Time for Change
John picks up a pencil, and draws a straight line between the course he's plotting and the easiest way in and out.
The easiest way; definitely won't be the safest way. Not this time.
He plays the scenario over and over in his mind, conjuring up every possible thing that can and probably will go wrong, though he knows he is barely scraping the surface.
It seems every time he tries to do that, space would throw a new set of obstacles his way, obstacles he would never have imagined in a thousand years at home.
It's like fucking American Gladiators on Speed and you're always the little guy who gets his ass kicked by Nitro.
Safety first, speed second this time; there are no two ways about it. He will save is daughter, but not in the process of risking or losing something else, not now. They have come too far and been through too much to jeopardize what they have. He will replay this course over and over in his mind until he has it memorized and can navigate the path with his eyes closed. Though he won't actually close his eyes- might be a fun challenge in the future - but this time he'll be going in twenty-twenty.
John turns from the table he's resting his elbows on in Command and looks out the large viewing area in front of him, space glowing purple and orange, stars and planets for as far as he can see. They are moving in the right direction, closer now with every arn. His daughter is out there on one of those planets.
"Commander, we will be in prime location for long range communication with Jothee in roughly 340 microts," Pilot states coolly from the clamshell.
He's been waiting for this all morning. One Starburst plotted through some unfamiliar space and several more arns of moving at peak speed, Moya pushing as hard as she could, and they are going to be in range so soon. Things are going good, so far, almost too good. Things rarely went this well for him, in fact, and he starts to wonder if maybe he shouldn't purposely wish something to go wrong just to spare them from it happening later on.
"Thanks Pilot," he states preoccupied. "Will you let me know as soon as we're in range?"
"Yes Commander, should I notify Officer Sun?" Typical Pilot; all business, no corner left unchecked.
"Please, I want her to be here when we actually have Jothee on the two-way."
John feels lightheaded. His heart seems to be beating overtime and he's not sure whether to be hopeful, apprehensive, or hell - just plain mad at this point. He tries to bite down his anger at having to put them all through this situation again when it should never have happened in the first place. To hell with the Peacekeepers; what did he ever do to them anyways? It is his turn to damn the consequences and do what needed to be done to make his family whole again.
He looks back down at his chart and takes stock of the area. It's familiar, yet foreign. Like someplace he's traversed at some point before, while at the same time, totally unfamiliar. Space, would it ever be home?
Take a right at the red star and a left at planet A to get to your neighborhood, John.
He laughs softly to himself, proud of his infallible sense of humor; always spot on with a good joke and inhales a deep breath of air, filling his lungs to capacity.
John leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, and tries to picture what his daughter will look like after all of these cycles.
--
Aeryn leans against the outer door frame of the exercise bay, watching her son brawl with a large, red punching bag. Her "little" D'Argo is tall; all arms and legs, and the punching bag definitely seems to be losing at this point.
His dark hair is matted to his forehead, the front of his black shirt wet with sweat.
One quick right and a left uppercut, and he decides that the punching bag has had enough for the time being. He leans down, attempting to catch his breath, resting his gloved hands on his knees.
She smiles softly, finding it hard to believe that this is her baby. A quick palm across the door pad and the panel whirs open. Her son's eyes come up to meet her; watching her walk into the room with an air of determination.
"Hey Ma, wanna join me for a bit? I could use the company," D'Argo says, never one to turn down conversation or companionship, always the social butterfly. Her son has never met a stranger.
He obviously gets that from his father.
"Actually," She starts tentatively. Does she want to breach this subject without John? Now is as good a time as ever and, besides, his head is wrapped up in calculations and maps right now. "I came to ask you a question. But I don't suppose it would hurt to get a little work out in."
D'Argo laughs, standing upright. "You never could turn down a good chance to show me that you can still kick my ass, even if I am taller than you now," he jabs at her, playfully tapping her upper arm with his red gloved hand.
Before he even has a chance to react, she has his hand in both of hers, quickly wrapping his arm into a painful position behind his back.
"Hmm, you didn't see that coming now did you oh tall one?" Aeryn smiles, easing up on his arm and handing him the drying cloth she picked up on the way in to the chamber.
He quickly makes use of the soft cloth, wiping at his forehead and arms, after shaking off the pain from her grip. "One of these days Ma, just wait, I'll outwit you and you won't know what hit you," he pauses, stepping lightly with his ribbing. "It won't be me though; I would never hit a girl." He finally says laughing
"Well, I wouldn't hesitate to hit a boy," she replies, with a sharp right hook to the punching bag.
"Yeah, well I hope I'm not ever on the receiving end of that threat," D'Argo says grabbing the bag to steady it's swinging.
"Not a chance" she says her hands cupping both of his cheeks giving him a swift kiss on the forehead. "Your father on the other hand, now that might not be such a bad idea," She says smiling.
She and D'Argo had always had a close relationship, full of affection and laughter most of the time. He had been his mothers boy from the get go. They went through a rough period for about 3 cycles, from the time her son was 12 cycles old until he reached 15 or so. D'Argo was much more concerned about showing off to his friends or his father, than he was about receiving or giving affection to his mother. Such a normal reaction, especially to her having never known a relationship like the one she had with this family.
Still, when the phase passed and D'Argo became surer of himself and the man he was becoming, their relationship quickly regained much of what he had shut off, and she couldn't deny that she was relieved. Aeryn had missed him. Missed their talks and missed hearing about what was going on in his life. She had taught him to speak fluent Sebacean from the time he was just learning to talk, something she wanted her children to know, one thing from her past that she felt she could pass on to them.
The translator microbes made this a somewhat unnecessary task. Since Aeryn learned English quickly; her and John tended to speak his native tongue, and their children naturally picked it up.
She, however, wanted them to know something of her heritage as well, even if she kept the Peacekeeper aspect of her past mostly on the backburner. D'Argo had taken to the flow of the language immediately and it became a special connection for them. They would speak in Sebacean to each other most of the time when they were alone. It wasn't that John minded, seeing how he had become fluent in it as well, this was just something special for the two of them. The language became a strong bond representing much more than just words.
"What's going on Ma," he asks, not feeling a need to beat around a bush. "Something you want to tell me?"
Sometimes, seeing the human side of emotion and emotional perception in her children is still jarring to her. She has grown used to it from John, who could read her without a word spoken between them, but seeing that her children know her as well as he is something she is still learning to deal with. Emotions were foreign to her before she met John; they were a weakness and she still feels like she needs a different kind of translator to understand them half the time.
"Yes, actually, there's something that your father and I wanted to ask you. But first, there's something I need you to know about," she says, strapping on her own pair of red gloves. A quick right jab and a left upper cut to the bag and she's ready to lay this out before him, gauge his reaction, and let him decide whether or not he feels ready to take this step.
She swiftly places a high kick and a left backhand to the other side of the bag. Her son sits down on an exercise bench, watching her moves pointedly, and Aeryn tries to gauge some kind of reaction from him before she plows ahead.
No sense in shying away from the inevitable now.
Heavy breathing.
Tense nerves.
"We think we may have...probably have, located your sister." Hard smack to the bag with a left jab followed quickly by a right.
D'Argo's attention is fully on her now, frell the punching bag. He leans forward on the bench to get a clear view of her on the other side.
"What?" He questions.
"Your father received a data transmission from Jothee yesterday. He's planet side with a Luxan platoon looking for escaped war prisoners and they came across a Peacekeeper training squad, a cadet training squad. It didn't take much in the way of overhearing for him to realize that Taly was in the unit. He sent the data chip out to notify us right away." Her heart is beating faster just talking about the information that she knows is certain.
"And you're just now telling me this? I'm old enough; don't you think I had a right to know?" D'Argo stands up, facing her, strong willed defiance in his gray eyes.
Damn genetics.
She doesn't know how to handle this coming at her from the other side of the fence.
"Yes, D'Argo, you do have a right to know, that's why I'm telling you now. It wasn't a matter of intentionally keeping something from you, it's just that, well we've been here before and we weren't sure what we were going to do; it's only been a day since we found out ourselves. It's been so long, it took arns for it to even sink through our heads that this could possibly be happening again." She's stumbling over her words slightly now. It comes out quickly, a jumbled mess.
Do you even hear yourself talking? What the frell are you saying?
"Weren't sure what you were going to do? Were you just going to leave without even taking a chance? Just leave her out there? What the frell are you thinking?" He's angry now, upset, his biting temper reminiscent of her own.
She places a soft hand on his shoulder pushing him back down on the bench.
"What the frell are we thinking? Let's see, we're thinking of a way to save your sister without putting everyone else in danger, that's what we're thinking." Her eyes are locked on his, neither willing to break contact and lose the challenge.
"Take a deep breath and calm down. I didn't come here to tell you about this to upset you. I know how you feel about the situation. It hits you just as closely as it does your father and me. I came because we will need your help. We want your help…I want your help," Her eyes search his face for a telling hint of what is going on inside.
He's looking down, but that doesn't prevent her from seeing a tear slip slowly down his face. She kneels in front of him, hands on his shoulders.
"I know. I know this is hard to deal with again. Trust me when I tell you that I know. But this time is different D'Argo, this time we have the advantage." She takes a breath, wiping the tear with her thumb. "You're a man now. You've been well trained and well taught, you're a fighter, and you know how to handle a pulse pistol and the transport pod. This is your decision, D'Argo, but I am asking you for your help. Your father is asking for your help. If you think you're ready."
His eyes meet hers, and he holds her gaze. "You want my help?"
"Yes, we need you." It comes from deep within her, and she means it. "She's your sister, she needs you too. Who do we have if we don't have each other? What do you say?" she asks, managing a meager smile.
He looks at her, a small smirk breaking out on his lips. "Wow, I never thought I'd hear those words come out of my mother's mouth. 'I need your help…' I have to say, I'm a little speechless."
She looks up at him, mock anger, and grabs his chin.
"Not speechless enough, apparently. Don't expect to hear it again young man." She runs the back of her hand down his cheek, smiling. "I'm not going to tell you that there won't be fighting involved, violence possibly. It will be hard, and it will be hot, and I'm not even sure how your sister will react when…if…we find her. The bottom line is, I don't know what will happen, and if the past experiences are any indicator; it might not end the way we hope it will."
"No 'ifs' Ma. We'll find her," He's serious, positive, just like his father. "I'm ready to do this. I need to do this, I need to help. I owe it to her, and to you and Dad."
"You don't owe us anything. Though your help will mean more than you can imagine"
"Officer Sun," Pilot interrupts over the comms.
She stands, kissing her son on the forehead on the way to her full height. "Yes, Pilot?"
"Commander Crichton has requested that you join him in Command. We will be in communicating range with Jothee in a matter of microts," D'Argo looks up at her expectantly, questions and a hint of surprise in his eyes which she reads easily.
"Won't be long now, we're close already." She says looking down at him. "I'm on my way Pilot. Thank you."
Aeryn touches her son's shoulder, a mark of reassurance, confidence in his abilities to prove himself to her. He squeezes her fingers knowingly. His hands are much larger than hers now and he takes her hand into his fist easily.
"I'm going to catch up with your father, see if we can't make more sense of this before we plan anything further. Go clean up and check on your brother for me. I'd like to say I trust that he's working diligently on his lesson, but I think we both know him well enough to know that more than likely isn't the case," She winks at him.
"Yeah, sure okay. I'll keep him in line." The boy laughs.
D'Argo stands up before her, now several denches taller and easily wider. She brushes his hair out of his eyes as she spins to walk toward the door panel, turning quickly as she palms the door pad.
"Thank you," It's a simple statement that she speaks to him. A simple statement that says so many things between the lines, unspoken truths and declarations. She's letting go, and he's accepting this challenge to be a man. She's releasing her baby, and he's taking flight on his own.
It's a bittersweet feeling, this form of separation, and she can't push pack the twang of sadness that radiates from her insides. Wasn't it just several cycles ago that they were teaching him to walk, she was teaching him how to handle a prowler clutch, watching him wrestle with his father easily thrown over John's shoulders towards the stars? She is letting go of one of her children in the hopes of bringing back another.
Motherhood is more complicated than anything she could have dreamed of facing as a Peacekeeper soldier.
Where is the training for this?
--
(Present)
She sits on the edge of the soft blanket resting over the sleeping girl. Finally, after arns of silence, barely touched food, angry looks, and a resistance to talk or cooperate; they had resorted to another lighter dose of tranquilizing powder mixed up by Noranti in order to look her over, make sure she is okay- to get her to rest.
"Oh, it will just make her sleep for an arn or so. No harm done, she'll wake as good as new." the old woman had rattled on, ever confident in her abilities as the wise medicine woman.
Three arns later the child is still sleeping like she has never heard the word. Regular breathing, back slowly moving up and down, rising with the influx of air to her lungs.
Aeryn rests her hand on her daughters back, rubbing up and down, side to side. Trying to comfort her through the sleep, relishing the first calm contact she has had with the girl in over 7 cycles. Trying to make up for the time apart, trying to convince herself that Taly is really here, in her bed, under her touch, safe.
The lights are dim and the air blows cool on her face, her earlier panic induced heat replaced by the chill of night air coursing through the vents and a mixture of her own nervous anticipation.
She looks at her daughter's small form, right arm at her side resisting the confines of the blanket, her left hand resting under her head, loose tendrils of hair spilling on the pale skin.
Scars, pink and raised, and bruises are evident over several areas on both arms.
Evidence of weeks of training perhaps?
Bitingly real tactical maneuvers?
Or something else, something more brutal?
She is not blind to the people that had raised her, the people that have inadvertently raised her daughter. And she is not blind to the hatred and prejudice these people felt towards her and John. This thought, along with the knowledge of their trained actions and ideas, their incapacity for feeling, leave her mind reeling as to what could have been happening to her daughter over this long course of time.
Too long.
Aeryn knew why they wanted her, knew why these people had taken her child. When would the ever learn that the knowledge John possessed was completely gone, useless, let alone passed down to their children? When would they leave her family the frell alone and find something else to fight for, to fight over?
She rubs her finger over two pink, raised scars on Taly's lower arm. Not recent, they must have come from deep cuts, never fully or properly healed. She takes full advantage of the child's unconscious peace, kissing her hair for the first time since they had brought her back on board Moya. She rests her lips on Taly's head, breathing in her daughter, trying to remember the feel of her, but she can't.
She turns and leans forward facing the empty side of the room, elbows resting on her knees, letting her hair hang down in front of her face; blocking the presence of anyone outside of the solitary, dark confines.
She suddenly feels a rustling behind her, movement on the bed and a shifting of covers. The girl sits up startled, well aware of the presence at her side and Aeryn stands quickly. She's been caught, and she doesn't have a clue what to say to her daughter. Surely a "good morning" wouldn't be the appropriate response considering the angry glare that is boring through her, her daughter's blue eyes burning.
"What are you doing in here? What do you want?" the girl asks. She's not calm, though she's not harsh either. Aeryn can't tell if the latter is due to the fact that she's still suffering the after effects of Noranti's powder, or if perhaps she's really accepting the fact that this is where she belongs.
"I'm sorry…I, I was just making sure that you were okay. I didn't mean to wake you," Aeryn fumbles uncharacteristically.
"Making sure I'm okay? You must be frelling joking! Of course I'm not frelling okay," the girl spits. She's up and out of the bed in a flash, briefly stumbling backward, her body reeling from the shock of sudden movement mixed with the lingering effects of the powder she has inhaled. Aeryn reaches out to grab her arm and steady her, a natural reaction. But the girl pushes her hand away as she gathers her balance. "What do you expect?"
"We'll wait until your calm, and then we can talk about this; talk about what ever you want to talk about," Aeryn offers stern but caring. She's desperate for a way in, but she's not willing to listen to her child talk to her with such a tone. She holds her ground and doesn't move her gaze from Taly's eyes. This girl will realize what they had done to get her back, what they had been through without her, and who she is.
"Don't bother. I don't have anything to say to you, or him." She turns her back and sits down hard on the bed, one leg folded up under her back side, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. She silently faces the wall for several microts, still noticing her mother's unwelcome presence. "Why are you still here?"
Aeryn sighs and turns to leave, but not before she can speak her peace. "We are doing this for you, you know? Because you're our child, because we love you. I know you don't understand that right now, but it's true."
The girl chuckles roughly under her breath, scoffing at the concept of the foreign word.
"Are you hungry, cold?" her questions are met with silence, her daughter focusing on something far more interesting and less hated on the wall.
Aeryn turns to go, hand quickly over the door pad waiting for the whir of the panel to take her out of her child's angry presence. She stops outside the entrance and leans against the wall of the corridor feeling weak. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath. Why is this so hard for her?
This was her.
This is who she had been, this very person. Why couldn't she relate to this little Peacekeeper soldier? This reunion was obviously going to be harder than even she had thought, and she hadn't for one frelling microt thought it was going to be easy.