Hanging Onto Hope

Part 5

John sat staring out of the large, barred window into the courtyard ablaze with colorful flora and fauna. He marveled at the hazy outline surrounding everything and at how all the flowers, plants and critters in the courtyard seemed to move very slowly. It was all very surreal. It was difficult to remember that things weren't what they seemed. Then he nodded slowly to himself, yeah, it's the frelling mist. Marcella had let slip a while ago that he was breathing in a sedative. John knew he should be infuriated at the situation and looking for a way to escape, but he didn't seem to have the energy.

As the arns passed, he let his mind drift. Haunting images of smooth, perfect features, dark black tresses swirling around pale shoulders dazzled behind his closed eyelids, as Aeryn danced around their quarters with a laughing, brown- haired child in her arms. Amused blue eyes glanced over her shoulder at him as they spun while her stormy gray eyes gazed upon her son, Nyka, with love. A stirring of agonizing impatience exploded in his heart from knowing they were endangered by the beast. He reached out and physically tried to hold onto the vision, but it faded; only to be replaced by a gruesome one of the Collector's claws holding onto chains binding Aeryn and Nyka to him. John stumbled to his feet. Pacing back and forth across the small room, but that awful final vision kept returning to haunt him.

Finally, in increasing frustration, he flung himself back to the padded window seat. Rubbing his hands through his hair he gave out a low growl as he lay back on the pillows closing his eyes hoping to shut out the torturous illusions. He fell into a fitful sleep, only to wake soon after with his body awash in a cold sweat and a gnawing ache in the pit of his belly.

He returned his gaze back out the window and realized nothing in the scene there in the courtyard had changed. But his painful agitation kept growing. He suddenly realized that the sedative mist was loosening its hold on his mind as he riled against the situation. A ragged growl tore from his throat, and he smashed his hand through the window, hoping the pain would further clear his mind so that he could think of a way to escape.

With the collision of his fist into the plastiglass surface, an electromagnetic blast pulsed up his arm and then, raced down every nerve ending in his body. The charge flung him backward off the bed and into the room. Lying spread-eagled on the floor every pain receptacle in his brain was humming. "Shoulda known that would hurt," he mumbled groggily as he centered his attention on that pain and hugged it like a lover.

Rolling to his side, his mind cleared as he took in everything about the room, and recalled the set patterns of Marcella's visits. He knew he was being watched like in the cell on the Gammak base. Gammak base...he remembered the one door, one window, surveillance, and one crazy cellmate. Escape was impossible. So said the warden. Only he did escape with the help of his friends. There had to be a way out if only...

John coughed as he pushed himself up against the wall until he sat and felt the mist taking over his mind again. "Nooo..."he growled, punching the hard floor to clear his mind.

Marcella? Somehow he had to get Marcella to help him but how...how? His mind raced trying to think what he needed to do. He didn't want Aeryn or the others to come anywhere near this place. That was his greatest fear for Aeryn, their son...hell for any of the others in his misfit family to fall into the Collector's possession. Frell! He had to think... only his mind couldn't shake his anger and fear. The bastard wasn't going to get his claws onto his family as long as he was breathing. He could feel the anger and frustration fading as the mist increased its hold onto his mind with a renewed intensity.

John heard the sound of the cell-door recycling. He glanced over to see his love coming to him. A lop-sided smile played upon his lips as Aeryn stepped out of the corridor and into his cell carrying two tankers and a container of raslak. He watched her come toward him, her body moving gracefully in the long silky-lace robe, her bare feet treading soundlessly on Moya's warm floor.

With the low soft lights casting auburn hues in her satiny hair, she was as beautiful as a dream. A dream he carried in his heart and mind when he had to be away from her. She bit her lower lip with that message that always sent him into orbit, teasing him with her glance. He smiled and took the tanker from her hand and brought it to his lips. Aeryn continued to gaze at him with a quivering smile and an odd shaky bravado in her eyes. John couldn't help himself. He reached out to touch her face.

His fingers grazed her cheek and found instead of Aeryn's satin, roughness. He rubbed his thumb over her lips, but jerked back when her gruff, deeper- pitched voice shattered his illusion. "Here, Luv, are you feeling all right?"

John leaned back in disappointment as the realization came to his foggy mind that Aeryn wasn't there. Swallowing, he coughed over the harsh taste.

"What the hell is this?" He wheezed out.

"Real-tee juice. Drink if you want your mind to clear," Marcella whispered as she looked back towards the door and to the far left corner. "Just don't let the Collector know or it will be the worst for the both of us."

Raising his cup in a mock salute John took another deep sallow.

Meanwhile in the center of town:

A short, stocky male ducked under a pole and skirted around the bluish screen hanging just off the main market street and came face-to-face with a golden-haired woman. She lowered her piercing gold-brown eyes to meet his; coming up short, he couldn't help but to bow to her.

"Well, did you give Marcella my instructions?"

"Yes, Asha Kaoru. She is doing it now, and the Collector isn't aware of it," the short man said genuflecting again.

"Met'Raphs, please no more bowing," Asha said testily under her breath.

Straightening, the man gave a shaky laugh. "Repentance, Miz'a Kaoru. Habits are hard to subdue."

Shaking her head, the golden-haired woman glanced around before turning her attention back to the man. "Remember, if the Collector gives you any trouble contact me immediately."

He held up a small blood-red crystal and said. "I carry it at all times as you instruct. My I inquire about this man?"

Cocking her head to the left, she studied the man debating just how much she could trust him. She knew everyone in this region of space feared her species, but she also understood that it wouldn't prevent them from lying to her out of that dread. After all, he originally had worked for the Collector. "What question?"

"Why do you wish for this Umon to be returned to his ship, yet you don't want him informed that it is your species that helps him?"

The coldest of expressions crossed her face as she said in an authoritarian voice, "Get him to safety at any cost. His life will mean our salvation. That is all you need to know."

Trembling, Met'Raphs backed away from the woman and bowed in apology. "I request your forgiveness. We will get the Legend to safety. Have no fear. We will do as you have requested."

Nodding her approval, the woman pulled a hood over her head before peering around the screen. Seeing no one, she disappeared around the building to blend into the crowded market place.

Two arns later:

Through a throbbing, nauseating headache that cast a milky blur across his vision, John watched Marcella working at the comm station. Rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he pondered blearily why the cure always seemed worse then the illness.

"Gawd, I hate drugs more then ever now," John whispered under his breath.

"Luv?"

John glanced over at Marcella, who was staring at him in puzzlement.

"Just the ravings of a delirious human," John said, giving her a lop-sided smirk. "What are you doing anyway?"

Marcella shot a meaningful look toward the doorway. "Just locking down for the night, Luv."

Grunting, John rubbed his temples again. "Night? It looks like the sun is still shining in the courtyard."

"Window of illusion. This 'ere planet's a cold, desolate place. No one lives above ground...only below. It's dark, dark and dangerous outside... only safety in dwellings."

Cautiously standing, and wavering a little from the residual affects of the sedative, John slowly moved toward Marcella. "Why are you helping me now? I thought you said you couldn't before. Why now?"

Marcella remembered back to the first day. John Crichton had looked strained after the Collector left. Watching him rub the heels of both hands into his eyes, Marcella remembered what it had been like when she first arrived at the Collector's dwelling so long ago. When John lowered his hands, the haunted expression on his face filled her with sadness that she hadn't felt in cycles. She knew he hadn't been born into bondage as she had. This alien didn't know how to accept his incarceration. No, he had the soul of a libertarian.

Marcella remained quiet as she pressed a colored cube and waved her hand in front of another geometric figure. With her continued silence, John grew aggravated. He paced closer to the window. His need to for action was outweighing the need for prudence.

"I've got to get the hell out of here, "he mumbled, as he turned and moved to the doorway.

"Time is to move cautiously. Time will come when things are right. " Marcella tried to instruct him. "I help. Another help. You must do as instructed in order to live."

His lips tightened, as if he was about to broach a difficult subject. "Marcella, I need to get out of here back to my family. Have you ever tried to escape from here?"

Tilting her head first right then left she sadly studied this ... this Legend...this simple being and remembered what it had been like after her capture. Without answering she started to fold a piece of his clothing.

"Have you?" John persisted.

"It wasn't easy. Yes, I escaped only to be caught several times. Then, just before last time, the Collector said to leave would only bring me pain." She glanced down at the clothing and whispered, "It caused much pain."

Frowning he asked. "Pain? I don't..."

Still not looking at him, she pointed with her large hand at the back of her head. "Insert obedience rod here at base of my brain. I have to do as the Collector says."

Hearing a sharp intake of breath, she looked up into his probing eyes and saw the deep feelings of understanding.

"I'm sorry, Marcella," he had said gently.

Unable to contain herself she had to ask. "You underst'nds? How?"

Looking grim, John said, "Let's just say I know what it's like to have an unwanted devil in your mind."

Marcella stared at him for a long time, then she whispered, "Devils sometime can be your friend. Remember that when you are free." She turned away mumbling to herself. "Remember that when you're free."

"Something that will never happen," a deep raspy voice said from the doorway.

Turning in one fluid motion, John reached for Winona forgetting that she wasn't there. Cursing under his breath, he took a stumbling step backward.

An armed guard stood slightly to the side of the Collector pointing his weapon at the center of John's chest. Everything in John rebelled. The fear and anger he had been feeling earlier that day came rushing back like molten lava. As an ugly snarl tore from his throat, and before anyone could react, John kicked the weapon aside and launched himself, feet first, against the guard's chest. The force of his attack sent them both sprawling to the floor. His fist came into contact with the guard's chin, knocking the man unconscious. Rolling to his feet John faced the Collector in a fighting stance.

He remembered the Collector like to wear body shielding. A pure evil smile played around the Collector's blackened lips. "You have not disappointed me at all, my Legend. Only I can't let my prize escape."

Unprepared, John found himself on the floor unable to move. He stared up in shock as the Collector stood over him. "You will be all right but you must remain still. When you have calmed enough I will release you."

"Obedience rod?" John managed to say.

"No...you are much too valuable," the Collector explained as he held up a grotesque pulsating devise. "For you, I use only the safest and reliable devise, this is known as a Krethia."

"No, Master, it could kill him," Marcella said coming around the console unit.

Without a word or glance the Collector pointed the grotesque pulsating wand at Marcella. Grabbing the back of her head, she started making a high- pitched shriek.

She skirted away from the console backing into a corner of the room. "Master, please...O'le Marcella sorry...please..."

"I warned you," the Collector said, self-justification making his deep voice grow harsher.

With some urgency, John tried to rise to come to her aid. Pushing up with his elbows, he felt an intense pain shot straight up his spin causing the top of his head to explode. A grunt escaped him. Upon the gleeful look on the Collector's face, John ground his teeth together to keep from screaming out loud. He fell back to the floor and lay there unmoving as the pain began to subside. Beads of sweat ran down the sides of his face. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, not even in the Comfy Chair.

The Collector stood over John, his robe brushing alongside John's face. The Collector studied him for a microt, and then said. "To resist a Krethia can only cause pain. Don't resist and you can have pleasure. "

John remained silent, with only Marcella whimpering from the corner. She would mutter from time to time. "I sorry, Master, please no more. I'm sorry."

"I thought you would take pleasure and insert an obedience rod in my head," John snarled.

The shrouded figure kneeled beside John causing the hood covering his grotesque insectoid head to pull back enough for John to see the Collectors face. He couldn't help but flinch, causing more pain to shoot down his already inflamed spin.

"No, you are to valuable for that. A Krethia is a creature from Tormented Space. It likes to attach itself to a host's spine and insinuate itself into your nervous system. It imposes its will onto the host through pain and pleasure. Over time, the host obeys the Krethia without thought," The Collector explained in delightful detail. His third eye opened in his glee over his prisoner's reaction. "The secret of controlling the Krethia is through the Nar."

He held up the pulsing devise John had seen earlier. "The Nar not only controls, but helps in the implantation and removal of the Krethia from the host. "

The Collector stood up and moved away from John to the console. "I have new information about your wife and child. It would appear the Peacekeepers have them, along with Moya and her remaining crew."

John rolled over to his side as the pain eased from his body. "I guess that puts a kink in your plans," he laughed hollowly.

"Not yet," was all the Collector murmured as the console died. Glancing up, his third eye closed, and the shroud once more hid his features. "No one will stand between me and my collecting. "

Gathering strength, John ignored the pain and launched himself off the floor in anger, shouting, "NO!"

Pressing on the Nar the Collector watched John collapse moaning in agony as the Krethia inflicted its painful control on its host. The Collector chanted to John as he moved to the door. "It will not kill you. Relax and the pain will end. Relax and breathe. Soon your family will be here to make you happy. Relax. Breathe." He kept saying as the door closed behind him.

John found his world growing dimmer as he fought against the Krethia. A shaky hand stroke his face as a hoarse, pain-ridden voice crooned in his ear. "Let go to fight another day. C'mere luv, let go so you can live."

Rolling onto his back he felt the waves of pain pounding against his senses receded with nauseating rapidity. He moaned softly trying to sit up, but pain stabbed piercingly behind his eyes. He huddled against the warm figure sitting next to him.

He could feel a rough hand messaging his temples. He opened his eyes and looked up into Marcella's face dancing in disorientation. "I wish I could have a day were there was no pain and everything quit dancing around. Frell," he whispered under his breathe as his eyes closed again.

"Easy, Luv. You heard the Collector. Don't fight the Krethia and you'll be all right. Relax and you will feel pleasure. Relax, "she kept instructing him as she continue to massage his temples.

After several microts, John pulled himself up and away from Marcella, leaning against a wall for support—feeling its hard and steady presence behind him as his vision cleared and everything steadied and righted itself. Marcella sat next to the bed across from him, studying him.

Raising his eyes to hers John inquired, "You ok?"

"Yes, I can handle pain. You?"

"Better. I'm sorry to..."

"No, be sorry. It's not over yet. Just postponed," she whispered with reassurance. "Tell me about the devil in your mind."

Giving a bitter laugh John didn't know what was worst, having Scorpy planting the neurochip alter ego in his head or having a living leech taking up residence on his spine.

"Scorpy, the devil that taught me about mind frelling along with his cousins, the Scarrans."

Nodding her head she murmured. "Scarrans, I remember them. This Scorpy work for them?"

"No, he's with the Peacekeepers. He's half-Scarran, half-Sebacean...a resident from the Elm Street nightmare factory."

"You said you understood about pain rod, how?"

Closing his eyes briefly, he was actually hoping to god that the Peacekeepers would be coming for him. He thought bitterly about that ironic twist. He didn't mind dealing with them as compared to his current deal with the Collector. Marcella's previous words finally penetrated his aching mind. "What do you mean only postpone for now?"

The orange keeper gave him a slow knowing smile but remained silent. She asked again. "Tell me about this Scorpy?"

Understanding it wasn't safe to ask again, he started to tell her about his adventure in Scorpy Sue's Gammak theme park. In the back of his mind he wondered why it had became so important for Marcella to risk her life for his. He also pondered if there was a hidden price tag that he might be unable to pay. Well, he'd worry about that another day as long as he could get the blue-light special now.