Disclaimer: The idea is mine. Henson Company and the Sci-Fi Channel own everything from the planets to the ships to the characters. Not that I wouldn't mind arranging a rental or two. "Purple Haze" is the intellectual property of the late Jimmi Hendrix and whoever owns those rights these days. "Nowhere Man" belongs to the Beatles, and whoever owns their songs. No copyright infringement is intended on any of this.
Author's note: There are one or two physics errors in here. Don't go picking nits. They were necessary for the story. If I followed real physics, it would be a pretty boring story.
I wrote this several years ago. That fact should be pretty obvious by the characters and some of the comments they make.
Synopsis: What happens when Terrans lose one of their own? They go looking for him. But is this a good thing or a bad thing?
The RescueBy Horatius
In the safety of a nebula, the giant leviathan slid gently through space. Her gentle curve and sleek shape belittled her awesome power. Deep inside the great ship all was quiet. The DRDs scurried about doing things that only DRDs knew. Hynerians dreamed great dreams of decadence and avarice. Cool blue/gray flesh merged with the fire and passion of the red and orange of a Luxan. On the terrace, Zaahn watched the swirling gasses of the nebula pass by, being absorbed in their resplendent beauty. And in a darkened sleep chamber, two humanoids had finally stopped being two and had become one. As they slept, they held each other, partly for companionship, but mostly because it was right. It had taken them nearly five cycles to get where they were, but now they were here. That was all that was important. For the moment, all was right with the world.
In the morning (or what passed for morning aboard Moya), breakfast was served. As always, breakfast was a semi-unidentifiable morass that Crichton had given up trying to identify a very long time ago.
"Commander Crichton?" The image of pilot asked from the shell-like display.
"Yes pilot?" he replied around a mouthful of something vaguely egg-like.
"We are receiving a signal."
"What kind of signal?"
"It is a very low power signal, sound only. The translator microbes are having a difficult time with the signal. However, it is reminiscent of some of the 'songs' you have recited."
A startled moment was the only pause before pilot began to play the signal.
Static…. a hiccup of random noise… more static… Then came the sound. It was a sound like no other. To John Crichton's ears it was like the music of the sirens luring men to their doom. It was…
"Purple Haze, all in my brain. Lately things don't seem the same. I feel funny, I don't know why. 'Scuse me while I kiss the sky."
A smile crept across Crichton's face as the song played itself out. Radio traffic was theoretically possible at any distance from Earth. But if Moya was receiving Jimmy Hendrix songs, particularly "Purple Haze", that would mean that the Earth could only be thirty or forty light years away.
"What is that frelling noise?" D'Argo asked with obvious annoyance.
"That is one of the sounds of Earth. "
"Is it some kind of torture device? Or perhaps it is the sound of humans undergoing unnecessary surgery without the benefit of any anesthetic. You can even her the person screaming 'Help Me'. "
"Actually, Big Guy, it's called Rock and Roll." Crichton was almost beaming. "And it means that we aren't far from Earth."
"That was the immortal Jimmi Hendrix with Purple Haze. This is the UNSS Rocinante beginning day two hundred eighty of the great manhunt for Commander John Crichton. John… buddy… if you're still out there give us a call. We will now pause for one minute for station identification and to receive incoming transmissions." Then there was silence. John held his breath and just stared blankly at the receiver. Exactly one minute later, the voice came back.
"We're back. This is the UNSS Rocinante, transmitting from the oort cloud of a class K5-zero star approximately 34 parsecs from a pulsar with a period of .62 seconds, and just under a parsec from a class 2 nebula. That's where we are, and for your listening pleasure, here's Kiss with 'Rock and Roll all night." And then the music began again.
"PILOT!"
"Yes commander?"
How far away are they? How long will it take us to get there?
Based upon the direction of the signal, and possible degradation of signal strength, I have plotted a course that intersects no less than four star systems. One of the four is a commerce planet. I estimate…"
"Never mind, Pilot," Crichton began, raising his hand as a signal for Pilot to stop his prattle. "Just head for the commerce planet. If there's a Search and Rescue team out here, that's where they went."
"Certainly, commander. It will take us nearly 12 solar days to reach the commerce planet."
"Just go, big guy. Get us there as fast as you can."
Crichton was so enthralled by the music from Earth, and the idea that there were other humans, out here, looking for him, that he never saw Aeryn leave the dining area.
Less than an arn later, Moya was in starburst.
Aeryn Sung, former peace keeper, former member of the Pleisar Regiment, current fugitive and current lover of John Crichton stood on the terrace looking out at deep space. "I suppose I shouldn't fault him." Aeryn told herself. "He's been away from Earth for nearly five cycles. All he's had is us. All he's had is…" she trailed off in her own thoughts as a teardrop unceremoniously fell from the corner of her eye. Aeryn wiped at it with her hand. When she brought her hand down to look at the single teardrop, she was reminded of all the "human weaknesses' she had gained in her time with Crichton. No, not Crichton. John. He was John. The man she had come to love. The man she shared herself with. She remembered the pain and the love they felt. She felt the memories of his touch, his warmth, his everything. She simply stood there on the terrace and remembered. Aeryn became so lost in her thoughts that she was almost startled when John came up behind her and placed his arms around her waist and placed his head on her shoulder. There was a time when sneaking up on a peacekeeper would have warranted a severe beating, multiple contusions and possible broken ribs. But now, it was more like welcoming a missing piece of herself.
"Hi" John whispered into her ear.
"Hello, yourself" she said, not taking her eyes off the great expanse of window that framed the entire side of the terrace.
"Penny for your thoughts"
"I'd think they'd be worth more than that."
"Well, that's all I have right now. Unless you're willing to trade them to me for food cubes."
"Not frelling likely. Those food cubes are pretty awful.' Aeryn smiled. "But I think we can work out some kind of trade."
At which, Aeryn turned around and looked into the eves of the man she loved, and kissed him. It was a kiss that said things like "I love you" and "I never want to be without you".
"What was that for?" John asked.
"It was a kiss. I thought we'd been over this. Remember? You, me, lips, tongue." She smiled at him.
"I know it was a kiss. I may be human, but I'm not stupid."
"Just making up my mind. Sometimes things take time to figure out."
"Like what?"
"Well, if there are other humans out here looking for you, and if they're as determined as you've always said, then they're going to find you sooner or later. Since we're rushing towards them right now, I'd tend to bet on the sooner rather than the later."
"So what does this mean to us?"
"Well, it means that you're probably going to go back home with them. Which means…"
"Stop right there." Crichton interrupted her by placing his finger on her lips. "Even if we do finally meet up with the humans, I have no intention of going back to Earth with them. Not unless you're by my side. Aeryn, I love you. You're the other half of me. We've managed to become pieces of the same entity. There isn't a John and an Aeryn, there's just us now. Kind of a JohnAeryn."
She looked at him with a confused look. "Must be a human thing."
"I'll show you a human thing." John said as he pushed her down to the floor of the terrace and began to kiss his ladylove in ever more increasingly passionate ways.
Somehow, Moya knew what was happening on the terrace, and discreetly closed the doorway and dimmed the lights, letting only the glow of the moving stars and swirls of color from the nebulae illuminate the terrace and the bodies of the two lovers entangled in each other.
The UNSS Rocinante had been in space for nearly eighteen months. In that time, her crew had seen many things. The first star system they had come to was a barren and desolate one. All they had found in this lifeless system was a small scrap of wreckage. The top sixteen inches of the tip of a wing that had once belonged to the Farscape research vessel. The Rocinante spent the next month combing the entire system for signs of further wreckage of the Farscape. There was none to be found. Somewhere in the mission protocols was the list of possible outcomes for the disappearance of the Farscape. These were:
The Farscape and her pilot were destroyed due tidal forces within the wormhole.
The Farscape arrived on the far side of the wormhole and was destroyed by collision with a nearby body.
The Farscape arrived safely on the far side of the wormhole, but due to a lack of fuel and life support, the pilot is now deceased.
The Farscape and her pilot were able to make a safe landing on the surface of a habitable body and are currently awaiting rescue.
The Farscape and her crew were captured or otherwise abducted by alien beings of unknown disposition and are currently awaiting rescue or retrieval.
Since there were no habitable planets in this system, and the only other wreckage found out here was in a state consistent with battle damage, the only reasonable explanation was number 5. Somewhere out here was an alien race, and they were holding Commander John Crichton either hostage or as prisoner. With the damage and abuse the wingtip had suffered, there was only one conclusion: The aliens were hostile. This meant that this entire mission was no longer the peaceful search-and-rescue everyone on Earth had hoped for. This mission now fell under the heading of "Combat Rescue and Retrieval"
The lander Omaha rendezvoused with the Rocinante. As the air locks cycled her crew disembarked. Their pressure suits were in a grey and black camouflage pattern with heavy plastic plating on the chest, arms and legs. The only color on them was the colored shapes on the chest, identifying the wearer.
"Capitan Trent, Did you find anything this time?"
"Sorry sir. What little we were able to translate seems to indicate that we are still being confused with at least two other groups. The translators still call one group 'Peace Givers' or 'Peace Makers' or even 'Peace Keepers' apparently there are multiple connotations of the phrase."
"What about the other group?"
"Something about 'Sabay-See-Anns'. The translators keep translating it to either 'Skin People' or 'Oil People'. Once, it actually translated it as 'Tattooed People'. Personally, I'm starting to think that the software is getting a little buggy."
"I'll have a talk with the IS people, down on deck 2. We'll see about smoothing out some of the translations. Next question, Captain: Any new rumors about Commander Crichton?"
"Sorry Sir. I showed his picture around, and we keep getting the same 'Yes, No, Maybe. I did get an interesting response from a large bug-thing. It said that it saw him, a 'Peace Giver', a Delvian, and a Luxan here, on planet less than a cycle ago. I have no idea what a delvian or a luxan is, but if he's telling the truth, that means that Crichton was here less than nine months ago. Apparently, they were here to trade for supplies."
"Did you take steps to make sure we are informed if he returns?"
"Sir, I did better than that. I gave the bug-thing a transponder. I told him to give it to Crichton with a note if he ever sees him again."
"What did we have to give the bug in order to insure his loyalty?"
"I promised him a kilo or two of the thorium-104 we keep in storage. Apparently there is a market for it here."
Colonel Wayne smiled and nodded, dismissing the Marine Force Recon leader. As he turned and headed back into the main corridors of the ship, he passed the technical section. Passing an open hatchway, one of the technicians nearly bumped into him with a digital clipboard full of notes.
"Sorry about that, sir. Just going over this morning's notes."
"Don't mention it D.K. Just keep up the search."
John awoke early this morning. He was giddy with excitement and anticipation. Moya had been in starburst for nearly twelve days. It was like counting down the twelve days of Christmas. Counting down to what could be the greatest gift anyone could give. Almost the greatest gift, he corrected himself. The greatest gift in his life was stirring beside him.
"Good morning." John said, as he leaned over and kissed the forehead of the beautiful raven-haired woman sleeping beside him.
"Good morning." Aeryn said sleepily as she opened her eyes and stretched her body with a catlike grace. "I don't suppose you got any sleep last night, did you?"
"Not so you'd notice. Pilot says we'll be at the commerce planet in another two or three arns. We can't receive any of their radio transmissions while we're in starburst, so we don't even know if they're still there. This whole thing is just making me nuts. Its…its… its…"
"John, breathe. You'll be a wreck by the time we get there at this rate." Aeryn smiled at him. "I'm going to take a shower and get cleaned up." She said, flipping the blankets out of the way and climbing out of bed. "Care to join me?"
"No thanks, I'll pass this time. I wouldn't be much fun. Too stressed out." He replied, sitting up in bed.
Aeryn turned and walked across their quarters toward the bathing chamber, clad in her gray pseudo-military bras and panties. John sat there watching her walk away, admiring her long, dark hair, her broad shoulders and her perfectly rounded hips, and her exquisite behind and those long firm legs and..
"Hold up a microt, Aeryn, I'll be right there" John called as he nearly leapt from the bed. What the hell, bull fighters do it before a match. Maybe it'll help me de-stress. If not, I can't think of a better way to kill an arn or two.
Elsewhere on Moya, other people were beginning their breakfast. Rygel floated in his hover sled, munching at something of the blue-green-orange persuasion. D'Argo, Chiana and Zaahn sat at the table, eating and talking.
"What do you think will happen when John meets up with his people again?" Chiana asked in her sing-song, childlike way.
"If it's anything like what he's told us about other humans, it could only go two ways: Very good, and Very bad. I don't think that humans know any other way to do things," D'argo grumbled around a mouthful of something that could only be described as breakfast.
"Oh, come now, D'argo. If John is a representative member of his people, then the meeting with them should go very smoothly. I'm sure they're a very reasonable people." Zaahn said in her honey-smooth reassuring voice.
"Baaah. Remember what happened with the crackers incident?" Rygel piped in between mouthfuls. "If he was being a representative of his species, I say we starburst as far away from these humans as we can."
"We were all affected by that. John was simply affected … differently." Zaahn said.
"I dunno. I thought he was interesting." Chiana commented. A comment that earned her a look from D'Argo. A comment that would have singed the eyebrows off of a lesser being.
"Chianna, he basically threatened to turn you into his… what was the word?"
"Radiator Slave" Chianna and Zaahn said in unison. Glancing at each other afterward and smiling the subtlest of smiles at each other, as if thinking the same thoughts.
"Thank you. He was going to turn you into his radiator slave. He was going to kill every one of us, especially me, and then chain you to a thermal regulator pipe and keep you around for sexual gratification. That strikes me as more than a bit unstable. I say we starburst away. Without hesitation." Rygel's mouth was now working much better without any food in it.
"Look here you little slug, we were all affected. Even you. John was just responding to the light differently. John is still my friend and I owe him my life more times than I care to think of. Especially after what happened with my son." D'Argo glared into the hynerian's beady black eyes. D'Argo didn't blink. His gaze offered Rygel only one option for his next move. And with that, Rygel backed down in his protests and sulked away, the engines of his hover sled humming a bit lower.
"Rygel…" Zaahn said to Rygel as he hovered by.
"What?" he murmered.
"Don't you think that these humans, when they came looking for John would have brought trade goods and materials with them? Just something to exchange for information."
An eyebrow rose.
"And aren't these humans technologically behind us, thereby needing samples of technology?"
A second eyebrow rose.
"AND, if these humans are new in this corner of the universe, they'll probably need a local representative, perhaps someone like the Dominar of the Hynerian Empire, to sponsor them in any political matters they encounter."
Eyes began to widen.
"And since they aren't subject to Peacekeeper weapon laws, I wonder just what kinds of new technologies they'll be bringing with them."
Eyes are nearly bulging from their sockets, pupils fully dilated.
"Of course, if they're here, and they've traveled all the way from Crichton's corner of the universe, that must mean that they have some kind of interstellar drive that we don't."
A small rivulet of drool laced with greed dripped from the corner of Rygel's gaping mouth. A moment passed as Rygel regainded his composure.
"I suppose, since they're Crichton's countrymen and they came all this way just to find him, it would be only proper that we should go and welcome them." Rygel declared as he sped out of the dining room.
"You really know how to manipulate that little bastard, don't you?" Chianna asked Zaahn.
"It's really very simple when you think about it," Zaahn smiled.
"You only forgot one thing," D'Argo said.
"And that would be?"
"If humans are as capable and as resourceful and as potentially violent as John CAN be, what's going to happen if John decides he DOSEN'T want to go home?"
John Crichton was standing on Moya's bridge when they arrived at the commerce planet. Like most commerce planets, it was a mid-sized world with a moderate gravity and temperature. Also like most commerce planets, its pollution level would make any citizen of Los Angeles gag.
When Moya arrived insystem, they were greeted to the melodious chorus of: He's as blind as he can be, just sees what he wants to see, Nowhere man can you see me at all
"We have arrived." Pilot said. "The source of the signal is located in the Oort cloud on the opposite side of the sun from where we are now. It will take a nearly ten arns to transit across the system to reach the ship. However, I am detecting a smaller vessel approaching the commerce planet. The vessel's trajectory is consistent with being from the Human ship, The Ros… Rossee… Rossa"
"Rocinante", John finished for him. "The Rocinante was the name of a horse for Don Quixote. He was a noble human that thought windmills were dragons and went out to 'Dream the Impossible Dream'. I guess that kinda says something about what they thought of my chances were. pause Pilot, show me what the smaller vessel looks like."
In a flash, the image of the commerce planet was replaced by the image of a small vessel, clearly of human manufacture. While leviathans were generally teardrop shaped, and peacekeeper vessels were simple slab-and-cylinder vessels, the Rocinante's lander, Juno was lacking in anything that remotely resembled an esthetic sense. In short, it was ugly as sin. The lander was an elongated teardrop with a finned tail and not one curve to be found. Projecting from the nose of the vessel was the small, distinctive Plexiglas form of an enclosed cockpit. Just behind the cockpit were two small stubby wings with small protrusions on them. Above the small wings, mounted upon their own short pylons were cylindrical pods. Just about the right size for a … Crichton's brow furrowed slightly as he understood what kind of excursion craft the Rocinante was using to conduct their search. The Terrans could have brought along simple orbital shuttles, but they didn't. They could have brought anything other than what they decided to bring.
"Oh, hell." Were the only words he could find to describe his realization: The Terrans had brought along modified space-to-surface gunships
"What is it?" Zaahn asked.
"The Rocinante is using a gunship, an attack aircraft to shuttle back and forth between the planet and the ship." John answered, his eyes never leaving the display.
"That's an attack craft?" Aeryn asked, a look of disbelief on her face. She made a noise of disgust at the sight of the ungainly aircraft.
"Don't laugh. That little ship is probably designed to carry about eight men in full space suits with weapons and anything else they need as well as be their fire support. This probably means that the Rocinante carries other armament." John chided her without looking away from the tactical wire frame model and real-time images of the human ship.
"It just looks so frelling ungainly. Like that insect you told me about that isn't supposed to fly but does because it doesn't know any better."
"A bumble bee." John corrected her, his eyes still not moving from the display.
"Commander Crichton" Pilot began, his image in the display. "We are within range to contact both vessels at this time if you wish. However, due to the distance, direct communication with the Rocinante would be difficult due to the time lag."
"Thank you pilot. Well, Shall we see if anyone is at home over there?"
"Wait, John. Perhaps it would be better if someone else made contact." Zaahn suggested.
"Why? They're here looking for me."
"We do not know their intentions. We do not know how they will react yet. If everything is as it should be, then nothing will be harmed by a small amount of caution."
"I understand. Just a little paranoia is a good thing."
"B'sides, if something goes wrong, we don't want a bunch of dren-heads chasing after us, like Crais did." Chianna piped in.
"Ok, I know when I'm licked. Take it away Zaahn." John finally conceded. "They'll be monitoring the channel they transmit on as well as a few others. If you really want to get their attention, broadcast the message on a wavelength of 21centimeters, and start your message with a set of numbers. That will get their attention very fast."
"What set of numbers?"
"3 1 4 1 5 9 2 6 5"
"Why do those numbers have significance?"
"Back home, that's one number sequence that was thought to be universal. It was always thought that any technological civilization would recognize them. It's Pi. The ratio of the diameter of a circle to its circumference. Trust me. They'll get it."
"Very well. Pilot, begin transmitting the number sequence."
A minute or two passed.
"This is the UNSS Juno to unknown vessel on this channel. Please identify yourself."
"I am Pa'u Zotoh Zaahn. I wish to speak to you regarding your search for the human John Crichton."
Momentary pause.
"We are changing course to your location Please stand by." Came the voice from the human ship.
Aboard the Juno
"Juno to Rocinante"
"Go ahead Juno.
"Have received an unsolicited transmission on the 21 centimeter bandwidth. Transmission included initial digits of pi as well as terms "Human" and "John Crichton" we are proceeding to point of origin. Over."
"Confirmed Juno. What is your status? Over."
"Carrying left half of delta team. Full bag and baggage. Anticipate contact in one hour fifty-two minutes. Will advise prior to contact. Expect data and telemetry burst following this message and one in 1:55. Over"
"Confirmed Juno. Colonel Wayne has given you permission to go directly to Phase 3 if necessary. Please confirm, over."
"Confirming go-ahead to Phase 3 if necessary. Juno out."
"Sir, why the go ahead to Phase 3?"
"Sergeant, an alien has just transmitted a message to us on a bandwidth that is reserved for emergency use. It used a contact protocol that only astronomers and people like that know. Whoever this is, they've been in contact with Commander Crichton, and probably very recently. As in he's probably there right now. This could have been his way of getting them to transmit a distress call. Clear, trooper?"
"Crystal, sir."
"Ok troops. Here's the plan." The marine sergeant began as he outlined the plan of attack to his squad.
Nearly two and a half arns later, the Juno was on final approach to Moya.
"That's no moon, that's a…" WO3 Rush, the co-pilot/navigator began.
"Oh, shut up." Finished WO4 Payne, the Juno's pilot.
"Both of you stow it." Interrupted Lieutenant Schaeffer, before either of the flight personnel could finish their stunning repertoire. "I need a slow circle of this beast. And make it look innocent. I want as much data as possible before we go inside"
"Sir? Would you care to tell me just how I'm supposed to fly innocently?" Payne commented with something just short of contempt in his voice. His only answer from the Lt. was a look that supplied the rest of the contempt.
"Does this make you or me the wookie?" Rush muttered into his headset as he adjusted one of the flight controls.
"Definitely you. I'm better looking." Payne replied as he programmed the cameras to begin transmitting their data back to the Rocinante.
"Human craft, we are opening the lower rear landing bay for you. When you arrive, we will pressurize it for you, that we may speak in comfort." Zaahn radioed to the Juno.
"Thank you. We will be landing in approximately 20 minutes. Juno out." Came the reply.
"So. What do you think they're doing out there?" Chianna asked as she watched the small craft pass over Moya's dorsal surface.
"If I were them, I'd be trying to gather as much information as possible before they enter." D'Argo answered, watching the same display.
"I think you're both being paranoid." Zaahn said with a note of calm disgust in her voice. "If they were hostile, I'm sure they would have done something by now, don't you?"
D'Argo and Chianna looked at each other, and then back to Zaahn.
"No." they said together.
Meanwhile, in Pilot's chamber, John and Aeryn sat, waiting for the Juno to dock.
"What do you think they're doing?" Aeryn asked.
"Studying Moya. Looking for some edge that they can use. Probably looking for just the right place to fire missiles just in case. Isn't that what you'd be doing in their shoes?"
"If I were in their shoes, I wouldn't be sending just one ship with a few troopers. I'd have several ships standing by in a show of force, just to make sure negotiations went the way I intended. I'd probably have a command carrier standing by as well."
"Spoken like a true soldier. To them this is just a simple search-and-rescue. They're not coming in as combat troops." John chuckled and smiled at Aeryn, but deep in the back of his mind there was some degree of concern. These humans had come looking for him possibly armed to the teeth, and as the history of Earth had shown, when you plan for the worst, it usually happens.
The Juno settled down in Moya's cavernous lower landing area with a gentle thud. Almost immediately, the massive doors sealed allowing atmosphere and pressure to be restored to the enormous area. As soon as the pressure was returned and the air quality verified, the Juno lowered her rear troop door, and released her team of four marines. Two marines stood on either side of the Juno clad in their grey and black armored space suits, with rifles at the ready. For nearly a minute nothing happened. When at last one of the marines made a small motion, lieutenant Schaeffer descended the ramp, his helmet clipped to his belt, opposite his sidearm.
"Hello? Anyone here? Miss Zaahn? Anyone? Commander Crichton?" lieutenant Schaeffer called out.
"This is bad, sir." Pilot Payne said over the intercom. "We've got our collective asses hanging out, and I am not in the mood to get fisted."
"Just relax, Payne. Everything is under con…" Schaeffer was saying as the large oblong door pivoted, and an azure skinned woman stepped into the landing bay, followed closely by a brick-red wall of muscle, hair, steel, and attitude.
"Greetings, gentlemen. I am Pa'u Zaahn. Which of you is Schaeffer, the human I spoke with?"
Schaeffer stepped forward, extending his hand. Zaahn glanced at his extended, gloved hand and placed her fingertips together in a gesture of peaceful greeting. Schaeffer quickly put his hands together in a marginal imitation of Zaahn's gesture.
"That would be me, ma'am. I am Leiutenant Schaeffer, 1st Terran Long-Range Search and Rescue, and commander of this detachment. I'm pleased to meet you."
"This is my associate Kar D'Argo." Schaeffer nodded. D'Argo growled slightly, the Qualta blade resting comfortably in his crossed arms. "Please, tell your men that we mean you no harm. We only wish to speak with you about your friend, John Crichton."
"At ease gentlemen," Schaeffer called over his shoulder. "Is there someplace more comfortable we can discuss this?"
"Certainly. Please follow me. If it makes you feel better Lieutenant, you may bring your Peacekeepers with you."
"My what?"
"Your Peacekeepers; your armed companions. If it makes you more comfortable, you may bring them with you as we talk."
"Sergeant Janssen, you're with me. The rest of you, stand by. If it's all right with you, ma'am, I'll just bring my adjutant, sergeant Janssen."
"As you wish. Please come this way." Zaahn lead them deep into the corridors and passageways of Moya. Their every step, as well as every movement of the marines left in the landing bay was closely monitored from Pilot's chamber.
"So. What happens next?" Aeryn asked John as they sat on the small ledge in front of Pilot's pedestal.
"Well, now we see what kind of liar ol' blue can be. Assuming D'Argo doesn't shoot the lieutenant, everything should be ok."
"What do those little words on the trooper's shoulder mean?" Aeryn asked, looking at the procession headed toward the terrace as they passed by a camera.
"What words?" John asked, starting to feel that tingle in the back of his head.
"Those." She pointed to the semicircular bits of fabric on the spacesuits, just above the UN logo. The tabs were "RECON" on the grey-black sergeant's suit, and "SEAL" on the all black officer's.
"This is not good." John said with concern in his voice.
"Why?"
"Because those two are basically the Terran equivalent of shock troops. They're who we send into combat when it absolutely, positively has to be destroyed overnight, and somehow I don't think Zaahn has a clue about who she's negotiating with."
"What will happen if their conversation starts going badly?"
"Well, the few SEALs I've met would probably think nothing of smashing a few skulls just to get the party started."
"Sounds like my kind of people." Aeryn smiled.
"Compared to these guys, Peacekeepers are calm, well-mannered and understanding. Compared to these guys, Peacekeepers are just well-armed thugs."
"What are you saying?" Aeryn scowled.
"I'm saying that…" Luckily, he never got a chance to finish.
"Please, have a seat." Zaahn gestured at the large padded bench that had been moved to the terrace for the meeting. She sat at the other bench, giving the two soldiers plenty of space. D'Argo stood behind her, looking intimidating. As lt. Schaeffer sat, sergeant Janssen stood behind him, rifle at the ready, his suit still sealed and the tinted face plate still down.
"What information do you have for me about Commander Crichton?" Lt. Schaeffer asked, placing his sidearm on the table.
"Only that we traveled with him for several cycles. He parted company from us less than half a cycle ago with a Peacekeeper named Aeryn Sung. They departed our company in one of our transport pods. They are greatly missed."
"Do you have any contact with them?"
"We are supposed to be meeting them at this Commerce Planet very shortly."
"How convenient." The lieutenant said dryly, a note of suspicion edging through.
"Yes, it is."
"Would you mind telling me just how you knew the frequency to contact us? We weren't transmitting on that frequency, and we certainly didn't use that number sequence in any of our transmissions."
"Commander Crichton left us with that information in the event we encountered anyone from Earp that had come looking for him. He had said that by using the combination of frequencies and numbers, it would identify us as not only being friendly, but also being friendly to the people of Earp. I hope we were correct in using it in the manner we did."
Lieutenant Schaeffer folded his hands on the table between them, and smiled a small, subtle smile. "I must say that we were very surprised to receive the transmission. Receiving the message alerted us to the fact that you were in contact with Commander Crichton. When did you say you were planning to meet with him?"
"I don't believe I ever made that statement, Mr. Schaeffer. I believe what I said was—"
Schaeffer dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "You may not have said it, but we both know what you meant."
On Moya's aft landing area, imposing soldiers stood guard over the assault lander, Juno.
"What do you think?"
"About what?"
"About this whole thing. This ship. The bald blue alien chick."
"I dunno. Blue chick, Green chick. Color doesn't matter."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"So, what do you think?"
"About what?"
"Y'know, even with that body armor, I can still kick your ass. What do you think about the blue chick and her big red supertrooper?"
"She seems to be pretty straight forward. Didn't have any of the slidey-eyes that the intel spooks do. I guess that means she's trustable. At least for the moment. As for the big red guy? I think he's got a cute butt."
"Christ. Is that all you think about? I keep forgetting you're female."
"You better not forget it… What was that? Motion at 10 o'clock."
Beside a pile of containers something moved. Something quick, soft and grey.
"Freeze! Come out with your hands up!" The first trooper ordered.
Chianna rose from her place behind the boxes and drums.
"Well? Which do you want me to do? Stop where I am or come out?" Chianna asked as she rose and began walking toward the two troopers.
"Yeaaaah… I'll bet you're just big and strong in those suits. Aren'cha? I just loooove a man in uniform." She whispered in her seductive, child-like voice.
"Ma'am, if you don't stop where you are, I will be forced to shoot you." The female trooper said.
Chianna looked confused for a moment. She cocked her head and tried to make some sense out of what was going on around her.
Back on the terrace, the conversation had begun to take some strange turns. Zahn had been discussing what, to her were subjects of no consequence: the fact that Moya was a living ship, the names of some of the other races in the Uncharted Territories, what Peacekeepers were like, even down to some small talk about how nice it was to meet some of John's countrymen.
"Miss Zahn." Lt. Schaeffer said, setting his cup down.
"Yes?"
"While I find you and your companion to be wonderful company, and this tea is outstanding (even though I have no idea what it is). I'm afraid, I have to ask you a serious question."
"This question would be?"
At that instant, the large, ovoid door pivoted and opened. Rygel emerged on his sled. Sgt. Janssen turned, bringing his rifle to bear on the door. D'Argo responded in kind and pointed the Qualta blade at the two terrans.
"Greetings to you, powerful Earpmen. I am Dominar Rygel XVI, Dominar of the Hynerian Empire, and Sovereign to over six billion souls. On behalf of Moya's crew, I welcome you with open arms" He opened his stubby little arms in what he assumed to be a gesture of friendship.
Up in Pilot's chamber, John muttered, "Not now, Sparky."
Aeryn's response to seeing Rygel's appearance on the Terrace consisted of mutterings about exactly how she was going to kill him and how many pieces he would be reduced to.
On the far side of the sun, the UNSS Rocinante began to move. The massive vessel began the slow process of relocating itself into a more advantageous position. The Rocinante, the pinnacle of human technology, looked like nothing so much as an oil-drilling platform laid on its side with an engine and a collection of fuel cells fastened to the bottom. Deep within the ship, activity had been at a fever pitch since the receipt of the alien message. Juno's sister ships, Gold, Sword and Omaha, were being fueled and armed. Assault teams were being readied and briefed based upon the scant knowledge that was available. Even the heavy cargo transport, Mercury, was being fueled. Deeper in the Rocinante's belly a debate was occurring.
"Sir, respectfully speaking, I should be allowed to try and talk to John BEFORE you start trying to abduct him. You haven't even confirmed he's on board that ship, let alone asked him if he even wants to come home."