Episode 5 - Scales From Their Eyes
"We can't survive like this any longer!" – Tanga
Out of the corner of her eye, Aeryn saw John slip quietly into the command chamber. He snuck up behind Gilina, seated in the pilot's chair, and leaned over to rest his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"How's it goin', baby?" he asked lightly. "Crashed into any asteroids yet?"
Gilina reached up with one hand and smacked him lightly across the head. In response, John's arms tightened around her and his fingers sought out the ticklish spots along her ribs. Within microts, they had both dissolved into a puddle of giggles as she tried, half-heartedly, to fend him off.
Aeryn shook her head and turned away. Witnessing these two grow closer day by day was unavoidable, but she could at least allow them the illusion of privacy. Their constant small touches and whispers in passing,and the sheer unfettered playfulness, was unlike anything she'd experienced in her life. Part of her--the old part, the Peacekeeper part--saw the danger, the constant distraction from duty. But the other part, the new, growing, questioning part, was almost...envious.
The tech was sitting in the pilot's seat because Crichton, with his unique perspective, had suggested that all three of them work together, learning how to fly the ship and make basic repairs. Aeryn refused at first, by reflex; she was the pilot, and repairs were tech work. But John wouldn't let it go, pointing out the need for backup with such a small crew. After three solar days of his incessant prodding, she'd finally given in and agreed to his unorthodox plan.
Gilina and John were now learning basic piloting from Aeryn, who was in turn learning how to fix things from Gilina. Though she hadn't expected to, Aeryn found she enjoyed both the teaching and the learning. John was a quick study at the helm--to be expected since he had been a pilot on his own world. He'd already managed to pick up the rudiments of Peacekeeper flight control on his own. Gilina had been reluctant at first, hampered by the same ingrained notions of propriety that had inspired Aeryn's initial refusal, but once she accepted the task, her quick mind absorbed the concepts readily.
As the laughter behind her died down to breathless gasps, Aeryn realized this was the chance she'd been waiting for--all three of them together, and none of them with anything that absolutely had to be done right now. It was a discussion too long delayed, too long avoided. She turned to face them, gathering their attention with nothing more than her steady, unwavering gaze. Crichton noticed first and nudged Gilina.
"Something on your mind, Aeryn?" he asked.
"Yes."
John tilted his head slightly, expression fading to neutral. "Hmm, sounds serious." He and Gilina disentangled themselves and got up from the floor, where their brief wrestling match had landed them. They took seats facing Aeryn. "All right, G.I. Jane," John said, once they were settled. "What's the beef?"
With iron control, Aeryn restrained herself from reacting to the incomprehensible query. She'd learned, over the past weekens, that asking for an explanation invariably got answers that made no more sense than the original gibberish. Best to ignore it altogether.
"Before we encountered the Ancients, I believe the two of you had determined to seek a place away from the Peacekeepers. The decision, I believe, was for my benefit. True?"
John and Gilina exchanged glances, then nodded together. "Not entirely for your benefit," John clarified, "but yeah, you were the main reason."
"The situation has since changed. I believe we need to re-evaluate that decision."
"'Re-evaluate'? You saying you want to go back? Even knowing what they would have done to you?"
Aeryn nodded. She'd known this would be hard for him to understand. "I'm not blind to the Peacekeepers' faults, John, not anymore. But for all we do wrong, there are still many things we do right. We were once far better at holding to the ideals we purport to uphold. Even now, corrupt as you believe we are, thousands of worlds would dissolve into anarchy or fall prey to the Scarrans without our protection. I took an oath to the Peacekeepers. In spite of everything, that oath still means something to me. I can fight to support the Peacekeeper ideals--our true ideals--while attempting to correct the problems."
Crichton was staring intently at her. He muttered something under his breath, too softly for her to hear. Aeryn would have let it go, but Gilina turned to him and asked what he'd said.
"It's a quote, from back on Earth about a hundred years ago: 'My country, right or wrong. When right, to be kept right. When wrong, to be put right.' Something she reminded me of, just now."
Aeryn sat back, speechless. It was a concept totally foreign to the Peacekeeper definition of loyalty, which stressed obedience to superiors over everything. But put so concisely, the words carried her memories back to a time, and a man, over two cycles ago. A man of science, much like Crichton, who had perhaps had ideas much like those she was now developing, about addressing the evils of the Peacekeepers from within. Ironic, to be sure, that it had been she who turned Velorek in for his 'treason'.
John's voice broke into her recollections. "How about you, Gilina? Do you want to go back?"
Gilina shook her head. "I don't want to lose you."
A hand reached across to clasp hers. "It wouldn't be like that. If you really wanted to go back, I'd go with you."
"That's not what I meant, John. I know you would. But if we did go back, we couldn't be together; it would be too dangerous. If we were ever discovered, we'd both be executed."
"She's right, John," Aeryn said. "Peacekeepers do not tolerate such unions. They are considered threats to the purity of our bloodlines. Even if you were both Sebacean, the strong emotional bond you've developed would be frowned upon as disruptive."
"Is that how you feel about it, Aeryn?" John asked pointedly.
She looked down at her hands, knowing what he was asking without his saying it. "I was trained from birth to believe those things, and it is difficult to overcome that. But whatever my opinion, you have nothing to fear from me. You saved my life, and convinced me to live when I thought I didn't want to. Whether you leave or return, I will not speak against you. If you choose to make your own way, I will report that you were killed on the Zelbinion. That should ensure that you are not pursued for desertion."
Gilina stared at her in astonishment. John appeared less shocked, but no less grateful.
"So," he said, breaking the silence, "how are we going to manage it?"
Having anticipated this question, Aeryn turned to the computer and punched up a display she'd prepared. "There's a planet, here, about two weekens away. The data we have is sketchy, but it seems to be a Peacekeeper agricultural supply depot. It's unusual to find one this far out, but perhaps this planet had something special to offer. Peacekeeper ships come twice a cycle to acquire supplies. If we land the Marauder there, I will be picked up and returned to the carrier eventually."
She pointed to another point on the display. "Just a few solar days beyond that planet is a small commerce station in an asteroid field. No indication of Peacekeeper presence is listed, but there is a notation about the availability of good maps there.
"If we stop on the planet, we can acquire supplies, and perhaps a good-sized transport ship. But even if there is no ship available, the station would be within the range of your module. Right, Crichton?"
John got up and peered at the map, calculating times and distances. "With two passengers...barely. Minimal margin for error. We enhanced the life-support systems, but the Farscape was never designed for long-range travel."
"Peacekeeper vessels like this one are allotted a generous amount of common currency, for use in re-provisioning when the mission lasts longer than anticipated. The money we have left should be enough to provide for your needs until you find a place to settle and work, and its loss will be easily explained by the Sheyangs who boarded the Marauder and killed you." Aeryn smirked at that.
It had been a great plan. John had to admit that. Abso-frelling-lutely beautiful. But the power of the Almighty Murphy, it seemed, extended even to the Uncharted Territories. John was starting to think that this whole trip was jinxed.
The ropes binding his hands were rough and painfully tight, and a hood over his face made it difficult to breathe. He knew the others were still alive and nearby--he could hear their ragged breathing, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort as Aeryn tried to loosen her bindings.
The door snicked open, and John heard several sets of feet entering the room. A touch of cold metal at his wrist freed his hands. He ripped the hood off and sucked in a deep breath, gathering himself to fight back... and then froze and sat back as he identified the wrong end of a pulse rifle pointed at him from a distance of about two feet.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aeryn and Gilina reacting much as he had as their own bindings were cut, and stopping for the same reason.
A woman stepped forward from among the many now staring at the captives. Though young and slight of frame, she carried herself with the authority of leadership. "Welcome to Sykar," she sneered, her voice heavy with irony.
Aeryn had never felt so stupid. Last time she'd been captured, at least she'd had the excuse of being knocked unconscious by the escaping Leviathan's starburst. This time, though, she'd walked blindly and confidently right into the trap. The data spools on the Marauder, which listed this planet as a Peacekeeper outpost, had lulled her into complacency. The others had followed her lead and suffered the same fate, compounding her error.
"Why have you imprisoned us?" Aeryn asked sharply. "We did nothing to you. All we asked was to purchase supplies."
"You are Peacekeepers. You enslave my people, destroy my planet, and you claim you have done nothing?"
"Hey, lady," John piped in, "whatever beef you've got with the Peacekeepers has got nothin' to do with us. What do you want?"
The woman smiled coldly. "That is a discussion for later. For now, we've brought you food and water. Enjoy my generosity, Peacekeepers. It may not happen again soon."
A bowl of something that looked like bits of dried vegetables was placed on the floor nearby, along with a large bucket of water. The woman saw them looking at the food doubtfully and growled, "Don't complain about the food; we have nothing else to offer you. Your people saw to that." Then she stalked out, followed by the guards, who kept their rifles trained on the prisoners until the door shut and locked.
They were all hungry, but none seemed eager to be the first to eat. After a hundred microts or more of silence, Aeryn shook her head and reached for the bowl. "We should keep our strength up, to be ready when we see an opportunity to escape." She grabbed a handful of the rations and handed the bowl to the tech, who followed her lead and passed it across to Crichton.
Popping a piece into her mouth, Aeryn started eating. The food was bland, but after monens of eating processed food cubes, anything fresh was a welcome change. After a while, it started tasting better. Or maybe she just stopped caring how it tasted.
"Walk with me," the old man at the door ordered.
"Sure," John replied agreeably, pushing himself up off the floor. Aeryn and Gilina lay sprawled on the floor, both sleeping. Aeryn had only returned to the room a quarter arn before, after spending time out talking with the Sykarans.
It was a beautiful morning outside, already warm enough to work up a good sweat. Blue sky, fresh air. Obediently, he tagged along as they walked through the decrepit streets of the city.
"Officer Sun told me something interesting about you, Crichton," the man said, not meeting his eyes. "She claims you aren't a Peacekeeper at all, not even the same species."
"Nope," John said proudly. "Human. One of a kind in this neck of the woods."
The man frowned at the strange syntax. "How do you feel about them? The Peacekeepers, I mean."
John thought about it for a while, turning thoughts and feelings over in a mind that seemed about as clear as mud. "I dunno. On the whole, guess I'm not real fond of 'em," he said finally. "Touchy, kinda violent. Some of 'em are okay, though. Aeryn's calmed down a lot since I met her, and Gilina's great. They're not bad people...just sort of warped by their upbringing, I guess."
"Why are you with them?"
"Kinda got dropped in their laps. Their captain decided I had something he wanted, so he kept me around, gave me a place to live so I could work on his pet project."
They were walking out of the city now, into the green fields that surrounded it. In the distance, the hills were brown and gray, like a desert. Hundreds of people were scattered across the landscape, digging large bulbous roots out of the ground. As John and the woman walked down the road, he noticed two people, a man and a woman, waiting for them near what looked eerily like a railroad car.
John was ushered inside, and the other three spent several long minutes in hushed conference. John gazed around, just enjoying the pleasant familiarity of the surroundings.
Gradually, the voices rose to a level where he could distinguish the words, though he paid them little attention. They weren't talking to him.
"This is madness, Father!"
"It may be, Tanga, but what other choice do we have? You believe we can fight them, but that is hopeless; they are too many, too powerful. I had hoped we were too far away, that we weren't worth the trouble to strike down, but you heard the Peacekeeper when we questioned her. We can no longer cling to that comforting illusion. This alien may be our only chance."
"Why would he help us, Hybin? He's like the Others, the Peacekeepers. He's one of them!" This was the other man, the younger one.
"He's not one of them. He's all but a prisoner among them, and he spoke to me of his dissatisfaction with their ways. He may understand if we show him what has been done here."
"You truly intend to go through with this? It's the only one we have left."
"Yes. Bring it."
John felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. He'd been admiring the harvested roots that lined the walls, breathing in the rich scents of soil and plant life. The woman--Tanga--stood behind him. "Come with me," she said. "We have something for you."
"A present?" John queried hopefully. Fond recollections of Christmas and birthdays past flashed past his inner eye.
"Not exactly," was his only warning. Suddenly, two pairs of strong hands forced him backwards to the ground, while a third person tore open his tech-issue jump suit to the waist. John caught a brief glimpse of something white and wriggling just before intense pain stabbed through his stomach. The hands released him, and he curled into a tight ball, clutching his abdomen.
"The pain will pass quickly," said a distant voice, through the roar of agony and his own screaming. "You have already consumed enough tannot to satiate the worm."
A wave of nausea rolled in, leaving him gagging. The world faded out for a moment, but when he opened his eyes again, his mind was clear, his memories back in focus, and his anger rising quickly.
"What the hell did you people do to me?" he demanded, pushing himself back against a wall to face his assailants. The nausea began fading, and the cramps had eased to a mild discomfort. The artificial sensations of comfort and contentment were gone.
"The worm will protect you from the effects of the tannot," the old man said.
John blinked. "Tannot? What the hell's tannot?" Not that he cared, he just wanted this damn worm out of his gut.
"The food you were provided, tannot root," the woman explained. "It is what they harvest outside even now." She spent several minutes recounting the history behind the psychotropic plant, how her people had been forced to grow it and how when they started to eat it, it acted on the mind like a drug.
John's mind boggled at the strange situation he found himself in. "Okay, let me get this straight. You captured us, doped us to the gills on this happy plant. You had perfect hostages, who'd never try to escape. Why cure me?"
"We need your help," Hybin said quietly.
"My help?" John laughed incredulously. "I think you've been smoking too much tannot, old man. You've given me no reason to want to help you, and I seriously doubt there's anything I could do, even if I wanted to."
Hybin ignored the outburst. "We need an intermediary, to plead our case with the Peacekeepers when they come. They will never listen to any of our people, for they view us as inferior, as slaves, nothing but bodies to do their labor for them."
"I'm not a Peacekeeper. I thought you knew that already."
"Yes, we know," Hybin said, nodding. "That is why I chose you over your companions. Their minds are closed; they will not listen to what we say, nor see what we show them. You, however, are alien to them, even as we are, and yet they suffer you to live among them, work with them. Perhaps it is because you look so much like them, and they forget to hate."
John shrugged. "Not so's you'd notice," he muttered.
"You do not approve of the Peacekeepers' ways." Tanga phrased this as a statement rather than a question, but still waited for some response.
"Not all of them, no," John admitted.
"They are killing my planet, destroying my people," she said, with great intensity. "At first, all we saw were small ships coming to collect our harvest, a few dozen soldiers at most. We believed we could fight them if only we had weapons. But then strangers arrived on our world and told us stories of the Peacekeepers, their cruelty and their massive forces. They brought us weapons, showed us how to refine the root into chakan oil. But Father is correct: if we try to fight them, our chances of victory will be small.
"If it comes to that, we will fight, because we have no other choice. We either fight and die, or surrender and die anyway. We would prefer that they simply went away and left us alone. My father is hoping you can speak to them on our behalf, make them see what they've done to us, convince them we are not worth the trouble to keep or destroy."
Her father Hybin added, "This is why we cured you. We need you to see with clear eyes. When they come, you will be able to speak to them with your mind unimpaired."
John thought for a moment. The Peacekeepers he knew who might listen to him he could count on the fingers of one hand, and they were all a long way from here; these people were really grasping at straws. It occurred to him, however, that he should play along for the moment, if only to find some opportunity for escape.
Unable to sleep through another hot night, John finally gave up and got out of bed, leaving Gilina slumbering contentedly beneath the thin covers. He wandered out into the common room of the suite the Sykarans had provided. His bare feet made no noise to disturb the others as he began to pace slowly back and forth.
He needed to think. Twenty-seven days. Almost four frelling weeks, and nothing to show for it, John mused in frustration. Aeryn and Gilina were still completely in the thrall of the tannot root, happy and brainless. Tanga claimed she had no more symbiotic worms to offer them, but they were also hostages to John's good behavior. If he tried to flee, he knew, they would be sent out to work in the fields under the hot sun. There, they would quickly succumb to heat delirium and the Living Death. And despite his urgings, they refused to consider any thought of escape themselves, declaring their perfect contentment with their new lives here.
The women spent their days performing tasks assigned to them, tasks that both took advantage of their unique skills and kept them indoors. For Aeryn, this meant training hordes of pliant Sykaran workers in the tactics of war and the use of weapons. Gilina's tech skills had been co-opted into the production of chakan oil and pulse weapons. John felt constant twinges of sympathetic pain for them, as they were forced to aid and abet an enemy and unknowingly violate oaths that he knew they both took very seriously.
John's days were spent with Hybin, Tanga, or their fellow rebels. He'd started out simply playing along, humoring them while he waited for an opportunity. But the more he saw of what had been done to this planet--the vast expanses of wasted, dead land where nothing would grow any longer, the cities falling into ruin through lack of upkeep, the empty concert halls where the Sykarans' great musicians no longer played--the more he felt sympathy for their plight. Seeing what the tannot was doing to his friends, not to mention to the entire Sykaran population, only further incensed him.
The Peacekeepers could arrive any day; they were, in fact, overdue for their scheduled pickup. The plan he and the others had made before they arrived, leaving Aeryn free to return as the sole survivor of a disastrous mission while he and Gilina flew off into the Uncharted Territories, was clearly no longer an option. While he might be able to knock Gilina out and drag her to the Marauder unseen, he could not in good conscience leave Aeryn to face the consequences of this situation alone. In her current state, she'd likely confess her actions freely to the Peacekeepers and walk smiling to her execution for treason before the tannot wore off.
John had thought about attempting to disable both women, but had quickly abandoned the notion as insane. The tannot might dampen her will and give her a constant feeling of contentment and euphoria, but it hadn't done anything to dull Aeryn's highly trained reflexes. Painful as it was to John's male ego to admit it, he was simply no match for her in a hand-to-hand confrontation.
Which left what? The Peacekeepers were late; would they come at all? If they got wind of this planet's little rebellion, would they simply write it off as a loss, since there was so little to gain by reasserting their control? At best, this planet had about five more cycles of tannot production before the remaining soil was depleted and the people simply died of starvation.
If that was the case, then he and the others could be stuck here for a very--
The sounds of a struggle outside stopped John in his tracks. There was a strangled, muffled shout, and then the sound of a body hitting the ground outside the front door. All of the amorphous possibilities in John's mind coalesced into a single thought--rescue. A microt later, the front door to their lodgings was kicked open and several silent black shadows glided in.
Hot damn, John thought, the cavalry's arrived!
With a single glance at John's tech jumpsuit, one of the commandos lowered his weapon and spoke to him. "How many more?"
Playing along with his assumed role as a Peacekeeper tech--no sense wasting time clarifying his ambiguous status--John replied briskly. "Two others, one in each room. They've been drugged, so they won't come willingly."
"Understood." Several fast hand signs sent two of the black forms towards the doors John had pointed out. There were two nearly identical shouts of surprise and pain, and then silence reigned once again.
Within minutes, John was racing through the dark streets surrounded by the commando squad. Aeryn and Gilina's unconscious bodies were slung limply over the shoulders of two soldiers who ran alongside him. The Sykaran city slept on around them in drug-induced bliss.
As they left the city streets and moved out into the barren fields, he saw a second Marauder crouched next to theirs, like a couple of huge alien bugs. They were nearly twins, except for some heftier-looking gun ports on the new arrival.
He was herded roughly aboard, and the Marauder powered up and launched itself into the sky before he'd taken ten steps into the corridors.
The biggest shock, in a day already full of surprises, was when he walked through the doors of the commander's office on the Peacekeeper ship.
"Tauvo!" he cried, laughing in surprised relief. He'd expected to see a complete stranger, but he supposed it made sense. Captain Crais' convoy had been the closest patrol to this part of space, so of course he'd have been called upon to respond to the situation on Sykar. And Tauvo was his most trusted lieutenant, frequently sent on detached duty assignments, such as chasing down escaped prisoners and apparently dealing with small planetary insurrections.
The younger Crais, for his part, looked up at the human with surprise, annoyance, and carefully concealed pleasure. He dismissed the commando with a gesture.
"Crichton." He greeted John with a smile. "It's good to see you still alive. The captain was...concerned, when we had no news of you for so long."
"Yeah, well, we had a few problems. Nice ship you've got here, Lieutenant. It's not a Vigilante, is it? Seems bigger than I remember."
Tauvo shook his head, smiling proudly. "It's an Intruder-class frigate. Four times bigger than a Vigilante, though still less than one-fifth the length of the carrier. They usually fly as escorts in the convoy. We needed something larger than a Vigilante to deal with this situation, but sending a full carrier would have been overkill. Not to mention that it would have drawn unwanted attention to our operations here."
"So, a frigate, eh?" John whistled, impressed. "Moving up in the world, my man. When are they going to give you a carrier of your own?"
"It will be many cycles, Crichton, if ever. The standard route for such promotions would have me serving as second-in-command on a carrier for at least three cycles. As it stands, I am still only the fourth-ranked officer aboard my brother's ship; Lieutenants Teeg and Braca are senior to me."
"Ah." John smiled at Tauvo's poorly-concealed anticipation of his future career path.
"I presume the other two we retrieved were also members of your expedition?" Back to business.
"Yeah." John nodded, feeling his fatigue now that the adrenaline had worn off. He sank into a chair. It was still the middle of the night on his internal clock. "Aeryn Sun and Gilina Renaez. The others were killed on the Zelbinion, when a bunch of fire-breathing froggies attacked the transport."
Tauvo gave a quizzical look at the incomprehensible description.
"Sheyangs," John clarified. "They damaged the Marauder pretty bad, so we've just been limping back as best we could ever since. At least until we got caught up in this little revolution."
"The situation on Sykar will be dealt with soon," Tauvo assured him. "We only delayed this long because we detected your ship on the surface and had to mount a retrieval mission first. High Command learned of the uprising when a patrol captured their deposed leader trying to sell a load of stolen tannot root on the black market. How did you end up in their hands?"
John nearly smiled at Tauvo's smooth transition from friendly curiosity to professional interrogation. The man wanted more information before taking action. The trick would be giving him what he needed without betraying either Gilina or Aeryn's...unauthorized activities.
"We stopped here for supplies. The Marauder's data indicated that this was a Peacekeeper outpost, so we hoped to make contact with someone and get word to the convoy. We weren't expecting trouble. The Sykarans caught us by surprise, ambushed us. Officer Sun fought hard, but we were badly outnumbered." It was the least he could do to help bolster Aeryn's reputation.
Crais nodded without commenting, and moved on to the next issue. "I understand from the retrieval squad's initial report that Sun and Renaez were both suffering from tannot narcosis. I take it humans are immune to the root's effects?"
John gave a short, humorless laugh. "Not so's you'd notice. I was high as a kite, just like them, for the first few days. But then the Sykarans stuck a worm in my gut, and I didn't even get a shot of tequila to wash it down with." The thought still disgusted him, but he'd had several weeks to get used to it. He supposed it wasn't any grosser than the dentics.
"A worm? Where did they get their hands on one of those? It's not native to this planet, and the founders of this operation only provided one, to the Sykaran leader we captured."
"I dunno," John admitted. "Tanga said they were rare, but they've provided a few dozen to key people over the months. Maybe the one your guys left behind had kids."
Tauvo shook his head. "It's not important. The real question is, why give one to you?"
Now came the moment of truth. For half a microt, John was tempted to keep quiet and let Tauvo get on with suppressing the rebellion in fine Peacekeeper style. Payback, he mused, for their treatment of Gilina and Aeryn.
But the petty impulse passed quickly as he recalled the potential tragedies brewing. Taking a deep breath, John kept the promise he'd made to Hybin and Tanga, in spite of having made it under duress. It wasn't for them, however, but for all the hundreds of innocent Sykaran workers who still toiled in a blissful haze on their dying planet.
"They gave me the worm because they needed a voice to speak for them, someone the Peacekeepers might actually listen to, since they knew you'd never bother to listen to them."
Tauvo scowled at him, all pretense of camaraderie banished. "And why should we?" he growled. "They're primitive, weak, inferior in every way. Fit only for physical labor, and with no better purpose than what we have provided for them. What would you have us do, treat them as equals?"
John sat quietly, unfazed by the outburst; he'd expected that type of response. He shook his head sadly. "No, I know that would be too much to expect from you."
Tauvo frowned at the implied insult, but John ignored the look and went on.
"They're people, Tauvo. They had a lovely planet and a working society once, and now it's all fallen apart thanks to you. I'm sure you consider me just as primitive as the Sykarans, but remember, with less than a cycle of training, I'm flying your ships, repairing your machines, and getting closer to understanding wormholes than any of your so-called scientists. Just because they aren't as technologically advanced as you are doesn't mean they're stupid or weak. You want to think of non-Sebaceans as inferior? Fine. It's no skin off my nose, and I'm not going to tell you what to think. But inferior or not, primitive or not, nobody deserves what the Peacekeepers have done to this planet."
Crais shook his head petulantly and got to his feet. "I don't understand your problem," he insisted, pacing restlessly across the office floor. "Those people are happy in their work. What more can they want?"
John jumped to his feet. "Happy? You call that happy? They're blissed-out on a narcotic! Aeryn and Gilina were 'happy' while they were there, too, but you were certainly quick enough to knock them out and drag them up here. It's good enough for an alien, but not for you, is that it?"
Tauvo didn't reply.
John took a deep breath, sensing that this conversation was getting away from the point he was trying to make. "Tauvo, happiness or the lack thereof is not the issue. They're ready to fight and die, and it's not because they're not happy. They're fighting because they have no other choice. They're dying already."
Tauvo snorted, amused and disbelieving. "Such dramatic words. I'm sure they wanted you to believe that, to provoke your pity. I know how these people operate. Blatant propaganda for a sympathetic ear--"
"Damn it, Crais," John interrupted, "that's not the way it was at all!" John bit down hard on his tongue to keep himself from saying some of the things he wanted to. Insult and invective would not help his arguments. Clearly Tauvo was not in any mood to listen to him. Time for another tactic.
"Fine," John said at last, taking a deep, calming breath. "You don't believe me. When I first heard their story, I thought they were spinning me a line of bull, too. But then I walked outside and saw it for myself. There's a saying among my people: 'Seeing is believing'. Feel like testing that theory out, Tauvo?"
"What?"
"Come with me, down to the planet. Take a look at what you're fighting against before you order it all blown to kingdom come."
Tauvo gave him that look, the one Gilina had perfected all those months ago: feigning humor at the human's incomprehensible jargon. It was much easier to take from her than it was from Tauvo. Before the Peacekeeper could dismiss the notion out of hand, though, John played his trump card.
"Or are you too much of a coward to look your enemies in the eye before you kill them?"
The Marauder settled onto the dusty ground with a bone-jarring thump; Tauvo was apparently still in a bad mood, and taking it out on the helm controls.
After John had flung down that challenge, he'd taken one look at Tauvo's face and realized he might have made a grave error. The man had looked ready to kill. And with Peacekeepers, the likelihood of him indulging that urge was somewhat higher than it would have been back home.
Well, we're here now, John mused. Guess that means he decided not to kill me after all. They'd waited twelve arns, until the heat of the day had passed--and hopefully the heat of Tauvo's temper, as well. Long enough for John to go to medical and have his unwelcome guest removed, at least. It had hurt like hell, but it was a relief to finally have the critter gone.
Tauvo appeared out of the corridor and walked towards the Marauder's drop hatch with a stiff-legged, angry stride. Before he reached the opening, however, John stopped him.
"What now, human?" Crais asked impatiently. "Having second thoughts about this waste of time?"
"No, Lieutenant," John said, deciding not to get too personal in his address for the moment. "I think I should go first. They're less likely to shoot me on sight, and I need to explain to them what we're doing."
"All right, Crichton," Tauvo agreed bitterly. "That will have to be your task, since I personally have no idea why we're here."
John smiled wryly and dropped out of the ship to the ground without another word.
Two dozen Sykarans with homemade pulse rifles surrounded the ship, positioned behind whatever cover they could find. John looked around carefully and spotted the people he needed to talk to. Raising his hands slowly to show he was unarmed, he walked towards Tanga and Hybin.
"Why have you returned here, Crichton?" the woman spat, enraged. "Have you betrayed us, brought soldiers to kill us? We will fight to the last--"
"Tanga, shut up," John said amiably, cutting her off mid-rant. "You're luckier than you have any right to be, you know that? Out of thousands of Peacekeeper officers High Command might have sent, any one of whom would have locked me up as soon as look at me, you've got the one man in command of the ship in orbit who seems to have a little respect for me. If it were anyone else, you'd already be dead, so get off your high horse and thank your lucky stars I'm such a nice guy. I did what you asked, in spite of what you did to Aeryn and Gilina. I'm trying to help."
Tanga subsided, still looking peeved. Hybin jumped in instead, covering for his daughter's poor manners. "Thank you for your efforts, whatever the outcome, Crichton. But the question remains, why are you here?"
"I've brought the Peacekeeper commander with me--he's alone, Tanga, don't get your skivvies in an uproar. I want to show him what you showed me. I'm hoping he'll believe his own eyes, since he won't listen to me."
Tanga continued to glare at the ship, as if expecting an entire regiment of commando troops to issue forth and slaughter them at any moment.
John raised his voice slightly, pulling her attention back to the discussion. "Will you give me your word that you won't harm either of us while we're here?" he asked.
Tanga's face was set in a stubborn scowl, ready to deny any Peacekeeper the right to set foot on her planet, but then Hybin caught her eye and nodded, his eyes pleading. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself and nodded. "Fine, show the Peacekeeper the atrocities his people have committed here, the death and destruction they have caused with their cursed tannot plants. But don't expect him to feel anything, Crichton. From what we've seen over the cycles, and from what others have told us of their ways, I don't believe they're capable of it."
John shook his head sadly, but didn't contradict her. There was some truth to her words; Peacekeeper training did seem to actively discourage soft emotions such as compassion, pity, and love. In some soldiers, that training might even succeed in eradicating those feelings altogether. But not in all of them. Aeryn Sun had rediscovered them in the past few months, and John hoped that Tauvo, too, would be able to reconnect to those old feelings once again. John had a few ideas on how to accomplish that.
The tour, such as it was, did not start well. John showed Tauvo examples of the Sykarans' problems, but Tauvo staunchly refused to look at anything, and invariably found excuses. Finally, as they were standing in the middle of a dusty, eroded field, barren and wasted, John stopped and turned to him.
"Tauvo," he began, "you told me you once lived on a planet as a child, before coming to the Peacekeepers. Do you remember much about it?"
"Some. Images, mostly."
"Did people have farms there, or is that beneath the dignity of a superior race?" John asked.
He could almost see Crais swell up in indignation. "If you must know, we lived on a farming commune. My parents were farmers."
"Well, good. Remember anything about it? What the farm looked like, what your parents grew, that sort of thing?"
"Crichton, what the frell does any of this have to do--"
"Humor me, Tauvo. Please."
Crais growled under his breath in frustration. "Fine, yes, I do remember some things. It was a beautiful place; I hope to be able to return to visit one day, should my duty allow."
John crouched down and picked up a handful of dirt, letting it sift through his fingers and blow away in the breeze. "Beautiful, you say? There are farms on my planet, too, y'know. Grandpa MacDougall had one, and I remember visiting as a kid. Green plants, rich soil, a respect for the land; any of that sound familiar?"
"Yes...."
"Okay, I want you to imagine something for me. You've gone back to visit, to see your parents' farm. But while you were gone, someone else came to that planet. Aliens. They stripped the world of everything that made it good and healthy, taking it all for themselves. That beautiful place you remember has been turned into this!" John stood abruptly and threw a handful of the dead Sykaran soil at Tauvo's feet. The dry dirt pelted his already dusty boots.
Crais stared at him, too shocked to even reply. John continued shouting with barely a pause for breath. "They came here, and they forced these people to plant tannot. And not just grow it the way they grew anything else, but relentlessly, constantly, on every square inch of ground. No rest, no letting fields lie fallow, no crop rotation, nothing but constant tilling and harvesting. The Peacekeepers have sucked every bit of juice out of this soil, shipped it off-world and used it to make ammunition for their guns. Thirty cycles--only thirty--and they have managed to turn a fertile, productive world into a wasteland."
Tauvo opened his mouth to say something, but John cut him off. "This isn't just cruel and destructive--I know those aren't serious Peacekeeper concerns--it's also frelling wasteful. You've used up an entire planet in under fifty cycles. How long has this been going on? How many dead worlds have you created within Peacekeeper space that you had to come this far out into the Uncharted Territories to find a new one to plunder?"
The questions were rendered rhetorical, as John again didn't wait for a reply. "It's a waste of effort, of resources, and of time, Tauvo. A planet like this one could have grown tannot for you for centuries--millennia, even--if you'd allowed them to do it properly. But by forcing these people to grow nothing else, to eat the root and suffer the narcotic effects, you didn't create happy, productive slaves. You created mindless automatons, who weren't able to care for their land the way it needed them to. The way your parents cared for theirs."
John finally stopped to take a breath, still glaring a challenge at the young Peacekeeper officer. He'd put every ounce of sincerity and passion he had into his arguments, because he needed Tauvo to understand. And not just for the Sykarans' sake, but for his own selfish reasons as well. He was back with the Peacekeepers now, like it or not. Sure, Gilina and Aeryn were good company, but John found himself missing guy talk, the kind of freewheeling relationship he'd had for so many years with DK. Tauvo was the closest thing John had to a male friend on this side of the universe, and he desperately wanted to like the guy. He just didn't think that would be possible if Tauvo ended up exterminating a planet full of innocent people.
For his part, Tauvo just stared at him with a stunned expression. Behind the eyes, John could see conflict raging between the grown man who stood before him, with all his years of Peacekeeper indoctrination and training, and the small boy buried deep within who remembered what it had been like to run through lush fields and smell green things growing.
Tauvo's fingers twitched at his sides, and John had to restrain the urge to back away a step. The last time he'd spoken to a Peacekeeper the way he'd just railed at Tauvo, the man had nearly ripped his head off. And this time, Aeryn wasn't there to intervene.
Finally, though, Crais tore his eyes away from John and looked out at the desolation. Possibly he was really seeing it for the first time: the dusty, grey soil, the skeletal trunks of long-dead trees, and the severe erosion on every hillside. Several hundred microts passed in silence, but gradually his shocked expression softened into something John might almost have named regret.
"You're correct, of course," Crais said at last in stilted, military tones. "This production method does have some unfortunate flaws. Chakan oil is essential for all Peacekeeper weapons, but tannot can only be grown in climates which are too hot for Sebaceans. We need other races to provide it for us. Perhaps we have chosen unwisely in stressing absolute control of the production lines over efficiency and sustainability. It is simply the Peacekeeper way."
It was a big concession, so John replied in much quieter and more amiable tones. "Tauvo, what were your exact orders for this mission? Do you have any room to maneuver here?"
"I was ordered to investigate reports of an uprising on Sykar, and to put an end to it by whatever methods I felt were required. Standard procedure calls for me to restore the planet to full production if possible. Should that fail, or should the cost appear to outweigh the potential benefits, I would be expected to make an example of them, and see to it that our adversaries could never make similar use of this planet."
"'By any means necessary', eh?" John smiled slightly, hopefully. "Well, I guarantee Tanga's people won't agree to status quo ante, so that option is out. And you're never going to agree to their demands."
"Absolutely not."
"But if you're willing to sit down and talk to them--and listen to them--we may be able to work out a compromise that will work to everyone's benefit."
Tauvo frowned doubtfully, but then glanced around him once again. With obvious reluctance, he nodded, saying, "I suppose it's worth a try."
Consciousness returned slowly, bringing with it sounds and smells that were at once foreign and strangely familiar. The sense of well-being, contentment, and perfect fulfillment Aeryn had enjoyed for so long had vanished, leaving behind only pain and confusion. Still not fully awake, her mind tried to examine the loss, like a tongue probing for a missing tooth. Was she late? Oversleeping? Shirking her work? Was that the source of these unpleasant feelings?
Blue-grey eyes fluttered open, squinting at the bright light. The first glimpse of gunmetal grey walls and red detailing brought with it a flood of memories: of the planet, the weekens aboard the Marauder, and of the many cycles prior to all that aboard ships like this. Of oaths, and duty, and rules--and her recent violation of every single one. For the love of Chilnak...treason upon treason. What had she done?
Glancing around, expecting to see guards posted and ready to drag her to her tribunal, she found only a long row of bunks in the recovery wing of the med bay. An Intruder class ship, by the looks of it. All of the beds were empty save for the one next to hers, where Gilina lay, mercifully still unconscious. Better for her, perhaps, if she remained so; their fates would be the same.
If only she could understand why. Every instruction she'd received had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, but now, suddenly, nothing she had done made any sense. Where had her mind gone for all that time? Honorable retirement, which she'd faced and accepted after her injury, would have been infinitely preferable to this. At least then she wouldn't have died a traitor.
The door on the far wall cycled open, rousing her from her bleak thoughts. Crichton walked in, his shoulders hunched with exhaustion, his clothing filthy. He wore a pensive expression, moving almost without volition directly to Gilina's side, like a ship drawn in by a docking web, and sank down to sit on the edge of her bed. He simply held Gilina's hand, gazing at her in silence for several microts. Finally, perhaps sensing her gaze, he looked up and met Aeryn's eyes.
"Hey," he said quietly. "How're you feelin'?"
Aeryn thought a moment before replying. "What is that human saying I've heard you use? 'Like crab'?"
John laughed. "It's 'crap', Aeryn. 'Like crap.'" He paused, then gave a rueful smile. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but that's actually really good to hear. Tannot narcosis just makes you way too pleasant and agreeable; it's nice to have you back to your kick-ass self."
Aeryn's jaw dropped. "Tannot narcosis? What are you saying?"
"What, no one told you? You were drugged, Aeryn, the whole time on the planet. Both you and Gilina. Me too, for a while, until they decided they needed me sober. Nothing you did was your fault. It was the tannot."
"Drugged?"
"'Fraid so. From what little they told me, the toxin in the tannot root short-circuits your higher functions and stimulates the pleasure centers of the brain. You eat the stuff and suddenly you can't think for yourself anymore, and you're happy no matter what you're doing."
"But--"
"But nothing, Aeryn," he said, cutting off her objections. "The Sykarans could have told you to go work in the fields, and you'd have done it. You'd have sat out there in the sun, completely content with everything, right up until you hit the Living Death. If I were you, I'd be grateful they asked so little of you."
Crichton's words eventually sank in, and she sighed. It was good to at least know the reasons. She could face her execution now, and at least not die thinking of herself as a traitor.
Crichton must have seen something of her thoughts in her face, because he reached across and touched her elbow to catch her attention. "I didn't tell Lt. Crais about anything that happened on the planet, or since the Zelbinion, for that matter, except for vague generalities. I wouldn't betray you like that. And besides, the way the situation stands now, I don't think Tauvo's going to ask any questions. The less he knows, the less chance he'll find out something that will disturb what we've built down there."
Confusion, strangely enough, won out over relief at her reprieve. "Built? I presumed this ship was here to put down the insurrection."
Crichton smiled enigmatically. "And so they are. But there's no insurrection on Sykar anymore, and as far as anyone will ever know, there never was. The end result, however, may not be what the big boys at High Command were expecting." The grin widened; he seemed inordinately pleased about something.
"What have you done, Crichton?" she demanded, not sure whether to be amused or apprehensive about the possibilities.
"Me?" he replied with exaggerated innocence. "What makes you think I did anything?"
"Crichton...."
He held up his hands quickly. "Fine, okay, maybe I had a few words with Lt. Crais about the situation on the planet."
"A few words. Crichton, you have never, in all the time I have known you, been able to limit yourself to a few words. Just tell me what happened."
The human was unrepentant, but did finally settle down to detail how he'd shown Crais the Sykarans' legitimate grievances, and how Crais had ultimately agreed to sit down with them to discuss options.
"As you might imagine," Crichton continued ruefully, "having Tanga and Tauvo in the same room together did not make for a quiet negotiation. I started to wonder if they'd stop throwing insults at each other long enough to actually sit down and talk. Once they did, though, it took some time to convince Tanga that compromise was a good idea. Sending the Peacekeepers away altogether would not have solved her people's problems, even if the Peacekeepers would agree to go."
"Which they wouldn't."
"Exactly. And then we had to get Tauvo to understand that the Peacekeepers won't get anything more out of this planet unless they put something in. There's just nothing left to give."
"Like what?"
"Like food, for starters, something other than tannot root. They'll need regular shipments until they can get their land restored and grow their own again. And towards that goal, the Peacekeepers need to provide fertilizers to replace all the nutrients the tannot crops depleted over the cycles. That's actually the easiest thing to provide; just vacuum-sterilize the output from ships' waste recyclers and drop it by the transport-load. Costs next to nothing; you guys usually just dump the stuff in space."
"And Lt. Crais agreed to this?" Aeryn asked incredulously.
"It took some convincing, but yes. They both did. It will be a few cycles before production can get going again, but Tanga agreed that they will keep growing tannot for the Peacekeepers--in addition to their own food and cash crops--in exchange for shipments of fertilizer, food, and other necessities. It's the best arrangement for everyone; all the other options end up with the Sykarans dead, now or later, and tannot production ceased permanently. I think you and Tauvo may have a lot more in common than you think, Aeryn. You both love your jobs, but privately you also both see the flaws in Peacekeeper policies."
Aeryn pondered that, intrigued. She didn't know Crais well; the carrier was a big ship, and he'd been in a different Prowler regiment than the one to which she'd previously been assigned.
"It may have also helped," Crichton went on, "that he remembers his childhood on his parents' farm. It certainly gave the Sykarans' situation more resonance for him. And those memories may also make selling this plan to his brother back on the carrier a whole lot easier."
As the situation finally began to sink in, Aeryn stared at this strange alien for long microts, torn between wonder and horror. He endured the piercing gaze for as long as he could, then finally flinched and asked, "What?"
"What is it about you, Crichton? You drop into our side of the universe with nothing but a tiny, primitive ship and the clothes you were wearing, and in less than a cycle you've turned lives upside down. We were content,before, following the rules we were given and not questioning. Everything made sense. But now you're here and the rules no longer apply. I find myself questioning everything I once believed in. Lt. Crais just broke every standard procedure for the sake of one tiny farming planet. Even Gilina...she was ready to give up her whole life here and follow you out into the unknown."
The object of her inquiry was just staring at her, speechless for once.
"You're a roaming point source of irreversible contamination, that's what you are. High Command had better hope you find your way home quickly, John. Otherwise, who knows what damage you might wreak, or what the Peacekeepers will be when you get through with them."
"Are you sorry I dropped into your life, Aeryn?" he asked, quietly.
She cocked her head at him quizzically. "You've changed us, Crichton. By all rights, I should hate you. Instead, I feel grateful, and I think Gilina would agree with me on this. I can not return to what I was--blindly obedient--now that I've learned to see."
TBC ...