Episode 11 - An Offer You Can't Refuse, part 2
"You know, things never work out like you plan." - John Crichton
I've heard of chemical peels, but this is ridiculous.
John had to laugh. If he didn't, if he couldn't, he thought he might start screaming and wouldn't be able to stop.
The acid lapped at his face as his decapitated head bobbed around in the vat. Odd that something so metal-like could float, but the crystallization process hadn't changed his body's weight or density.
He could hear the subtle fizzing as the acid slowly ate away at him, but couldn't feel it. It was disturbing, like a dentist's drill inside his skull with him paralyzed under a full-body Novocain shot. He could hear the rush of the tank's aeration bubbles and the rhythmic sounds of machinery all around him. He could still see, too, though the view from inside the tank was a bit limited.
This is not how I imagined spending my honeymoon.
Of course, a weeken ago he hadn't imagined being married at all; it was still something of a mystery to him how he'd managed to talk himself into that.
Oh, right, Scorpy. Scorpius or Katralla...some choice.
Scorpius was a specter, even all these months after the fact, lurking in John's nightmares, and blinking in and out of the corner of his eye even during the day. Sometimes, in the dark, wakeful hours of the sleep cycle, he even thought he could hear the monster's voice. He tried to convince himself it was just stress, the constant low-grade fear that haunted his life these days. But lately he'd been getting worried.
A Scarran half-breed, ugly as a corpse three weeks dead and with a personality to match, or a beautiful woman who was nearly as unhappy with her choices as he was. It hadn't been a difficult decision, once he'd thought of it in those terms.
As he'd gotten to know his future bride in the few days before their shotgun wedding, he'd found a sympathetic ear; they had a lot in common. Katralla was as much a pawn in her mother's hands as John was in the admiral's, but her duty, her destiny as she saw it, was to lead her people, protect them from the horrors her brother's whims would inflict. She was giving up the man she loved and the freedom she craved to follow that destiny. All John had to give up was his hope.
So he'd proposed, and the princess had accepted. And if her smile had looked more like relief than joy, well, that was understandable. John's own expression had been more like resignation.
But when Katralla had shown him the image, as real and as tangible as life, of what their future child might someday be, that had started to change. Seeing that tiny face, those tiny hands, John had smiled through his tears and felt his doubts fade. He had lost a lover and a child when Gilina died. The passage of time had only just begun to heal those wounds, but now, perhaps, he was getting a second chance.
Everyone seemed overjoyed when the engagement was announced, from the empress and the admiral all the way down to the citizens on the streets below the palace walls. Everyone, that is, except Prince Clavor and his cronies.
The first assassination attempt had caught everyone by surprise, and it had seemed like pure luck that Clavor's erstwhile fiancée had happened by just in time to interrupt the attack. He'd been in shock, reeling from the adrenaline and the after-effects of whatever kind of weapon they'd tried to use, and had only barely managed a coherent response to Jenavian Chatto's queries. That she was the disruptor agent the admiral had mentioned in passing was less of a shock; he'd recognized some of her fighting techniques.
The incident had set him off once again, to the point that he went to the admiral and threatened to back out of the entire deal. It took another reminder of the alternative--Scorpius--and a promise of protection before he calmed down and resumed the role he'd agreed to portray. From that moment on, until the wedding ceremony, either Tauvo or Aeryn was with John at all times.
No one had mentioned anything about the attack to the empress. To do so would have risked revealing Jenavian Chatto as a Peacekeeper disruptor. Besides, given that the likely instigator of the attack was her own son, Novia was unlikely to take any effective action.
There had been at least three more attempts on his life, all close calls but averted with his friends' help. It was only after the wedding, when he'd stood under that frelling machine and felt his body turn to stone, that John had finally felt safe. It hurt like hell, but for the next eighty cycles he felt like nothing could touch him.
He'd fallen asleep that night in the dark and silent senate chamber--his mind still requiring rest even when his body was frozen. When he woke, it was to a ringing sound in his ears. He was disoriented, panicked at first because he couldn't move, but then remembered where he was. Seeing his new brother-in-law standing inches away, shaking his hand in pain, John realized the sound that had roused him was his own crystalline structure resonating in response to Clavor's imprudent punch.
Distracted by the sheer novelty of his own body ringing like a bell, John hadn't seen the Scarran ambassador stalking up behind him, and only realized something was wrong when his vision spun wildly and he found himself staring up into Clavor's ugly, smirking face.
And now, here he was: his head and the consciousness contained within dissolving slowly in a powerful industrial acid, his decapitated body still standing at his wife's side somewhere up in the palace. Clavor had said something about putting broken statues back together, but John just couldn't quite make himself believe that getting his head cut off wasn't fatal.
All the King's horses and all the King's men....
He wondered how long it would take for the acid to eat through to the delicate crystalline circuitry of his brain, and at what point the system would crash like a Windows machine under the assault.
It wasn't the dying part that bothered him so much—John had lived an exciting life full of risk, so dying of old age had never been the likeliest outcome—it was having so much time to think about it. The dread and sheer tedium of waiting wore on him after a while, until he almost wished the whole thing would just be over and done with.
The only bright point was the lack of pain, but other than that he couldn't think of much about this situation that could get worse.
On the heels of that thought came a splash and the clink of metal on metal. He was lifted out of the acid and flung to crash and roll across the floor, so hard that he wondered if his face was dented.
There was a flush of relief at the apparent rescue, which instantly transformed into horror at the sight of his rescuer.
"It appears that my arrival is most fortunately timed, wouldn't you agree Crichton?" Scorpius leered as he turned John's head over in his hands, examining it. "I just recently learned of Special Directorate's plans for you. I will not allow them to squander the valuable information contained in your mind on such a pointless endeavor."
John wasn't listening. He wasn't even wondering how the hell Scorpy had gotten here, or how he'd found one dismembered head in the Royal Planet's biggest haystack. He wasn't thinking at all.
Paralyzing, mind-numbing terror had invaded John's consciousness the instant he saw Scorpius, and while there were none of the physical symptoms--no racing heart, no sweaty palms, no clenching gut--the fear was no less real and debilitating. He'd had nightmares like this since the Gammak base: pinned down, paralyzed, while the monster that had come to personify evil in his mind prepared to torment him yet again. Unable to run, unable to fight, unable to even die to escape the pain.
Scorpius was going to make John disappear, and would rip his mind to shreds until he got what he wanted. John's friends would never know what had become of him. His family would never learn of his survival and his adventures. Katralla would lose her throne and her hopes of having children, and the Royal Planet would someday lie in ruins due to the fawning stupidity of Clavor and the brutality of his Scarran friends.
And John Crichton would live on, as a tool, a trophy, or a pet, for as long as it amused Scorpy to keep him around. In his current state, he knew, he might well survive for centuries, though he doubted his sanity would last very long at all.
He could feel it slipping away even now. He'd been walking the ragged edge for months, between the raging grief and lingering depression due to Gilina's murder--feelings he hadn't been able to talk about with anyone--and the voices that had begun haunting his waking hours as well as his sleep. It wouldn't take much to tip him over that last precipice. And really, would that be so bad? It could be his single option to escape this looming horror of reality.
As he plunged into the darkness of the bag Scorpius put him in, John felt himself start to let go. He found himself picturing a beach, with blue sky, white sand, and blue-green water. He imagined the heat and gritty texture of the sand between his toes. The salt smell of the ocean. The cry of gulls.
*Stop this foolishness, John. You cannot escape.*
It was the voice of his nightmares, trying to distract him. It had started small, like his own conscience whispering in his ear, but it was growing louder and sounding more and more like Scorpius every day. It was the voice that had told him to stop drinking his nights away on the carrier, and to stop provoking fights he could only lose with his more xenophobic fellow grots. It was the voice that had urged him to get up and go to his lab every morning those last few weekens, when he had nearly given up hope of ever cracking the wormhole problem.
In the last few weekens, he'd noticed, the suggestions had started to sound like orders, and had become difficult if not impossible to disregard. It had done little to inspire John with confidence about his sanity. But now, he found, he could ignore the voice and feel no compulsion to obey. It jabbered on, growing more desperate and strident, but he pushed it aside and dove deeper into his own inner vision.
A perfect blue sky, and a yellow sun that warmed without burning. He was building his own perfect Earth, and all he lacked was someone to share it with. He thought of Gilina, but couldn't seem to conjure her up.
Time passed unnoticed as he painstakingly built his new world. Eventually he heard other voices calling his name, but he ignored them. He was safe here, and if he couldn't go home, then this would be the next best thing. If he managed to burrow deep enough, maybe Scorpy would never find him.
Aeryn scanned the dark, dingy stairwell, panning her pulse rifle across her entire field of view as she confirmed that no one was there. At her signal, Lt. Crais moved past her and down the stairs to the first landing. His steps were not quite so silent as hers--he was a Prowler pilot, first and foremost, and didn't have the benefit of Aeryn's recent, rigorous training--but there was enough ambient noise at these levels that it wouldn't matter. Pausing, he scanned the next segment before repeating her gesture, and the cycle began again.
They had ventured deep into the bowels of the palace in just this manner, avoiding detection and searching for any signs of the Scarran or Prince Clavor--by far the most likely suspects in the defacement of the new Regent's statue and the theft of said statue's head.
It felt good to finally have a weapon back in her hands, Aeryn realized. The past weeken of playing a non-threatening civilian had left her with an almost subliminal itch at the back of her brain, a constant awareness that something was missing, that she was vulnerable.
The weapons had arrived with the rest of her team; when the admiral sent the emergency signal to Moya, the two commandos had descended in one of Moya's pods and landed outside the city. To avoid detection, they had used a blind spot in the Royal Planet's security grid that Jenavian Chatto had created monens before as part of her own escape route.
Aqida and Leyn were searching together, much as Aeryn and Tauvo were, in another part of the palace's warren of sublevels and service corridors. In spite of the dire warnings given to off-world visitors, avoiding the Empress' security was quite easy; they were quite fully occupied with the investigation they were mis-conducting and didn't have personnel to spare on patrols of the lesser corridors. It was hardly their fault, though, that the Empress refused to let them consider the most likely suspect, her own son.
At the bottom of the stairs, Aeryn and Tauvo took up positions at the closed door. At a nod from Aeryn, who was crouched low to one side, Tauvo pushed the access door open quickly. She spun into the opening, her weapon leading the way as she scanned for targets, while Tauvo stood above her with his own rifle pointed over her shoulder in the other direction.
There was no one visible, but Aeryn flinched at the blast of heat and noise that hit them full in the face. An overpowering stench of lubricants and chemicals permeated the stifling air.
Five levels below ground, this was the industrial underbelly of the palace. Furnaces, acid tanks, and a variety of less identifiable equipment filled the area. The heat alone made it seem an ideal hiding place for a Scarran on the run, though it wasn't really hot enough to be dangerous. It couldn't be, after all; the workers were all Sebacean.
Aeryn and Tauvo glanced at each other in dismay. The area was huge, rivaling a command carrier's generator room in sheer volume, but with interior walls, dense pipe work, and heavy machinery creating abundant blind spots and hiding places. Heavy chains and hooks used to shift materials and equipment dangled across every path, making stealthy progress nearly impossible. If she were the Scarran, Aeryn thought, she'd have chosen this place to hide. It was perfect. Finding anything in this labyrinth, especially something that didn't want to be found, was going to be incredibly difficult.
But they were Peacekeepers, after all, and could not allow a minor impediment like unfavorable circumstances to affect the mission. Choosing a direction at random, they resumed their leapfrog search pattern and kept every sense primed for action.
The pair of commandos had progressed less than a quarter metra when the sharp sound of an energy weapon froze them in place. One shot, then three more in quick succession, coming from somewhere off to their left.
Without need for discussion, Aeryn and Tauvo changed direction towards the sound. They moved with greater speed now, but also with a heightened wariness. Weapons fire indicated the existence of a real threat, but it also meant that their quarry might be distracted by some internal dispute.
After a hundred microts of slow and steady progress, Aeryn heard the rattle of chains and the patter of a light, quick step on wet pavement from somewhere up ahead. With a swift gesture, she sent both herself and Crais into swift concealment; suddenly, the terrain was to their advantage, rather than the reverse.
The steps grew closer, and a shadow flitted across the floor at Aeryn's feet. An instant before she moved out to face it, their quarry sensed something amiss and paused. When their eyes met, it was two primed soldiers staring at each other across the barrels of loaded weapons. Recognition was swift.
"Chatto," Aeryn greeted warily, not lowering her guard. Crais stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the disruptor, his rifle also held ready. "What are you doing down here?"
Chatto held up a cloth sack holding something large and obviously heavy. "Retrieving our new Regent." She unwrapped the object to show the statue's missing head.
"Crichton," Aeryn breathed in recognition and relief. John's features were still frozen in a grimace of pain, a sight that was somehow far more disturbing under these circumstances. "Is he all right?" she asked the disruptor.
"A bit of minor surface pitting--I think someone dumped him in an acid tank for a while--but the machine can compensate for that."
"And you're sure this...condition...is not fatal?"
Chatto nodded. "Yes, as long as the fragments are aligned correctly, the process will rejoin them with no difficulty." She tilted her head to one side, looking suspicious of Aeryn's atypical concern.
Tauvo nodded and cleared his throat, breaking the tension between the two women. "We should get back up to the palace, then, and reanimate Crichton, before we're caught and accused of beheading him in the first place."
Aeryn managed to tear her eyes away and nodded. The details of the retrieval could wait until John was there to join the discussion. Chatto rewrapped her burden and the three headed back the way they had come. The disruptor, having been resident of these halls for far longer than the rest of them, led them through some back service corridors where they only encountered a few servants. With the prince's consort acting as their guide, they were not questioned.
It wasn't until they arrived at last in the chamber where the crystallizing machine and Crichton's beheaded body were sequestered that they encountered a problem. Aeryn went directly to the comms device that allowed the royal couple to communicate during their eighty-cycle tenure as governance statues.
"Crichton?" she called, putting the device to her ear, but all she heard was silence.
"Is this working?" Aeryn demanded, turning to Chatto.
The disruptor checked the settings on the machine, and nodded. "He should still be able to speak, even in this condition. Perhaps he fell asleep?"
Aeryn shook her head, dismissing the idea. She couldn't picture anyone in John's situation being calm enough to sleep, no matter how exhausted he might be from the day's events. She held the receiver to her ear once again, as Chatto and Crais lifted John's head into place and turned it until it nestled firmly in its original position on his neck. "Crichton, answer me," she ordered firmly. Still there was only silence from the comms. More quietly, hoping he could hear even if he couldn't speak, Aeryn murmured, "John, we're going to revitalize you now. You'll be fine."
Chatto stepped back and flipped the switch; it was the previous day's ceremony in reverse this time, as the dark metal surface glowed and faded into fair skin, brown hair, and the rose and red of his wedding outfit. Within microts, the human stood before them whole and living again.
For a moment there was no movement, his body still held by the induced rigor of the metallization process, showing no sign of consciousness. Then, slowly, one muscle after another began to relax and he slumped to the floor.
All three of them had been waiting for him to open his eyes; when he began to collapse, instead, Aeryn rushed forward. She managed to catch him just in time to keep his head from hitting the ground, and gently laid him down. She reached out and touched his face, but there was no response, not even a flicker of awareness. The skin was warm and smooth, though, living flesh, and the pulse at his throat was fast and strong.
Crais knelt down next to Aeryn and placed a hand on John's chest to feel the heartbeat for himself. "What's wrong with him, Chatto?" he demanded over his shoulder.
Completely unflustered, the disruptor retrieved a scanner from a nearby cabinet and ran it over the human's inert form. "Physically, nothing. The pieces meshed perfectly; there's no sign of any misalignment. He's perfectly healthy. I can't explain why he's not responding. Perhaps it's a psychological aberration? He's not Sebacean, after all, just a lesser species."
Aeryn started to turn, ready to rip into the arrogant tralk, but just then John's face twitched. She stopped and put her hand on his cheek again; Chatto could wait. "John?" she called, searching for some further sign of life. When nothing happened, she tried a light slap on the cheek. "Crichton, wake up! Snap out of it!"
There was another muscle twitch, and then John's head jerked to one side, as if he was fighting off a nightmare in his sleep. Aeryn slapped him again, harder this time.
The response, however, was not what she'd expected. Eyes still closed, John struck out blindly with both arms, catching both Aeryn and Tauvo unprepared and sending them sprawling. "Get off me you leatherfaced son of a bitch!" he screamed, arms still flailing wildly at nothing.
It took both of them to wrestle the delusional human back down as he continued to shout insults and denials at the air, fighting against some enemy only he could see. Jena stood back, watching the proceedings with professional detachment. When they had him pinned at last, still struggling, Aeryn tried calling one more time, her voice harsh and desperate with worry. "John? It's Aeryn. You're safe. Wake up, John. Wake up!"
John didn't know how long he'd been here. Maybe an hour, maybe a week; the beach was timeless. Peaceful.
Lonely.
Perfection of sand and sky, wind and water was in his grasp. It was Earth, but better. No dead fish or rotting seaweed at the tide-line. No broken shells to cut his feet. Not a cloud in the sky, and the breeze was cool without being chilling. But the people.... For some reason, he couldn't seem to create anything but flat, cardboard characters to share his paradise with him. He'd conjured images of everyone he could think of, but none of them had that spark that made them real.
*John, stop this childishness.*
The voice had been whispering to him constantly, almost inaudible here in this far corner of his mind, but now it suddenly had strength again. John felt the pull, drawing him away from his haven.
"No! Get out of my head, you freak!" He shook his head and concentrated, holding onto the beach with every ounce of mental strength. But suddenly, it was no longer just a voice.
Black leather and pasty flesh, the monster of his nightmares invaded his sanctuary and gazed at him with eyes full of contempt. *You cannot escape me, Crichton. This behavior is unacceptable.*
"Frell off, Nosferatu! I'm not going back, and there's nothing you can do about it." He turned away, intent on putting distance between them, but the vise-like grip of a leather glove around his throat dragged him to a halt.
*Incorrect. You will leave this place, now!*
Despite all of John's efforts, the beach started to swirl away as if it were being sucked down a drain, leaving him dizzy and disoriented and feeling a painful sense of loss. He struck out, fighting the restraining grip. "Get off me you leatherfaced son of a bitch!" he screamed.
The half-breed vanished along with the sun and sand, but strong hands still gripped him, held him down as his vision faded into darkness. He struggled harder, trying to escape, though to what or where he was no longer sure.
"John!" It was a different voice, now. Familiar. Welcome. "You're safe! Wake up, John. Wake up!"
Suddenly he opened his eyes--his real eyes, flesh and blood--to see the lovely Aeryn Sun looking down at him with worry creasing her forehead. Tauvo was hunched over him on the opposite side, his own concern more shuttered but still visible. John turned his head, and was relieved to note that it was firmly attached. It had all just been a nightmare, then.
Thank God.
Or maybe not, if the dreams were getting so much worse...maybe he really was losing it.
No, don't think about that.
The more pressing question at the moment was why he wasn't a statue anymore--or had that been part of the dream, too?--and why he was lying on the floor with his friends hovering over him.
It took three tries to push a voice through the lump that was still lodged in his throat from the wedding. "Wh...wha' happen'd?"
Aeryn spoke first. "We rescued you from the Scarran that stole your head, and brought it here to make you whole again."
All right, John thought, so the beheading had been real. He could cope with that. "That part I remember. Cargn and his pet prince Clavor. Bastards. Dumped me in the acid."
Tauvo nodded. "So we assumed. With your testimony, though, the empress will have no choice but to act. Once the Scarran is executed and Clavor is either imprisoned or banished--I don't expect Novia to actually have him executed, no matter what crimes he's committed--you'll be safe again."
Aeryn still looked worried. "John, when we first reanimated you, you weren't responding, and we couldn't wake you." It wasn't a question, but it invited at least an attempt at explanation.
"I guess I must have passed out in the acid tank and started hallucinating. Sensory deprivation can do that to humans. I had some horrible nightmares about Scorpius...." He decided not to go into the gory details, though they were still vivid in his memory. No need to broadcast the depths of his secret fears.
But then another person spoke from somewhere out of John's line of sight. "Scorpius? Of course, that makes sense now...."
"Jena?" John called out, recognizing the voice.
Tauvo nodded, turning as the disruptor appeared over his shoulder. "Chatto was the one who found you, Crichton, and rescued you from the Scarran."
Jenavian shook her head. "It wasn't the Scarran I found. It was someone else, someone I didn't know.
"When I went to meet the Leviathan transport outside the city, I noticed three life signs aboard when I scanned the ship, though only the two commandos were supposed to be aboard. I didn't mention it, and neither did they, but once I had escorted them to the palace, I returned to the transport and started tracking the third life sign. I finally caught up with him in the foundry area; he'd found Crichton's head and was apparently about to leave with it. Since he wasn't part of my brief, I disabled him and retrieved Crichton."
At their shocked stares, the disruptor just shrugged. "It makes sense now that it was Scorpius. I'm assuming he wasn't originally part of your complement?" Tauvo and Aeryn shook their heads in unison.
John just lay there, frozen.
"He must have arrived later, then, using a stealthed ship, and convinced your team to let him aboard. Scorpius has enough rank and a high enough clearance level that he probably ordered your commandos to allow him onto their transport and tell no one of his presence. The admiral could have overridden those orders, but since he probably isn't aware that Scorpius is here, he'd have no reason to ask."
Aeryn still had her hand on John's shoulder, so she was the first to notice when he started shaking. She turned to see his staring, panicked eyes and her own eyes widened in concern.
"No. Nononononono..." he whispered. "That wasn't real. How could he be here?"
Jena shrugged casually. "I don't know, but from what little I could overhear, he seemed unusually intent on acquiring you, though what you could possibly have to interest him...."
John managed a harsh laugh as he struggled to his feet. Aeryn reached to help him, but he shrugged her off, impatient with his own infirmity and not in the mood to accept help. "No need to be jealous, Jena," he shot back. "He only loves me for my mind. You didn't happen to kill him, did you?"
Jenavian raised an eyebrow at the hopeful question. "No, it wasn't necessary. Besides, leaving bodies lying around draws too much attention; people start looking for a killer. Now that he's failed to retrieve you, and knows we'll be on the lookout for him, Scorpius will likely just return to Moya and depart the way he came."
John was staggering across the room, using walls and tabletops to support his unsteady legs. At that statement, though, he spun around to face Jena, flabbergasted. "What, you think the bastard came all this way just to give up now? You really don't know him at all, do you?"
"John," Aeryn broke in, using her most soothing--or perhaps patronizing--tone. "Once we tell the empress about what happened, she'll be able to protect you, even from Scorpius."
John shook his head, almost falling over as the motion threw his balance off. He grabbed a nearby pillar for support. "You don't get it...Scorpius did not come all this way with the sole intention of plucking my dismembered head out of an acid bath. He was simply taking advantage of the opportunity. Trust me, that Scarran half-breed had a plan for getting me away from the empress. Probably with her full cooperation."
Tauvo spoke up this time. "You are a member of the Royal family now, Crichton, and the heir to the Regent's throne. The empress isn't about to simply hand you over to someone who asks."
John leaned his head into his hands, exasperated by his companions' blindness. Wearily, without raising his head, he spelled out his suspicions. "What do you think the empress would do, guys, if she somehow found out we were Peacekeepers? I'll bet you that's Scorpy's plan--blow the mission by blowing our cover, and when the empress kicks us off the planet, he'll be there to grab me. Hell, the admiral will probably just hand me over, since I'll be of no further use to him."
Aeryn didn't react to John's accusation, but Tauvo and Jena were both aghast.
"He wouldn't--"
"No officer would ever--"
"How dare you--"
"Crichton, be reasonable--"
They talked over each other in their rush to contradict him, to defend the honor of a fellow Peacekeeper. As if any of their precious notions were relevant to the Scarran half-breed.
"Bullshit." John's simple reply brought the arguments to a screeching halt. "Aeryn, you've seen Scorpius. You know what he's capable of."
She nodded.
John turned back to address the doubters. "The bastard thought nothing of killing an innocent tech to force me to tell him something I didn't know. Hell, he'd probably have killed all six of them if that had been what it took. Jena, you may have heard more of what Scorpy said downstairs earlier than I did, but I did get the impression that he thinks our mission here is a waste of time."
The objection from Tauvo was more subdued this time. "That may be true, Crichton. I'm not familiar with the details of Scorpius' service record, but I know this: he may have been high ranking enough to defy the captain and get away with it, but he would never dare challenge an admiral."
John thought about that; it was a good point. Scorpy had seemed smarter than that. "Maybe he doesn't know the admiral's here. Hell, I'm surprised the old boy came all the way out here personally, too. Or maybe Scorpy's got a way to pull the strings so that the admiral can't pin anything on him when it's over. I dunno. All I do know is that I am outta here." More steadily now, but still weaving slightly, John walked towards the exit without another word.
He made it halfway to the door before any of them found a voice.
"Crichton, where do you think you're going?" Jena demanded, stepping between him and the door.
"Out," he replied tersely. Ignoring her attempt to block the exit, John started to shove past the disruptor.
She grabbed his arm in a vise grip, her fingers leaving bruises. "Are you wavering?" Her tone was dark, and her whole bearing coiled like a cobra with hood flared.
John, however, ignored the blatant threat staring him down and laughed. "Wavering? Lady, I am throwing in the towel, folding my hand, and heading for the showers. I am washing my hands of you, this planet, and this whole pathetic excuse for a life that I've been forced to swallow for the past cycle and a half. See ya 'round; it's been real." He broke Jena's iron grip with a textbook-perfect reverse twist and turned away.
Faster than lightning, John found himself slammed up against the wall, seeing stars, with Jena's arm threatening to cut off the blood to his brain. "If you endanger this mission," she hissed, "I will not hesitate to kill you."
John didn't struggle, just gazed calmly at her sharp-featured face. "Still better...than Scorpy," he managed to rasp out past the weight on his throat. His eyes didn't waver from hers, even when she increased the pressure.
Aeryn appeared at Jena's elbow at that point and yanked her away. John sagged against the wall and sucked in huge breaths.
"He's going to frell the entire mission!" the disruptor protested, turning to Aeryn with fists clenched.
"He is the mission." That simple statement brought Jena to a brief standstill.
Aeryn turned to John. "Where do you think you can go?"
"Somewhere else. The Barren Lands, maybe. Steal a ship. Doesn't matter." He turned back to the door and stumbled through.
"John." Aeryn reached after him and grasped his arm gently, not truly restraining him, simply...requesting. He paused but didn't turn. "We'll find a way to fix this," she promised.
John's shoulders slumped slightly. He knew running was pointless, but it was all he had left. He needed the motion, to feel like he was in control of his fate. He couldn't go back to being a statue; the sheer helplessness of that paralyzed state gave him chills. And if he refused, he would just get himself handed to Scorpy that much faster. What was left?
He covered Aeryn's hand with his own and gave a single, grateful squeeze, then pulled gently away and continued out the door.
He could hear the argument start up again the microt he was out of sight. "What the frell do you think you're doing?!" Chatto demanded. John paused; as much as he needed to go, he didn't want Aeryn and Tauvo catching hell for it.
"Giving Crichton a few microts to cool off and think," was Aeryn's unperturbed reply.
Tauvo spoke up as well. "What he has been through in the last few solar days would rattle even the hardest Peacekeeper soldier."
Gratified by the support, and reassured that his friends could take care of themselves, John continued down the corridor and away. Before he turned the corner, he heard Tauvo say, "We need to go inform the admiral."
John was almost sorry he would miss seeing the expression on the old boy's face.
Officer Sun stood straight, chin up and eyes locked, half a step behind and to one side of the admiral's shoulder as he explained their identity and true intentions to the irate empress. Councilor Tyno stood next to his sovereign in a mirror image of Aeryn's stance, impeccable as always in his white robes. His eyes were shadowed with hidden grief, but his expression was firm and determined to carry on regardless.
Behind Aeryn's stoic, expressionless mask her mind whirled with emotion. It was a commonly accepted fact that Peacekeepers hadn't worshipped or even believed in gods or other supernatural creatures for many hundreds of cycles, and there were only whispered myths of earlier beliefs. Standing here, however, unarmed and defenseless under the gimlet eye of an extremely angry monarch, Aeryn was starting to wonder if she hadn't somehow offended one or more of those supposedly nonexistent beings. How else to explain ending up in this totally frelled situation?
She'd always known that her fate, like the fate of every Peacekeeper soldier, would be to die in the performance of her duty. That fate, it seemed, was now upon her, and Aeryn simply wished that she still had a pulse rifle in her hands, or the controls of her old Prowler. She would much prefer to go down fighting rather than be summarily executed like a substandard recruit.
"Give me one single reason why I should not have you all disemboweled where you stand!" The sheer intensity of the empress' rage finally drew Aeryn's attention back to situation before her.
The admiral, however, seemed unmoved by the outburst. "Aside from the distressing mess it would make of this quite lovely audience chamber? Your daughter would remain childless, your son would inherit your throne, and your empire would be conquered and decimated within a century."
The proud woman stood eye to eye with the admiral, seething silently. Her glare could have pierced a Dreadnought's armor.
"Empress," the admiral continued in a more conciliatory tone, "the Royal Colonies have been at odds with the Peacekeepers for over 1,800 cycles. The issues that divide us are long-established, and we understand that your feelings towards us have not changed. Your situation, however, has changed, and on one subject, I believe, you will agree that your interests and ours coincide. Neither of us wishes to see your empire fall to the Scarrans."
"How we conduct the affairs of our monarchy is none of the Peacekeepers' concern!" The empress' voice grew more strident with every word. "We will not be dictated to!"
The admiral, however, remained firmly calm and rational. "Which was the reason for our subterfuge, Empress. When we discovered that John Crichton was potentially compatible with your daughter's poisoned DNA, we knew we had possibly the only solution to your dilemma, but we also knew you would refuse any offer of assistance we made out of hand."
"So you would have me believe that you, a Peacekeeper, came here for utterly altruistic motives? I am sorry, but I learned my history lessons far too well to believe that."
"Not altruism, Empress. It is as much in our interest for this empire to remain independent of the Scarrans as it is in yours."
The empress' suspicious expression turned more thoughtful, and she turned away to start pacing across the room.
Just at that moment, one of the Paladins stepped into the room. He bowed silently to his empress, then approached Councilor Tyno and whispered urgently in his ear. Tyno frowned, then nodded. "Empress," he said, turning to Novia, "with your permission, there is a matter which requires my attention."
The empress nodded and waved him away distractedly.
As the younger man trotted out of the room at the guard's heels, Novia turned back to the admiral. "So, you think to provide me with a successor and an heir through your pawn. And what is the price for this act of Peacekeeper charity? I suppose you are proposing some sort of alliance? You must realize that such a pact, even if we were willing to consider it, would instantly trigger a Scarran attack."
"Empress, there is no price. Both of our governments benefit from this arrangement. And while we would be pleased if you were to ally with us, we do understand the probable consequences. That being the case, your continued neutrality is an acceptable compromise. Your empire's presence here prevents the Scarrans from making inroads into the Uncharted Territories, and thus guards our borders in this direction from attack."
The woman facing them finally seemed to bow to the logic of that, but still did not back down. "Regardless of your intentions, for good or ill, my people will never accept a Peacekeeper as their regent. We would have a civil war on our hands within a matter of solar days!"
The admiral stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and his opposite number and leaving Aeryn standing alone. She stayed where she was. "There is no need for that information to ever leave this room, Empress. That was the reason that I asked to meet with you alone. My mission here was known to only a few within Peacekeeper Command; even Crichton and the rest of my team did not know until after the fact. There would be no need for anyone to be informed of Crichton's identity, as long as the Royal Colonies maintain their neutrality."
The empress whirled. "Is that a threat?" she queried, eyes narrowing dangerously.
Aeryn expected the admiral to immediately deny it, but he surprised her. "If you wish to view it as such, Empress, that is your prerogative. It is simply a condition for our continued silence. But with that condition comes a promise, directly from the Peacekeeper Council. Even in the event of open warfare between the Peacekeepers and the Scarrans, our forces will not violate your borders, nor interfere in your empire's affairs, without specific invitation so long as you neither make pacts with nor give aid to the Scarran Imperium."
There was another long silence as the empress stared at a point high on the wall; Aeryn could almost see the woman's mind churning through options and possibilities as fast as a Prowler pilot in a dogfight.
"You are correct," she finally admitted, "when you note that our options were few before your arrival. By the laws of our empire and long tradition, Clavor would have ascended the throne had John Crichton not arrived when he did. Loathe as I am to be obliged to a Peacekeeper, I cannot deny my gratitude for that boon.
"What you ask in return is no more than I would have done anyway, nor other than Katralla shall do when she rules in my place. I have little choice but to accept John Crichton as my daughter's husband and my empire's regent, yet I quail at the thought of placing a Peacekeeper officer in such a position of power. How, I wonder, would he be different from Clavor? Will he invite the Peacekeepers in at his first opportunity?"
Aeryn found herself shaking her head, even as the admiral voiced her thoughts. "Your fears are groundless, Empress. You have seen yourself that Crichton is not Sebacean, and not your typical Peacekeeper. He was inducted into the ranks less than a cycle ago on a special dispensation for his potential scientific contributions. His allegiances at the moment are still to his home world, along with certain personal connections, rather than to Peacekeeper Command."
Aeryn was surprised at how well the admiral seemed to know the human, even though he had barely spoken to John in all the monens of their voyage here. That perspicacity of observation must be yet another aspect of his old disruptor training.
There was a small sound just then as Councilor Tyno reappeared at the entry and cleared his throat. "Your pardon for the interruption, Empress," he said.
"What is it, Councilor?" Her voice was sharp with impatience.
"We are receiving a signal from someone named Scorpius." There was a sharp hiss of indrawn breath from the admiral; Novia glanced over at him with narrowed eyes, but did not interrupt Tyno. The councilor continued. "He is quite persistent, and claims to have vital information regarding the succession. He refuses to divulge it to anyone except you, Empress."
The admiral swore violently. "I will have his head for this treachery!"
Novia raised a single eyebrow, unfazed by the vehemence. "You know this...person?"
The admiral took a deep, calming breath and nodded. "He is the reason I approached you now, Empress, rather than waiting for a more opportune time." Though his voice was cool once again, the old man's rage was still palpable. "He is a Scarran hybrid...and a Peacekeeper, though it shames me to admit that in this situation. My subordinates discovered Scorpius' unauthorized presence on your planet during their search, and were suspicious of his intentions."
"He is working for the Scarrans?"
The admiral shook his head in apparent consternation. "I suppose it's possible; he's part Scarran himself, after all, and may still have contacts from his time among them."
Aeryn hadn't thought she'd moved or made a sound, but something drew the Empress' attention to her. Smooth and silent, the woman crossed the room and gazed into her face with regal intensity. "Why is Scorpius here, Officer Sun?"
She froze, unable to look away. Duty demanded that she hold her tongue rather than openly contradict her superior officer. But duty stood mute next to her burgeoning conscience, which insisted that she do what she could to help protect John, both from Scorpius and from the Empress' anger. She'd promised him.
Fortunately, since she had been specifically addressed, by the letter of her orders she was free to speak.
"Crichton was temporarily assigned to a project at a remote base about half a cycle ago," she said, wording her statement carefully to avoid revealing anything sensitive, like the location of the base or the research conducted there. "Scorpius was head of the project. He discovered that Crichton was not Sebacean, had him arrested and...interrogated him. Scorpius seemed to believe that John possessed some important information, and went so far as to have a tech John cared about killed before his eyes in an attempt to make him reveal it. After Crichton was rescued and returned to our carrier, Scorpius made repeated attempts to have him transferred back."
The empress listened without comment or expression. "And you believe that he is here for Crichton?"
Aeryn nodded, then looked down at the toes of her boots. "John did not come here willingly, Empress, nor did he intend to deceive you; he accepted the assignment in complete ignorance of its purpose, because it was the only way to avoid a transfer back to Scorpius. If you choose to punish us, I ask that you at least spare him. He is innocent. And please, whatever you do, don't hand him over to Scorpius."
The empress listened dispassionately and without comment, then turned to Tyno. "Where does the message originate?"
"The signal appears to be from a small Peacekeeper vessel which is holding position just outside the range of our border defenses."
Turning back to Aeryn. "And yet you claim to have encountered this person within the palace itself?"
She nodded. "Less than two arns ago."
The admiral broke in, saying, "Scorpius is obviously using that ship to relay a transmission from here on the planet's surface, in order to conceal his true location."
Novia's reply was uncharacteristically sarcastic. "Obviously." She then turned to Tyno. "I will take the call in my private office, Councilor. In the meantime, have security trace the transmission further, if it is indeed a relay."
The young man nodded and bowed briskly, then disappeared back down the corridor.
The admiral was aghast. "Empress! You must not consider any dealings with this man! He is a traitor; obviously he cannot be trusted."
Novia pierced him with her most haughty glare. "Only a traitor to you, Admiral," she pointed out, spitting out his title like a curse. "And as one who has admitted lying to me from the microt you set foot inside my empire, you are hardly in a position to criticize anyone else's honesty. I will judge for myself."
"But Empress--"
"Silence!" The shouted order echoed in the large chamber, and even the hard-headed admiral was startled into obedience. "Take care, sir, that you do not destroy what progress you have already made here. I will speak to him, and I will listen to what he has to say. Only then will I make my decision. Is that clear?"
The admiral seethed, but nodded.
"Remain here." With that terse order, Novia swept out of the room.
The midmorning sun flickered through the leafy canopy, warming John's face. He was wending his way slowly through the open woodland that made up the greater portion of the palace gardens, having given up trying to leave the grounds. The entrances were simply too heavily guarded, and there would be no way for him to BS his way through in his rose and red wedding outfit. It was all he had to wear, though; he'd gone back to his old quarters to change, but what few possessions he'd brought down to the surface with him had already been packed up and stored away for the next eighty cycles by the hyper-efficient servant, Ro-Na.
There was a comforting familiarity here among the green trees, a feeling of solitude even with the palace at his back and a whole city thronging less than a metra away on the other side of the walls.
But even as the peace and quiet here soothed John's tired body, it could not stop his thoughts from raging out of control. He walked randomly, all but blind to the beauty surrounding him, wracking his brain for a way out of his hopeless Catch-22 predicament, but to no avail. Scorpius. Scarrans. The empress. He was hemmed in on all sides by powerful forces scrambling for a piece of him, with no more ability now than when he'd been an impotent statue to determine his own fate.
Reaching a small clearing, John stopped and gazed up at the brilliant blue sky arcing overhead. Somewhere out there lay another small and lonely world with green trees and blue skies, where people he loved still mourned his loss.
Eighteen months, give or take, since he'd vanished from their lives without a trace. And for all of that time, going home had been his dream, the hope that got him up out of bed every morning. For a while that dream had shared space with Gilina and the baby as the most important things in his life; since their death, it had regained ascendancy and redoubled in urgency. But now....
Katralla, the Royal Colonies, the lives of billions hanging in the balance...he could feel the pull on his conscience, even without the pleasant possibilities of the child he'd 'met' in the testing chamber. Going home seemed more and more unlikely as time passed, so he'd convinced himself that this would be a fair substitute. A wife, children, and the possibility that his life might make a difference--it was enough like his old dreams of the future back on Earth to make this Hobson's choice somewhat palatable.
A twig snapped somewhere behind him, but John didn't bother turning. He'd seen Tauvo from a distance a while back, probably searching for his wayward human. It had only been a matter of time before he tracked him down.
His feelings about his situation now were somewhat different now than they'd been a solar day ago. Part of him wanted to go back inside, embrace his responsibilities and rejoin his wife on the dais as a statue. Deep inside, however, he shuddered at the thought. Though physically painless, Clavor and Cargn's attack had been extremely traumatic, and the terror of seeing Scorpius again had nearly driven him over the edge of madness. John didn't know if he'd be able to stand under that machine again and face being that helpless, never knowing when or how the next assassin would strike.
Of course, all of this was assuming he'd even have the choice. With Scorpius in the picture, John figured he might well find himself dead or kicked off the planet before nightfall, condemned as a Peacekeeper spy.
He took a breath and tried to find a little faith in Aeryn; she'd promised him they'd find a way to fix this. She'd never let him down before.
There was a tread of heavy foot on the ground behind him, and a hot breath of air brushed across the back of John's neck. Frowning, he turned to look....
By the time the empress returned half an arn later, Aeryn's ears were burning and she was ready to kill something with her bare hands. The admiral had spent the intervening time treating her to a harsh dressing-down for speaking her mind to the empress. It had not been her place to theorize about Scorpius' motivations, he informed her, and she might well have ruined any chance of success for the mission.
He'd just started in on promises of demotion and disgrace when Novia strode through the door and pierced him with an icy glare. He stuttered to a halt mid-sentence.
"I would suggest," the empress said, "that you withdraw your threats against Officer Sun, Admiral. Having now heard from all parties in this situation, I have decided to accept your assistance."
The admiral blinked, taken aback for an instant, then plastered his most ingratiating smile across his face. "I am honored by your trust, Empress."
She turned away with a disgusted snort. "This has nothing to do with trust, Peacekeeper. But if my choice is dealing with you, or dealing with... that," she grimaced in disgust, "then I choose you. Not because of you, but because of her." A graceful gesture indicated Aeryn.
The admiral frowned, glancing at Officer Sun in confusion, then back at Novia.
The empress smiled wryly. "Admiral, I endured eighty cycles of frozen existence in that senate chamber, just as my daughter is doing. As tedious as it is having nothing to do but observe the people around you, that experience taught me far more than you might think. I learned to judge people, read their motivations, recognize lies.
"You and your traitorous half-breed are of a kind, Admiral. You are everything I was ever taught Peacekeepers could be: deceitful, arrogant, and callous. You lied to me from the moment you arrived, Admiral, and you have not stopped yet. That you succeeded in deceiving me in the beginning is a credit to your training; I am not usually so easily fooled. Scorpius' lies, on the other hand, were entirely transparent."
The empress then turned to face Aeryn. "The only truth I have heard today came from you, Officer Sun. My gratitude. I felt your sincerity when you spoke, and that treacherous half-breed's demands only confirmed my impression. My son-in-law and successor must be a very special man to have inspired such loyalty and friendship from a Peacekeeper soldier like yourself. For that alone, even if my daughter's future did not hang upon my decision, I would choose to safeguard him. Such an ability to win over even the hardest of hearts could very well prove the makings of a true leader."
There was a shuffle of footsteps outside the door, and everyone turned to see half a dozen Paladins march in, a bedraggled and defiant Scorpius bound and constrained in their midst. A full Scarran growl issued from the half-breed's throat when he saw the empress.
"As for this turncoat," Novia continued, speaking to the admiral and ignoring Scorpius completely, "You were correct in your assumption, Admiral. Once informed of the possible existence of a relay, my security forces were able to trace the true origin of the signal and apprehend this creature. I hope you have no objection to him facing our justice for his illegal trespass onto our world."
"No objection, Empress." The admiral stepped over to the manacled prisoner and gazed calmly at him. "Do you know me, Scorpius?"
Cold blue eyes gazed out of the black leather mask and narrowed. "Admiral Bardjan...."
Aeryn blinked. She knew that name, like she knew the names of all of High Command. Barracks talk, mostly: Bardjan was one of the least powerful, least influential admirals in the entire hierarchy. The rank and file considered him senile, far past his prime, and long overdue for retirement. Apparently, though, that reputation was a deliberate cover.
Still arrogant despite his shackles, Scorpius scoffed, "What is a useless zannet like you doing out here in the Uncharted Territories? You should be cowering back in your safe little office, writing pointless reports that no one will ever read."
"You are in a poor position to spout insults, traitor. My position in High Command is a bit more substantial than my public persona might indicate. Did you ever wonder why no one ever sees the head of Special Directorate?"
The half-breed snarled. "You? You are the one who stole Crichton from my grasp, for this useless attempt--?"
Bardjan struck Scorpius a harsh, contemptuous blow across the face, rocking him back into his guards' grasp. "You should feel privileged, Scorpius...you know something now that only the Council and a few in High Command have been privy to. I hope it comforts you at your execution."
The empress had stepped away, but now turned to face them with full regal formality. The subtle shift from informal discussion to official discourse was not lost on Aeryn, who felt herself drawing to attention automatically. She could see the admiral, too, giving Novia his full interest.
"Find John Crichton, and inform him that his place in the senate chamber awaits his return. This creature's execution will be my belated wedding gift to him, one I believe he will appreciate."
"What of the Scarran ambassador?" Aeryn asked abruptly, without forethought. "And Prince Clavor?"
Novia's expression darkened instantly. "What about Clavor?" she growled threateningly.
Aeryn took a deep breath through her nose and plowed onward. "Though he did infiltrate the palace and attempt to abduct Crichton's head, Scorpius was not responsible for the original attack. Crichton has identified Cargn and Clavor as the ones who dismembered his statue."
The empress was livid. "How dare you accuse my son?" she spluttered.
With an effort, Aeryn remained outwardly calm. "You just praised me for speaking the truth, Empress. Do you only approve of honesty when it tells you what you want to hear?"
The enraged monarch glared daggers, her face reddening to near purple, but she said nothing.
"No matter what you do with Scorpius, Crichton will still never be safe here." Aeryn met and held the older woman's eyes, willing her to believe. "Not as long as he is all that stands between your son and your throne."
Novia shook her head in vehement denial. "I refuse to believe that Clavor is capable of such an act. It is simply not possible that a member of the royal family could--"
The rapid pounding of heavy boots outside in the corridor brought the empress' tirade to a halt. A microt later, Lt. Crais rounded the corner at a dead run, dragging a smaller figure behind him. They stopped just inside the door, both breathing heavily; Tauvo took in the scene before him and bowed perfunctorily to the empress. The smaller figure glanced up from the floor, and Aeryn realized it was the Jakench servant girl she'd seen fluttering around John's quarters occasionally.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" the empress demanded.
"My...apologies, Empress--" Tauvo gasped out.
The Jakench interrupted, also panting for breath. "Sorry, Highness...had to tell you...right away!"
"What is it, Ro-Na?" Novia's voice was much more patient when addressing this familiar presence.
"It's Crichton, Highness...he's been stolen!"
"Ro-Na," the empress admonished with a smile, "we know that already. His head was found this morning, and his body reanimated."
"Not the statue, Highness, no!" Ro-Na skittered towards her sovereign, wringing her hands. "Just now, the Scarran ambassador, he was carrying him out of the gardens!"
Aeryn froze in shock, glancing at Tauvo for confirmation. He nodded bleakly, then lowered his gaze.
It just didn't seem fair, Aeryn lamented. To have found John safe, after so much effort, only to lose him again. She could feel hot rage building inside her chest, like a stellar flare about to erupt. The anger was partly at Crichton for running off by himself, but mostly at herself for letting him go. She had allowed her compassion, an emotion she had once disdained, to override her judgment. She should have realized he might still be in danger.
Tauvo was speaking to Novia. "The Jakench found me and told me what she'd seen, Empress. I searched briefly but saw no sign of the Scarran, so I chose to come inform you of the situation as quickly as possible."
The empress didn't hesitate. "Begin searching immediately!" she snapped, addressing the guards. With a few quick gestures from the chief Paladin, four of the six bowed and rushed out, leaving two behind to maintain custody of the prisoner.
As the empress moved to the comms panel to mobilize more personnel to the search, Aeryn stepped over towards Tauvo. "I should never have let him take off alone like that. It took us arns to find him the first time," she pointed out worriedly. "And we were lucky, at that. We may not have that much time...."
Tauvo nodded somberly. "I should have found him quicker," he grumbled miserably.
Aeryn nearly smiled, realizing that she and he were both blaming themselves. "He hides very well," she noted in a deadpan voice, and was rewarded with a ghost of a smile on Tauvo's face as well.
The empress was ranting at the top of her voice across the room, speaking to no one in particular. "If any harm comes to John Crichton, that Scarran will pay with his life!"
Any harm? Aeryn wondered bleakly. As if being beheaded and tossed in acid weren't harm enough. And this was a Scarran they were talking about--when had any Peacekeeper every encountered one of their kind without coming to harm?
Aeryn fought the urge to stalk over and slap the old tralk's face. This situation would have never occurred if Novia hadn't been so blind to her son's ambition and perverted loyalties. Even now, she refused to see the truth.
In the absence of such a satisfying display, Aeryn just wanted to rush out and tear this palace to the foundations until she found Crichton. All that stayed her feet was the knowledge that she had no more clue where to begin than anyone else, and she knew far less about the terrain than those already conducting the search. She clenched her fists in frustration.
"I can find Crichton."
The sudden announcement stunned everybody into silence. As one, every person in the room turned to face the speaker.
Scorpius gazed back at them all boldly, still exuding confidence despite his situation.
"How do you think I found him so easily the first time? Release my chains, and I will trace the human for you as I did before."
The empress looked dubious. "I suppose you want something in exchange for this assistance, Peacekeeper? A full pardon, perhaps?"
Scorpius gave a noncommittal shrug in response. "I leave that detail to my lady's formidable conscience," he said silkily. "John Crichton is of no use to either of us dead, and he is too dangerous a pawn to leave in the Scarrans' hands under any circumstances."
Novia stared the half-breed in the face for a long moment, searchingly. Aeryn could see the admiral standing opposite her, glaring angry holes in the unresponsive black leather that covered the back of Scorpius' head.
"Very well," the empress finally agreed. "The matter is urgent, so I will grant you a conditional parole for this task. My final decision on the matter will await the outcome of your efforts."
"My appreciation, Empress," Scorpius replied as the Paladins unlocked the cuffs from his wrists and ankles.
"Understand this, Peacekeeper," Novia said in a quiet, menacing voice, moving right up into the half-breed's face. "I do not trust you. My guards are fully authorized to kill you in an instant, should you attempt betrayal or flight."
Scorpius' only response was a mocking little bow.
Sweat trickled down John's body, soaking the ragged remnants that were all that remained of his flimsy tunic. Drops burned into his eyes and made small sizzle-pop noises when they dripped into the acid vat below. The searing pain from his shoulder, dislocated in his struggles with Scarran, had long since melted into the overall agony, until he could no longer tell where the pain ended and he began.
The chains around his wrists held him suspended precariously over the tank of greenish liquid while the Scarran prowled around the edge, shooting questions and heat at him in alternating waves. He had tried to keep silent, or barricade his mind with wit and bravado, but he was so tired. The heat was already making him nauseous; he wondered distantly what this would do to a Sebacean. Every dench of exposed skin, which included his arms and most of his torso, felt like he'd gotten a third-degree sunburn. Where's the Coppertone when you need it?
John knew he'd revealed some things. He just couldn't remember what he'd said. Scorpy's name had come up once or twice, he knew; the Scarran wanted to know how he'd gotten out of the acid the first time, and that wasn't information John felt like fighting very hard to hold back.
Prince Clavor had appeared at some point during the interrogation. John could hear him whining in the background, even now, demanding petulantly that Cargn kill his rival. Hard to believe the guy was actually related to the pleasant and level-headed Princess Katralla.
"Kill him, Cargn! They'll be searching here soon. Drop him in the acid, and there'll be no evidence. The throne will be mine!"
The Scarran growled, still pacing back and forth like a hungry tiger. "If Scorpius has come so far," he hissed, "then this creature must have something he wants very badly. I will know what it is."
"But the searchers--" The whine in Clavor's tone grew more pronounced by the microt.
"--will be combing the palace for arns, impatient prince. We have more than sufficient time to find the information I need." Like a hungry T-Rex, the Scarran swung his entire head around towards Crichton. A clawed hand reached upwards and a wave of searing heat washed across John's bare chest.
He convulsed, head bending backwards, his screams echoing off the high, concrete walls. Blisters formed and burst on the tender skin under his arms and across his ribs.
The Scarran's voice penetrated the pain. "Why is Scorpius here? Why has he come all this way to rescue you?"
"I...don't...know," John managed to grit out between his teeth. It was partly true; he didn't really know why Scorpius was so desperate to get him back. It seemed like a lot of trouble to go to for a few scientific equations John wasn't even sure he possessed.
The heat intensified, focused on his head. "What does he want with you?!" the question came again, more demanding.
John opened his mouth, the pressure of the heat probe forcing the truth up this throat. But just at that moment, another voice broke into the cacophony and the agony abated.
"Why not ask me that question, Ambassador?"
John couldn't see the intruder who had entered from behind him, but he recognized the voice. He saw Cargn scowl in disgust, and for just one second John was in total agreement with him.
"Scorpius...." The Scarran's voice thickened with contempt as he said the name.
Clavor fled from this new intruder, scampering back to hide behind the huge bulk of his erstwhile ally.
Scorpius appeared at the edge of John's field of view, sauntering around the edge of the room as if he hadn't a care in the world. The Scarran turned to follow his movements, pointing his arm threateningly.
"Step closer, biological mistake, and I will be pleased to oblige. You have come to retrieve your quarry, I see." The Scarran placed his other hand on the release mechanism for the chains. "A single move, and your prize will fall."
John knew he ought to be frightened. Maybe it was the pain, which still wracked him from head to toe, but he felt nothing at the sight of his own death under the Scarran's heavy hand. It wasn't really a bad third option when considering the combatants vying for possession of him.
Suddenly Clavor, still cowering behind Cargn, glanced back towards the door where Scorpius had entered, and his eyes widened. Backing away, his head swung back and forth in desperate uncertainty.
"Hold fast!" Three separate voices spoke the command in tandem from behind John. Clavor swallowed nervously, then suddenly decided to switch sides.
"Guards, kill the Scarran!" he squealed. "He abducted me! And the Regent! Kill him!"
Cargn turned ponderously, glaring at what was probably an entire contingent of the empress' Paladins at the door, then turning towards the quivering Clavor. "Duplicitous prince...as promised, you die now."
The Scarran directed the full force of his heat gland at the cringing Sebacean, just as the room erupted into pulse fire.
None of it seemed to have any effect on the Scarran; Clavor screamed and collapsed into a twitching puddle of burned flesh. Then Cargn turned and raised the other arm, aiming for the chain release, determined to rob the rescuers of their prize. John closed his eyes, waiting for the drop.
Aeryn Sun stood quiet and pensive in the darkened senate chamber. The palace around her was nearly silent on this, the last evening of the official period of mourning. Voices were hushed, expressions somber. Even so, she had felt the need to come here, to be alone.
Or, well, not completely alone. A single statue, standing straight and proud, still graced the dais in the center of the room. The princess' expression showed the subdued happiness of her wedding day. Aeryn wondered, looking at that frozen smile, if Katralla wept for all of their recent losses behind her mask.
Five days had passed since the frantic search for John Crichton had ended, deep in the bowels of the palace, and Aeryn still found herself thinking about it, wondering what she might have done differently.
Once the empress agreed to let Scorpius lead them to Crichton, a mixed group of Paladins and Peacekeeper commandos--allowed to carry their weapons once again by royal decree--was quickly assembled. The group had included not only herself and Lt. Crais, but also her fellow Marauder crewmembers Aqida and Leyn.
If Aeryn had thought the admiral was harsh with her for speaking out to the empress, she soon discovered differently. He ripped into Aqida and Leyn with no mercy, for having allowed Scorpius aboard their transport in the first place, and for not informing the admiral of his arrival. Neither commando made any excuses. They knew, just as Aeryn knew, that unless they did something to redeem themselves, they faced harsh punishment upon their return to Peacekeeper space.
Scorpius had been as good as his word, at least as far as getting them to Crichton's location. Using a strange device, probably one of his own design, he traced the human's DNA signature back down to the industrial levels. Once they arrived, the half-breed had offered to act as a distraction; after some heated discussion, the chief Paladin had agreed.
As the Scarran and Scorpius bickered, Aeryn had had to suppress a gasp of horror at her first glimpse of John Crichton. He was hanging five motras in the air over an industrial acid tank, his bare back and arms slick with sweat and blood, blisters from the heat evident in several places. She couldn't tell if he was conscious, or even if he was alive.
After that, though, everything had gone to Hezmana very quickly. Clavor's call for help had confused the Paladin guards just long enough for Cargn to turn and blast his puppet prince into the living death. As pulse blasts criss-crossed the chamber, Aeryn saw the Scarran turn to the chain hoist release, about to send the battered body of his other victim plunging into the acid.
Aeryn had tensed, about to leap on the Scarran, do anything to stop him, but she was a microt slow. Sub-officer Leyn reached Cargn first and threw her entire body weight against that powerful arm, deflecting it just enough to miss the release mechanism.
The victory was short-lived, of course, as she must have known it would be. A Sebacean, even a highly-trained Peacekeeper commando, had little chance of victory in hand-to-hand combat against a far stronger and supremely invulnerable Scarran. Within microts, Leyn was smashed to the floor and didn't get up.
It was at that moment that a stray shot, ricocheting off of the Scarran's hide, struck the chains holding Crichton suspended, sending him plummeting towards the acid below.
Aeryn had screamed in denial, too far away to act, able only to watch in horror as he fell. A blur of motion caught her eye in that fraction of a microt, as Senior Officer Aqida executed a perfectly timed leap across the acid vat and struck the falling man square in the back. The impact threw Crichton forward, away from the tank. His feet caught on the edge of the vat at the last microt, tumbling him to the hard floor with a bone-jarring crash, where he too lay still.
Aqida was not so lucky; the impact that had thrown John clear had stopped his own trajectory in mid-flight. His momentum lost, he dropped straight into the vat and did not surface. The acid was so powerful, it was likely he had died too fast to feel any pain.
In all of the ensuing chaos, the Scarran ambassador escaped, after leaving two Paladins in the throes of severe heat delirium and a third dead of a broken neck. He was later shot down in space, attempting to flee in a stolen cargo vessel.
Scorpius, too, had managed to slink away during the firefight. Thus far, no trace of him had been found. The admiral was of the opinion that he would simply vanish into the Uncharted Territories, assuming he even made it off-planet. Once Bardjan returned to High Command, Scorpius' career in the Peacekeepers would be finished.
Now, five solar days later, the royal family was just concluding its official mourning period for the late and unlamented Prince Clavor. Crichton was still in the hospital wing recovering from his injuries, which had included a severely dislocated and torn shoulder, a concussion and cracked cheekbone from the fall, and blistered burns over a third of his body.
The colony doctors had muttered in awe at the level of heat the human had survived. They had worried when he first awakened that the heat might have affected his mental capacities, but Aeryn had smiled and assured them that John always talked like that.
Leyn, too, had survived, though she was in far worse condition than Crichton. Her shoulder and upper arm were crushed, and her neck had been broken, though the spinal cord was still intact. The doctors were worried about swelling, though, which might damage the nerves and paralyze her for life.
Aeryn had spent a good portion of her time in the hospital wing, visiting both of them. Crichton seemed intent on distracting himself from his own pain and worries by trying to cheer Leyn up.
Her silent contemplation in the shadows of the senate chamber was brought to an end when two people entered through the main doors. Empress Novia and Councilor Tyno stopped, likely surprised to find the room occupied.
"Empress. Councilor." Aeryn greeted with a polite bow to each.
"Officer Sun," the empress replied. "Did you have a purpose here?"
Aeryn flushed; her reasons seemed foolish when put into words. "I wanted to spend some time here, feel the room. John Crichton will be spending the next eighty cycles within these walls...I suppose I want to remember him."
Novia and Tyno glanced at each other, looking uncomfortable.
"What?" Aeryn demanded, feeling a twinge of worry. "Is something wrong with Crichton?"
Tyno hastened to reassure her. "No, Officer, he is recovering well; he should be ready to leave the hospital wing by tomorrow."
"Then what?"
He glanced at his sovereign, who nodded. "As I have just informed the Empress, there is a problem we had not foreseen. John Crichton will not be able to resume his role as Regent after all."
"What? After everything we went through?"
"Do you think this pleases me?" the empress asked grimly. "Having made such concessions to you Peacekeepers for the sake of an heir, I have now lost nearly everything I had gained."
Tyno tried to clarify. "Our transfiguration technology is designed for Sebaceans. You will recall the level of pain the process inflicted on Crichton the first time. Our doctors have warned us that his human physiology would not tolerate it a second time; it would kill him."
"This is what I have come here to tell Katralla," the empress said, gazing sadly at her daughter.
Aeryn was torn between anger and elation. They had gone to so much effort to get to this point, it was difficult to conceive of it all being for nothing. And yet, she knew John was terrified of having to become a helpless statue again. This revelation would be a welcome relief.
"So Katralla will have to step down?" she asked, wondering who would take the throne now that Clavor was out of the picture.
Novia smiled thinly and shook her head. "The next nearest person to the throne is a fourth cousin, already past 200 cycles old and childless. Katralla will remain as the next empress."
"But what about an heir? Without Crichton, how is she to have children of her own?"
"That is not an issue. Katralla is already pregnant; the line will continue."
Aeryn stopped with her mouth hanging open, shocked and forgetting what her next words were to be. Another child of Crichton's genes, like Gilina's child. Another child lost to him.
When she found her voice again, she asked, "Will your people accept an empress with no regent?"
Novia looked worried. "I do not know. There is no precedent."
Aeryn glanced over at Tyno, who was paying no attention to the conversation anymore. He was staring at Katralla, longing and love written clearly on his face. She had a flash of an idea.
"Have someone take Crichton's place, then. Councilor Tyno loves her; let him be Regent. No one need ever know that he's not the father of Katralla's child."
Novia looked over at Tyno, whose eyes had widened in surprise and hope. It didn't take long to consult with Katralla, who gave her ready and grateful acceptance of the idea. Just as they were wrapping up, Aeryn had one more question.
"Have you informed Crichton yet?"
"Not yet. That was to be my next task," Novia assured her.
"Then may I ask a favor, Empress?"
The empress' eyes narrowed speculatively. "What type of favor?"
"Will you allow me to deliver the news to Crichton?"
Novia thought for a microt, then nodded. "May I ask why?"
"Because I don't want to have to ask you to lie to him."
John stared at Aeryn's serious face, still a bit groggy from so much sleep. He was feeling almost healthy again for the first time in days. "You're sure? They won't make me go back to being a statue?"
Aeryn nodded, gracing him with one of her magical smiles. "Apparently the process isn't meant for humans. It would kill you if they tried it a second time."
The relief was so profound, so overwhelming, that John found himself laughing. The doctors across the room glanced at him, worried, but none of them seemed willing to approach. "Hallelujah!" he finally sighed emphatically.
Aeryn raised an eyebrow at that untranslatable word, and John grinned wider.
It took a few minutes for reality to impinge upon the joy of freedom. Scorpius was no longer a threat, and he didn't have to stay here as a pigeon perch for the next several decades. He could refocus his efforts on going home; suddenly all the difficulties and dead ends of his research seemed minor. The Peacekeepers might not want to let him go, but he'd find a way.
"Wait..." he finally said, remembering something. "What about Katralla? She'll lose her throne--"
Aeryn shook her head. "No, she won't. With Clavor dead, she's the only available heir. They'll let her stay. I suggested they appoint Councilor Tyno as your replacement."
John nodded. "Good. She loves him; she deserves to be happy. But what about her poisoned DNA? How can she have kids?"
Aeryn shrugged, her eyes shifting away from his face. "I suppose they have the next eighty cycles to research the problem. Maybe in that time they'll find a cure."
"Hmm. Maybe."
TBC...