Chapter 7
Aeryn powered down the engines of her Prowler, bringing it to a halt over a rounded segment set within the landing bay's floor. Behind her, massive doors slid together, closing the passage to open space.
"We're clamping your vessel down, Officer Sun," commed the deck officer.
Feeling a sudden jerk beneath her, she raised her head to look across the deck as it came up around her, the platform upon which she sat sinking downward. Red runner lights illuminated the vertical passage during her descent, casting a lurid crimson glow across the instrument panel. Above her, a sphincter valve closed the passage above, clinching inward to a perfect seal. Suddenly, her flight suit clung heavily to her skin as she felt the weight of her own body again. Gravity.
Just then, the walls of the vertical chute gave way to a wide expanse. It was the hangar bay, and the floor must have been a hundred motras below. In size, it easily rivaled and likely surpassed the bays on the largest Command Carriers. All around her, the orb-like fighters seen in the Scarran battle were suspended from the hangar's vaulted heights, arranged in linear fashion along the latticework of an enormous conveyor system. They were much larger than her original estimation, her Prowler's length barely reaching half their diameter.
As the platform lowered to the deck, Aeryn noticed a small crowd assembling at the base of the elevator's column. Liz stood in front of them, urging the gatherers to move back. When the descent finally halted, Liz climbed onto the Prowler's runner board and looked through the cockpit window, her eyes taken by the instruments and displays. The air hissed with the hatch's opening.
"Would you like to take it out sometime?" Aeryn asked.
"I'd love it," Liz answered, running her hand over the cockpit's interior. "It's a beautiful craft. Looks menacing."
"I've always liked it. This one's got a lot of cycles, though."
"You've kept it well."
Liz jumped to the deck, making way for Aeryn to exit the Prowler.
Once on the ground, Aeryn took a moment to absorb the surrounding sights. The first thing she noticed were the faces of all the humans looking back at her. Many nodded curtly when her eyes passed theirs. Some even smiled.
"These are some of the acquaintances Jack made while he was here," Liz said, looking back across the faces. "He spent several hours on the hangar deck. I told him not to bother the crew, but he kept talking to them. Before I knew it, he was stuck up in the machine panels alongside 'em."
"He's a fine boy, ma'am," said a burly, dark-headed man. "Knows his tools."
"And talks right at'cha" said another man. "Looks you in the eye. He's a real fella."
Their was so much variety in their appearance -- contrasting skin colors and facial features, differences in hair texture – eyes that sprang forth from the face and others set so deep you could hardly tell there were orbs within the lids.
"Can you understand them?" Liz whispered.
Aeryn blinked, realizing suddenly she was staring. She reached for words.
"Oh...yes. Thank-you." Suddenly, she wished something would come along and steal away their attention.
The burly man turned to face the others. "Well let's quit starin' at the lady like a bunch of voyeurs and get back to work." He looked over with a quick nod, "welcome aboard, ma'am."
Aeryn watched the crowd disperse, nodding as they departed. Once they were gone, she asked, "they're all human aren't they?"
"Of course," Liz answered, looking perplexed. "Why do you ask?"
"Their features…I don't know. I figured with John looking so much like a Sebacean…"
"You mean the different races? Some don't match the appearance of sebaceans?"
"No. The skin on some, the eyes on others – humans are much more diverse than I thought."
"Hmm – interesting," Liz mused. "I figured a species as spread out as yours would express even more phenotypical fractions. Then again, countless generations have probably passed since your people had to adapt to the elements."
Liz's words were lost in Aeryn's mind with the abrupt recall of the charred smears seen across the ship during her approach. "How bad is the damage?" she asked.
Liz took a few steps and gestured for Aeryn to follow. "Systemically, not serious. But the affected decks will take some time to repair. Looks like we'll be doing a quick-seal and finishing the job at home."
"I told John you would be overwhelmed," Aeryn grumbled, doing little to hide her scorn.
"At Nalthan? No," Liz shook her head, "they never touched us."
"This didn't occur during the raid?"
"No, we were ready then. It was afterwards when they surprised us."
"Who?"
"Scarrans we think, but we're not sure exactly. After the raid, we pursued a fleeing science vessel. When we caught up with them, we deployed a raiding party. There wasn't much resistance -- Kalish mostly, and a few Scarrans."
"What did you find?" Aeryn asked.
"That's what's being analyzed now. We only got a partial download before the attack occurred. One thing we know for sure, though -- there were numerous references to Earth in their databanks."
"I'm not surprised. They had an interest in Crichton cycles ago."
"Yeah, maybe. Funny thing is, though – they somehow had very accurate and detailed records of our flora and fauna – the kind of information that could only be gathered through very careful survey."
"You think they're planted there?"
"That's obviously our main concern." Liz took a sharp right through the maze of maintenance craft and led them down some stairs. Once on the lower level, they stepped onto a conveyor walkway and continued onward into a corridor. The enhanced speed brought a welcome flow of air to Aeryn's face.
"What about your attackers?" Aeryn asked.
"They appeared on top of us without warning and blasted us across the bow. They destroyed the science vessel, too. We lost the entire boarding crew."
"How did you miss their approach?"
"They were cloaked. No radar or visual detection."
"That's a lot of damage for a small ship to inflict."
"There was nothing small about it. When they popped up on us, the ship was all we could see for a few seconds. They may be as large as us."
"No vessel that size could cloak."
"It's possible...theoretically," Liz shrugged. "Actually executing a distortion that large is another matter, though."
They emerged from the corridor into another open expanse, crossing the enormous space along a suspended walkway. Below, there were roughly one-hundred space craft positioned uniformly across the floor -- sleek silver bodies shimmering in the light with wings swept back and solidly triangulated into the fuselages. Aeryn walked backwards on the moving walkway, holding her current position, her eyes set fast on the ships below.
"What are these?" she asked.
"Those are the Corsairs. They're the only piloted fighter craft we have," Liz answered, pacing in place beside her.
"This is what you brought over to Moya?"
Liz nodded. "Dad doesn't like me to fly them much. They're still in a developmental stage. They can be a bit testy, especially when the inertial dampeners aren't cooperating."
"All right," Aeryn said, eyes set on Liz in serious regard. "I must fly one of these as soon as possible."
Liz nodded, chuckling. "That's already been arranged. Dad said you'd probably get stuck in this hangar."
"He knows me well." Aeryn continued down the walkway, taking a final glance back at the Corsairs. "So the other craft -- the orbs -- they're automated?"
"Yes and no. Most of the time they're controlled by our central computer, but they can be flown remotely by a ship-board 'pilot', as well."
"Then why have these other fighters?"
"Because Dad insists on it. Almost all of the technology that the Ancients have adapted for us is automated, robotic. It's their way. But Dad thinks we should stay connected. We can't pull the kinds of G's in a Corsair that the Battle Globes can, even with inertial dampeners, but an autonomous fighter can improvise where a computer can't."
"Good," Aeryn said. "That's the answer I wanted to hear."
They spent the next several macrots traveling in elevators and snaking through various corridors. Everyone they passed nodded, their protracted looks an indication of recognition when they caught Aeryn's eyes. What they knew of her, she wasn't sure, but it was clear they had more familiarity with her than she did with them. It was a hard thing to be comfortable with.
They came to a door and stopped. John's voice boomed from within.
"I don't care! Just vent the debris and close the bulkhead at the damage's edge. This is ridiculous!"
"The heat warped the walls. It's impossible to get a seal that close," a woman's voice answered. "We're gonna have to block it further in."
"Great!" John replied, his voice coming closer to the door. "At this rate we'll all be huddled in the ship's center when we get home."
The door opened then, presenting one of the most careworn visages of Crichton she had ever seen. His uniform shirt was half-untucked, the buttons undone to the middle of his chest, and the elastic collar of the t-shirt beneath stretched and drooping. The redness in his eyes betrayed his fatigue, despite his sudden grin.
"You're about to let me have it, aren't you?" he asked.
He deserved it, the frellnik. And she would've given it to him if she weren't feeling the urge to hug him just then.
"You're alive," she replied, finding it hard not to smile. "At least there's something to be thankful for."
He leaned into the door jamb, sighing raggedly. His eyes danced over her face and head for a moment, contentment surfacing in his tired face. She knew that sentiment well, feeling the same inner-warmth at the mere sight of him.
"Go for a walk?" he asked.
"Yeah."
Liz spoke briefly to John before entering the chamber, closing the door behind her. Once they were alone, John stepped in behind Aeryn, placing his hand at the small of her back, urging her gently down the corridor. They walked a few paces before she touched him in kind, snaking her arm around his waist. He pulled her closer then, the two of them leaning into one another's weight as they walked along.
"That was pretty damn scary," he said.
Aeryn nodded, rubbing her hand along his side as she listened. He needed a lecture on reckless abandon, but now wasn't the time.
"They've come a long way since I was here," he continued. "You should've seen the size of that ship."
"Did you capture a visual?"
"Oh yeah. It's something in a Dreadnaught class, but definitely next generation. Damn thing just popped up on us one second and was gone the next."
The thought sickened her. The caravan's only defense had been the ability to starburst with sufficient warning. Now, the only edge they had was gone.
"Liz said you recovered some data -- about Earth," Aeryn said.
"Yeah," he sighed, fret in his tone. "I don't know what to make of that. They're definitely after something, though."
"It seems they want a stake in every known world. Frelling Scarrans."
"Yeah, but they really wanted something from Earth. The science vessel we raided was a laboratory destined for Earth-orbit. And the funny thing is, it was set up for botany."
"Botany?"
"Plants, you know -- trees, flowers, grass and all that."
"Yeah, I know -- it just seems a strange adjunct to conquest."
"We're looking into it."
They stopped at a row of large, rectangular machines -- the one before them displaying an image of a steaming, dark beverage.
"Coffee?" he asked.
Coffee. How many first meals had she been forced to endure his whining over not having this beverage?
"Thank Dacon, you finally found some."
He laughed, pressing a button on the machine. "I forgot about that. You were pretty sick of hearing about it, weren't you?"
"Sick would be an understatement. You acted like it was new information every solar morning. Did you ever find that 'choklat' dren?"
His face lit up. "That's right! You've never had chocolate." He moved down to another machine and pressed three different buttons. "You've got to try this."
Three colorfully-wrapped rations fell into the tray below. John reached into the dispenser and snatched them up, sorting through them as he mumbled.
"Reese's? Yeah…wait. No, whatchamacallit." He shook his head. "Then again, it might be better if you had it plain first. Yeah…that's how we'll do it." He held a dark brown rectangular package out.
"Here, babe -- the one and only Hershey's." His blue eyes were alight, brilliant with his smile. He reminded her of Jack as a child when he found some new fascination.
She took the package from his hand and unwrapped it, peeling back the reflective material from the dark, waxy substance. She smelled it, glancing circumspectly.
"Come on, just eat it," he goaded.
"Alright -- just a microt." She broke off a small corner piece and placed it tentatively in her mouth. It was sweet -- very sweet. And soft. The surface became viscous on her tongue, bringing out the rich, strange flavor. Slowly, she chewed the little morsel, her eyes widening with the fullness of the taste experience.
"It's good." She bit into the whole bar, taking a full quarter at once. "Really frelling good, actually," her words garbled by the mouthful of chocolate.
"Man – to be a first-timer," he mused, ripping the orange pack open. "Now try these."
Aeryn ate the round, serrated disks – Reese's was it? -- then followed them with the crunchy ration. The different textures and flavors were perfect complements to the rich, chocolate taste. When the rations were gone, Aeryn looked back to the dispenser.
"That's just the beginning," John smiled, loading up again from the vending machine. They walked to a table at a nearby alcove, sitting close together.
In addition to the sweet delicacies, they tried more savory things -- doritos, cheetos, and nabs. All of these were washed down with mountain dew, not a fitting name for a fluid the color of engine coolant, but tasty nonetheless. They finished it off with coffee, a beverage wholly unsatisfying after the other taste pleasures. And during it all, John described the many other foods she should try, though he never remarked on a context where this would occur. Still, it was good to hear him speak of the elements of his world again, the act itself always more appreciated than the literal meaning in his words. Such offerings were what drew her to him in the beginning – his unguarded self-presentation, completely open and eager to be known. In her mind, it was ignorance at first that drove his behavior. Then it was naivety. But as time passed, she began to perceive it as innocence -- a thing of real peace, not the kind enforced with power. Accordingly, the need to protect him became the most important charge in her life, the keeping of such peace worth everything to her.
But the innocence spread, infecting her, and she began to turn her back to the dangers as well, getting lost with him in the shroud of their love. It was the happiest she had ever been, the moments when there was nothing else but the two of them. He took her to a place where crying and laughter happened at once, and neither were signs of weakness. No. It was just the opposite. To become that way with someone was the ultimate act of courage. To show everything of yourself to another, unguarded – protected only by your trust in them.
And John had met her there beautifully.
"...but you can also fry a turkey. It's delicious, but the folks working the burn units aren't crazy about it."
Aeryn snapped her attention to his words, eyes blinking suddenly.
"You okay, babe?" he asked.
"Yes," she muttered. "I was just thinking." Looking at him there, the feelings from those cycles were all coming back at once. She could almost imagine they were there again, faring through space on Moya, surrounded by cherished companions...
"D'Argo!" she blurted.
"Huh?"
She slapped her hand over his wrist. "Just a couple of solar days ago, we were listening in on all the transmissions following the raid. One of them was D'Argo!"
"What?! Really?"
She nodded. "I know it was him."
"What did he say?"
"Something to the effect of moving against the Scarrans and taking advantage of their losses."
"Where is he?"
"No idea. We couldn't isolate the transmission long enough to know."
"D'Argo," John grinned, eyes cast aside. "Man I'd love to find him." Thoughts played across his face for a moment. "Does he know you and Moya are in this caravan?"
"Doubtful," she replied. "We've had almost no outside contact for cycles. You never know where the spies and bounty hunters are."
"Sure, makes sense." He thought for a moment. "You said the Luxans were in a civil war. What's behind it?"
"Two factions – one conciliatory to the Scarrans and the other not. You can imagine which side D'Argo's on."
"The one that's rebelling and losing, I'd guess."
"Of course."
John thumped his fingers on the table. "Maybe we should make an overture. Let them know it's us raisin' cane. That should ferret him out."
"You mean to propose an alliance?" she asked, face brightening.
He hesitated for a moment, biting at the tip of his thumb. "Don't think we can go that far."
"But you're working to the same end."
"Maybe – maybe not. Either way, I wouldn't wanna give 'em a false sense of hope."
Aeryn leaned in. "John, you've already done that. Destroying the Nalthan operation, the productivity of the Scarran war machine's been cut by at least a fifth. Resisters from all over are looking to fall in with you, and the funny thing is, they think it's us."
He opened his hand beneath hers and turned her palm up, grazing his fingertips over the thick, calloused surface. He traced the lines of her palm, tickling the creases worn by joint flexion.
"That's the lifeline," he said. He opened his hand, showing her the comparable crease on his own palm, running from just beneath the pointer finger and around the thumb joint towards the wrist. "See – yours is longer than mine."
A lifeline. Five fingers. Skin the same as hers.
"Amazing, isn't it?" he asked.
"Always has been." She loved the feel of his touch and the idea of relishing in their likeness, but it was clear he was avoiding something.
"John."
"Hmm?"
"Why are you here?"
He kept his eyes down. "I told you. To send a message."
"And then?"
His eyes darkened beneath a gathered brow. It seemed he wanted to speak, but couldn't bring his sights to her.
"You're leaving aren't you," she said.
He hesitated, then muttered, "eventually, yes."
Aeryn withdrew her hand slowly and sat back in the chair. "And what's the endpoint of your mission?"
He sighed. "The demonstration of 'unequivocal space superiority'."
"Which you made known at Nalthan."
He nodded. "But then there was the run-in with that ship."
"And if you hadn't encountered that ship, you could've gone home from there." A dull ache twisted in her chest, her voice taking a stricken tone. "And we would've been safe for the meantime in this anomaly."
"Aeryn…," he shook his head.
"Were you not coming back, John?"
"Of course I was coming back."
"But that's the plan, isn't it? You help us hide somewhere, then you go away."
He leaned in quickly, saying, "have I ever given you a reason to think I would leave you?"
"You're being furtive with me, and you know it."
"Listen, I know what I'm gonna do – I just don't know exactly how I'm gonna do it."
"Stop your dissembling!"
"Aeryn! Listen to me!"
She grabbed his wrist, and yanked him over the table, bringing his face close to hers. Caught off guard, he met her glare with wide-eyes.
"Just promise me one thing, John," she said, jaw set tight but eyes pleading. "No matter what you do, please take him with you."
He was stricken by her words, mouth agape and head shaking.
"Baby," he whispered. "I would never leave you."
"I can't watch him suffer out here any more -- not if there's a chance for him somewhere else."
John scooted his chair in, bringing his knees to hers. He took her face in his hands and leveled their eyes together. "I will be dead before anything happens to him. You have my word on that."
She gripped his wrists tightly, searching for the truth in his eyes.
"You and Jack, Pilot and Moya – we're gonna get you away from this, no matter what it takes."
"But we're not going with you, are we?"
"To Earth?"
She nodded.
"You know I'll do my best to make a case for you and Jack, but there's no way they'll accept the whole lot – not knowing there're Peacekeepers here."
"And the Leviathans?"
"I have a pitch in mind, but the chances aren't great."
In that case, Braca and Velorek and all of her companions on Moya would be left behind -- deserving comrades who had given everything for the survival of their band. Leaving them to fend for themselves would be a terrible thing to live with, but she had to consider one thing above all others.
"He's half-human, John. You can make a good case for him. And if grouping him with me complicates his acceptance, then forget about me."
"Aeryn..."
"No, John. Spare me your sentimental heroics and look to the truth of it. If there's a better chance for him alone, then you act accordingly. I insist on it! And not another word, otherwise."
He hung his head, resigned. "All right," he muttered. But when she looked down between his legs, seeing his hands hanging there, she saw the old gesture – two crossed fingers. For a microt she wanted to thrash him, but the better part of her saw the important truth. He was John Crichton, through and through, and he would never give up on her, no matter what she said or the odds against them.
Aeryn touched his face, running her fingertips along his jaw. When he looked up, she met his eyes with all the love she could muster. It hit him hard. He looked away shyly, almost laughing. But when his sights returned, she saw the same sentiments reflected there – pure abiding love.
They looked at each other, their breaths deepening, hands reaching across to find one another's. His eyes fell to her lips, his grip tightening on her hands. Slowly, he pulled her inward.
She closed her eyes just as their lips met.
"Oh...," came a woman's voice. "I'm sorry."
Liz stood several paces down the corridor, averting her eyes with a folder of papers in hand.
Aeryn sat up instantly, feeling a hot flush wash over her face.
John snorted a dry chuckle, the redness blooming in his cheeks as well. He shook his head, saying, "it's okay, hon. That's what we get for PDA."
Liz shrugged, wincing. "I would say this could wait, but it's kind of important."
"No, that's fine. Come over here and sit."
Liz flashed a sheepish smile at Aeryn as she approached.
Aeryn grinned back and said, "I'm assuming you've already figured out where I stand when it comes to him."
"No, it's fine," Liz replied. "He needs to get out of the house more."
"Okay, that's enough," John said. "Daughter, love life – not chocolate and peanut butter." He gestured to an open chair. "Now, there was some matter of importance to discuss?"
Liz took a seat at the table, splaying the papers over the surface. There were numerous lines of small English characters, arranged in columns.
John looked over the papers for a moment, then took a pen from his pocket and marked some of the lines.
"This can't be right," he said.
"What is this?" Aeryn asked.
"It's that survey we extracted from the Scarran vessel's computers," Liz said. "There were thousands of Earth species cataloged, plant and animal alike. We matched the recorded genomes with those in our databanks and put this list together."
"What's so remarkable about it, other than the fact that it exists?" Aeryn asked.
"The fact that it exists in the past, thousands of years ago," John answered, looking bewildered as he scanned the documents. "Many of these species are extinct."
"What? For how long?" Aeryn asked.
"Some for centuries, others for millennia."
"But none more than thirty-thousand years," Liz said.
"Really?" John asked. "So no dinosaurs? Too bad. They would've gotten along famously with the Scarrans. Could'a laid eggs together."
John flipped the page, then leaned in suddenly, his eyes snapping to a line highlighted in yellow.
"Yeah," Liz said. "That's the kicker."
Aeryn looked closer at the page. She recognized one of the words in the line.
'Homo Sapiens: Human.'
"This survey must've been conducted over twenty-thousand years ago," John said. "And we were there to greet these visitors." He leaned back, wide-eyed and cupping his forehead. "This is amazing."
"What's even more amazing is the fact that the Scarrans didn't capitalize on your resources then," Aeryn said.
But no, that couldn't have happened. The Scarrans and the Peacekeepers had only just found one another within the past five-thousand cycles. How could they have been to Earth and back fifteen thousand cycles before that?
"John," Aeryn said, "it wasn't the Scarrans who conducted that survey. They wouldn't have had the means that long ago."
"The Kalish, then?"
"Doubtful. Our information suggests that the Scarrans brought space-faring technology to them. It had to be someone else."
John turned to Liz. "Then that's our priority. Do everything possible to identify the origin of this list."
Liz shook her head. "It doesn't look good. We didn't even have time to download a complete copy of the survey before the attack, let alone any supplemental information."
"Well keep looking, hon. We need to know."
Just then, a loud alarm rang out, the walls falling awash in swirling red light. Everyone jumped up from the table, John grabbing his com.
"Commander, what's going on?" he asked.
"Brace for impact!" a voice yelled through the overhead speakers.
The floors and walls shook with a distant rumble, unsteadying their feet for a moment.
"I've gotta get to the bridge," John said. "Liz, take Aeryn to my quarters."
"Like hezmana!" Aeryn yelled. "Get me to a tactical post where I can monitor Moya."
He sped off down the hall, turning back to speak. "To the hangar, then. Get her set up in the flight control room."
Liz nodded, dashing off in the other direction. "This way, Aeryn."
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John entered the bridge, tucking his shirt into his pants and re-securing his sidearm belt. A younger man with dark hair rose from the seat in the center of the chamber, moving to an adjacent chair.
"What's happening, Commander?"
"The Dreadnaught, sir. Came in cloaked and fired on us before phasing out again."
"Did we get a lock on any signatures?"
"No, sir. But we detected an energy burst as they passed. Looks like they did a quick scan of the Leviathan fleet."
"How's our situation?" John asked.
"Minimal damage. The anti-fire battery was engaged."
"All right. Looks like we need to gear things up for another departure." He turned to the navigator. "Initiate a wormhole solution for Destination 1D." He turned to the comms officer. "Lieutenant, tell the Leviathans to form up around us -- fast!"
"They're already tethering the wounded, sir," the woman answered.
"Good," John said, rubbing his hand over his face. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"Sir! Another pass!" yelled the radar officer.
The hulking form appeared at the periphery of the Leviathan fleet, releasing a barrage of focused fire into the caravan's center. Instantly, Terra-3's anti-fire cannons met the ordinance, blocking all but one shot.
The Dreadnaught shimmered out of sight again.
"One of the Leviathan's was hit!" yelled the comms officer. She spun her chair back to face him, eyes wide. "It was Moya!"
He advanced to the front display. "Open a channel!"
"Done," she answered.
"Pilot?" John called out.
"Crichton!" Pilot yelled. "They've hit us in Command. The entire deck is vented."
"Jesus," John muttered. "Get in close to us, Pilot."
"I've lost fine discrimination of navigation."
John spun to the helm officer. "Move in on Moya. Get her within our optimal defense periphery. Hurry!" He rushed to the radar display and leaned over the view screen. "Is there anything we can use to locate that damn thing?"
"We're trying, sir. We need more data."
"Well you're about to get plenty. Pay attention!" He pushed up from the display and walked to the floor's center. Right about now, Aeryn would be arriving in the hangar. It sickened him that she would see this without him beside her.
"Sir! I'm catching brief radiation signatures -- scattered all over."
"She's circling us," John said. "Track the pattern and estimate a trajectory. I want all cannons trained at that point."
"John," Aeryn commed.
"Yeah, Aeryn, I'm here."
"I have to go there now!" she said, her eagerness apparent.
"It's too dangerous. We've got Moya tucked in tight. She's safe now."
"The whole command crew is gone. I have to go to them!"
John stalked over to the wall, lowering his voice. "Aeryn, I'm begging you. Your Prowler's defenseless against that thing."
"They're losing control of several systems, John. Pilot needs my help."
"And he'll get all of our attention as soon as we get away from this thing. Until then, let's play it smart."
"Captain! She's emerged again!"
John spun to the front display. "Fire everything!"
The floors vibrated with Terra-3's cannon release, the red blasts speeding away and exploding against the face of the approaching Dreadnaught. Shouts of joy erupted across the bridge, fists clasping in the air. But the joy was stymied by the sudden release of the Dreadnaught's return-fire, the bursts from her cannons too many to count.
Traces of anti-fire whipped out to meet the incoming blasts, the impacts filling the forward view with fiery splatter. The rapidity of the exchange was numbingly fast, the notion of machine-dependence more salient than ever. But despite the complexity of the task, they were able to continue their own cannon fire, the blasts shaking in the floor beneath.
And then the Dreadnaught was gone.
"Sir, multiple bogies moving through the formation!" yelled the radar officer.
"Launch the Battle Globes!" John ordered.
Soon after, the space around the vessel was teeming with the orb-shaped fighters, whizzing to and fro in search of prey. It wasn't long before they found the invaders, blasting the first wave apart unchallenged.
John squinted at a visual of one of the craft, not recognizing it.
"Those aren't Strikers."
"No sir," said the radar officer. "It's a different ship – weaponry unknown. Looks like there might be a single forward cannon, beam-type most likely."
"Why aren't they returning fire?"
Heads shook and shoulders shrugged across the bridge, many of them looking back to John.
"Let's finish 'em off quick," John said. "There's something here I don't like."
"Sir! The Scarran craft are forming a column and advancing on our position! Should we track 'em with anti-fire?"
"No!" John shouted. "We can't target solid mass. The computer won't distinguish 'em from the Leviathans. Let the Globes do their work."
Just then, several of the panel lights flickered out.
"What the hell's going on?" John yelled.
"We've lost control of the Battle Globes, sir," the helm officer replied. "They're in uncontrolled drifts."
"Sir! The Scarran ships are moving in along our hull!" the radar officer said, switching through a series of displays. "They're…wait…," his eyes locking on one of the visuals. "They're fastening themselves to Moya – dozens of them."
"Launch the Corsairs!"
"Sir, Officer Sun is in her Prowler. She's requesting immediate launch access."
Don't put me in this position, baby, please. But he knew she would never forgive him if he kept her from this fight. With a labored sigh, he relented.
"Let her go."
"Crichton!" Pilot commed in. "They're cutting into the hull!"
"We see them, Pilot!" John called out. "The Globes aren't responding and we can't fire from here without destroying Moya. We've got fighters on the way." John turned to the Commander. "Are the Corsairs deployed yet?"
"The first are being launched now."
John turned to the front display. "Give me a visual of Moya."
The hull of the Leviathan was littered with the clinging menaces, sparks flying from each point of attachment. They were spaced uniformly across the surface, forming a serial line that spiraled around the Leviathan from head to tail.
"Crichton, please!" Pilot yelled. "They're cutting all the way through!"
"Through the hull? Is it a boarding party, Pilot?"
"No! All the way through Moya"
A wave a panic washed over him, his heart drumming in his chest. "Aeryn! They're killing Moya!"
"Making my first pass now!" she answered.
A quick snap of red pulse fire picked off three craft from Moya's hull before Aeryn's Prowler sped past. But within microts, more descended to replace them.
"Turning about!" Aeryn commed.
Several more were picked off by a small formation of Corsairs, joined soon after by several approaching gunships. But despite their efforts, the supply of attackers seemed endless, the ones removed replaced almost instantly by new ones. The frustration was evident in the chatter of the Corsair pilots, some of them communicating with Aeryn to organize their attacks.
Pilot's screams howled across the bridge through the com speakers. Suddenly, two of the prongs from Moya's trident claw broke off and drifted away from the main body. In desperation, Denzil twirled into Moya's side, scraping his hull against hers and shearing off the attackers between them.
But they just kept coming.
John ran to the helm, wresting the officer by his arm. "Get those god-damn Globes back on line!"
"I'm trying sir!"
John dropped the man's arm and stepped to the display, clasping at his head. By now the energy beams were penetrating all the way through in some places.
"Pilot?" John called out, his voice heavy and labored.
Several microts passed before Pilot answered -- a small, wheezing utterance.
"Crichton..."
John grabbed at the display, eyes blurred and burning. "Pilot, hang on, man. Please...hang on!"
"Good-bye, Crichton. Take care of..."
And before his eyes, Moya broke apart completely, her golden shards spreading outward from her center. John shook the display, pounding the glassy surface.
"No!! You fucking bastards!! No!!"
He lost himself in the red torrent of his rage, hurling his fury at the enemy within the screen. At the peak of his violence, he barely noticed the small arms clasping him from behind, urging him to draw his bloody hands away from the shattered glass. It was Liz's voice screaming out, begging him to stop. When he finally calmed down, he looked into her tear-streaked face and slumped to the floor, lost in the horror of what he'd just witnessed.
In the world beyond his thoughts, there was something said of the Globes being online again – the enemy craft, though enormous in number, destroyed rapidly. Then there was mention of a few prisoners.
"Dad," Liz whispered. "Aeryn's bringing her Prowler in now."
Aeryn.
John jumped to his feet, barely mindful of the gauze wrapped about his knuckles. He ran with all his might to the hangar, taking stairs where elevators were delayed and dodging through crowded corridors. When he finally arrived, heart racing and panting for air, her Prowler was just reaching the lower deck, the platform beneath it settling flush into the floor. He leaned down, bracing his hands on his knees for a moment to catch his breath.
The moments passed, but the cockpit never opened. Pushing himself upright, he ran over and jumped onto the runner board, reaching behind the cockpit and engaging the hatch's emergency release. He wasted no time once it was open, reaching in past the helmet's dark visor and unclasping the safety harness at her breast. Then, with a steady leg down on the cockpit's floor, he lifted her from the hatch, holding her leather-clad body in his arms. He carried her quickly to a quiet alcove and sat on the floor, holding her close in his lap. Once they were settled, he unclasped the helmet and lifted it away.
She had a faraway look, stricken with a terror he couldn't imagine. In all his years, he had never seen such loss reflected in a person's eyes. He pushed the hair from her face, pleading for her attention.
"Aeryn?" he whispered. "Look at me, baby – please."
She breathed in small rasps, the cadence unsteady and quavering. Now and then she would shake her head in a quick snap, whispering "no" before turning inward again.
He pulled her cheek into his chest, holding her tightly against him, rocking her to and fro. After a minute he felt her hand clasping his arm, squeezing tighter as they rocked.
"That's it, baby," he muttered. "Hold on to me, now. I'm here."
The grief shook in her shoulders, then arrested her breathing, followed then by the slightest squeal that ushered in the tears. He listened to her cry, wishing there were something he could say. But with this, there were no words. All he could do was pit the power of his love against her pain...and make a single promise to himself.
She'll never suffer like this again -- even if it means killing every Scarran in the universe, so help me god.
And just then a commotion rang out from somewhere in the hangar.
"He's an ugly red-headed fuck, ain't he?" a man bellowed.
"Splotchy looking bastard."
Aeryn snapped her face around, listening for a moment, then jumped to her feet and stalked off towards the commotion.
John followed.
They came upon a group of guards, two of them dragging a half-conscious Kalish man, their arms hooked under his shoulders, the prisoner's hands bound behind his back.
"Was he one of the pilots?" John asked.
"Yes, sir," the unit leader replied. "Just pulled him from his ship."
They dropped the man to his knees and backed away, leaving the wobbling prisoner to hold himself upright. John stepped in slowly, fists balled at his side and eyes burning.
"So your mission was to kill a harmless Leviathan?" he asked.
The prisoner's head listed to the side, his eyes swollen and shut, marred by bruises and cuts. He muttered without looking up.
"My mission was to hurt you, John Crichton."
The guards snapped their guns up, moving in on the prisoner.
"No!" John yelled, gesturing for them to fall back. When they moved away, he returned his attention to the prisoner.
"You killed Moya -- just to send me a message?" he growled, unclasping his sidearm.
The Kalish man looked up, forcing one eye to open slightly. "My family will live because of what I've done today," he rasped. "But I regret to tell you, it won't be the same for you. They will kill everything you love, leaving you to witness the horror of it all before they grant you the mercy of death."
Aeryn streaked past John's shoulder and kicked the prisoner to the ground, straddling his body. In a flash, her pulse pistol was in hand, whipping repeatedly into his face, bits of flesh and bone flying up with the dull, crunching thuds of the weapon's impact.
John stepped in a few paces, wanting to reach out to her but knowing better. In that moment, the creature dying beneath her body was the face of every killer that had taken the lives of cherished companions. Even in her soldier years, she had never been more dangerous.
Slowly, her swings became erratic, her body leaning from exhaustion. When there was nothing left to aim for, she straightened up and looked over the wide-eyed faces. When she turned to John, he felt the torture in his expression, pained by the sight of her wild, bloodied countenance, flecks of flesh caught in the wisps of her loose hair.
He squatted down, bringing his eyes to her level. "Aeryn...," he whispered, holding his hand out to her.
Her eyes shot to his hand, holding her attention for a moment. But slowly, her sights turned back to the mangled thing beneath her.
"Are there any more?" she asked.