Chapter 9
Aeryn walked into the habitat chamber, struck instantly by the sight of Pilot writhing in the tank, grasping clusters of hoses within his claws. Waves of fluid spilled over the tank's rim, splashing over the floor. At a nearby console, Velorek bent over a microphone, speaking urgently in Pilot's native dialect.
On the rim above, Jack and a two others stood braced, stances wide as they tried to hook Pilot's arms on long poles. Others scrambled to pull the electrical equipment back from the tank's splashing periphery.
Aeryn ran to the console and shouldered Velorek away, grasping the microphone arm.
"Pilot. It's Aeryn. You're safe now. Can you hear me?"
Pilot answered with a low growl and more splashing.
"Pilot!" she snapped. "Stop struggling and listen to me you drannit's eema!"
The rolling waves slowed within the tank. Pilot tread his arms for a moment, then relaxed. On the tank's rim, Jack straightened up and nodded, dripping wet and panting from exhaustion.
"Aeryn," Pilot said, a gurgling murmur within his mask.
"I'm here, Pilot." She looked over the nervous faces, everyone watching silently as she spoke. "You're safe now."
"Moya?"
She turned her face for a moment, pressing her mouth into her shoulder. Velorek laid a hand on her back.
"I'm sure he suspects it," he whispered.
Sighing, Aeryn turned to the mic and said, "she's gone."
No response.
Velorek pulled Aeryn into his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They listened in silence to Pilot's breathing. He floated there motionless for what seemed macrots, his arms sinking slowly to his sides, his head creeping down until the hardened top clinked against the glass.
Aeryn wiped her eyes. "Pilot?"
No answer.
She walked towards the tank. "I'm getting in there with him."
"Aeryn," Velorek said, grasping her elbow. "Just give him some time."
She yanked her arm away. "He needs me."
"You'll contaminate the bath."
She moved to the tank and brought her face within a few denches of Pilot's. Gingerly, she tapped on the glass for his attention, shifting to look at his downcast visage.
"Pilot?" she said. "I'm right here. Can you hear me?"
Jack walked up, touching Aeryn's shoulder. "What now?" he asked Velorek.
"Let's go ahead and remove the eyes. Sleep's better for him at this point."
"Wait," Aeryn said. "Does he know what you're doing?"
"I'm sure he's figured it out," Velorek replied.
She walked towards the console. "We should tell him at least before you go knocking him out." She leaned into the mic. "Pilot? You don't have to respond. Just listen." She took a few breaths. "Your eyes...they're not well." She paused again, swallowing. "So Velorek has to do an operation...to remove them."
A few microts of silence passed.
"We...," Pilot muttered, then paused. "I...would prefer he didn't."
"He has to," she said. "The infection will spread..."
"You should have left me there, Aeryn. You had no right to separate us."
She closed her eyes. "Pilot. Please."
"You know the covenant."
Aeryn pounded the console. "We don't have the luxury of covenants any more!"
Velorek nodded to Jack, the two of the them walking to a machine on the tank's opposite side.
"You don't understand," Pilot said. "There's no life for me now."
Aeryn wiped her eyes, grimacing. "You think I don't understand? That I don't know about loss?" Her voice was cracked and shaking. "Who was it who took the gun from my hand all those cycles ago? Told me that there was still something to live for?"
Pilot lifted his face, looking blankly into the chamber surround.
"Don't you dare leave me now," she groaned. "Not when we have a chance again."
Pilot's breathing rattled in the speakers, weak and unsteady. "Moya."
The lament hung heavy in the air, threatening her with more tears. "We'll grieve together, Pilot. You won't be alone."
"Her remains," Pilot muttered.
"Are being collected as we speak."
Aeryn turned and saw John's image on a view screen behind her, mounted on a support column.
"You've been listening?" she asked.
He looked to either side. "Well, I was actually just passing by and saw you two and thought I'd stop in."
She snorted a brief chuckle and wiped her eyes.
"He's down," someone shouted from the tank's rim. "Let's get that crane in place."
Aeryn looked at the display.
"You okay?" John asked.
She nodded, folding her hands in her lap and slouching a bit. "Well enough."
"You're tired."
"Who isn't?"
"People who get a good night's sleep."
She raised her eyes to him.
John lowered his voice, grinning. "Stay with me tonight?"
She nodded, sharing a quick smile with him.
Footsteps approached from behind. Aeryn turned just as Velorek and Jack walked up.
"Hey boy!" John said, grinning.
"John...Dad...Captain," Jack stammered, chuckling as he slung a bag over his shoulder. He glanced at Velorek. "I'll get things ready in the surgical bay."
John watched Jack walk off, then shifted his sights back. "Velorek," he said with a subdued tone.
"Crichton," Velorek answered with a curt nod.
"You guys need anything down there?"
"No. We're well-supplied and fully staffed."
"Well I'll leave you to it, then. We're making the final preparations to open the wormhole."
"Any sign of the Dreadnaught?" Aeryn asked.
"None."
"That's not good," she said.
"Yeah, it's kinda creepy. Way I see it, though, we're better off somewhere else, regardless of their plan."
"If you haven't heard from them, then this is their plan," Aeryn said.
"Yeah yeah, I know." He turned then to an officer soliciting his attention.
Aeryn tried to listen in, but she couldn't quite make out what the other man was saying.
"You talk to him, Simmons," John murmured.
The other man mumbled something back.
"What's that got to do with me?" John asked.
More mumbling.
"Yeah, and you're second in command. You could carry a little bit of the weight around here, you know."
Insistent mumbling.
"Alright, alright," John said, throwing a flippant wave. "But audio only. I don't wanna see that bastard's face."
"Hezmana, John!" Aeryn said. "Are you talking about Braca?"
He snapped his face to the view screen, looking as if he'd forgotten she were there. "Um...maybe."
"Turn your frelling coms on and receive his call. He's our Captain, for Cholak's sake."
Some snickering came through the speakers. John scowled at everyone around him, dampening the mirth on the bridge.
"Fine then," he said. "Lieutenant, patch me through here." He pointed directly into the screen, cock-browed eyes locked on Aeryn as the image flickered off.
Aeryn shook her head. "Men."
Velorek sat in a chair beside her, leaning into the console. "I wouldn't take his feelings on their history too lightly."
"They were at odds, I'll grant him that. But he needs to get past it. We've all made alliances with old enemies."
"But out of necessity. These humans don't need us. Besides, I have to admit, at times it's still difficult for me to accept Braca."
"He was what he was," Aeryn said, tying her hair up in a tail. "I was no better."
"I don't believe that for a microt."
There it was again. His abiding faith in her. "You've always been an optimist."
"And you've always been too hard on yourself. Even now, you're wondering how things could've been different." He nodded towards the tank.
Techs were hoisting Pilot from the liquid with a cross-beam crane and laying him on the raised bed of a transport vehicle.
"There's nothing I could've done other than die with Moya," she said.
"I hope you really believe that. The way you wear your gloom outright – it's a miserable sight."
Aeryn gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Don't waste your energies on me. I'll be fine."
He drew back, the skin gathering between his brows. "I'd hardly consider my concern for you a waste."
"Stop it. You know what I mean."
He looked at the view screen. "Yeah, I think I do."
Aeryn followed his eyes.
"It's not like I should be surprised," he said. "You've always loved a dead man more than me. What chance do I have against the living?"
She closed her eyes, wishing there was something she could give him. But there was only the truth, and for him it held nothing.
Sighing, she said, "I can't explain it, except to say that I couldn't fight it even if I wanted to. And I've tried many times."
"But something always brings you back," he said.
"Yes. I've noticed that."
"Hmm. I guess they call that fate."
A chill rushed through her. We're in the hands of fate now. She could still see the module drifting before her Prowler.
"I hate that word," she grumbled.
"Well that doesn't seem to matter, does it?" Velorek stood and took a box of tools from the floor. "Because despite your best efforts -- and mine -- fate has reached across the galaxy and brought you together once again." He turned and walked away.
"Velorek..."
"Don't worry," he said, looking back as he rounded the tank. "It's not like I can disappear to a faraway planet."
And just then a deafening boom slammed her against the support beam. Her head crashed against the hard metal, her ears ringing as she fell to the floor. Then, a wave of liquid rolled her over and washed her body across the floor, slamming her into a stack of crates. She grasped at the corner of one and pulled up to her knees, spitting the foul liquid from her mouth. She was covered in glass and cut in a few places.
"Velorek!" she screamed, pulling herself upright.
Sprinklers turned on overhead, hissing in the air. Water rained down all around. Aeryn stumbled across the floor, struggling to see through the hazy spray. The walls of the tank were shattered and collapsed, the contents spilling everywhere. Around her, a few people struggled to their feet. Others lay motionless on the ground.
Aeryn patted her shirt and pockets, looking for her com. Unable to find it, she looked over the surrounding floor. A thin layer of liquid still flowed over the toes of her boots, scattering debris everywhere. It would be impossible to find in this mess.
She ran to the other side of the tank, struggling to keep her footing on the wet surface. Then, far across the room, she saw Velorek's body crumpled against a rectangular grate at the base of the far wall. She sprinted across the distance and slid in beside him.
The floor dipped where he lay, channeling the flowing liquid into the grate. It gushed over his down-turned face. When she snatched his head from the water, blood ran down from his hairline, streaking over his face and dripping into the running water. She looked frantically for his medical bag, but saw it nowhere. Then, with desperate speed, she yanked her shirt over her head and ripped it into two strips. Finding the wound on his head, she wrapped both pieces of the torn material under his jaw and over his crown, cinching the ends in one hand and pulling it tight.
"I need help over here!" she screamed, looking out over the chaotic scene. People were running into the chamber now, soldiers and other emergency crew. Somebody plopped down beside her. It was Jack.
"Hold his head steady while I lift him," Jack said, wriggling his arms beneath Velorek's body.
She pressed her palm against the wound on his head. "We have to stop the bleeding."
"Feel the skull at the wound. Is it soft or dented?"
She pressed her fingertips against the area. It felt rounded and solid.
"No."
"Then keep that pressure on it. We've got a human surgeon on standby to assist with Pilot. She'll know what to do."
They rushed him from the habitat chamber and down a corridor to another room where Pilot was sprawled across a large table, everything except his face draped in a blue garment.
"Over there," Jack said, nodding to a long metal countertop.
When they laid Velorek down, a gowned woman in a mask rushed to the counter and pried his eyes open.
"Is this Velorek?" she asked.
"Yes," Jack answered, a subtle fret in his tone.
"The surgeon?"
He nodded.
She sighed, an exasperated huff. "I need to get him to the med bay immediately. Can you do the procedure yourself?"
"I don't know. Might be better if we waited."
"For him?" the woman asked, quirking her brow at Velorek. "I don't think so. If that necrosis spreads to the Pilot's brain..." She shook her head.
Jack pushed his hair back, brows arching over the taut skin of his forehead. He looked at Pilot for a moment, worry playing across the rolling musculature of his face. Then, with a quick chatter of his teeth, he lowered his arms and took a deep breath.
"Alright," he said, turning to a row of sinks. "Let's get started." A couple of sebacean techs joined him, the three of them stuffing their hands and arms under the steamy water and scrubbing down with foamy brushes.
A few others helped the woman move Velorek onto a stretcher. Once they took him from the room, the woman took her mask off and looked at Aeryn's chest.
"We've got some scrubs in the closet there," she said, nodding to a door behind Aeryn.
"Hmm? Oh," Aeryn said, looking down at her bare breasts.
The woman looked at Jack. "I've summoned a veterinarian. He should be here any minute."
"A what?" Jack said, turning sidelong from the steaming sink.
"A veterinarian. An animal healer."
"Excuse me? Did you say 'animal'?" Aeryn asked, turning her face back as she rummaged through the scrubs closet.
"He'll have more experience with diverse physiology than a medical doctor. Trust me. It's what you want."
Aeryn stepped to the room's center, stuffing her arms into the short sleeves of a v-necked, blue shirt. "Well whatever the case, make it happen fast. And could someone please tell me what the frell just happened out there?"
"No idea," the woman said, exiting the room. "One of the guards out here might know."
"Terrific," Aeryn said. "We could be losing atmosphere and not know it."
Jack raised one dripping arm and looked to his side. "My com's buzzing."
"Let me get that," Aeryn said, snatching it from his belt.
"Jack!" Liz said.
"Liz, it's Aeryn."
"Are you guys okay?"
"Jack and I are fine, but Velorek's hurt badly. One of your surgical techs just took him to the med facility."
"What about Pilot?"
"Jack and two others from Velorek's team are going on with the procedure. And your beast healer is on the way to assist."
"Our what?"
"The vesternakaryan!" Jack shouted, shaking the excess water from his hands.
"Um..."
"What happened out there?" Aeryn asked.
"A suicide vessel loaded with ordinance came in cloaked and detonated near your deck."
"Were there any others?"
"Two more but we caught their signatures when they passed the sensor halo and were able to intercept. They took a Leviathan, though."
"Frell! What are we doing about it?"
"Moving into denser gas."
Yes. Of course. A cloaked vessel was still a solid mass. The Dreadnaught would create a wake.
"Good," Aeryn said. "Your Captain's serving you well."
"Actually, it's your Captain who's spearheading the plan."
Braca. She felt a sudden reassurance. "He's a greasy freller when he gets cornered. Crichton would do well to listen to him."
"Speaking of…hold on."
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John snatched Liz's com.
"Aeryn?"
"I'm here. Jack and I are alright."
"Thank god. I'm sending a team to take ya'll to a fortified area."
"We can't. Jack's about to start Pilot's surgery."
"Baby, I understand. But given the choice…"
"We're not leaving him, Crichton. Now get that wormhole open and get us the frell out of here."
"Yeah," he said, leaning over the tactical display. "We're working on that." He closed his hand over the com and nudged the tactical officer. "Slow down and let the Leviathans advance into the gas. We need more spread in the formation."
"John?"
"Yeah, hon. I'm here."
"We'll need a new tank for Pilot."
"Damn it. Almost forgot." He looked at Liz. "Can you get somebody on that?"
"Yes, sir," she said, holding her hand out.
"Captain," the coms officer said. "We're being hailed by Galen."
"Open a channel," John said. "Aeryn, I've gotta go. Let me know if anything changes."
"You do the same."
"Captain," Liz said, wagging her hand at him.
"What?"
She looked at the com in his hand.
"Oh." He pitched it to her and walked to the hailing screen. Braca's image appeared.
"Crichton," Braca said, shoulders square and chin up.
"Braca," John replied, twisting a crick out of his neck. "What's the plan now?"
"We'll spread out in the denser region and take fixed positions."
"You know we won't be able to find you in there. Our sensors are already going haywire."
"Good, because neither will the Scarrans."
"So what's to keep us from colliding into you when we come barreling in?"
"We'll be monitoring your position. Leave the evasion to us."
"How will you sense us?"
"Leviathans communicate with each other through focused microwaves..."
"Of course. And you can also use the beam to locate objects – like sonar." John nodded. "Should'a thought of that, myself." He scratched his head for a moment, then his eyes widened suddenly. "Hey, wait a minute. Once you're in there..."
Braca nodded, grinning. "All Leviathans will open lines of communication..."
"And you'll catch 'em in a web of cross-talk. Brilliant! I'd buy you a drink if you weren't such an ass."
Braca chuckled. "I'll settle for a truce."
"Works for me. Now get in there and do your thing. We'll be in shortly." John walked to the center chair and sat. "Alright people. We've gotta lure this baby in. Time to look vulnerable."
"Initiate wormhole sequence," Simmons said.
On either side of John's chair, columns rose from the floor, one of them hoisting a screen and the other a console. As the screen turned inward on him, the console unfolded into three panels and shifted laterally over his lap. Digitized meters framed the screen, their level bars dancing near the baselines. Then, one orange line began a slow ascension toward its maximum point.
In the center of the screen, fractals writhed and twisted in rapid sequence. As his eyes tracked the geometric forms, a familiar tickle rose in his gut. He placed his palms over two protuberant ball-tops inlaid within the console and started tracking the fractals with quick flicks of his wrists, working to oppose the imbalance in the twisting mass at the screen's center. He felt the control of his hands being taken by his subconscious mind, working the balls with ever-increasing speed. As the minutes passed, the fractals elongated more and more, narrowing along their lengths and coalescing into a rapidly cycling swirl. Then, with another minute of fine-tuning, the swirling pattern centered on its axis.
"Now!" John said.
A sudden blue flash exploded before them, washing the color out of the Bridge's interior for a moment. Then, the wormhole appeared, filling the view screen with its swirling luminescence.
"Captain," said the helms officer. "The wormhole's exerting an exceptionally heavy gravitational pull. Stationary compensation's taking twenty-five percent of impulse power."
"Any Leviathans nearby?"
"No, sir. All have moved within the cloud."
"Alright. Let's inch our way in."
The bridge was silent as they moved towards the wormhole, everyone sitting rigid at their stations, watching for any sign of attack.
"Sir," said the weapons officer. "Something just grazed Shell-1 of the sensor halo."
"Any further penetration?" John asked.
"No, sir."
"Keep moving. They're testing us. Give no indication that we noticed them."
Another minute passed.
"Penetration to Shell-3!"
"Keep that anti-fire primed," John said. "We'll have to give 'em first shot, but we don't have to take it straight in the face."
"What in the hell's penetrating the halo?" Simmons asked. "That can't be the Dreadnaught."
"The hell it isn't," John said. "I know these bastards. There's no way they can resist getting a close look at the wormhole machine in action."
"Sir," said the radar officer. "I'm getting some strange readings. They may be scanning us."
"See?" John said. "We'll give 'em a little more time to get what they want. Then they'll be ready to fight."
"Captain, something huge just settled in on Shell-4," the weapons officer said. "Matching our speed and vector."
"Holy shit," said Simmons. "They're trying to ride through it with us."
John rubbed his chin. "Maybe they think we're returning to Earth. As long as they think we can't detect them..."
"Sir!" the weapons officer said, spinning in her chair. "Another large vessel just settled within the halo on our opposite flank! Same specs as the other ship."
John bolted from his chair. "There's two of them?"
"Yes sir – and they're hugging in tight."
"Talk about a bad way to get good information," Simmons said.
"You got that right," John said, walking over to the radar station. "So we either go in with them and fight it out on the other side or get it started here and try to lure 'em to the net."
"Either way we're taking damage," Simmons said.
"Agreed." John walked back to his chair. "Alright. We're gonna reverse our way back into the cloud. Helm, it'll be abrupt. We'll need major inertial compensation."
"I'll give it everything we've got," said the helms officer, "but it's still gonna be a jolt. Hope nobody's drinking hot coffee."
"Weapons," John said, "as soon as we hit reverse, start firing on those disturbances in the halo. Throw everything at 'em."
"Yes, sir."
John turned to the forward view screen and sank into the cushioned seat.
"Sound the alarm."
Horns started blaring in the outer corridor.
He fingered his com for a moment, wishing he could see Aeryn one more time. She was so close to the hull, and this had the potential for a full broadside exchange on two flanks.
"Alright," John said. "Aim weapons and ready the anti-fire."
"Done and done."
John leaned in, his fingers digging into the ends of the armrests. "Brace yourselves." He closed his eyes and pictured her in his mind one more time -- raven hair and eyes full of conviction.
Yours for the keeping.
John took one deep breath and opened his eyes. "Get ready for full reverse on 3...2...1...now!"
The clamor of rattling steel banged all around as his body was thrown forward in his seat. John dug his feet in and held fast to the armrests. Everyone on the bridge lurched forward, their bodies bent over the consoles.
Terra-3's cannons fired all around – booms shaking in the walls. Objects fell over the floor, clanging everywhere across the metal surface.
"Good god!" screamed one of the crewmembers. "We're rattling apart!"
"We're firing every fucking cannon!"
"And every anti-fire battery's engaged!" another said.
"It's never this bad in the drills!"
"That's 'cause we're taking hits!" John yelled. "Now get me some lateral views on the front screen!"
When the images of Terra-3's flanks came up, the screens were filled with blasting Dreadnaughts and cannon fire. The hulls were so close he could see Scarrans rushing around in the windows.
"They're right on top of us!" Simmons yelled.
Several lights flashed across the ship's wall-mounted schematic -- the red pulses indicating total pressure loss on the affected decks. John caught a quick glance at the habitat sector. Still intact.
"Port-2 water tank's been hit!"
Ice crystals exploded into the battle space.
"Anti-fire row-8 not responding!"
"They're concentrating on that area!"
"Missiles incoming!"
The deck shook with a violence that threw John from his chair. Something exploded above the ceiling, raining sparks all around. Metallic panels swung down from their hinges, spilling cables and wires into the room. John pushed up and grasped the armrest of his chair, leaning over it for support. One of the lateral visuals showed nothing but static.
"Switch cameras!" John yelled.
Another view popped up on the screen, this one looking down the length of the adjacent Dreadnaught from a recorder on Terra-3's aft. The anti-fire batteries filled the space with blazing tracers, meeting the Dreadnaught's cannon fire just off the hull. But blast after blast was missed, and the impacts shook the decks -- debris exploding outward from the hull.
But Terra-3's cannons were ripping into the Dreadnaughts, tearing into them at point-blank range. The Dreadnaughts started peeling off, sparks and debris spilling from their torn skins. One of them faded into nothingness, but the other only shimmered, becoming slightly translucent before solidifying again.
"Cloak's out on that one!" John yelled. "Hit those engines!"
Cannons fired on the turning Dreadnaught's aft, blasting the main thruster grid apart. The battered vessel yawed off its trajectory, drifting towards the wormhole. Cheers erupted all around.
But the Dreadnaught sent another battery of cannon fire, smashing into the fore engines.
"Captain, we've lost reverse thrust!" the helm officer said. "We're stalling in the wormhole's gravitational field."
"Turn us about!" Simmons said.
"No!" John said. "We can't give 'em a shot at our ass. Swing us around ninety degrees. We'll move into the cloud on lateral thrust. Weapons, maintain fire on that Dreadnaught."
"Yes sir."
"Captain," said the radar officer. "The Dreadnaught's matching our maneuver."
"Well you all saw I thought of it first," John said.
Everyone turned with incredulous regard.
"A play's a play," John said, shrugging. "If they end up naming it..."
And just then another explosion rocked the deck. The overhead lights flickered out, replaced immediately by emergency lighting over the consoles and wall bases.
"What the hell was that?" John asked.
"The other Dreadnaught sir. They just passed over us and fired on the way into the cloud."
"They're already in there?"
"Yes sir."
"Well let's pick it up."
The visual of the wormhole hazed over with rolling clouds of green-orange gas. As they moved further into the cloud, directional sensors began to lose their resolution.
"Captain," said the coms officer. "We're receiving a microwave transmission."
"Open a channel," John said.
"Crichton," Braca commed. "We're maintaining a direct link with you. Embedded in this microwave is a data stream. This will give you the tracking information."
John turned to Tactical. "Convert it to a visual."
Within seconds, a three-dimensional holo-grid appeared above the tactical console.
"The rectangle represents your vessel. The scattered fixed points are us. Anything that appears as a circle is a break in the Leviathan communication network. The circle's motion is an estimated trajectory. You should be able to use that to find the wake in the gas."
"Excellent. We'll try not to drop the ball," John said.
"Good hunting."
And just then a circle appeared on the grid, running close to the periphery of the network.
"We've got 'em," Simmons said.
"We need to get behind that vessel," John said. "Helm, start maneuvering us to catch their rear."
"Yes sir."
Suddenly, one of the Leviathan points flickered out.
"Braca? What happened to that point?"
"They've released Strikers!" Braca yelled. Small blips fanned out over the grid.
"The Corsairs aren't equipped to receive the grid data," John said.
"The Gunships and Prowlers are. I'm deploying them now. We could use Aeryn, here."
John sat back in his chair. She was just one pilot. What difference would keeping her grounded make?
Another Leviathan point flickered out. Then small flecks started harrying a point in the center.
"They've found Galen!" Braca yelled.
John grabbed his com. "Aeryn. Get to your Prowler."
"I'm already here," she said. "Ready for launch."
"You talked to Braca?"
"Yes. I'm assigned to Galen. The holo-graph schematics are coming up now."
John nodded to Tactical.
"You're clear for launch, Officer Sun," the tactical officer said.
"Be careful, baby," John said.
"I'll be right back, John. Go find me some chocolate. Fighting makes me hungry."
It sickened him to hear her voice and not see her face, but he smiled anyway. "When you get back you'll think it's your birthday."
"Who knows? It may be." And at that her Prowler blasted off into the haze.
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"This is Prowler-nine approaching Galen," Aeryn commed. "Confirm transponder lock."
"We see you, Officer Sun," said Galen's com officer. "We've got Denzil and Prowlers-one, -five, and -eight engaging the Strikers. Barely enough to escort a tech-lieutenant. Thank Djancaz-Bru you're here."
Galen's distant form appeared in the haze, the combating fighters circling all around.
"I see them," Aeryn said. "Prowler-nine engaging."
On her first pass, Aeryn needled a Striker's flank with cannon fire, blowing the cockpit's canopy off. Then she twirled through Galen's trident claw and pulled in behind another, tapping at the controls to center the Striker's engines in her targeting array. She took the shot in the brief microt allowed and blew the vessel apart, grinning with the rush of battle.
"Two on one pass," Braca commed. "You haven't slowed a bit, Officer Sun."
She pulled in next to Denzil and joined the gunship on another pass. The two of them fired down on a four-ship Striker formation as it flew a perpendicular trajectory. After blowing the wing off one, Aeryn banked between two of the other Strikers as Denzil smashed the fourth across his bow.
"You've got two on your tail, Officer Sun," Galen's radar officer commed.
Denzil slowed his speed and fell in behind Aeryn, taking the brunt of the Striker's fire. As he slowed further, the Striker's zipped out and around Denzil's mass, passing right across Aeryn's targeting array. She blew the engines off one and crippled the other on a single cannon burst.
Hezmana, it felt good to be shooting things again!
And just then, far ahead at the limits of her vision, a clear mass furled the clouds aside, speeding across the cockpit's horizon like an apparition in the fog.
"Everyone look out!" Braca yelled.
Terra-3's enormous hulk shot forth beneath her, thrusters blasting for an intercept course. It was everything she could do to keep from joining the chase.
"Attention all Prowlers and Gunships!" Braca announced. "A second Dreadnaught has entered the net and is engaging the outer Leviathans! Strikers are concentrating there to protect it. Get there at once!"
A prominent blip appeared on the holo-grid. Aeryn formed in with other Prowlers and Gunships and sped off towards the new attacker. Within a macrot, she saw the Dreadnaught, spraying its cannon fire at the surrounding Leviathans. It was definitely a newer model, larger than its familiar predecessor with additional cannons to match. But it was badly damaged and operating on auxiliary thrusters, the quick bursts nudging it clumsily through the gaseous surround.
"Attention all Prowlers and Gunships. We've just received some schematic information on the Dreadnaughts from Terra-3's engineers. There's a vital power grid buried deep behind the main rear thrusters. Much of that material's been blasted off from the crippled Dreadnaught, and we may be able to penetrate what's left to reach the grid. Concentrate all fire on the area posted in this visual schematic."
An image popped up on a screen at the periphery of Aeryn's console, detailing the target point on the Dreadnaught.
"Braca," Aeryn said. "The gunships should focus their fire on that vulnerability. We can concentrate on the Strikers."
"Agreed. And we've got fifty Corsairs flying in to assist in the engagement. Ten of them of them are bombers. Keep them covered while they take out the cannons."
"Understood."
Off to her hammond side, Aeryn saw the glistening specks of the Corsair formation coming in on an intercept course. A cluster of modified vessels flew in the middle of the formation, their bellies wider and their wings heavily adorned with loaded missile racks.
"Corsair squadron, this is Prowler-8," Aeryn said. "We're approaching to cover your attack."
"Roger, Prowler-8. Good timing. We've got incoming bogies."
A speckled mass appeared on her radar. "Strikers -- I see them. Gunships, maneuver through the Strikers and engage your target. We'll keep them off your flanks."
The gunships formed in close to one another and blasted their cannons at the approaching Strikers, veering to smash into the smaller fighters as they passed through the formation.
"Delta-wing, engaging target."
Five of the bombers broke free of the formation and flew towards the Dreadnaught. Aeryn angled in beside them. Within a few microts, one of the bombers took a hit to the engines.
Aeryn darted her head around and saw two Strikers pursuing the formation. She slammed on the reverse thrusters, leaving the Strikers to zip past her. Pulling in behind one, she fired and clipped its wing, but the pilot was quick to evade further damage by twirling out of the attack formation.
The remaining Striker continued its assault on the bombers. Strangely, most of the fire was deflected off the glistening surface, leaving only dark smears. Then, the Striker released two missiles that caught one of the bombers in the rear, blowing it apart.
Aeryn growled her rage, holding the cannon trigger down until the tracers crossed the Striker's aft, sending it spinning out of control.
"Three reporting for Delta-wing. Nuclear release imminent."
Two of the Dreadnaught's main cannons loomed ahead, enormous monoliths that recoiled into the hull with each blast. But with the widespread damage, they were the only cannons still functioning on this side. Aeryn smiled with a warrior's pride at the sight of the Dreadnaught's torn, charred hull. Hers was a worthy mate.
As the bombers leveled in on their attack trajectory, the surrounding space lit up with tracer fire from the Dreadnaught's smaller defensive guns. Energy blasts continued to splatter over the Corsair's hulls, doing minimal damage with each impact. But the Dreadnaught soon switched to projectile fire, and ripped one of the bombers apart instantly.
"Two reporting for Delta-wing. Releasing ordinance. Everyone break away!"
Aeryn yanked the throttle back and pushed the thrusters to maximum. Within microts, a bright flash ushered in a crashing wave of force that lurched the Prowler forward, slamming her back into the seat.
When she looked at her rear-visual screen, craters marked the places where the two cannons were. And just then, a tremendous explosion blasted from the Dreadnaught's rear, breaking the entire flank apart.
The Gunships had succeeded!
"Finish off the Strikers!" Braca commed, laughter in his voice. Celebratory shouts could be heard in the background.
And in the distance she saw Terra-3 chasing down its prey, the Dreadnaught now uncloaked and running on one thruster. It was a beautiful sight.
And just when it couldn't get any better, a white wall of Battle Globes rushed past her, holding their formation right up to the point where they scattered into the doomed Striker fleet, blasting them apart with numbing efficiency. The sight of that slaughter never got old.
She wanted to laugh, scream and cry all at once. An Earth ship and the dwindling Sebacean and Leviathan band had just destroyed the pinnacle of Scarran might. She pictured herself sitting in the Farscape module with Crichton all those cycles ago, teasing him with her scented hair. A human, a sebacean and an Earth vessel. A touch of laughter rocked in her shoulders. No one ever thought of that as a formidable configuration.
Then suddenly, she was slammed into her seat by a crashing force from behind. Her head jerked back and sprang forth again, the snapping motion inflicting a terrible pain in her neck. The space around her spun wildly. Once the G-forces leveled off, she blinked her eyes to gather her shaking sights. She jerked the control stick left to counter the spin, but it was dead in her hands. Something had taken the engines out.
"Braca!" she said. "Something's hit my Prowler. I need assistance."
"Aeryn!" Braca answered. "Your transponder's not broadcasting. Where are you?"
"I have no frelling idea! I'm in an uncontrolled spin!"
For a brief snatch, she saw the shattered hulk of the Dreadnaught through the clouds, then caught it again and again over the sequence of rapid turns, getting smaller with each pass. Then the space cleared as the gases dissipated.
What she saw next made her stiffen with terror. A shimmering blue curtain appeared in the window, getting closer with each turn. She felt like retching.
"Crichton!"
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"Aeryn! Where are you?"
"I'm going into the wormhole! My controls are out!"
"Hold on, baby. We're coming for you." John glared at the helm officer. "Get us out there!"
Terra-3 accelerated through the debris of the shattered Dreadnaught and burst out of the cloud. Suddenly, everyone gasped at once. The wormhole had grown to enormous proportions and the inner walls were whipping wildly within the funnel.
The helms officer slammed on the reverse thrust.
"What the hell are you doing?" John asked, rushing to the man's side.
"Sir, the gravitational field. It's enormous."
John looked at Simmons. "Shut that thing down."
"I'm already on it."
"Captain," the radar officer said. "Two gunships and a Leviathan just exited the cloud. They're moving towards the wormhole."
"No!" John said. "Get Braca!"
"Yes sir. You're patched in."
"Braca?" John asked.
"Crichton, Aeryn's falling into the wormhole."
"I know, but you can't go in there. That gravitational field will pull you in, and there's no way you can navigate that thing. It's the worst I've ever seen. Back off. We're shutting it down."
Simmons rose from the console, wide-eyed and running his fingers through his hair. "Captain, we've lost the wormhole generator. There's nothing on the sensors. No power, no readings. Nothing."
"You're fucking kidding me!" John said, rushing to the console. Everything was dead. The lights, the meters, the gauges. The console might as well have been a display.
"Christ!" John yelled, pounding the console. He raised his head and looked to the forward screen. "Zoom in and find her."
The visual advanced towards the wormhole, then caught the tiny speck superimposed against the thunderous blue walls. Aeryn's Prowler was spinning on its center axis, moving directly for the wormhole's center.
"Crichton?"
He scratched at the skin of his neck, gnashing his teeth. "I'm here, baby."
"I'm going in."
"We can't shut it down, Aeryn." There was a small chance he could reach her with a grappling ship, but the gravity would take them both in. He pictured Liz, feeling a terrible pain in his heart. She'd just lost her mother. He couldn't do it to her again.
Aeryn's breathing was labored. "Take care of him." A trace sob caught in her breath. "I love you, John."
John pulled at his hair, hissing his breath through clenched teeth. Then, with an agonizing groan, he leapt from the console and ran for the door. "Ready the grappler for launch!"
"Crichton! That's insane!" Simmons yelled, running after him and grabbing his arm. "You can't fly into that thing!"
John spun and pushed him back. "Get it fucking ready!"
John turned and sprinted down the corridor, running with everything he had. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, leaping over the rails at the halfway points for eleven floors. When he reached the bottom, he burst through the door and pushed everyone out of the way, running over those that were knocked to the floor. Within two minutes he reached the launch tube for the nearest rescue grappler.
Techs were rushing to prepare the vessel, but John pushed through them and ran into the cockpit, flipping the power switches in frantic haste.
"Evacuate the tube!" he yelled.
"Captain, the bracing mounts are still attached."
John turned, sneering. "Get the fuck out or you're dead!"
Everyone dropped their tools and ran for the bulkhead door, slamming it behind them.
John ignited the thrusters, pushing them to full power. Emergency lights cycled in the launch tube as automatic charges blew the outer doors off. The whining of twisting metal gave way to the sudden force of launch.
Free, John bolted for the wormhole, blinking the water from his eyes.
"I'm coming, baby."