Chapter 5

John watched her cross the walkway from Pilot's console, tall and perfectly poised, her boots clopping against the metal surface as she tied her hair up. He memorized the lines of her shoulders and the curvature of her hips again. There was a fluid art in her graceful motion that was wholly unique in the universe. It was purely woman and beautiful in every way. He almost called her name out.

When she passed through the door, a uniformed clerk from his crew was waiting to accompany her and see to her supply demands. Two guards peeled off from the ranks outside the door and followed them away.

John leaned back against the console, rubbing his face in his hands. The ring glimmered in his eye. He held his hand before him and lifted it to the last knuckle, turning it a few times before pushing it back down again.

Aeryn would be gone for an arn or so, checking on Moya's wounded offspring. When she returned, Jack would be with her.

"A son," he muttered.

"She's very proud of him," Pilot said from behind.

"I'm sure she did a good job."

"That would be an understatement."

He sighed, letting a few microts pass in silence.

"Commander, I don't make it a practice to eavesdrop on others' affairs, but my proximity to you and Officer Sun this past arn left me with little choice."

"Okay, spill it, Pilot."

Pilot tended a few things on the console before speaking. "I found your reaction to Officer Sun's telling of Jack's existence quite...distressing." There was an increasing sharpness in his tone. "And frankly, Moya and I are somewhat angered by it."

He'd regretted it as soon as he'd rebuffed her joyous revelation. But damn what did she expect from him? Where was her enthusiasm when they'd had a chance to actually do it together?

"Sometimes we say things we don't mean, Pilot."

"You meant what you said."

"No -- I meant for what I said to hurt."

"Hmmf. And that makes it better?"

"No – probably makes it worse, actually."

"On that we agree. Do us this courtesy, Commander – if you don't consider him your son, please leave Moya immediately and don't come back. We would prefer that Jack be spared the disappointment."

"Of course he's my son, Pilot!" John spat, rubbing his hands gruffly over his face. "I know that. It's Aeryn's perspective that I'm not so sure about."

"That's absurd. How could you not notice her happiness when she tried to tell you about him? And you expressed no curiosity whatsoever about the person he's become. Your own offspring. Despicable!" he growled, raking a claw over the console.

John threw his hands up. "I know, I know! I acted like an ass! Believe me, I'm not loving myself a whole lot right now."

"Once again we agree."

John stuffed his arms together in a tight fold. On the one hand, he was heartened by Pilot's loyalty to Aeryn, grateful that she'd had his support through the years. But on the other, Pilot's one-sided view of the situation was beginning to grate on him.

"So you think I'm wrong?" John asked.

"Unequivocally."

"And you think that under any circumstance, Aeryn would have me both as a mate and as a father to her child?"

"Absolutely, though I'm beginning to question her judgment on that."

John paced a few more steps. "Then let me ask you this, Pilot. If the other Crichton had lived, was here with her today, and she had conceived Jack with him back on Talyn, can you honestly tell me she would still see me as his father?"

Pilot looked back, mouth open but no words coming.

"Yeah," John said, nodding triumphantly. "I'd be Uncle Johnny at best, and you know it." Get a taste of my cold dinner, clam-head.

"It was an impossible situation, Commander. It's not fair to judge her under those circumstances."

Now they were getting somewhere. "And I understood that. Love is love and you can't mold it to fit your schemas, so you take it however it comes. That in mind, I did everything I could to step in behind the other guy. It was still us for Christ's sakes. The Flax, false Earth, honeyed tongues, the frozen planet...there was still an us.

"But you see, that didn't matter to her. I wasn't him, and that was that. Good-bye -- adios. So please forgive me if I don't have the greatest confidence in her unwavering devotion. Any little slip on my part and I'm the 'copy' again."

"It wasn't an easy choice for her, Commander."

"No, but it was, Pilot. That's the whole problem. She always took the easy way out when it came to matters of the heart. And the worst part is, she never seemed to care how it affected me."

"That's completely inaccurate."

He slammed his hands onto the console, yelling now. "How, Pilot? How could she have cared and still left with my child? I missed his whole life! I'm about to meet a man I don't know and I'm his god-damned dad! All she had to do that day was let me go with her or stay here with me on Moya and this never would've happened!"

In a quick snap, Pilot tapped the ring on his hand with the tip of his claw. It was amazing how precise he could be with that thing.

"And look what that would have cost you, Commander."

A wonderful daughter.

John froze, his mouth hanging dumbly. He hadn't even thought of that. Damn, what was happening to him? Only Aeryn could make him this crazy. Just last year she was a sad distant memory, and he was mourning a different loss but fully at peace. Now, he felt like he was drifting in his module again. He turned slowly and slouched against the console.

"I just never know what she'll do," he muttered, weary of his demons.

"Then you need to get to know her again. She is the most loyal and caring individual I have ever known. And that's saying a lot given the present company."

John snorted with a half-cocked grin. "Don't make me cry here, Pilot."

He felt the heavy touch of Pilot's claw against his shoulder.

"Look deep and find a way, Crichton. They need you now more than ever."

That was no understatement. From the bridge, he'd witnessed the devastation wrought upon them by the Scarran ships. Sebacean and Leviathan, clinging together in a perilous struggle for survival. What chance did they have against such odds?

"I would never leave her in danger, Pilot. No matter what. That goes for you and Moya, too."

"And we take great comfort in knowing that." He looked to the clamshell display of the ship. "And your friends are also appreciated, although some improvements in their behavior would be a nice gesture."

Scratching the back of his neck, John replied, "yeah, sorry about the Storm Trooper invasion. We came in ready to deal with Peacekeepers. I was gunnin' to vent those bastards if they were keeping you and Moya by force. You know my feelings on that bunch."

"We understand. I can't say Moya and I would've been appalled at seeing that ship of yours dispatch a Command Carrier or two in the past." They watched the ship's image hovering in the clamshell for a few microts. "What a magnificent vessel."

John smiled at the display, going through a cursory hull check in his mind as he scanned the ship's surface. The sight of her never got old. Growing up, he and DK had built countless models, stringing them all over from the ceiling of his dad's garage – X-wing fighters, the Millennium Falcon, even a home-designed conceptual from the video game, Defender – all arranged in various formations and battle scenarios. Detail was the name of the game. But it was a Star Destroyer that had been the pinnacle of their efforts, a five-foot behemoth built with meticulous care over the course of an entire high school summer. Today, it sat on a pedestal in the center of their shared laboratory, a constant source of inspiration during the long hours spent in ship-design and construction.

And if he squinted just right, he could see a slight resemblance in the image before him.

"Captain," a woman's voice chirped in.

"That's my girl," John smiled, grabbing his com. He dropped to a low baritone. "Yes Ensign, this is your Captain speaking."

She cleared her throat. "Dr. Sturgeon has requested permission to set up a med facility on one of the Leviathans. The situation is critical for the sebacean wounded. He's got a team assembled in the hangar."

"Fine, get him over there."

"And one other thing, there's a sebacean scientist requesting material aid. He's a Leviathan specialist -- needs some supplies for the wounded ships. Should I patch him through to Engineering?"

"A Leviathan specialist?" John asked, chuckling suddenly. He cupped his hand over the com and said to Pilot, "where was he back in the day?"

Pilot shrugged, keeping his eyes on the console.

"Ahem...sir, should I patch him through?"

"Yeah, but keep tabs on his request. I'd like to see the specifics. Oh, and arrange for immediate transport to Moya."

"Who for, sir?"

"For you, Liz. And bring some tissue."

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Jack stood rigid with a roll of bio-plaster in one hand and a wrench in the other, his body spattered all over with a dark, viscous liquid. His eyes tracked the creeping bulb of a bolus of fluid as it wound through the network of Veleon's nutrient tubes, denching towards the patch he'd just redone for the fifth time. As it closed in, he noticed a single drop swelling at the patch's belly.

"Aelan, stop it! Turn it off!"

Footsteps rushed along the walkway above, followed by the squeal of a valve's turning.

The bulb sped up.

"No! The other way!"

But just as Jack leapt to clamp his hands over the tube, the bulb hit the patch and exploded in his face.

"Frell!" he yelled, throwing the wrench across the room.

The tool banged against the wall, barely a motra from the door where Aeryn was walking through. Without flinching, her eyes tracked the item as it clanged against the wall and bounced over the floor. She nodded approvingly.

Jack clamped his head with an embarrassed grimace.

"Sorry," he said.

"You should be – you didn't even break anything with that outburst."

Wiping his hands on his pants, Jack advanced across the room, but suddenly his boots slid out from his center, his limbs flailing wildly as he fought for purchase on the oily surface.

In a flash, a quick grip under his arm had him stabilized and on his feet again. Holding him squarely, Aeryn's blue-gray eyes stared into his with sharp alertness, then relaxed with her humored grin. Jack looked back sheepishly, laughing as he held fast to the material of her shirt. Aeryn released her grip looked at the gook on her hand, slinging the excess off along the wall.

"Have you seen him?" Jack asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "He's waiting for us on Moya."

"Right now?" Jack whipped his sights over his filthy clothes. "Give me just a microt."

Aeryn drug him out by his arm. "Come on, he won't care about your appearance."

But when they passed a waste receptacle, he darted in and yanked his shirt off. With a quick twist he turned the faucet on, nearly ripping the valve off the sink with the force of the turn. Frantically, he splashed water over his head and torso and banged on the soap dispenser, filling his palm with the oozing degreaser. Within microts his entire head and upper body were completely lathered over. He shoveled water over his body, handful after handful, splashing the suds off and scattering the foamy wash over the walls and floor.

Still dripping, he darted into the corridor and grabbed the first passer-by that came his way.

"Please – can I have your shirt?"

"No!" the woman yelled, jerking her arm away before storming off.

"Jack!" Aeryn laughed. "Calm down, son. There's a change of clothes on the transport pod."

"Oh yeah," he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Wait – which uniform? Does it have sleeves?" he asked, his hand splayed over the rough scar tissue on his forearm.

Her eyes fell to the scars, the smile on her face withering.

"Yes, Jack," she answered quietly. "It has sleeves. Now let's go."

Once on the transport pod, Jack changed into the spare uniform, straightening the fabric over his arms and ruffling his hair in the mirror of the small waste receptacle. His mouth was parched, and no amount of water he drank seemed to help. He dabbed at his face, soaking up the beads of moisture. Was it sweat or water? He took a quiet moment to gather himself, hands laid flat over the sink-top, head hanging from his shoulders.

He hoped there would be a sense of familiarity when they met, but he had little to go by other than the tales and anecdotal musings passed on to him by Aeryn and Pilot. But there were lots of those, and there were also the videos from Moya's databanks, watched over and over again, most often with Pilot, but on occasion with Aeryn. One in particular came to mind. It was a surveillance clip from Moya's hangar bay. It began with flickering static, then steadied on the image of his father's face, a close-up captured while he repaired the surveillance recorder. In the video he was muttering a song, something about a 'Rocket Man', the image jerky with his constant adjustments. It was clear he didn't know all the words, or at least not well enough to reach the clarity-threshold for the translator microbes.

"I miss the Earth so much, I miss my wife -- hmm-hm-hmm-lonely out in space..."

From behind, two arms snaked around John's midriff, clasping him tightly. Aeryn's face appeared next to his, her chin on his shoulder.

"What wife?" she asked.

He smiled without turning. "Oh, the one in Tennessee. Or was it the one in Ohio? I lose track."

She dug her fingers into his ribs, holding fast against his squirming. "This from a man who can't even bed a drunken tralk."

He turned sidelong. "Excuse me – I'm not the one pressing her boobs into someone's back."

"You like boobs, huh?" she asked, hugging even tighter against him with a mischievous grin.

"I have a pulse, don't I?"

She let go of him and spanked his behind before walking off.

"And you have a hand as well. Just remember to turn the recorder off before you use it."

He twisted at the hip, shouting in her direction, "don't worry, I wouldn't give you the pleasure anyway!"

When he turned back, his face was flushed. He mimicked her words in a quiet, whining tone before continuing his work.

Jack had every microt of the feed memorized, even the silent quarter arn of adjustments that followed Aeryn's brief appearance. John's every facial tick, every flippant comment – all were known so well to him that he was confident he could reenact the entire feed to near duplicity.

Now he would see the living man. And maybe even Earth one day. He laughed suddenly at the prospect. It was almost too much to imagine.

Exiting the waste receptacle, he saw Aeryn sitting on a wall-bench, her hands clasped together in her lap, staring obliquely at the transport's floor. She looked tired and careworn all of a sudden, her eyes darkened beneath a labored brow.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked, sitting across from her.

She offered a small grin, surfacing from her thoughts. "I'm fine, son."

"It's catching up with you, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The solar day's events." They hadn't even seen a casualty manifesto yet.

She nodded. "Must be."

He eyed her for a moment. No. It was something else.

"Anything you want to tell me?" he asked.

She raised her eyes for a moment, then looked back down. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just a little nervous."

That he understood. "Yeah -- I'll have to change again if I keep sweating. At least you know the man already."

She closed her eyes for a moment, muscles tensing in her face. She took a deep breath and spoke.

"Jack -- it's been a long time since John and I have been together. A lot has changed in that time -- for both of us."

How did that matter? "Sure. That's understandable. I don't think it changes the basics, though. I mean, you were together once, you had me and he's my father – none of that changes with time."

"Yes," she muttered. "Crichton is and always will be your father." For a moment, she opened her mouth to speak, but no utterance came. He could see the battle within her, playing across the shadows of her face.

"Mom -- what is it?"

She kept her eyes on the floor, hesitating before speaking. Then she began, slowly.

"Love can be wonderful, son, but it can also be very cruel sometimes." Her words were labored. After a few microts, she looked up, her gaze direct and eyes glistening. "But no matter what happens -- this solar day or any time later -- just remember that no mother has ever been so lucky as me." She sniffled. "You're a gift to everyone who knows you, and if you're ever made to feel otherwise, remember that I love you, and let that be enough to keep your heart safe."

The pain in her tear-streaked face twisted at his insides. There was no one in the universe that could make her cry like that -- except for one. In an instant he was across the transport pod, sitting next to her, holding her shoulders squarely.

"What did he say to you?"

She shook her head, pushing him back gently to gather herself. "Nothing – it's not what he said. It's...it's nothing." She wiped her eyes, sniffling a few times before sitting up. "Just remember what I said." And just as fast as the pain had swept over her, it was gone, replaced by the usual set jaw and squared shoulders.

Jack knew better than to press her. She had done something just then that she considered necessary, and he would accept her words now and be ready to apply them later should a time come when they seemed appropriate. That was her manner of care. Be warned, be ready.

What in hezmana had he said to make her feel this way? It was hard to sit still now, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. He leaned back, steadying his breathing and looking across the pod at their reflections in the opposite window, both of them facing forward.

"I feel like I know the man," he said, "and I even love him, never having met him. And it seems like I've lived my whole life making choices based on what I think he would have done. And now, beyond the best of hopes, I get to actually meet him." He rubbed his hands over his thighs, then gripped his knees tightly. "But understand this, if it came down to a choice between you two, I would throw his eema out an airlock in a microt and never think back on it."

She laughed, a brief, quiet release. She didn't look up, but her smile met him squarely.

"I know, son. Thank-you."

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"I have a brother?"

"Yep," John answered, amused by Liz's incredulous expression, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"Are you sure?"

"The DNA comparisons have verified it, Ensign," Pilot interjected. "Jack is definitely the offspring of Commander Crichton."

"But they're not human," she said, looking shocked that such a thing hadn't been considered.

Pilot activated an image on the clamshell, two helical strands revolving side by side.

"Actually, the sequencing of the sebacean and human genomes are remarkably similar – identical really with the exception of a few divergent protein families on two of your chromosomes."

"That might explain the gland," John said. "Can you believe after scouring my module I couldn't find one trace of sebacean DNA? We've been dying to compare the sequences."

"Yes, it would be helpful to know exactly what the various domains coded for in both species," Pilot remarked. "By way of comparison..."

"Wait a minute!" Liz interrupted, blond strands wisping from her ponytail. "There are more important things going on here." She stalked back and forth, cupping her forehead in her palm.

John chuckled, reaching out for her shoulders. Ever the worrier.

"Come 'ere, hon," he said, holding her squarely before him. "It's a lot to take in, I know. I haven't met him yet either. Don't even know what he looks like."

"I offered to show some images," Pilot said.

"Aaahh!" John bawled out, halting him with a pointed finger. "Don't ever tell me the sex of the baby."

"But you already know the gender, Crichton," Pilot answered, perplexed.

"You know what I mean."

Liz took a few moments and looked around the chamber. "The infamous 'Pilot's Chamber'," she said, eyes wide as she turned about.

"Better than the drawings?" John asked.

"Not even remotely similar."

John shrugged. "Never claimed to be an artist."

A series of beeps chirped from the console. "Commander, Aeryn and Jack have arrived on Moya."

The chill in his chest was instant. "Oh boy," he muttered, pacing suddenly. "Okay now, let's get it together here."

"Stop it," Liz chided, grabbing his arm. "You're making me nervous."

John wiped his sweaty palms over his pants. "Sorry, hon. I mean, what's there to be nervous about? We're all family here."

Her eyes widened, the challenge of processing that statement apparent in her expression. "Yeah, I guess so."

He rubbed absently at Liz's back, touching her more for his own comfort. His eyes seemed to be on the door forever, anticipating their arrival every second. A son. With Aeryn. Oh shit, he was already crying.

"Quick, give me that tissue," he said, clamoring for her pockets.

"Wait," she said, slapping his hand. "Don't take it all."

And just then the door opened.

He walked in first, tall and lean, a uniformed sculpture of a man. John lost his breath. He was magnificent – very much his mother's child, raven-headed and chiseled in the face. But the eyes – they were all his, no mistake in that. He slowed his pace at the walkway, Aeryn stepping in from behind him.

Aeryn looked at Liz for a moment, bowing her head in a curt nod, her small smile conveying approval. Then she looked into John's eyes, holding her chin high, proud and strong beside by her son. He wanted to hold her then more than ever, and tell her how proud he was of what she had accomplished.

Just look at what you've become, Aeryn. Glorious.

They advanced to one another, smiles growing with every step. John and Jack finally faced one another, eyes meeting squarely. Jack looked so happy, maybe about to cry. That did it. John's eyes burned with tears, and he took Jack in a strong grasp and pulled him into a crushing embrace. All the cycles of wondering if this child was out here came crashing in at once. He was holding him now, feeling the realness in his arms. His joy burst out with crying laughter as he rocked him to and fro.

When they pulled apart, everyone was a wreck. Liz was on the last of the tissue, and Aeryn made no effort to dry her own tears. Jack and Liz looked at one another, each smiling brilliantly but not knowing exactly what to say.

Jack touched his chest, saying simply, "Jack."

"I can understand you," she answered, teary-eyed and laughing.

"We've got the microbes, too," John added.

They laughed a little more at the situation, taking time to exchange long-wanted looks.

"She's beautiful, John," Aeryn said, looking at Liz.

Liz smiled back. "So are you, Ms. Sun, as I've heard."

"Just 'Aeryn', Liz," she answered.

John took Jack by the shoulders again, holding him firm in his grasp. He was an inch, or maybe even two, taller. "Wow! Just look at you. We have to get you on the department basketball team."

Jack looked at Aeryn quizzically for a moment, then nodded anyway.

"He would rather play with tools than balls," Aeryn said.

"Tools? Gah! You're killin' me, here" John growled, giving him another hug. "My boy!"

Aeryn laughed, taking Jack's arm and speaking into his ear. "You'll get used to him. The microbes don't help much, I know."

"Commander!" Pilot called out. "Your ship just released a volley of fire."

Everyone rushed to the clamshell, watching the display.

"It's a warning shot, Pilot. The Dreadnaught's taken a position just outside your scanner range. They've been there the whole time. I gave orders to fire if they tried to press forward."

"A cowering Dreadnaught," Jack mused, shaking his head in apparent amazement. "I would've never thought it possible."

"It's not so complicated really," John shrugged. "All you need is 25th century nanotechnology and a marvelously sophisticated means of extracting fusion energy and voila, a Terra-class Starfighter."

Jack was absorbed in the vision of the ship. "So this is how you repelled the Scarran invasion."

John and Liz shook their heads simultaneously.

"That was an Earth- and moon-based defense battery," John answered. "We couldn't carry cannons that powerful."

"But we're working on it," Liz said.

"It's a beautiful ship," Jack said, his attention harnessed suddenly by another round of fire.

"We call her Terra-3," Liz said.

"Any other models?" Jack asked.

"One other complete vessel and another under construction," Liz replied. "This one's the first space-worthy model."

As brother and sister discussed the specs of the ship, John looked over at Aeryn, sharing a private moment for the first time since this fateful meeting's beginning. There was genuine satisfaction in her smile, and maybe a little relief even. It occurred to him suddenly that she must have had doubts about how this would unfold. He couldn't blame her.

"So," John said, smacking his hands together in a loud clap. "Shall we tour the ship?"

Jack perked up. "Definitely!"

"Come on," Liz said, taking Jack by the hand. "You don't wanna ride in a dinky old transport. We're taking the Corsair."

"What?" John barked. "I told you to take a transport over here."

"They were all assisting in medical and Leviathan restoration."

"Well be careful, hon. That thing'll get out from under you in a heartbeat."

"Sounds fun," Aeryn said. "When do I get a turn?"

They all walked through the corridors together on the way to the hangar. When they came to its entrance, John snagged Aeryn by the arm and pulled her into an alcove at the hangar's periphery.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling her close against him.

"Hey yourself," she grinned back.

"I wanted to say thank-you – and I'm sorry."

She shook her head, lowering her eyes to his chest. "You've nothing to be sorry for, Crichton."

"You're wrong. I do. You had one chance in this life to tell me about him. Now I may be angry that you didn't take it way back then, but I totally blew it when you did it in the here and now."

She kept shaking her head, staving off his apologies.

"No," he said. "I screwed it up good today. And I promise, I won't miss another thing."

That stopped her. He felt the rise and fall of her chest against him, hastening a bit. Her eyes remained at his chest.

"He loves you very much," she said. "He always has."

"And I won't let him down, Aeryn. He's my son."

And at that, she relaxed in his arms, her burdens cast off in an instant. She tightened her arms about his waist, nestling her cheek into his chest.

"Good, because I would've had to shoot you, otherwise."

"Yeah," he chuckled, hugging her tight. "I know."

"Captain!"

John raised his com, still holding Aeryn in the other arm. "Right here, Commander."

"Two more Dreadnaughts have joined the peripheral vessel."

Aeryn pulled back, her eyes alert.

"Are they moving in?" John asked.

"Negative – they're holding position."

"I'm on the way," John answered, pocketing his com. He rubbed briskly over Aeryn's arms. "I've gotta see to that."

She nodded. "And I should get things organized here on Moya."

"All right. Let's get a formation plan together in the next hour. We should all move out as soon as possible."

"Many won't be able to Starburst."

"We may be able to help with that," John answered. "In the meantime, let's figure out who can move and who can't. We've got a few tugs for the crippled."

They walked from the alcove and stopped at the inner corridor.

"John," Aeryn said, just as they were parting. She stared for a moment, her eyes seeking assurance.

He understood.

"He'll be fine, babe. He's got lots of new toys to play with over there."

She seemed satisfied with that, contentment in her small grin as she walked off into Moya's inner workings.

John turned and walked to the hangar's center where his transport awaited, guards forming around him as he advanced. The Leviathan factor added a significant challenge to the mission. But he couldn't just leave them to fend for themselves. At any rate, all parties would be served by the mission's primary goal: cripple the Scarran forces and make it clear that Earth and its surrounding space were off-limits. This scourge would have to be marginalized if they were ever going to marshal the forces needed to fend off the inevitable arrival of the horror the Ancients were fleeing.