Chapter 2

Aeryn was always amazed at the enormity of Galen, the alpha Leviathan of the fleet. His corridors allowed a wide berth for the busy foot-traffic and wheeled machinery, the largest of which could make complete U-turns when not impeded by pedestrians. Overhead, his golden ribs vaulted high, joining at a pinnacle of over three stories. There were even second-tier terraces along many of the corridors, near doubling the travel capacity along his lengths.

Before entering Command, she felt a light tug on her sleeve. Turning around, she saw a familiar, handsome face with dark eyes grinning lazily at her. She always appreciated the warmth in his expression.

"Back so soon?" he asked.

"Velorek," she answered, greeting him with a slight smile.

He pulled her into an embrace, whispering into her ear. "I'm glad your back."

She hugged him tentatively, acutely aware of her neglected hygiene. "Sorry. I'm filthy."

"Yeah, I wasn't gonna say anything, but..."

Aeryn pushed him back, sneering at his laughter. "You can get back to your business then, you frellnik!"

"Yes, chasing young Leviathans with an oversized hypodermic needle. What a way to pass the time."

She chuckled at the image. "Good luck with that."

"Yeah, you couldn't have waited another weeken or so to bring that derillium back?"

Aeryn leaned against the wall, folding her arms. "I thought you were glad to see me."

He grinned wryly, snatching furtive glances at the passers-by before settling his eyes on her. "You know I'm always glad to see you, Aeryn," he said quietly, putting his hand on the wall behind her.

As he leaned in for a kiss, she dodged beneath his arm and walked backwards into Command.

"Then cook me something nice, tonight – something hot. I've had nothing but food cubes for two weekens."

The doors closed between them, leaving her with the image of his wry grin and shaking head.

The Command center on Galen was a busy place. In addition to managing the Leviathan's enormous array of systems, all of the fleet's actions were coordinated here. Communications, both in- and out-going, were constant. And unlike many of the other Leviathans, numerous computers had been hybridized into Galen's biosystems to facilitate the coordination of all caravan activity.

Braca looked up from the cartography display, acknowledging Aeryn with a quick nod before concluding his business with the navigator. He had been the obvious choice for fleet commander, highly skilled in interstellar travel as well as battle tactics. But it was his propensity for survival that made him irreplaceable. A consummate strategist, Braca had outwitted their Scarran pursuers more times than she could count, drawing on what seemed to be an endless cache of unorthodox tactics. Often though, over drinks, he would confide in her and a few other trusted comrades, admitting the improvisational nature underlying actions that were largely regarded as calculated, well-planned brilliance.

"By the skin of my eema," he was fond of saying.

Braca moved swiftly across Command, gesturing for Aeryn to follow him into a side chamber. There was a large table in the middle of the room with several laminates scattered across its surface. And on the wall, a view screen displayed a paused image.

It was a wormhole, larger than any she had ever seen, captured in the still. And through it, she saw a crescent sliver of a blue and white planetary body, the rest of its orb occluded by the wall of the wormhole. Aeryn advanced quickly to the screen, her eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Braca...what is this?"

"We intercepted this visual transmission from a Nebari reconnaissance vessel just a few arns before you arrived. They were cloaked while this footage was taken."

"It's enormous. You could fit an entire battle group through there. Do you know the planet on the other side?"

Braca pulled a chair from the table. "Aeryn, please sit down."

There was a reticence in his expression that unnerved her. He nodded toward the chair again, avoiding her eyes with an oblique look.

"Braca," she said, a warning in her tone.

He sighed, catching her with a quick glance. There was a wariness in his face as he clicked a device on the table, activating the video stream. The mouth of the wormhole twisted and writhed, its walls occluding the view of the other side until it seemed to center on its axis with a balanced twirl. Then she saw the planet.

Aeryn raised her fingertips to the screen, tracing the familiar geography along the coastlines, known to her from the countless sketches she had seen. Her heart thumped at the inner walls of her chest, her vision hazing with the moisture gathering in her eyes. It was beautiful, just as he'd described so many times. Blue and vibrant. And for just a moment, she felt him there with her again – his voice right beside her.

'That's Florida...and you can't see Texas, but trust me it's big. And Mexico...watch out, there's lots of tequila and probably a warrant or two out for my arrest.'

The tears ran warm down her cheeks, their saltiness tasted in her smile. Her breath caught in a hitch as she rubbed her fingertips over the cool glass, her lips whispering a single utterance.

"John."

Then, between her fingers, she saw dozens of specks moving quickly into the wormhole, small ships of some kind. She strained to see identifying details, but couldn't discriminate anything. But what she saw next was unmistakable – three Dreadnaughts moving into the wormhole, single-file. She threw both hands against the screen, thrusting her face within two denches of its surface.

"No!" she screamed. "No...No...No!"

She cried out for the fate of the little planet, defenseless and unwary. This couldn't be happening. It was the only place in the whole frelling universe that gave her hope, knowing that something peaceful was still out there, untouched by the horrors of her world.

When she turned, Braca was no longer in the room, and the door to Command was closed. She stumbled to the table, catching herself on a chair's back. Frelling Scarrans! It would never be enough. They had to kill everything. Every-frelling-thing! She dug her fingers into the fabric of the chair, and with a raging scream, hefted it up and slammed it into the view screen, shattering the panel with a violent spray of glass.

Stumbling to the corner of the room, she collapsed to the floor and leaned into the walls, her shoulders slumping and head listing to the side. It suddenly became clear to her that an implicit dream, long held deep within her, had just died; a dream that she would find a home for herself and Jack on Earth one day – that he could actually have the life that John had always sought to regain, free from all this misery. It had been the one thing that gave her hope. Now there was nothing.

Right this microt, their cities were burning, their children were running from the slaughter, and their whole sense of tomorrow was forever being erased.

Aeryn stared across the room, her eyes wide but seeing nothing. It was too much. Just too frelling much.

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Aeryn had little sense of how much time had passed in the dimly lit room. She hadn't moved from the corner, the numbness of her anguish covering her like a lead blanket. She heard a door open and the sound of footsteps approach slowly.

"Aeryn," came a gentle voice, someone kneeling beside her. There was a touch on her arm. "Aeryn." A warm hand pushed the hair from her face.

"Mom," he whispered.

She looked into his eyes, blue and crystal clear, unabashedly showing all the love for her that resided within them. She touched his face with a trembling hand, her brow gathering tightly between her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she cried.

Jack nodded, lowering her hand from his face as he plopped down next to her. He snaked his arm around her and pulled her close. Aeryn listened to the changes in his breathing, steady at first, then labored with sniffles that betrayed his emotions. The sound of his grief fomented her own. For a quarter-arn, they cried there together, sharing their anguish at the loss of a private, precious thing that had been shared between them for so long.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Jack finally asked.

Aeryn shook her head. "Nothing other than stand and die with them." If it weren't for Jack, she would be in her Prowler right now.

"What about a rescue? Can we save some of them? Bring them with us?"

Aeryn looked up, her sight clearing with the drying of her tears. She hadn't thought of that.

"We'd have to get to the surface," she replied. "They've got no way of getting to us."

"A Leviathan could do it," Jack noted, scratching his chin. "We could make a dash for the ocean and submerge for an underwater rendezvous. We'd be fairly shielded from orbital fire by the water."

"We should take a gunship," Aeryn added. "They're more resilient to cannon fire and pressure changes."

Jack stood up, pacing the floor with thoughts flashing across his face.

"Then maybe an underwater starburst to escape?" Aeryn inquired.

Jack shook his head. "There'd be too much water in the burst perimeter. A Leviathan can't transport that much weight."

"In the atmosphere then," she said. "Just as we emerge from the water."

A man cleared his throat at the room's entrance. Aeryn turned to see Braca leaning against the door frame, his hands resting in the pockets of his pants.

Wiping a sleeve across her face, she pushed herself up against the wall and stepped into the center of the room, the glass of the display crunching beneath her feet.

"Just so you know," Braca said, "I had already arranged to replace pretty much everything in this room before you arrived."

"I'm sorry, Braca," she replied, sniffling to clear her head. "I know this gets old."

He dismissed it with a shrug. "I think I may have overheard some of your planning."

"And?" she asked, urging him to finish his query.

"And...I understand your reasoning."

"But?"

He looked to the side, clearly selecting his words. "You know we can't put the fleet at risk for that."

"There wouldn't be any risk to the fleet," Aeryn snapped. "Just one gunship -- enough to rescue maybe two or three hundred people."

The respectful tentativeness in his tone was gone. "To what purpose, Aeryn?"

She stared back for a moment, her mouth agape at his display of obtuseness. "To save their race, Braca."

"And what about all the other primitive cultures dying away under Scarran rule? What makes them any less deserving of our help than the humans?"

Jack took a few steps towards him, eyes steeled with a furrowed brow. "How can you ask her that?"

Braca checked him with a warning hand. "Back up, Jack." He stepped into the room and stood before Aeryn. "I want you to really think about what you're asking – about the possible cost, and how it weighs against the potential gains for the fleet at large, not just for you two."

Aeryn swallowed, wiping her wetted lip as she stared into Braca's face. Suddenly, she felt suffocated by his pragmatism.

She pushed past him, walking through Command with her eyes caged forward. As she exited into the outer corridor, she heard Braca calling to her in pursuit.

"You're talking about going into a wormhole, Aeryn – zipping past three Dreadnaughts and an entire battle contingent -- in plain sight mind you -- and then stealing their quarry and taking off again. You don't even know if the wormhole would be there for you when you came back. And all of this assumes you can navigate one of these things, which, I'm not convinced you can."

She pushed through the crowded corridor, fists balled at her side. Braca's hand caught her arm and spun her around.

"I need to know one thing, though," he asked. "And I'm sorry I have to ask you this, but I do." He took a deep breath, his single eye wide in its appeal. "Will they find something there? Anything...about wormholes? Something he may have done that we never knew about, like sending information home?"

She yanked her arm from his grip. "Frell you!" she yelled into his face, rage watering in her eyes. "Why don't you check your frelling records you Peacekeeper drannit! You had access to everything in his frelling head!" Her screaming had the attention of everyone in the corridor.

There was no fight in his expression. He looked down, nodding his resignation. "For that, I am sorry, Aeryn. I hope some part of you can believe that. But it doesn't change the fact that..."

She turned with a growling sneer and marched towards the hangar bay.

"Aeryn, if they acquire that technology, they can jump in on us anytime, anywhere."

His words were noise in her ears. Fortunately, he wasn't following this time.

By the time she reached the hangar bay, a pilot had already been informed she was coming and had a transport pod ready for departure. It was an empty courtesy from Braca as far as she was concerned, but she was still thankful to have no delays. She needed to find some comfort somewhere, and there was only one friend who could identify with what she was feeling.

She and Jack boarded the transport pod and made the trip back to Moya, silent mostly, each sinking inward to confront the darkness of what they had just learned.

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A shower had done much to restore her. She walked into Pilot's den, her hair still damp and hanging loosely over her shoulders. As she crossed the walkway, Pilot looked up from his tasks, nodding while his appendages danced over the surrounding panels.

"Hello, Officer Sun."

"Pilot," she greeted him, sitting on the floor at the base of the console.

"We just received a transmission from Galen. Moya and I are very saddened by the news. I know how this must affect you."

Aeryn smiled bleakly, bringing her knees to her chest and bundling herself together with her arms. "Thank-you, Pilot. That's why I'm here."

"Is there anything we can do to help...other than offer you our company, of course?"

"Nothing within reason, I'm afraid." She took a deep breath and looked into the darkened surround of the expansive chamber.

Pilot didn't comment on that statement. Several microts passed with nothing but the sound of claws clicking across hard surfaces.

"You should know that Braca sent two gunships to reconnoiter the area of the wormhole," Pilot said.

"I'm sure he's looking to see if there's any evidence of wormhole manipulation by the Scarrans."

"He commed me earlier and informed me of your altercation."

Aeryn grinned, chuckling lightly at the recall of her temperamental display. "Yeah, I put on quite a show over there." She shook her head. "It was a desperate plan – and foolish, I suppose."

"Veleon and Denzil immediately volunteered when they heard of it."

"Really?" she asked, turning her head upward.

"But Moya forbade it. You should know that I discouraged it as well."

Aeryn looked back down, nodding. "As you should have. Sometimes I forget that every gunship has a mother."

She felt a soft touch on her head as Pilot's claw lowered to rest against her, cradling into her side. "But we both feel terribly for the loss this represents for you...and Jack."

She turned her face into his claw, rubbing her cheek against the cool surface. The tears were coming freely again. Swallowing, she struggled to steady her breathing. Her utterance was small, her voice almost child-like.

"What would he have done, Pilot?"

There was a brief pause before his response. "Something brash – completely foolhardy. Of course, there would have been one of those horrible plans, and he would have been tickled at his own misperceived brilliance."

Aeryn laughed aloud, smiling brightly through her tears.

Pilot made that gurgling sound, the one she equated with laughter. "And it probably would have worked."

She nodded, stroking her palm across his claw. "He called it 'Irish luck'."

"There was a charm of good fortune surrounding Commander Crichton, despite all his travesties."

Her eyes closed at the sound of his name. She noticed how hard the console was at her back, and thought about John sitting for arns in this position, holding her against him in this very place so many times while they would talk until their voices were hoarse. She had never said so much to anyone as she had to him. Meaningless dribble or heart-felt secrets, he had a way of making her, the silent one, babble for arns.

"I still miss him, Pilot."

"We know. He could never be replaced."

The words stabbed at her heart, painful in their inaccuracy. For a brief time, there were two – and then there was one, a second chance. But because of her obstinacy and selfish detachment, now there were none. When she had finally come around to her senses and tried to find him, the news of what had happened nearly destroyed her – and she would have gone to join him had it not been for the life growing inside her. Deep in her mind, in the chamber of her darkest secrets, she could still see the images of constant tears, a hand on her belly and a gun in her mouth.

"It's not your fault, Aeryn," Pilot said quietly, filling the silence with his words.

How many times had they had this conversation in those early cycles? Pilot had been her strength – with a swell in her belly or a babe in her arms, he was always there to help her see the reasons for living.

"I love you, Pilot," she whispered.

"And we love you, Aeryn."

She rubbed her hand against the floor, feeling Moya's vibrations in her palm.

After a short time of shared silence, Pilot retracted his claw.

"Would you like to stay with us through the sleep cycle?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes. I would like that very much."

He reached behind the console and pulled a folded cot out, one he kept around for just these times. He lowered it to the floor and set it up beside her. Aeryn climbed into the cot, bundled up, and fell asleep to the sounds of the chamber surround.

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Aeryn spent the next weeken busying herself with maintenance tasks. Field cannons were stripped and cleaned, Prowler ammunition repacked and organized, and reconnaissance sorties re-evaluated. On Moya, Aeryn was the closest thing to a captain, though she refused to be treated as such by the other crewmembers. To them she was simply "Aeryn". Regardless, they all deferred to her will regarding issues aboard the Leviathan, and because of it, Moya was one of the most efficiently-run ships in the caravan.

After two solar days of cold digital exchange, Aeryn finally commed Braca and apologized for her behavior aboard Galen. He was understanding, and offered assurances that his estimation of her had never wavered from exceptional. Soon after, she contacted Velorek and took a 'rain check' on their date. He understood. There were no secrets between them regarding John. She would need time, and he was infinitely patient and gracious in his forgiveness.

She was lucky to have such companions, a thing she often neglected to remember.

It was the middle of the sleep cycle on the seventh solar night when a priority transmission came through to her quarters. She bolted from the bed and rushed across her quarters to the small, clamshell display at her desk. It was Braca.

"Aeryn," he began immediately, his face alight with amazement. "The gunships have returned."

"Both safe?"

"Oh, yes," he answered with an exaggerated nod. "I'm patching a visual through."

She saw the wormhole, still intact but twisting with instability. There was no way to see the opening on the other side. Braca's voice came through over the visual.

"Now listen to this."

'Zeeter One, retreat. Retrieve troops and retreat.'

'Zeeter Three, no contact...'

Multiple Scarran transmissions were coming through now, panic and desperation apparent in their voices.

'Abort...Abort!'

'Engines not responding!'

'Deflectors out! Targeting gone!'

'Hull integrity compromised! Venting atmosphere!'

Braca's voice came through again. "Now...watch this."

The giant wormhole that was twisting there one microt, roaring with power, suddenly collapsed violently in on itself. No decay. No sign of diminishing. Just total, sudden collapse. Aeryn leaned forward, her eyes wide and mouth agape. A few microts passed before Braca appeared on the screen again.

All she could do was shake her head.

"I know," he said.

"The wormhole..."

He nodded. "It didn't end naturally. That thing was smote out."

Aeryn sat back into the chair, pushing her hair back and clasping at her head. "Was there anything after that?"

"No," Braca answered. "But just before the wormhole collapsed, the gunships decoded dozens of automated transmissions. They were warnings to the greater Scarran fleet. 'Do not follow'."

It was a standard protocol to prevent further loss againt an overwhelming force. She was at a total loss for words. What she had just witnessed defied every expectation of what should be happening. Three dreadnaughts! One could destroy the entire Leviathan caravan. What in Cholak's name was happening on the other side of that hole?

"Digest it for an arn or two," Braca said. "Sometime tomorrow, I'd like to meet with the command council. Maybe we could do it over second meal."

Aeryn nodded. When her voice finally came to her, it was a little hoarse.

"What in the hezmana?"

"No idea," he replied, turning to receive a document from a Command clerk. "But whatever it is, I don't know whether to run towards it or flee like a breetlevox."

"Agreed," she said, feeling a dissonant mix of fear, hope, and awe.