Lost and Found

by A Damned Scientist

For 7 years, John has been stranded on Earth. He's lost his mind, but is he alone? Sequel to Picture in The Paper.

4. Chapter 4

Lost and Found Chapter 4

Thanks for the feedback and encouragement: Special mention to Hazmot this time.

And I have just watched WGFA for the first time in about 3 years and realised what I have subconsciously done in choosing the name of the psychiatrist: A bit like perhaps Crichton himself did in WGFA. How spooky is that?

Dr Kaminsky had observed Crichton carefully whilst the short video clip of Braca had been playing: Not only had Crichton barely spoken, he had turned pale and wide eyed, slowly creeping further up the back of his chair. It was as though his body wished to hide behind the chair but could not bring itself to stand up and thus, even for the briefest moment, to move closer to Braca. As the video finished, Crichton looked to her for all the world like a deer paralysed with fear in a hunter's spotlight.

'You cannot seriously be thinking of handing me over to them?' Crichton whispered at last. Standing and pacing anxiously around the room, his mannerisms twitched with nervous energy. The two agents near the door shifted uncomfortably, getting ready to intervene if necessary.

Dr Kaminsky was genuinely surprised: She would have staked her reputation that Holt's little game would have pushed Crichton back into the depths of his madness. Although it had clearly upset him, looking at him now, agitated and ready to run, it seemed instead to have renewed his energy and sense of purpose.

'Commander Crichton, I do not really see what choice we have. Do you? Both yourself and Officer Sun have repeatedly told us that our military is no match for theirs, and everything we have learnt from her Prowler has confirmed that. Unless ….. Unless there is something you can think of which we could use against them?' Holt replied.

'Something really powerful?' He added suggestively, when John did not reply. John did, however, stop pacing the room and stood glowering at Holt. 'Some sort of weapon perhaps?'

'No,' John replied flatly. 'I have no idea what you might be talking about.'

Holt raised a questioning eyebrow. 'Is that so? Really?'

'Really. So you'll have to think of something else, won't you?'

'That could be quite difficult.'

'Not my problem.'

'This Braca is getting quite insistent: We may have no choice about handing you over to him.'

'You haven't so far, so I'm guessing you won't.'

Holt shrugged: John had guessed right, but Holt wasn't going to admit that, even in body language, far less in words.

'That's a big risk you'll be taking.'

'Life is a risk. But I still can't help you.'

'Hmm. You'll let us know straight away if you have any sudden flashes of inspiration, won't you Mr Crichton?'

'Oh, if I do, I expect you'll be the first to know, Holt,' replied Crichton, alluding to his growing conviction that he was being monitored around the clock by Holt's people..

After his meeting with Holt and Dr Kaminsky. John was surprised to find himself escorted back through a different set of corridors to that which he was used to. As he walked on, he began to tense, wondering what surprise they had in store for him. He had clearly not given Holt what he wanted, or even suggested he might. And John now understood a little more than he wanted to about the way Holt encouraged cooperation.

After a short while, they stopped before and anonymous, plain and locked door. An agent in a black suit stood beside the door, waiting. One of his escorts smiled at John as the new agent checked something through his earpiece. Satisfied with what he had heard, the agent entered a code on a keypad to unlock the door. John felt the tension in his body rising, as he prepared himself for fight or flight, depending on what was on the other side of the door. As the door swung open, he glanced in, ready to react to whatever the room might contain.

Three figures were inside the small, Spartan meeting room: Two black suited agents, one drinking a coffee from a Styrofoam cup, and a casually dressed Aeryn, who was flicking through, of all things, a fashion magazine whilst sitting on a low, black leather couch.

John was surprised that they had brought him to Aeryn: After Holt's remarks about trading for what the other wanted, and then John's refusal to admit that he might know of something which could be used against the Peacekeepers, he had assumed Holt intended to punish him, not reward him. John could only conclude that Holt had some devious and as yet unrevealed reason for taking him straight to Aeryn after their meeting.

John relaxed a little as he was motioned inside: At least they were together. Aeryn looked up and smiled her beautiful, broad smile, relaxing him further. He scarcely noticed as the two agents made their way to the door.

'You've an hour, ring the bell by the door if you need us earlier,' one of them remarked casually before the door shut and clicked locked behind him.

'Hey…' Aeryn began, playing the game he had taught her so many cycles ago.

'Hey yourself,' he replied. Then, spying a second magazine on the couch beside her, this one focussed on expensive houses and furnishings, he added with a smile, gesturing expansively to indicate the room. 'Nice place, like what you've done with it.'

She put aside the magazine she had been looking at. 'I thought we could buy that big place in the country. Throw a party for everyone we know. But then, it seems, I'd be expected to wear a dress and a floppy hat.' She indicated the magazine beside, then she smiled at him and shook her head. 'It's not going to happen.' She laughed. 'Is it?'

'Well, I never liked hats,' he replied gently. 'Never saw you as the hat-lady type.'

Picking up the magazines, he flopped down on the couch next to her. He was pleasantly surprised when she leant slightly into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

John hated to break the mood, but felt he had to. 'You were right you know.'

'Of course I was. About what?' she asked, turning her head slightly to look up at him.

'There's something going on.' She raised an eyebrow to indicate he should continue. He took her hand in his and squeezed. Reaching up with his other hand to push her hair back from her eyes he continued.

'It's the Peacekeepers,' Aeryn sat bolt upright and stared at him.

'Who, when?'

'They say they're here for both of us, for our…crimes…. But I think we can both guess what they're really here for.'

'What will your people do? Will you… cooperate?' Aeryn asked.

John stared at the wall opposite for a moment.

'Aeryn, I couldn't…'

'Scorpius isn't all Peacekeepers,' she asserted, trying to capture his gaze. 'Look at me…'

John rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb. It was time to come clean, he decided. He turned his head back to face her. Struggling to decide where to start, he leapt in.

'Aeryn, the Peacekeepers, they did something to me, when you were away. When I was on Arnesk. It's one of the reasons I had trouble trusting when you came back to Moya.'

She frowned and shook her head, not understanding. 'What is it, John? Is this the thing you couldn't tell me about last weeken?' He nodded in confirmation. She took his shoulders in both hands, forcing him to focus on her. 'What happened, John?' she demanded softly.

'Grayza and her people, they took us prisoner.'

'But you got away, didn't you?'

'Yes, but, first….they did things.' Aeryn frowned, confused. 'Aeryn, do you know what Heppel oil is?'

Aeryn thought for a moment: The words were familiar, but she couldn't quite place them.

'It makes you… malleable, open to suggestions.' Aeryn's bemused face showed that she still did not understand.

'Hell Aeryn, you'll do anything. Anything!' Suddenly Aeryn remembered what she had heard about Heppel oil: She felt the blood drain from her face as realisation dawned. 'Grayza, she used Heppel oil to…. to interrogate me.'

There was a long silence while Aeryn thought about this: John watched her, his own emotions in turmoil, as she struggled to come to terms with the revelation.

'I… I'm. So. angry,' she said eventually, although he could see that her anger was clearly not directed at him. John could tell, from her sudden shocked expression that she now understood the essence of what Grayza had done to him. He was so grateful that he wouldn't have to spell it out in front of whatever bugs Holt had planted in the room. However, he was sure they would pick over his and Aeryn's words and draw their own conclusions, conclusions which would doubtless be close to the truth.

'And so sorry,' she added more softly, cupping his cheek with one hand.

'You didn't know: I didn't tell you.'

'No, you didn't,' then she frowned. 'Why not?'

'I… I just couldn't. there never seemed to be a good time. And I wanted to forget, I tried to forget. But she used it to interrogate me, twice.'

'Twice?'

'Twice, the second time, I went back: Can you believe that, Aeryn? I went back. How dumb is that? I let her do it to me again.'

'What… why..?' she stammered trying to understand.

'It was D's idea. D and the others, they persuaded me, to distract her while we escaped.' Aeryn felt so angry all of a sudden: Not only had her erstwhile shipmates made John do this, but when she herself had got back to Moya, they had blamed her for everything that was distressing John, blamed her for all of his troubles. Yet they had done so much to hurt him themselves, and kept that from her. She fumed inwardly for a moment before remembering her own part in all of this: That she had left him to face the horrors of those monens alone, that she had not been there to stop the others, or to stop Grayza.

'I should have been there….. to protect you,' she said, blaming her absence, thinking that he only blamed her for not being there, not yet grasping that John might have had even more complicated and as yet unspoken problems with her. Problems based on her identity as a Peacekeeper.

'It's not just that,' John continued, squeezing her hand, trying to let her know it was alright now. 'When I was with her, with the oil, I didn't think of you, and afterwards, I hated myself.'

'It was the oil, she forced you…'

'And afterwards when I saw you… well, you reminded me of the Peacekeepers. Of them. Of her.'

Aeryn sat in silence, trying to take it all in, but it was too much at once for her, and words were not her milieu. However, she was already imagining what actions she would take, should fate ever hand her the chance to take revenge on Grayza.

'But that's all over now: When I see you now, all I see is you,' he smiled softly at her, lifted her hand and softly kissed the knuckles.

After a pause to let the moment run it's course, he added, 'But I can't forgive or forget what they did to me.'

Aeryn shook her head. 'Me neither,' She agreed ominously.

Some weeks before:

It had been ten days since the starship had arrived in orbit around Earth. For three days the visitors had remained silent. But on the fourth they had opened communications with the US government. The advisers to the new President had been surprised to be asked regarding the whereabouts of Aeryn Sun by the aliens: To their knowledge, she had left with the other aliens, seven years before. But the visitors had been insistent in asking after her, and so various government agencies had began to investigate those who had had dealings with her seven years earlier, including the Crichtons, Holt and his erstwhile staff. Within a couple of days, the convergence of trails had resulted in Holt and several of his current employees being visited by agents of the new administration and some uncomfortable questions being asked. A further few days of secret investigations and even more secret discussions had led to the uncovering of Holt's empire.

Now Holt fidgeted nervously as he found himself in the White House, about to brief the President, along with several senior figures in the military and intelligence communities.

'Mr President, gentleman, I think we can be grateful for two things,'

'Really?' snorted General McReady. 'Perhaps you could enlighten us?'

Holt eyed him coldly 'That this has not gone public and that our visitors seem to have no interest in it doing so.' he retorted. The General looked neither placated with the answer nor happy that Holt had the impertinence to suggest one. He continue to glare at Holt as someone he regarded as someone whose presence was not acceptable in polite company such as this.

The President nodded sagely, 'That much may be true enough, Mr Holt. However, I think I am not alone in being discomforted by the fact that I cannot trust the speaker. ' He cast his eyes around the room. 'I take it you have all read the briefings on our discussions with these aliens.' It was a statement not a question. His gaze returned to rest on the uneasy figure of Holt. 'Mr Holt, as it seems, for better or worse, you are now our expert on these aliens, we would like you to share your impressions with us.'

Holt cleared his throat and unnecessarily shuffled some papers to compose himself. 'I'm sure you all remember the Moya incident, when Commander Crichton returned to Earth?' The President and a couple of his aides made disapproving noises at this reminder of Holt's deception.

'And where is Crichton now?' asked one of the military aides, either a briefing behind the security service heads or intent on stirring yet more discomfort for Holt. 'Why isn't he here, Surely he has some expertise to bring to bear on this situation?'

'Crichton is living in Miami under an assumed identity. Over recent years he has become… mentally unstable. He was recently admitted to a private clinic, which is part of my organisation, and I am afraid is currently in no state to be of much use to us.'

'Then what…?'

'What has previously been classified is that, for the last seven years, one of the aliens from Moya has also been a…a guest of my organisation.'

Even though most of those present now knew this fact, there was still an uncomfortable silence. It was eventually broken by the President 'Do go on, Mr Holt.'

Holt gathered his composure and continued. 'As you are aware, the aliens in orbit belong to an aggressive, militaristic society called the Peacekeepers. Now, it just so happens that my guest for the last seven years has been the former Peacekeeper, Officer Aeryn Sun. You may recall her from seven years ago?'

'She was the one who looked human? Like our visitors?' Asked the perhaps ill-briefed General.

'Indeed,' confirmed Holt, feeling more comfortable when he felt he might be holding the upper hand, even in such a minor way.

'So, do you think they are really here for her? Like they said?'

'No, I think they have no interest in her. Or, despite the face value of their request, in Commander Crichton. Not as such.'

Holt's revelation was met with quizzical looks all round. He smiled, settling into the pleasure of knowing more than anyone else there. 'I do think they are telling the truth about much of what they have said: They do want Crichton. If they wanted something else, I have little doubt, that with their technology, they could simply take it. But they do not want either Crichton or Sun for their supposed crimes: I don't think, after seven years, they would have travelled across the galaxy to apprehend a deserter and an alien trouble maker, do you?' Holt allowed himself a smile, as he felt his power over the room growing.

'If that is the case, just what do you think they are really after, then?' asked a sharp-looking elderly man in a civilian suit.

'In her… debriefings, Officer Sun has let slip little pieces of a puzzle about Commander Crichton: I think the Peacekeepers believe he knows how to produce a weapon of immense power, even by their standards. I believe that is why the Peacekeepers have been hunting them.'

'Then why has Crichton never shared this with us, with his own people?'

'Sun has insisted that there is no weapon, however, she has not been consistent. I believe it is because he thinks no one should have such a weapon. As, incidentally, I believe does Sun.'

'What do you mean, she's not been consistent.'

'I think she is hiding something, probably an occasion when Crichton made or used such a weapon. Assuming there was such an occasion, I believe it would explain why the Peacekeepers have been so persistent in seeking him out.'

'So, if we give him to the Peacekeepers, we risk giving them the weapon?' Observed the President. 'And if what we have been told about the Peacekeepers is true, we cannot consider giving such belligerent aliens such a weapon. '

'Do we have the capability to destroy the Peacekeeper vessel?' interjected another civilian.

'I seriously doubt it. We are still struggling to understand Officer Sun's space fighter or sidearms,' said a grey haired and steely-eyed man in an Air Force uniform.

'Those, at least, we did know about.' put in another General, giving Holt a sideways stare laden with disapproval as he did so.

'We have nothing that could stand against even that small craft, never mind whatever they might have on the vessel in orbit.'

'Unless we can persuade Mr Crichton to share his weapons knowledge with us?' suggested an elderly civilian.

Holt shook his head, 'Crichton is currently barely capable of holding a coherent conversation. Besides, I do not believe he would share that information even if he were able.'

'Then we must do all we can to change that, whilst convincing our visitors that we will likely give them Crichton, but that we need more time before doing so,' summed up the elderly civilian. Several heads, including he President, nodded. Within seconds, the agreement in the room was near-unanimous.

'Holt, you understand how much is at stake? You must use any and all methods to get Commander Crichton to share his knowledge with us,' the President summarized.

Holt shook his head 'We've tried everything, but his mental state just seems to deteriorate.'

The President scowled. 'No, Mr Holt, you have not tried everything.'

Holt looked surprised, but was uneasy about contradicting the President when his leader obviously had something in mind. Holt decided to hold his tongue and see what the President had to suggest.

'Have you forgotten that I have now seen the intelligence reports on both Officer Sun and Commander Crichton? You and your people work out a way to use Sun and their child to bring him round to our way of thinking. And be quick about it, the very future of our country, if not this planet, could be at stake here.'

'Do whatever you have to do,' the President stressed.

The present:

Commandant Braca stood on the Leviathan's command, staring resentfully at the blue-green planet before him. The humans had Crichton hidden in some official facility, he was sure of it. But that knowledge just made him all the more sure that the humans were playing some sort of game. Braca decided he had had enough of waiting around for them to make their move. The humans had no idea as to how urgent it was that they hand over Crichton: Lives were being lost every day, and Braca lacked the patience that his one-time commander, Scorpius, had always claimed for himself.

He needed to do something: This farce had gone on long enough without sign of a satisfactory outcome. He couldn't just sit here, in this leviathan, orbiting this planet, for ever.

'What is your assessment?' he asked his second in command, without turning to look at the man. 'Of the humans?'

'I don't think they intend to give us Crichton,' replied lieutenant Denak confidently.' Otherwise, why would they be taking so long? No, I think they are delaying, either hoping we will be forced to leave or in order to find some way to betray us.'

Braca nodded. 'Lieutenant Veldak?' he asked of his third in command.

'I agree, sir.'

Braca frowned. If the humans knew how weak his hand was, they would likely prove even more difficult: Military Tech still had not determined how to make wormhole travel safe for Peacekeeper ships, so he had traversed the wormhole in a leviathan, with only three Marauders a dozen Prowlers in the hanger bay, and a tiny crew of thirty commandos and techs. Although the Vilnash, a full command carrier, stood waiting at the other end of the Earth wormhole, the only way to get reinforcements, without them being liquefied, was by ferrying them through the wormhole on the leviathan.

'So, what do you propose we should do? We cannot locate Crichton from orbit,' Braca said quietly, more to himself than to his officers.

'If I may make a suggestion, Commandant?' Braca turned to the clamshell, frowning deeply.

'Yes, Pilot, what is it?' Bracca asked, still uneasy about dealing with such clearly non-Sebacean creatures as equals. He was doubly uncertain about dealing with this particular pilot, because of his role in helping the fugitives several cycles earlier. But all of that was past history now, Braca forced himself to remember: Harsh times made unusual alliances.

'We cannot locate Commander Crichton, but I believe I can locate the biological signature of a Sebacean, such as Officer Sun, even from orbit. We.. I have done so before. It is sufficiently distinctive from a human bio-signature that, with the right modifications to our sensors…..'

'Excellent, Pilot. Begin immediately, all our resources are at your disposal. Veldak, you will oversee the search, Denak, you will be in charge of the extraction team: begin planning immediately,' Braca commanded, and with that he marched off command towards his quarters: Now that things were in motion, he could do with some long-overdue sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Olivia Crichton was bored and frustrated: She had had a long, tiring trip from home to see her brother, and now the staff at the clinic seemed to be finding excuses to stop her from seeing him today: She looked at her watch: Her last flight home was only four hours away, and if they kept this up she wouldn't get to see John at all. She knew, from Jack, what sort of state John was in now, so she wasn't expecting a thrilling conversation from this visit, but John was her brother, and to go home without having seen him at all would be just so...... frustrating. Especially as she couldn't imagine what reason they might have for not letting her see him. It wasn't like either the clinic staff or John was likely to be doing anything unexpected or which couldn't be delayed until she was gone.

Olivia got up and crossed the waiting room to get another cup of coffee from the machine. Not that she was thirsty or needed the caffeine, more that it was just something to do.

She looked up and down the corridor that led off from the waiting room. There was no one about. Would it hurt, she wondered, whether she went for a little explore, unescorted? Maybe she could find John's room herself?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three weeks had passed since Aeryn's captors had moved her to the city. Her new home consisted of three rooms on the thirteenth floor of the same anonymous, government-owned building where they were keeping Crichton.

A week ago, she had finally won another small victory towards a more normal life when Deke had been brought from wherever they had been keeping him to join her. For the first time since he had been born, she was able to spend more than a few hours at a time with Deke. What was more, her son and his father were under the same roof. Aeryn gained more than a small twinge of pleasure from those simple facts.

The alarm was as unexpected as it was loud. Aeryn rushed from her day room to the bedroom, where Deke had been sleeping, and picked him up in order to comfort him. She barely had time to share two words with her son before the door burst open and three agents swept into the room. In a move familiar both to Aeryn and to the agents, they expertly covered Aeryn with their handguns as they panned out to hold the door and the adjacent corners of the bedroom.

'Kneel down, on the floor, now, with Deke in front of you, then link your fingers behind your head!' ordered the agent in charge, firmly but not unkindly. Aeryn knew all these agents well, and had done for many cycles. Despite that, she was not surprised that they would treat her with caution: They knew she was dangerous. The restraint procedure to move her to another location was a drill that Aeryn knew well, excepting the involvement of Deke. Aeryn sighed and obeyed. She had no idea what was going on, but she knew better than to disobey, especially now Deke's safety was a factor. Once she was on her knees, the lead agent approached and quickly manacled her hands and feet before helping her back to her feet. As he began leading her to the door by her elbow, he called out 'Agent Smith, bring the child.' Smith holstered her gun and lifted Deke, whilst the third agent continued to cover Aeryn.

'What's going on?' asked Aeryn, slightly concerned. She had not known a drill quite like this before, and certainly wasn't expecting both here and Deke to be moved. And what was with the alarm?

'We're moving you to a safe location,' was all the lead agent would say as he led Aeryn through the outer room of her suite towards it's only door to the rest of the building. Abruptly, that door burst open to reveal three armed, black and purple-clad figures.

Despite the passing of many years, Aeryn recognized the uniform of the Peacekeeper Special Ops Commandos in a microt: They looked just like the team that Larraq had brought aboard Moya, ten cycles before. Instinctively, and despite her restraints, she rolled to the floor, knowing even as she did so that if they had come to kill her, seeking cover would do her no good. It hurt to her very core, but, given the situation, she knew that she was powerless at that moment to help Deke.

In the microt it took for Aeryn's heart to beat again, the newcomers revealed to her whether she was to be retrieved or retired: After the briefest exchange of fire, three humans and one Peacekeeper lay apparently dead on the floor, whilst Aeryn found herself very much alive: It was all the answer she needed, for now, to the question of their intent. Then her heart missed another beat as she remembered that one of the human disruptors, the female, Smith had been carrying Deke.

'My son!' Aeryn screamed in Sebacean, writhing around in her restraints, trying to get a clear sight of Deke, where he lay motionless under the crumpled body of Agent Smith.

I couldn't NOT use a cliff-hanger like that, now could I?

Do you want to know what happens next?

Do you? Say Please. Pretty Please. With a cherry on the top…..

Although you may have to wait a few weeks.

The last couple of chapters I'm going to post just a few days apart: That way you can either revel in the angst between chapters for a few days, or wait until everything is up and rush on to the final Gotterdammerung. As Empress Novia would say, 'Choose.'