Elvis. Go away, Harv. I'm busy."
When Harvey smiled and disappeared, John returned his attention to the guards.
"We have no need of you, Peacekeeper. You have brought this upon yourself," the man said.
John laughed. "You can't be this stupid! What? You think some little girl could do this all on her own?"
Chiana grabbed urgently at his sleeve. "Crichton, don't--" she pleaded.
John ignored her. "I told her what to do," he said.
The guard narrowed his eyes. "How did you do it? It should be impossible. Are you in league with my employee?"
"Hell no," he said. "I just see the future. Comes in handy...sometimes."
"Crichton," Chiana hissed in a whisper. "Stop--they'll kill you."
The guards stared at him in complete disbelief. The one in front pulled out a weapon and aimed it at him. "The truth," he said. "Now."
"Look--" John started.
Chiana made a sound of frustration and cut him off. "He's lying. He has nothing to do with this."
The guard seemed more willing to believe that than Crichton's story. "How were you cheating?" he demanded.
"She wasn't--!" John yelled.
The guard motioned to the man beside him, and he hit Crichton across the side of his face with his weapon, sending him to the floor.
Chiana started to move towards him, but the leader spun to aim his weapon at her. "I don't--I don't know...how I did it," she said.
The guard smirked. "Why don't I believe that? Grab her," he snapped. "We'll get her to talk. Might even be fun."
John pulled himself to his knees in front of her. "Over my dead body," he said, his breathing hitching as he struggled to keep his balance.
"If you insist," the guard said. He aimed the pulse pistol, but before he pulled the trigger a commotion in the hall sent him spinning around. A microt later, he was dead, and so were all the other guards.
John looked up in shock as the Peacekeepers he had seen earlier stormed the cell, behind them, a smug Rygel floated in on his thronesled.
Chiana laughed with relief beside him, and on his other side, Harvey kneeled down next to him. "At least your Earth programs got one thing correct," he whispered. He paused for effect. "Impeccable timing."
He turned slowly to glare at him, and then swatted him irritably away.
Chiana grabbed his arm. "Crichton! Crichton, are you alright?"
"Yeah," he said, forcing himself to his feet. He held out a hand to help Chiana up and then turned to grin at Rygel. "Sparky, my man, you have no idea how happy I am to see you."
Rygel grinned self-importantly. "Yes, well, I'll expect you to make this up to me. Right now, we must leave. More guards are no doubt on their way."
John nodded. "Who are your buddies?"
"Mercenaries," Rygel said. "Don't turn your backs on them." Rygel tossed Winona to John.
He smiled as he caught her. "Winona! Rygel, I owe you two now."
"More than that," he snapped. "Move!"
John motioned for the Peacekeepers to go first, then followed Rygel out, pulling Chiana along behind him. "How are we going to get to the docking bay?" he asked.
Manes glanced back at him. "Just walk there, try not to be noticed. If someone comes after you, shoot them."
"They're bulletproof," John said sardonically.
"Aim for the small green light on their belts," Manes snapped, as though it should have been obvious. "We'll clear the way. Follow us."
"Rygel," John whispered after they started across the casino floor. "Why are they doing this for us?"
"Money," Rygel said simply.
"We don't have any money," Chiana hissed.
Rygel turned to them with a pained expression. "We do. But not for long."
The three of them started off after the Peacekeepers towards the docking bay, ducking out of sight of the occasional prowling guard. The place was crowded enough that it was easy to hide in plain sight, but all of them were surprised when they made it to the docking bay without incident.
Manes was leaning against their transport, the pulse pistol in his hand held against his chest. "Now," he said. "The rest of the money."
The other Peacekeepers stood in defensive positions around their leader, all their guns aimed at the three of them. "Hynerian," he said. "Go in and get it alone. We keep them with us till we have it all."
Rygel looked suspicious, but he noted with pleasure John's hand hovering over Winona, and Chiana looked ready to tear them apart with her bare hands if it should come to it. She'd been pushed around enough for one day.
He entered the transport and grabbed up the rest of the money, reluctantly flying back out and handing it over.
Manes looked in the bag to check it over, then grinned. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said, then he saluted them with his pulse pistol and took off towards his ship at a run, his men following behind him.
Before John could even sigh with relief, they could hear the casino guards screaming after them and running through the docking bay doors. "Frell," he said, sounding more resigned than surprised. "Transport! Everybody in!"
They all scrambled in, and John took off towards the main console as Chiana closed the hatch. He pulled off the covering and starting picking out the wires he had severed. He received a shock as he touched a live one and pulled his hand away in irritation, shaking it until the feeling came back and then getting back to work.
"Ingenious," Rygel said in distain. "Disabling our only means of escape."
"If I hadn't," John said wryly. "You would have been long gone and left Chiana and I here to rot."
"Ridiculous," Rygel snapped.
Chiana giggled. "Come on, Ryge, we know you better than that."
His ears drooped. "Well, it seemed a lost cause."
John twisted a last set of wires together and the pod came to life just as they could hear voices on the other side of the door. "You got us out easy enough when your life depended on it," John said with a grin, as he slid into the pilot seat and started up the engines.
"Crichton," Chiana called. "The bay doors are closing."
"Going as fast as I can, Pip," he said tightly. "I ain't no Han Solo."
"Just hurry!" Rygel demanded.
The transport pod took off, slipping through just as the doors were closing. John finally let out his sigh of relief. Harvey was right about one thing. You had to love that impeccable timing.
End Part Two.
Next Up: Part Three: People like Us