Lost and Found, Chapter 6

The Peacekeepers had left Aeryn, Olivia and Deke alone in their cell while Braca contacted Earth to extend his new terms. Much to both Olivia and Aeryn's surprise, Braca had ordered Aeryn freed from her restraints before he left them. He had described it as a gesture of goodwill, to show that the Peacekeepers meant no harm to her, that they wanted to put their differences behind them. While Aeryn welcomed being free of the restraints, she gave limited credence to Braca's overtures of friendship, noting to Olivia, with her typical bluntness, that despite all of his fine words and gestures, they were still locked in their cell.

Once the footsteps of the last Peacekeeper had faded away down the corridor, Olivia wasted no time in pumping her friend for gossip.

'So, Aeryn,' Olivia began, with a furtive smile. 'What's the story with you and this guy Braca, then?'

Aeryn frowned, innocent regarding the complexity and subtexts that a human such as Olivia might have in mind with such a question. Although her captors had not deprived Aeryn of all human entertainment during her long incarceration, her tastes had not extended to what she still sometimes disparaged as 'all that emotional dren.' She had leant more towards stories about police procedures or military engagements. In her naivety, and not knowing what she might have been expected to reply to the sister of a man she had been involved with, she responded with the blunt candour that she would have used had she been addressing one of her old comrades in the regiment.

'Hmmm, when we were younger, we spent a lot of time in the same units. Actually, I think we might have recreated once or twice. I errm….. can't remember.' Olivia's jawed flapped once or twice in response. She wasn't quite sure what Aeryn had meant by the word recreated, but she could hazard a good guess. She hadn't been expecting her brother's supposed ex-girlfriend to give her a blunt and candid confession regarding sleeping with an entirely different man, far less for her to not even remember if she had slept with him or not. It made Olivia wonder for a moment just how many men Aeryn had been with, that she couldn't remember them all.

Olivia cleared her throat. 'Oh, right, erm…' More than a little embarrassed, she decided to try a different conversational gambit. 'So, who are these Scarrans he was talking about then?'

Aeryn shuddered. 'They are aggressive, militaristic, xenophobic…'

'Erm, nothing like Peacekeepers, then?' Olivia suggested, her voice tinged with a hint of nervousness, not wishing to upset or worse, anger her friend, but unable to resist the obvious comparison.

Aeryn didn't seem offended. She simply explained in her matter of fact way, as though she were delivering a lecture to a cadet: 'No. A Scarran would never sit with you and be your friend: Scarrans would not stay in orbit round your planet and talk to your government. If they find Erp, any of you that they do not kill they will enslave. Even the Peacekeepers struggle to fight them, to contain them. They would quickly destroy or enslave your Erp.'

Olivia went a little pale. 'Oh. Sorry I asked….' she replied. Olivia felt quite deflated now. She remembered struggling to connect with Aeryn before, but nothing this bad. In fact, most of the time, when the Moyans were on Earth, she had found it easier to relate to the dark haired woman, with her earnest honesty, than she had her evasive brother. Olivia desperately wanted to talk with her friend. She so wanted to share something with her, to escape from their current dire predicament. She knew that if she did so it would only be for a moment, and only through the pleasure of company, but it would be something, a distraction at the least. However, as her last two efforts had gone so badly, she was now temporarily flummoxed.

Something in Aeryn seemed to snap: she stood and lashed out against the cell door, shaking it with all her might.

'I shouldn't be locked up like this. How can I protect Deke, or you, or anyone else like this?' she railed. 'Between Braca and that fekkik Holt…..!'

'T.R. Holt? Are you saying Holt was involved in your…..?' Olivia asked in shock. Somehow, it didn't seem that she and Aeryn would be spending their time together talking about the normal things like jobs, holidays, recipes and the like.

'Yes, but, well, you see there's no way I can get revenge on him or the others,' Aeryn replied, her stoicism impressing Olivia. 'Not now.' Aeryn added to herself, giving the door one last, impotent shake before turning back to rejoin Olivia and Deke.

'Well,' smiled Olivia, touching Aeryn's arm in one of her characteristic mannerisms, 'Maybe there is something….' She rustled through her bag, eventually pulling out a small metallic box. 'Ah, there it is!'

'What is that?' Asked Aeryn with a perplexed frown.

'My mobile,' Olivia explained. Or at least, she thought she had explained until she realised that Aeryn was still looking at her, waiting to hear what Olivia was thinking.

'Meaning?' Aeryn gave a little half shake of her head to signify she had no idea what Olivia might mean by that.

'We can make a little movie on it, and, if and when I get home, we can spill your story.'

The realisation dawned on Aeryn that, at long last, here might be some chance, no matter how remote, that she might get some sort of revenge on her human tormentors. A smile crept across her face and she bit her bottom lip.

'You can send it to that frehlnik, Munroe, the one who interviewed me. I did not like him,' She remarked as she remembered that oh-so-painful interview. Never mind, she could use him now. 'He could make something of this.' Then her face fell sad again as the reality of their predicament crept back into her thoughts. 'If we ever get you home.'

Ignoring that last, despondent remark, Olivia nodded. She agreed with Aeryn's assessment of Munroe. The documentaries that he had made had aired about six months after Aeryn had left. Or rather, after everyone had thought she had left. Poor Aeryn, Olivia thought, she had probably sat through those documentaries during her imprisonment, unable to reply to all the accusations regarding her and her friends. She knew that John, who was quite lucid back in those days, had been incandescent with rage when the programmes had been broadcast. Olivia had thought the programmes to be disgusting, but Munroe was just the sort of reporter to take a story like this, dig up some more dirt, and then make it all very public. He was the sort of man who she thought would do anything to advance his reputation.

Aeryn and Olivia both knew they might not have much time before Braca or another Peacekeeper returned, so Aeryn quickly composed her thoughts and straightened her hair and clothing.

'I'm ready,' she told Olivia.

Olivia pressed some buttons, held up her phone and replied 'Go!'

'Hello, Mr Munroe, this is Aeryn Sun. do you remember me?' She briefly lifted Deke into camera shot. 'Say hello to Mr Munroe, Deke.' Deke waved and smiled into the camera. 'He is mine and John's son. Does that answer your burning question?' Lowering Deke out of camera shot she continued. 'I was pregnant when you interviewed me, by the way. Pregnancy is different for Sebaceans, well, for Peacekeepers like me, and he was only born last year. Anyway, I have an even bigger story for you. That Christmas, I did not leave Erp. I was drugged and kidnapped by officials from your government, led by Mr T.R. Holt. At that time Mr Holt was special advisor to your president. For the last seven years I have been held a prisoner, in secret. Apart from interrogating me, they have conducted medical experiments on me and then on my son. They kept most of the details of their conspiracy secret from me, but I know of one place they used, and where you should start looking for evidence. It was a supposed clinic for military veterans, located on the 12th floor and above of the…….'

Olivia smiled as Aeryn continued with her tale: This was something to give both women some hope for the future, despite their current desperate straits. All they needed now was some miracle to get them out of here and back to Earth, and with her phone intact and in her possession. Olivia had to confess to herself, though, that she would happily sacrifice her phone and the message they were recording on it to escape from her current predicament.

'Right, Crichton,' Holt began as he hurried into the Spartan room where John was being held. From his flustered appearance, Holt was clearly having a bad day although John couldn't honestly say that he felt any sympathy for T.R. 'The situation has just got much more serious.'

'Yeah, right, Bob,' mocked John. 'They making you buy your own suits now?'

Holt fixed John with a serious gaze: 'The Peacekeepers say that there is a Scarran armada headed for the other side of the Earth wormhole. They want you up there now, to make them a weapon to defeat them, to protect Earth and as a condition of them trying to draw off the Scarrans.'

John wandered the room, deep in agitated thought, displaying a full range of physical tics, before kicking a waste paper bin in disgust. He sighed and turned to Holt.

'Listen T.R. for the seventy ninth time, I cant make a wormhole weapon, no matter what they think, no matter what you think.'

'Then we're so screwed…'

They both stood in silence for a while, Holt hoping that John would crack and tell him that he would reveal the secret of wormhole weapons, Crichton trying to work out what the options might be and then, what he should tell Holt of those options. Eventually, Crichton sat at the interview table between them and then broke the silence.

'But……….. maybe I can shut the wormhole, protect Earth.'

'Go on,' replied Holt, his interest piqued. He joined John at the table and pulled out a notepad and pen.

'I reckon I can seal Earth off, from all of them, for good.' Holt raised an eyebrow and tapped his pen on his pad. 'Would you trade me to the Peacekeepers for that? It's a small price, for you, 'cause I can't give you or them anything else.'

'Hmmm. And what would be in this for you?'

John shrugged: 'People I love don't get killed by Scarrans. Plus, there's the small matter that the PKs have my sister, they have Aeryn, they have my son. Trust me, I'm a doctor. You wont be giving them anything you can use if you give me to them, but you will be protecting Earth if I can shut that wormhole.'

'But what if they're lying about the Scarrans?'

John laughed at that. 'I'm working on the assumption you're all lying,' he replied. Holt scowled at him. 'Scarrans or not, our choices are getting limited here, we're circling the drain. Think through the options, T.R. and tell me, do you have a better plan?'

Holt shook his head and tossed his pen down on the notepad. 'We're not letting you go, Crichton: We're not giving your wormhole knowledge to them.'

John sighed deeply, then fixed Holt with an icy stare. He knew his plans usually sucked, but why couldn't Holt see that, as far as they went, this one was a no-brainer?

'First point, no matter what you believe, I don't have any wormhole weapon knowledge. Second point, you have to let me go, because if you don't, and they really are on their way, the Scarrans will destroy Earth, and I'm the only person who can stop them. Think about it, Holt. But don't take too long.'

Holt stood and paced up and down. 'I don't trust the Peacekeepers….'

'Very wise. Join the club. But it's irrelevant. Look, get Braca on the phone, then ask Aeryn, or their Pilot, about the Scarrans. They wont lie.'

'Are you sure?'

'It's the best verification you're gonna get.'

Holt frowned and pondered what to do. What was the matter with the man, John wondered, why did he have such trouble grasping what had to be done? Perhaps it was all a lie, and he was still playing John to try to get wormhole weapon knowledge from him, John wondered. John had to call his bluff: He had no other options. If Holt was lying about the Scarrans, he wouldn't hand him over to the PKs anyway, so

John had nothing to lose.

'Ask yourself, Holt: which is worse: If you give me to the PKs, I cant give them squat, so what have you lost? Believe me, I've no more desire to let the PKs have a wormhole weapon than you do, so you can trust me on that. Or will you risk the Scarrans coming here, to Earth?'

John watched Holt as he seemed to wrestle with the dilemma before him. If he was bluffing, he was a fine actor, and, if he was not lying, John was slightly surprised to find that he was getting some slight enjoyment from Holt's discomfort. 'Your turn to choose, T.R. What's it to be?'

Aeryn stood on Moya's command, a few steps behind Braca, watching him as he preened and strutted in front of the centre console, waiting for the Erplings to come on line.

It was a shock to find herself back on Moya's command after all these cycles. She was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that they had released her not just from her restraints, but now from her cell, too. But then it had been a most extraordinary half an arn: Braca had returned to the cell, where she was being held with Olivia and Deke, and immediately told her that she was now free to move around the ship, as long as she was escorted. Then he had asked, yes, asked, not demanded, that she accompany him to the Pilot's den. Once there she had mostly listened, almost without question, whilst Pilot, with occasional inputs from Braca, had briefed her on the current political and military situation back home. Braca had insisted she needed this briefing, and that she needed to hear it from Pilot, in order that she might better understand what was happening. And, of course,, that she might trust them. In one important regard, Braca had been right: It was only Pilot aboard Moya from whom she would believe what she had been told.

'I have the humans on the communications channel again,' came Pilot's voice.

'Put them on, Pilot,' Braca replied, his voice as level and proper as his stance.

'Commandant Braca?' General McReady, who was leading the call for the humans, greeted him over the communications link.

'I'm waiting, go ahead,' Braca replied, forcing them to make the running in this game. It was not his planet at risk from the Scarrans here.

'Hey, Mr Burns, how's it hanging with you?' John quipped at Braca. McReady and his human cohorts glowered and stared at John. He was supposed to keep his mouth shut unless a question was specifically directed at him.

Braca muttered something dismissive in response, before continuing. 'Your time is running short, humans. Need I remind you that the Scarran threat is very real and very imminent?'

'We are well aware of what you claim, but so far, we only have your word for it,' said another general.

'And we have a trust issue, after your attack on our facility,' added another human, a civilian this time.

Braca shrugged off the accusation.

'That is your problem. I suggest you overcome it.'

'Look Braca, they're ready to deal, but first we want you to patch in Aeryn and the pilot of your leviathan: Straight away, so there can be no deceptions,' insisted John. Aeryn smiled a faint, half smile: Clearly, she was out of sight of all of the humans, John included: None of them, not even John, realised that she was there, on Moya's command. She was looking forward to seeing the responses from them all when she appeared and gave her contributions to the discussion.

Braca merely harrumphed, turned and motioned for Aeryn to join him.

'Officer Sun,' Braca called. 'Pilot?' he continued. Pilot appeared on the clamshell and on the humans' screen. 'I take it you both heard the conversation so far?'

'I did indeed, Commandant,' came the Pilot's voice, it's soft, reassuring sound seeming so familiar to John, but, as with Braca, incomprehensible to the few humans on the call without translator microbes.

'Pilot?' John asked uncertainly: Was this really his own Pilot? Was this really Moya? How could this be? How could they have aligned themselves with Braca and the Peacekeepers?

'Pilot, is that you, is that really Moya?'

'Indeed it is, Commander. Both Moya and I are very pleased to hear you once again. And, to answer your unspoken questions, Moya and I are here voluntarily, without a control collar or any other coercion. Moreover, we are in agreement with Commandant Braca's assessment of the situation. Your planet is in immediate danger from the Scarrans. We have also briefed Officer Sun on the situation we face on the other side of the wormhole.'

At that moment Aeryn, clearly out of any restraints, arrived at Braca's side on Moya's command.

'Aeryn, baby!' John called out.

'John,' Aeryn replied in English, her voice blank and emotionless. She was uneasy about receiving, far less returning, any display of affection in front of so many assorted strangers, former comrades and antagonists.

'Are you… Are you all… well?' John asked.

'I'm fine, John, as is Deke and the female human they took with us. In fact, High Command have offered both you and I pardons, and more, if we cooperate with them.' Again, she spoke in English. She knew her role here was to convince the oomans of what was going on, and she would more likely be understood by more of them speaking English than Sebacean. After seven years on Earth, her English was now more than up to the challenge.

'And you trust them?' John asked.

'More than yesterday,' Aeryn shrugged, pushing her hair back and, in so doing, showing once again, should any of the oomans have missed it, that she was not physically restrained.

'OK, both of you? What's the deal with these Scarrans?' John asked.

The visual feed again switched to Pilot, his large eyes inspiring trust in John, if not so much in the other humans present on the call. 'A Scarran flotilla is approaching the other side of the wormhole, Commander. From communications with the command carrier which is stationed there as a guard, I estimate that the Scarrans will arrive there in one point six arns. The wormhole is currently not traversable, but will reopen in about four arns.'

'The command carrier will not be able to hold off the Scarrans for that long.' Braca interjected.

'Everything I have heard agrees with what Pilot has said, John,' confirmed Aeryn. The Scarrans will be

here in a few arns… hours.' she explained, for the benefit of any humans who did not understand Pilot or Braca.

'So, what is it to be, humans? Your time is running out,' Braca reminded them.

Cutting the audio transmission for a few microts, the humans entered a brief huddle. When they emerged from their discussions, and resumed the audio feed, McReady spoke for them.

'You leave us no options, Braca, we will release Crichton to you, provided you do all in your power to avert this Scarran threat.'

'Hey, not so fast, everyone,' Cricthton interrupted. 'I'll agree to come up, tell you everything I know, but you have to bring your prisoners down on the ship that comes to get me. Aeryn and Deke, too, if that's what Aeryn wants. That's non-negotiable.' More than one human looked annoyed at Crichton for imposing his own conditions on their deal, no matter how harmless and sensible those conditions might be.

'If you're coming up, John, I'll be waiting on Moya for you,' Aeryn said, to the surprise of many, but no longer to the surprise of Pilot or Braca. 'Right now, I trust Pilot and Braca a lot more than I do your people.'

Less than three quarters of an hour later, John waited in the empty car park of the isolated base where Aeryn, and most recently he, had been held. He was agitated and unable to stand still. He just wanted this over with, to find out what nasty surprises fate had waiting for him this time. Around John stood a scattering of a score of agents and soldiers, Holt amongst them. John had nothing to say to him. Nothing that was constructive. He could see that his fidgeting was making some of his companions nervous, but, hell, what did they have to be nervous about, compared to him?

John carried a small holdall, with a handful of items which he had snurched and thrown together in the few hours since his it seemed possible that he would be leaving: Some spare clothes, notepads, pens, a couple of jars of coffee, a pile of chocolate bars. He had managed to secure a dictation machine earlier that day and then, in a snatched moment of privacy, he had recorded a quick personal message on it. To his further surprise, he had then managed to sneak it into the internal mail while he was kept waiting for five minutes in an office area. He could only hope it would reach it's destination: He had to hope, he had to try. It might be his last chance to speak to those he loved on Earth.

'Is that it?' a black-suited-and-tied agent called out, pointing upwards. John could see nothing. But then, the agent had binoculars to help him see.

'Yes, that's them,' confirmed another agent, his hand to his ear, so revealing that he was getting his information from somewhere else. 'Three ships coming down, fast.'

Within microts, a single dot in the sky grew first into a block, then three blocks. Then those blocks resolved into the squat, angry form of a Marauder, accompanied by two darting Prowlers. A few microts later, and the Marauder settled to the ground, like some giant, angry metal bee, while the Prowlers lurked, providing protection and early warning of any human treachery, about a thousand feet up.

A portal opened in the belly of the Marauder and three black-helmeted Peacekeepers dropped to the ground in quick succession, spreading out to cover every angle with their pulse rifles from the cover of the Marauder's landing gear. Then two more figures descended: a further, helmet-less commando holding a nervous looking woman, who was clearly not a PK, by her elbow. The pair walked a few paces towards Crichton's group before stopping.

'Send Crichton over!' the helmetless Peacekeeper ordered.

'Your hostage first!' shouted Holt in reply. This pissing contest could go on all day, John thought, and all the while the Scarrans are getting closer. We don't have time for this.

'We'll set off together, count of three,' John responded, trying to break the stalemate. Before either side could disagree, he called out 'One, Two, Three!' and stepped forwards. After a microt, the Peacekeeper commander nodded and shoved Olivia towards him. She stumbled, looked back at the Peacekeepers, clearly aggrieved at them over something, then looked forwards towards the human group. She strode forwards, heading straight for John.

John and Olivia met half way between the Marauder and the group of humans. They stopped, facing each other, close enough to touch.

'Livvy.'

'John.'

'You're looking well.'

'You too.'

'Were Aeryn and Deke OK, when you left?' Olivia nodded, her chin quivering with a dam of pent up emotions, about to burst.

Olivia began nervously pulling at one of the fingers of her right hand. Abruptly she stepped forward and embraced her brother, who dropped his holdall and returned the hug, tears welling up in both their eyes.

'I love you, John.'

'Love you too, little sis,' John replied, as they both struggled, and failed, to hold back their tears. 'Tell Caroline, Sarah, Dad, Susan……'

'What's going on! Keep walking forward!' Called the Peacekeeper commander, clearly agitated at the unscheduled rendezvous and consequent delay.

'Tell them all I love them,' John finished. 'That I'm doing this to keep you all safe.'

Olivia took a step backwards, gave a single nod, brushed a tear aside and grabbed John's hand. With her left hand she forced something small and hard into his palm, closing his hand into a fist before he could look at it.

'For you, both of you. You'll know…...' She flashed him a brief, forced smile.

'Walk on NOW!' bellowed the helmetless peacekeeper, levelling his pulse rifle at them. John brushed Olivia's cheek, 'I gotta go,' he said. Stooping to lift his holdall, he stepped past her, reaching the PK line within another 50 paces, only then daring to look back. Olivia was safely in the circle of humans. As John was stepped into the shadow of the Marauder, their gazes locked for the briefest moment, and then she was gone from his sight, as he was pulled aboard the ship.

All the way to the Marauder, John had kept his hand clenched, and it was only once he was aboard the ship, and he could feel them heading skywards and his guards' attention had drifted from him, that he dared glance at what Olivia had pushed into his palm.

It was his mother's ring. Trying not to draw attention, he slipped it onto his little finger for safe temporary keeping.

When John got to Moya he was not surprised, although he was a little disappointed, to find that his only welcoming committee was yet another group of Peacekeeper guards. Without major ceremony, but also without restraints, which John took as a very encouraging sign, the waiting guard detail took responsibility for him from the Marauder crew. His new guards escorted him at a rapid pace through Moya's golden corridors towards, John deduced, the central chamber.

When John arrived at the central chamber, most of his guards waited outside, with only the sub-officer in charge of the detail staying with him, escorting him inside. In the chamber, John saw Braca sitting opposite Aeryn, who was busy juggling a happily gurgling Deke on her knee. The adults seemed to have been chatting, if not like old friends, at least not like old enemies. Both Aeryn and Braca looked up as John was led in, whilst John's escort snapped snapped to attention and then backed out of the chamber.

'Sit, Crichton,' Braca insisted, indicating the seat beside Aeryn. He did not bother with standing himself. To John's slight surprise, Braca seemed quite at ease being alone in the chamber with a criminal, a renegade…. And a toddler. But then, John thought, Braca did have his side arm to help him deal with any unexpected misbehaviours from any of his three prisoners. 'There's much to discuss and we don't have much time.'

'Isn't it always about time?' John remarked casually as he sat. If Braca and Aeryn could be 'cool' then so could he.

'No doubt you have been wondering why we have gone to so much trouble to come and get you?'

'No, not really,' John said with a grim frown. Then, more flippantly, he added, 'You couldn't bear to be without my good looks and winning personality, could you?'

'Don't flatter yourself, ooman.' Braca replied, missing the humour entirely. 'Unlike some of your erstwhile companions, you have done nothing yet to redeem yourself. High Command still regards you both of you as dangerous fugitives and Sun as a traitor.'

'But I have something you want?' John suggested. 'But why the sudden interest in us, after so long?'

'Much has happened in the last seven cycles,' Braca replied with a shrug.

'So, Bob, do we get the short history?' John was adamant that Braca was going to have to give him some exposition if he wanted him to be more cooperative.

'We don't have time for that: Suffice to say, I am authorised to offer you and Sun full pardons. I am even willing to offer Officer Sun, the opportunity to return to the service with a promotion and offer you, Crichton, a senior role in the Peacekeeper Military Tech division. We need good officers.'

'Very generous,' sneered Crichton. 'But, let me guess, only if I clear up your overgrown-iguana problem for you?'

'Braca, you must tell him some of what you told me, if he is to trust you,' said Aeryn softly, laying a calming hand on John's arm. She had already heard some of the details of what they had missed over the last seven cycles, and had begun to understand how Moya had come to ally herself with the Peacekeepers in their mission to recover Crichton. 'Hear him out John,' she finished.

Braca pulled his tunic down by the hem to straighten it, not that it really needed straightening

'Very well, perhaps he needs to know some of what has been happening.'

'Shee, yeah. That'd help.'

Braca took a deep breath, than a drink from the beaker in front of him, and then began. 'Half a cycle after you disappeared, the Scarrans attacked the Peacekeepers, as Scorpius predicted. Their numbers where overwhelming,' Braca looked from John to Aeryn and back again, willing them to believe him and not waste time asking for too many details. He needn't have worried. John was all too aware that they were on a schedule that was not their own. 'We have only managed to prevent them from completely wiping us out by allying ourselves with others who were also threatened: the Luxans, the Hynerians and, even, most recently the Royal Colonies.'

Crichton snorted, 'Your story touches me, here, Braca,' he said, not entirely convincingly, as he tapped his chest.

'John!' Aeryn scolded.

'Ask Moya's Pilot, if you wish, Crichton. The Sebacean people,' he paused and loked straight at Aeryn, 'Are on the brink of extinction, and your daughter by Princess Katralla,' now he turned to Crichton, 'Will likely soon be part of some Scarran experiment if we can do nothing to stop their advance.'

'How did you come by Moya?' interrupted Crichton, sharply, still far from convinced, and wishing to test Braca's back-story by probing a random detail. Braca seemed unconcerned by the question, which in turn comforted John.

'Three monens ago my Command Carrier relieved a Luxan outpost, which was under attack from a Charrid fleet. Moya was acting as a supply ship for the outpost and an old associate of yours was amongst the Luxans that we took off. He told us where to find you: Indeed, it was his idea that you might be able to help us.'

'D'Argo!?' John exclaimed.

'Yes,' whispered Aeryn, her face a Peacekeeper mask, hiding her emotions.

'So is he here, on Moya? I want to see him!' John pressed on, oblivious both to the Luxan's obvious absence at this meeting and Aeryn's composed, Peacekeeper demeanour.

Braca shook his head. 'He had been badly injured in the battle with the Charrids. He was a brave warrior, though: He survived long enough to guide us through the wormhole to Erp, but that was all: I think that helping us find you was the only thing that kept him alive so long. He died over three weekens ago, from his wounds.'

Aeryn leant in to Crichton, seeking and giving comfort from the contact. From the expression of distaste which came on his face, both John and Aeryn could see that Braca was struggling to cope with the sight of such intimacy between the former Peacekeeper officer and an alien.

Controlling his emotions, and focussing on the matter at hand, Braca continued: 'Crichton, our only hope, the only hope of every species, including your own, now lies in you making a wormhole weapon to stop the Scarrans.'

John sighed. How many times did he have to explain? It was getting tiresome.

'No matter what you believe, I can't make a wormhole weapon. Hell, if I did, I might just tell you how right now. I might even make one for you. But I don't and I can't.'

'Then we are frelled,' Braca said, with genuine regret. 'As will be your home planet when the Scarrans arrive.'

John sighed again, the gesture both deep and despondent. He pulled Aeryn and Deke close to him in a one-armed hug. It was time to level with Braca: With the Scarrans so close, and getting closer by the microt, there was no more time for obfuscation.

'But I might be able to do something.' Braca looked up, his interest suddenly rushing back. He was so like Holt in that regard, John thought to himself. The two of them would have gotten on famously. He almost laughed to himself at the thought. 'I might be able to collapse the wormhole, seal the Earth off, protect it from the Scarrans.'

'How?' Braca asked.

'We need to take Moya through the wormhole to do it, when it reopens.'

'Through the wormhole?'

'Yeah, that's right. At best, even if we make it through to the other side, it's a one way trip. You and your Peacekeepers could stay on Earth – take your chances with my people – or come with us. But you know what we'll be going back to.'

'That will take us back to where the Scarrans will be!' Braca replied, shocked. 'It'd be suicide!'

'Yeah, back to where the Scarrans will be waiting. At best it's a one way trip.' John glanced at Aeryn, and had another thought. 'But at worst, it'd be an end worthy of your best Peacekeeper ideals.'

Braca stood and paced up and down in front of John and Aeryn, deep in thought, trying to decide what to do.

'I cannot condemn my crew to death by sanctioning this!'

'But you've got to let me do it, with Moya, otherwise the only difference for you is that the Scarrans will kill your people at this end of the wormhole rather than the other. Anyway, maybe you have a choice. You could take your chances with the wormhole and the Scarrans, or take your chances staying here, on Earth.'

'I'm sure the Erp-lings will be very hospitable,' Aeryn interjected with the hint of a smile as she continued playing with Deke. Braca stopped pacing and stared at her. His whole manner made it clear that he could not understand how Aeryn could be so calm facing such a terrible choice.

'But you need to decide right now,' John insisted. 'My plan won't wait: We need to do it when the wormhole begins to reopen, or all bets are off. In the meantime, I need to talk to Pilot, and with Aeryn, to work out the details.'

'Very well,' said Braca. 'Sub-Officer Derash!' he called out. A fresh face boy, barely more than a cadet, entered the chamber and stood at attention. 'Escort our guests to the Pilot's chamber.' Then Braca turned back to Aeryn and John. 'Go. I need to talk to my crew. They deserve to decide for themselves what their fate will be.' As he went to leave, John and Aeryn stood, Aeryn tucking Deke in close on her hip. Aeryn called after Braca, causing him to pause in the doorway to hear her out.

'Tell the Vilnash to leave, Miklo: It can do no good waiting there: Don't waste their lives or the ship. And, perhaps, if it leaves, then it will draw the Scarrans away from the wormhole.'

Braca turned and nodded in apparent agreement.

'I told you you would've made captain by now, Aeryn. At least,' Braca said, and then he was gone.

'Are you going to tell them?' Aeryn asked John, as they made their way through Moya's ribbed corridors towards Pilot's den. Deke giggled and played with his mother's hair as they walked, whilst a scared looking Sub-Officer Derash followed at a careful distance.

'Tell them what?' John asked with a grin.

Aeryn glared at him. 'The truth about what you're going to do.'

John looked at her frustrated expression and laughed. He had to admit that she could read him, and wormholes, so well. Better than anyone. 'Hell no, If they're coming with us, I want to know it is for the right reasons.'

The golden halls of Moya had gone quiet, had been so for the last quarter arn. John and Aeryn stood together on command, alone now apart from Deke. The youngster was balanced in front of them on the console which held the manual pilot controls whilst Pilot's serene face gazed on them from the clamshell.

The time to act was upon them.

'Twenty microts until Moya and I estimate that the space-time bubble begins to expand from the proto-wormhole, Commander,' Pilot informed them. The plan was simple: Using Pilots's superior senses and coordination, Moya would enter the wormhole as it's event horizon reached it's apex, causing the wormhole to fold in on itself and so collapse. Moya and her passengers would then be committed to traversing the wormhole to the other side as it died around them, or, as they hoped, a little behind them.

Even as John could sense the wormhole forming in front of Moya, he could feel the equilibrium of the mighty leviathan change as she began to plunge forwards into destiny.

Deke laughed in unexplained excitement at his parents as they stood before him, his mother's right hand gripping the pilot's control, while his father wrapped his hand around hers. Together, they each reached out their free hand to hold their son steady.

Moya gave the briefest shudder as she burst through the event horizon of the wormhole.

'Transferring control to you now…..' Aeryn and John heard Pilot say, even as they felt the control stick stiffen and begin to buck, in feedback, beneath their combined grip. This was going to be a rough ride, even by wormhole standards.

They entered the wormhole, and it's electric blue skein began to fold in around them. Moya shook violently, worse than any of them would have expected had this been just been a normal wormhole traverse. But, of course, there was nothing normal about this trip. Amidst the mayhem, the flash of an unbidden memory came to John. As he struggled to keep focussed on their intended destination, a vision filled his head from his last trip down a wormhole. Down this very wormhole, he realised: It was a construction of the Ancient, Einstein, who was telling him:

'If events are matched closely enough to course…'

Then, in his mind's eye, John saw Caroline finish, 'They have a way of restructuring themselves to familiar outcomes.'

With a lurch, Moya emerged from the collapsing wormhole into Tormented Space. Without relinquishing their grip on either Deke or on each other's hands, which were still entwined and clasped around the control column, John and Aeryn turned their heads to look into each other's eyes. They could each feel the heat of the other's proximity. The turbulence in the wormhole had caused them to move closer to each other, and now their bodies were pressed into each other along almost their entire length, as though each was holding up the other. Leaning their heads forwards for the final denches between them, their foreheads, then their lips met briefly. The they turned as one towards the view portal, to face the fate they had chosen.

Epilogue:

Caroline carried her morning mail and her newspaper through to her den. She had not slept well last night, not after the police had come to break the news to her about John. She was grateful that their daughter, Sarah, had slept through it all, and that she had not been upset by seeing her mother in such a state.

As Caroline glanced at the stories in her newspaper, she was reminded of her loss once again, not that she needed reminding: Amongst the unusual number of silly-season stories about UFO sightings in the paper was the headline 'Ex-astronaut, seven others, thought lost in fire.' Caroline cursed herself. If only she hadn't checked him into that damn clinic, he wouldn't have been caught in the fire. He wouldn't be dead. She couldn't bear to read the story, to find out who the other seven unfortunates might be.

She took a sip from her coffee, sighed, tossed aside the paper and looked at her mail. She had one package, a medium sized jiffy bag with something small and solid inside it, shaped like a phone or a TV remote. She looked at the address, then slumped, shocked, into the nearest chair: It was John's handwriting. With shaking hands, she ripped the envelope open and tipped out the contents. A dictation machine tumbled out into her lap. Typical John, she thought: Use something complicated, when a simple written note would have done. With an aching heart, she rewound the tape, pausing before she could summon the strength to listen to whatever it contained. It was almost certainly John's last message to her, made more poignant by the fact that he would not have known that it was to be his last. She pressed play, hearing John's familiar voice, even as her eyes misted over with tears.

Caroline was shocked by the words, when they came. It was not a personal message to her after all, just some of John's random blatherings, which, for some reason, he had sent to her. She rewound and started again. Whatever he had been thinking, he had wanted her to have this, to hear this.

'My name is John Crichton. I used to be an astronaut. Eleven years ago I got shot through a wormhole into a distant part of the universe, where I found myself on a living ship crewed by aliens who became my friends. Seven years ago another accident brought me back to Earth. I decided to stay, to try to protect those I love from the horrors I'd seen. I was wrong, by staying I ended up bringing that danger to those I love. Besides, Earth has shown that it is not ready to share in the wonders I've seen. Our leaders have betrayed me and my friends. Now, the Earth is at risk from space, and the hostile aliens I have led here. This is my mess, and I'll fix it. I'm going to fly into the wormhole and collapse it, seal off Earth. This time, I hope I have made the right choice and that I will succeed in protecting those I love. Caroline, Sarah, Susan, Livvy, dad, all of you. I need you to know that I've done what I've done to protect you all. I hope it's enough this time: I hope you'll all be safe now.'

There was a brief pause, and some unidentified background noise, before John's voice continued.

'Now, for my little secret: Everyone thinks we are going to our deaths at the hands of the Scarrans. I believe not: The wormhole may only have one mouth at Earth, but there are many exits, to different times, different places, different realities. There is no one fate that has to be. Look upwards, and hope. I hear them coming… Gotta go. I love you all.' With a click, the tape went silent.

Caroline slumped deeper into her chair, trying to hold back the tears: She looked through the door to where she could see their daughter, Sarah, was playing. She was too young to understand even the most simple story her mother could contrive about her father. Not that Caroline herself knew what to think or what to say right now. What was true any more? What was lies? What was madness? All she knew for certain was that her John was gone.

The End.

Thank you all for reading.

Author's notes:

Thanks to those who've given me feedback, encouragement and reviews. And a big thanks to Ixchup for encouraging me to turn my original sub-1000-worder into something much bigger: This really wouldn't have been written without her.

I know I've left some massive loose ends flapping around, along with a fair slug of ambiguity, but wouldn't you rather have it that way? I know I would, and I'm doing the writing, so you'll have to live with it. Perhaps just for now, though? Over on TF, where it is also posted, I seem to have an extra 'Saved for Future Chapters' slot. Hmmm.

This story began life as a short and rather vivid dream, which then turned into my first ever FanFic (The Picture In The Paper) , and then, under encouragement, just kept growing. However, it has reached a point where I feel I want to put it to bed. If I get enough ideas, from further beer-and-pizza induced dreams or from reader feedback, I may write a sequel someday and tie up some of those loose ends, but that would be a whole different story.

For now, if it was ever real and not just the ramblings of a madman prior to his untimely death in an unfortunate fire, John is out of his asylum, Aeryn is out of her prison and I feel it's time for me to move on to one or other of another couple of longer stories that have been festering in my noggin for the last few months. Any volunteers to beta-read? Unlike this story, I don't have an end worked out from the start for either of them, so I may need to consume some marguerita shooters and cheese before bedtime to inspire me.