Hanging Onto Hope

(Special thanks go to ixchup as co-writer on this chapter.)

Part 11

Romus and his security detail walked into the Reformist Cantina. The commando officer snorted at the incredible mixture of stenches and filth that filled the place. He shook his head at the whims of his superiors. But, being the consummate Peacekeeper, he drew his pulse pistol and pointed it at the Quevllan mixologist who stood quivering at the corner of the unkempt sticky bar. Romus nodded his head once and followed the shaking appendage to the back of the bar. Great Cholak's Ghost how he hated these rendezvous assignments! The lighting was dim, but not dim enough to hide the few sordid customers scattered here and there at tables, their heads and proboscides bent over their drinks. Many were too drunk, their eyes gazing intently upon inner landscapes to notice the passing of the leather-clad and armed soldiers. Romus expected a challenge from the stocky Uriklian guard who stood with its arms crossed but ready blocking a scared doorway, but he stepped aside without comment letting them pass through.

The shadowed interior of back room was bleak and barren. It prepared him for the Ickora male's glacial expression. The man sat motionless, with his hands folded together on the tabletop; only a flicker of his head betraying any sign of recognition. He uttered no greeting to his visitors.

"Where is Marcella?" asked Officer Romus. He stood in front of the table with his hand on his weapon.

"She had other affairs to attend to at this time," the Ickora said in a flat voice.

Romus frowned and flicked his eyes around the room and demanded in a tight voice. "Where is John Crichton?"

"He has an engagement with another buyer."

"WE had a deal," Romus snarled.

The male smile, but it was not a pleasant expression. "I am aware of that, Peacekeeper, but the Scarrans have paid more then you were willing."

Taking a controlling breath Romus battled down a substantial tide of anger. Calmly he asked. "Then what is the purpose of this meeting? What could you possibly tell me that would stop us from simply killing you right now?"

"I am not delivering you a message from Marcella. I am here to inform you what she has decided to do."

There was something wrong here. Romus hated the spiraling mysteries and twisting plots. He likes his battles clean cut. The Admiral would have his hide if he didn't unwind this particular unwelcome intrusion into what had seemed a clear-cut fetch mission. Leaning in, Romus looked the green man directly in the eyes. His breath caught in the back of his throat, and he recoiled involuntarily at the sight of the Ickora's empty eye sockets. He grabbed the being by its thick neck and pulled him closer, squeezing to make a point.

"Who sent you?"

"It makes no difference," the Ickora gasped. You must go into the light. That is the only way you will get to the Legend before Marcella delivers him to the Scarrans."

"What of the Collector?"

Romus released him suddenly and the Ickora rubbed his throbbing neck and in an abrupt dismissive way turned his back on the Peacekeepers. "You would be advised to rescue Crichton and his mate Aeryn Sun before the Collector returns from business within a half solar day."

After the warning, he fell silent again. Romus glanced at his second before moving around the table near the door. "Aeryn Sun? How do you know the Collector has taken her? What is this light you speak of?"

"You sent Aeryn Sun to find the Legend and now the light has taken her. If you do not rescue them the Collector will surely capture her. Now go to the heart of the maze. In the black heart of the Minorca. The grand home of the age. Rulers ruled from it and died. Across from Kula'ora shop in the Market Place. It is the entrance to another world. Go before it is to late," said the old Ickora man.

It was as the Admiral had warned. Arnell's secondary orders were explicit. Romus was to order his commandos to move in and secure the marketplace if the Ickora's message indicated that the ex-peacekeeper had taken a route involving the mysterious light. Here it was, and Romus now knew what he had to do. He must follow the same direction as Sun and the other Peacekeepers and located what was obviously some sort of alien transportation method. Without another word Romus motioned his companion out of the room leaving the man sitting in the darkness.

One arm earlier:

The original ornate architecture of the house could still be discerned in spite of its burned-out state. Like the planet, its grandeur had faded eons ago. The man, known as Korma Sim, strode through the cold, empty halls with Aeryn following behind. She took a fleeting glance at the massive chamber as they passed by the foot of a wide spiraling staircase but quickly ran to catch up as her guide ducked down a shadowed corridor that led to an area of warmth and light. Aeryn absentmindedly identified the rougher walls and the nicked and dented door as the entrance to what was obviously the servant's hall.

An old man waited hunched over a low trestle table, too absorbed in his dinner to look up at the sound of the opening of the door.

"She is here," announced Korma.

There could be only one "she."

The old man tore another mouthful of meat from the joint beast. He chewed. He spat a piece of gristle onto the bare floor. "The amount has tripled."

Korma turned his weapon on the old man. "You have been paid twice the amount. Now tell us where the light tunnel is."

"Why do you accommodate this traitorous Peacekeeper, Aeryn Sun? Why do the great Peacekeepers give assistance to a ship full of criminals? Are you so weak that you need to turn to such a group? I find that kind of weakness intolerable," the old man spat out the last word with even greater distaste than he had the gristle. "That alone will cost you more."

Aeryn had grown tried of the whole situation and turned her weapon on both men. "I don't care who paid what or how much. If this is the way to where Crichton is being held, then you will allow us in now!"

Throwing the chewed bone onto the floor, the old man took a swig from a tankard. Slamming it down he pointed to a faded, dirty tapestry. "Go through that and you will find the other worthless being the Collector spends so much time and good credit on."

"What of the light? "Asked Aeryn, dubiously. "I was told that a bright white light will take me to the Collector's lair."

Spitting on the floor, the old man rose from the table and teetered over to the tapestry. Pulling hard on the edge it fell to the floor in a cloud of dust.

Both Aeryn and Korma winced at the blinding light illuminating the room. Shielding her eyes, Aeryn stared into what appeared to be a doorway of light. The old man pointed his bony finger at the entranceway. "That is the way to the Collector's domain," he screeched, holding his twisted hand out. "More credits or I will inform the Collector you have tried to enter into his domain to steal his prize."

In that one silent moment between one breath and another, an explosion ripped through the door above stairs. Shouts echoed down the corridors as Peacekeepers barged into the room. Korma launched forward pushing Aeryn through the lighted entrance. He grunted as he followed close behind her.

In less then a microt Aeryn felt her boots sink ever so slightly into spongy turf. Before her lay massive tiles paving an area with alternating squares of bright colors, but their patterns were disrupted by the ruins that lay scattered about the ground. The air was dry and tartly scented. At the sound of a body falling she spun around to see Korma laying on the ground groaning.

Moving closer to him she scanned the area for anyone that might have followed them there. A deathly stillness filled the air where not even a breeze disturbed the scene. Kneeling down, she held her weapon ready and asked. "How bad?"

Trying to raise his shoulders, he fell backward with a moan. He motioned with his head. "Bad enough. Keep following the tile path and it will lead you directly to the Collector's lair."

Aeryn studied Korma Sim unemotionally for a moment. "If the commandos pursue through the doorway you will not stand a chance."

Coughing, a trickle of blood flowed down the corner of his mouth. "If they follow us they could end up anywhere else in this plane. That's why you must hurry. Go now. I will try to keep them occupied long enough for you get to Crichton."

Standing she asked. "Who are you? Why are you willing to die to save us?"

He managed to rise up enough to lean on his elbow. "It is all irrelevant now. Just know that there are those that are truly trying to help you to escape. Go!"

More confused then ever, Aeryn waited for a moment longer and as she listened intently she heard the muffled voices of orders shouted in the distance. Standing, she left to pick her way through a twisted maze, of fallen blocks of stone, wary of the occasional loose tile that rocked underfoot. Clearing her mind of emotions and confusion, she concentrated on getting to her husband, John Crichton.

The Collector's Lair, Simultaneously

Crashes and explosive concussions made the walls of the cell shiver. John glanced at the door entrance then at the false window, but could see nothing. He jumped at the loud booms that violently shook the locked door. He glanced over to Keeta and then matched her stare at the shaking door that announced the on-going battle.

"Do you think the cavalry has finally come to our rescue?" John whispered as he continued to watch the door.

"I don't know about this cavalry, but I would hazard a guess we are about to be liberated."

John stood up and quietly moved over to the entrance while motioning to Keeta to stay where she was. He flattened his back against the wall remaining as still as the kretha would allow with only his fists illuminating the pain this caused. As the door swished open, he whirled suddenly and lashed out his foot, the sole of his boot burying itself in the softness of a guard's belly as he ran blindly through the open entrance. John heard the "oof" as the guard's breath exploded from his chest and he doubled over and fell to the floor.

Keeta leapt to the table and kicked, snapping the head of another guard back. He dropped like a rag doll as his neck broke. A third guard grabbed surprised John as he watched Keeta's move with amazement and flipped him to the floor. John's breath exploded from his chest as the woman's knee forcefully dropped on to his chest. He watched helplessly as she raised her fist to punch him in the throat. He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he saw in his peripheral vision a large green hand lock around the female guard's wrist. He smiled slowly as she was wrenched bodily off his aching chest.

Met'Raphs snarled, "You will not hurt the Legend. "

Keeta stood over the body of the last guard as Met'Raphs rendered his query unconscious.

"The time has come," he said urgently backing quickly out of the room. "Yes, you must come now!"

Coughing. John managed to roll over to his hands and knees, sucking as much breath as his lungs would allow. He rasped out as a slender feminine hand reached down to help him stand. "Like I said the cavalry to the rescue."

Rising shakily to his feet, John stumbled after Keeta through the door with Met'Raphs bringing up the rear. The sounds of a continuing battle grew louder as they raced down the corridor.

Turning the last corner Keeta came to an abrupt halt placing herself between John and the oversized threat. John stopped suddenly directly behind Keeta as he suddenly recognized the new problem. Marcella lurked in the main doorway, a nasty-looking pistol held low in front of her. She looked every bit as dangerous as the Collector had. With lethal grace, she waited, poised to do violence. With her eyes fastened onto Keeta, Marcella growled.

"Asha, promise not to send anyone to interfere. What are you doing here?"

Lowering her head, Keeta's eyes locked onto the Ickora woman. "You failed to inform us about the Krethia."

"You didn't asked." Anger at this betrayal of trust had wiped away all trace of Marcella's amiability. "I was to bring him to you safe and unharmed, but you have interfered. The Collector will kill all of us over this betrayal."

"I think not. It was the Collector that brought me here for the human. You are the one he will take pleasure in killing if he discovers you sold his prize either to the Peacekeepers or Scarrans," Keeta pointed out.

Giving a dark laugh John rubbed his hand down the side of his face. "I knew there was going to be a price tag for your kindness, Marcella, but I didn't think you had the chutzpah to go up against the Collector and sale me to the highest bidder."

He moved to stand beside Keeta. "Who is paying you- the Peacekeepers or the Scarrans?"

Keeta answered the question, "I would say Scarran."

Marcella curled back her lips. "You are the Legend. You are nothing but a worth of importance for the Collector. Why can't ol' Marcella gain some of that worth?"

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but you might find no worth for my sorry hide if this Krethia isn't removed. I'll be a dead man in the matter of arns," John informed Marcella his voice laced with irony.

"You lie," Marcella snarl as she circle around them.

Keeta shifted her body so she remained in front of John. She tried to reason with Marcella. "Why betray us, Marcella? You would have your freedom and whatever wealth you could take with you from the Collector. You know our people would?"

"Help!" The large woman gave a hollow laugh. "Your people only interfere when it suites your proposes."

Marcella shifted her eyes to John. "Did you have sex with her? Is that why you hide behind her? Sex with her kind is forbidden with otherworlders. That is how they control you. You become nothing but a slave to their whims."

Frowning, John shook his head. "No? She is helping me to control the parasite."

"Is that what she is telling you? That is what she and the Collector want you to think. Only with the Nar can you control the Krethia and I control that."

Motioning with her weapon at Keeta she said in a menacing voice. "Move away from him."

Standing straighter Keeta defied her saying. "No. You will have to kill me to get to him."

"As you wish."

Apprehensively, John reached his hand out saying. "Wait?"

His world exploded in pure undiluted white-hot pain at the very same moment Keeta glowed for a split microt. Her slender body slid to the floor. Grabbing at his head John heard a deathly scream rend through the air as he sunk to the floor beside Keeta's still body. The last coherent thought he had was for a quick death.

Met'Raphs ducked back around the corner after seeing Marcella pointing a weapon at Keeta and John. Pressing the red crystal between his fingers he squeezed it tightly and prayed as he made his way down the corridor. The Legend will be dead if help didn't come. He had only one thought in his racing mind and that was to get to the Nar before Marcella realized she didn't have the correct one. Mumbling he slide around another corner not seeing a dark - clad figure standing in his path. It was only when his eyes locked on the barrel of a pulse rifle did he come to an abrupt halt.

Staggering back in freight he held up his hands. "Please... please we must help the Legend. Marcella is killing him. Please?." He pleaded.

The figure moved directly into his line of vision. He couldn't help but take another step back. He now knew what death looked like.

Thirty Microts Earlier:

Aeryn cautiously passed unchallenged under a low- archway and into an interior chamber. Dim red light obscured the bleakness of bare bear stonewalls and flagstone floor, but did nothing to warm the chill air. An eerie quiet shrouded the place, only her booted feet softly echoed on the hard tiles. Moving swiftly, she ran down the corridor to where it ended in a vast room full of brilliantly colored metals and exceptional encased gems sparkling in the brightly light. She moved slowly forward all the while checking around her. She was amazed at the lack of security.

Suddenly, Aeryn jerked her head to the left where she heard a sharp series of what had to be explosions. With her gun pointed ahead, she cautiously moved towards the sound. Using all the stealth she had learned as a Peacekeeper, Aeryn entered the smokey corridor. She could hear the shouts of commandos and the returning replies of comrades. She tried not to listen and to concentrate on her quarry whom she had spied standing up ahead as if he had not a care in the world. The Ickora male had to be involved somehow in this mess, Aeryn thought as she crept up behind the man.

Met'Raphs turned towards the tiny swish and had no time to put up a credible defense before he was pushed bodily up against the rough stonewall with a strong arm choking him.

"I will ask you only one time and you had better give me a good answer." The voice whispered. "Where is John Crichton?"

"I am a friend of The Legend," Met'Raphs gasped, "I will gladly show you where he is if you are also his friend. Do not hurt me, please."

Aeryn slowly removed her arm from the shaken alien, but did not move her hand from the trigger of the pulse pistol also aimed at his head. "I am Aeryn Sun, his mate. You will show me where he is right now."

Met'Raphs nodded and pointed, "There, up ahead. Quickly, there is little time before the Peacekeepers come. You've heard their calls and bombs."

Aeryn turned and strode quickly forward, not even looking to see if the large green man followed. She was filled with dread as she suddenly heard the awful shriek that sounded like an animal in extreme pain. She picked up speed and turning the corner turned dead white at the sight in front of her. There on the ground lay her husband, arms wrapped around his head, and his back arched until it was almost bent in half. Standing over him was the Ickora female, a strange snail-like appendage attached to her fist; its open mouth pointed at John.

Aeryn pointed her weapon and as she was about to fire, a fist slammed into her arm causing the blast to hit the wall behind Marcella sending sparks flying.

"No! Do not kill her or The Legend will certainly die." Met'Raphs pulled on Aeryn's arm and she slowly lowered her weapon while glaring at the breathless male.

Marcella sneered at her two assailants all the while not taking the Narl's mouth away from where it pointed at the suffering man where he lay now convulsing on the ground. John grunted and panted with every searing spike of pain that shot up his spine and exploded in his brain until he could see or hear nothing. Marcella squeezed the Narl and watched as it emitted a green beam that struck John squarely in the forehead.

"Marcella, Stop!" Met'Raphs screamed. "It is the wrong Narl. You will kill him and you will have nothing." Aeryn looked at her companion and frowned. Had the tables turned once again? She looked down at John where he now lay in his own vomit and sweat, unconscious or dead. She was totally nonplussed.

"You are a fool, Met'Raphs and you are wrong. I switched Narls when I discovered your deception. I will free John Crichton of the kreitha and take him and his mate to the Scarrans. Help me and you will be rewarded."

Met'Raphs nodded and more quickly than his bulk indicated elbowed Aeryn in the face, knocking her head up against the wall. She collapsed bonelessly on to the floor. "Yes, I will help you Marcella. I know you will kill me either way but maybe if I assist you will let me live longer."

"Let us clean up this mess then before the Peacekeepers arrive."

The two Ickora grabbed the bodies of John and Aeryn leaving a track empty of dust the only indication that another spiral had been added.

The Collector smiled as he switched off the camera and turned away from his monitors. All was going as planned.