"Aeryn! Aeryn wait up a microt!" Chiana called as she dashed after TalynAeryn. The Sebacean was already in her full Prowler flight suit and heading for the docking bay. All things considered, with a Scarran Dreadnought closing on them fast, Chiana was in no doubt that Aeryn intended to fly out there and face them, no matter how hopelessly outgunned she might be.

"What is it, Chiana?" Aeryn tossed back over her shoulder, not slowing her purposeful stride by even a fraction. Frell, she had what John would call her game face on. The one that meant she was going to fight no matter the odds. Chiana redoubled her efforts to catch her up.

"You see, umm, the thing is…" Chiana began as she skipped along. She'd caught Aeryn up now, but still seemed to be forever half a pace behind. Should she really tell her about the baby? She felt ought to, as sort of penance, not that she believed in penance, but seeing as it was Chiana who had blabbed the secret to her own crew last cycle, after her own Aeryn had confided in her causing that Aeryn big problems with John. Also, she felt a little guilty now as to how mean she'd been to this Aeryn when she'd first come aboard. But how to tell her? They only had a few microts – the hangar bay door was in sight. Frell, why was it so difficult?

Aeryn palmed the door release to the hangar bay. She turned her head and fixed Chiana with a look which might have been impatient… might have been anything really. "What is it Chiana. I'm a bit busy… I've got to go and fight the Scarrans." Chiana tried to hold up under Aeryn's 'big sister telling her little sister off for being inappropriate' frown.

"You're pregnant!" Chiana blurted out. Aeryn's eyebrow seemed to arch a fraction of a dench and her head moved back the same amount. Was that disbelief, or shock she was showing? Well, at least she was showing something, other than impatience with her. "At least I think you are. Our Aeryn was, when she came back from Talyn, so you should be too…"

"That makes no sense," Aeryn stated. However, Chiana's words had managed to stop her headlong rush towards the Prowler, so at least she was listening, taking Chiana seriously.

"It's in stasis." Aeryn was frowning now, and looked about ready to turn and walk into the hangar bay. "Look, I don't know how it works. And you don't… didn't seem to either. Your people weren't big on the whole sex ed-for-Prowler pilots thing. But you've got to be careful, OK? With the Scarrans."

The sound of the outer hangar bay doors cycling caught both of their attention: It seemed to snap Aeryn into some sort of decision.

"Thanks," Aeryn stated, her attention already on the main doors across the bay. "Look, it's not top priority right now, Chiana, but we should talk later…OK?" And with that, she marched into the bay and towards her Prowler.

Frell! Chiana screamed inwardly. Was that it? Couldn't Aeryn talk for just a microt longer? And what now? What would John say, if and when he found out? Had she really gone and blurted out the secret of the pregnancy and frelled it all up again?

'~'

"So, which of us is going to fly the mission?" TalynJohn broached the question which had hung, unspoken, between them ever since they had climbed into Furlow's module and he had begun to pilot it towards Moya. MoyaJohn frowned. "Do the wormhole voodoo thing?" TalynJohn added, lest there was any misunderstanding.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" MoyaJohn suggested as TalynJohn lined the module up for the final approach to the docking web, through Moya's trident tail.

"I'm not D'Argo," TalynJohn scoffed. Crichton had always been amazed that his Luxan friend seemed to have had no idea John was scamming him whenever they had played that game.

"No, you're not," MoyaJohn answered quitely, remembering that D'Argo had stuck with him throughout the last couple of years, through his desertion by TalynJohn and Aeryn and right up to his death at the battle on Quajaga. He was unable and unwilling to hide his melancholy.

"What? Where is the big…?"

"He's been dead. Almost a year now."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that," TalynJohn fell silent for a few seconds, processing that news. "Look, it only takes one of us to fly the module. Your Aeryn needs you..."

"Thanks, man. But so does yours." The gossamer energies of the docking web snaked around the module and began to pull it inside the huge Leviathan.

"OK, well, then, put it another way. A kid's gotta have a father. And you've got one... two soon... right?" They entered the long, dark tunnel leading to the docking bay, following the landing lights down.

"So, you don't hold much store by the Spartan way of doing things? Sires only to hold the pass?"

"Do you?" TalynJohn replied, flicking the switch to activate the landing gear. MoyaJohn had to concede, his twin had a point there, and he knew it. They both knew exactly how the other thought, and for once, it meant they were both on the same page. If one of them had to fly the potentially dangerous, no potentially suicidal mission to summon the wormhole weapon, it should be the one who had no family.

A thoughtful silence fell for a few microts as they rolled along the final motras of the tunnel and through the open doors into the main bay.

"OK," MoyaJohn conceded as the doors began sliding shut behind them. He wondered if he should mention to his twin that the other Aeryn might be pregnant, too. That, if the timelines had been the same up to Dam Ba Da, then she was carrying his child in stasis, as yet likely unaware that she was even pregnant. Hell, if he did say anything, that would really put the cat amongst the pigeons...

As TalynJohn popped the module's canopy, MoyaJohn decided that now was not the time or place to open that particular can of worms. For better or for worse, he resolved to hold his tongue, at least for now, at least until the Scarran attack was over.

MoyaJohn climbed out of the module to find Aeryn - the not-obviously-pregnant one - in her Peacekeeper flight suit, doing final external checks of the Prowler. She turned to look at John. It looked like the girls had made a similar choice as to who was flying as wingman. Or woman.

He shook his head in response to her look of welcome. "Yours is still in the module. Running checks." She nodded and strode towards Furlow's copy of the Earth ship. As she reached MoyaJohn she paused, turned and stared at him.

"There's something different about that Prowler." It was almost an accusation. John shifted uncomfortably.

"I, umm, made some modifications."

"Modifications? To my Prowler?" Yep, that really did sound like an accusation, even without the dark flash of barely controlled anger which crossed her face, accompanying her words.

"Yeah, uh, to stop the pilot turning to goo in wormholes. I hope. Not really tested. Aeryn was cool with it. Where is Aeryn, anyway?" John's thoughts ran away with him. Had she been hurt dealing with the Scarran and they hadn't told him? Had she gone into labour?

"She's on command. Watching the Dreadnought."

John nodded, feeling like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "OK. Thanks. I have to go." Aeryn nodded and continued towards the module, whilst John began to jog from the docking bay towards Command.

'~'

Aeryn was only a handful of paces from Furlow's module when John stuck his head above the edge of the cockpit and grinned at her. His smile stopped her in her tracks and before she knew it he had climbed out and was standing in front of her.

"Hey, gorgeous."

"Hey yourself." She smiled back - she couldn't help herself. The sight of him looking at her over the edge of the cockpit of his pile-of-dren module stirred so many memories: Times spent working together in Moya's bay, maintaining their ships; of him climbing from the module, so happy to see her, after returning from some routine flight; their kiss across the edge of the cockpit after escaping the Royal Planet.

"So, how're things?" He shuffled nervously from foot to foot. She expected that he was hopeful that now they had escaped from Earth, got back to Moya, perhaps she would forgive him for leading her into the last couple of years of hell? She certainly felt inclined that way.

"You ruined my life..." The accusation was spoken softly and with a smile. He smiled back, encouraged, which was exactly what she had been hoping for.

"I know. Sorry." He reached up a hand to touch her cheek with his fingertips and she turned her face slightly into his hand, closing her eyes as she did so.

"Maybe you'll do better next time?" She opened her eyes to see him frown at that - she wasn't surprised - she wasn't entirely sure what she'd meant by that herself.

"So, here we are again. Module. Displacement Engine. Scarrans..." She remained silent as he rambled on, staring at him. "You. Me... A docking bay..."

"He said... they all said that in their reality you died at Dam Ba Da. Using the weapon."

"Yeah, I heard that. But it was getting the damn thing back from Furlow that killed him... me... my equivalent… Not using it. The casing came loose, or something. He got exposed to the partanium."

"I know..." she nodded, sniffed and wiped her nose with her fingers." But it still killed you. Look, I know I have been angry with you about how things have worked out for us here. I'm sorry."

"It's OK, babe. I understand. You've every right to be pissed at me..."

"They held you, too. Interrogated you. It wasn't you that did those things to you, to me. To us."

"I should've known... should've been more careful."

"Perhaps." She shrugged. "So should I. I was on your false Earth too, remember. I knew that it might have turned out like it did." They fell silent for precious microts, just holding each other close in each of their thoughts, in their intertwined eyes. "Seeing them... the other you and me. It's good to know we could have made it work..."

"Shh!" He whispered. "We'll get through this. Everything will be fine." She could tell that John was struggling to reassure them both.

"You ruined my life," she repeated, gently cupping his chin in her hand. He turned his head a fraction into her touch, raising his own hand to pull hers to his lips. "I wouldn't have had it any other way."

"Officer Sun, Commander Crichton!" Pilot's voice came over the comms, dispelling the moment. "According to Moya's sensors, the Dreadnought will be in weapons range in 300 microts!"

Their hands dropped from her face, although their fingers stayed wrapped together. He quirked a half grin. "Guess that's my cue. Gotta go."

"Me too," she nodded in agreement, hefting the black-visored flight helmet she held in one hand for emphasis.

"You be careful out there." He squeezed her hand then released it. "I've just got you back. I don't want to lose you again."

"Me, be careful?" She stifled a strangled laugh, almost a sob. "I'm going to be in my Prowler. You're going to be the one flying in that primitive bucket of dren."

"Don't worry about me. Everything's gonna be just fine."

"It'd better be. Because when this is over we've got something important…" she began, thinking of Chiana's revelation that she might be pregnant.

"Officer Sun, Commander Crichton," Pilot's voice interrupted again. "Should I open the inner docking bay doors?"

"Give us a couple of microts, Pilot," John called out in reply.

"The Dreadnought will be in weapons range inside…" Pilot continued, his voice high pitched and stressed.

"John, we really ought to get going. Goodb..."

"Shh. Don't say it. We don't say goodbye." He held up his hand and she echoed his gesture, allowing them to gently lace their fingers together for a couple of precious microts before they pulled apart. With one last effort, Aeryn pulled back her hand, which seemed to be bonded to his by their fingertips. Then he turned and began to walk away, towards the module.

"Fly safe, John," Aeryn called after him with all the authority and dignity she could muster. He waved a hand over his shoulder, which she took for a sign that he had heard and understood. She turned and began striding across to the Prowler, pulling on the black helmet of her flight suit as she went, readying herself for the battle ahead.

'~'

"Commander Crichton!"

"Yeah, what is it, Lloyd? I'm kinda busy right now..."

"We're detecting a massive build-up of solar radiation on our sensors."

"Not surprising, considering..."

"Commander!" Lloyd's voice insisted more urgently. "We estimate you have already been exposed to 35 rems! Another 30 seconds and it'll be ten times that! It's going exponential! You have to abort whatever it is you are doing!"

"A man's gotta do..." John replied, affecting a strange, deep, slow voice. The module did another lap of the blue, swirling mouth of the wormhole. With each circuit the spatial anomaly grew larger, more inescapable.

"What does it mean?" Aeryn asked John aboard Moya's command deck.

"He's too close to the wormhole - too close to the sun." John shook his head at the foolhardiness of his twin. "100 rem is verging on fatal. Pilot, best move us back a bit more."

"Indeed, Commander. Sensors are reading high variance in the rantac flux..."

"Not you too, Pilot!" the other John's somewhat peeved voice came over the speakers. "Look, we knew there was a risk. So could everyone shut up and let me do my job."

"No problem!" John replied, before flicking off the communications channel on Moya's control console."Moya's hull should protect us from the worst of it, but better safe than sorry...!" He continued, eyeing Aeryn's baby bump. "Pilot, can you move us away another metra?"

"We should help..." Aeryn began to protest. John slipped an arm round her shoulders, snagging her hand and pulling her into what he hoped would be a comforting squeeze.

"I know... but really, there's nothing we can do." He replied. "It's all down to him now." Trust the other him to be the big damn hero yet again John thought to himself bitterly.

'~'

Aeryn Sun accelerated her twin's Prowler down the tunnel leading from Moya's docking bay out into space and immediately began to flick the space fighter into one test manoeuvre after another, trying to refresh her memory and reflexes. She knew she had just a few microts to get used to flying again before the Scarrans arrived. It had been over five cycles since she had been one of the best combat pilots in the Peacekeepers, three cycles now since she had even flown a Prowler. A few microts would have to do.

Aeryn grimaced behind the black visor of her helmet, remembering how she had lost her last dogfight, which had been with John, or rather with the Scorpius neural clone then controlling him, and his pathetic unarmed module. Of course, that defeat had not been due to lack of skill on her part, rather it had happened because she had underestimated her enemy and allowed emotion to cloud her judgement. She spared only half an ear on the incomprehensible conversation between John and the humans down on Earth, her mind instead taking in the different views which rapidly passed her vision through the canopy. First came Moya, sleek and graceful when seen from behind through her trident tail, then the blue-green planet that John was even now planning to defend with his life, then the silvery disc of the planet's single moon and lastly John himself, or rather his module, flying in a tight circle around the mouth of a proto-wormhole. He might be fighting to defend his planet, but she was fighting to protect him. An urgent bleep from the Prowler's tactical display reminded her, not that she really needed reminding, that the fight was right at hand. The Scarrans were here: It was time. She spun the Prowler, turning it end over end, and engaged her main engines, passing close by Moya as she headed out of Earth orbit towards the incoming Strykers.

"John, the Dreadnought will be in range in about 100 microts, but there are three Strykers which will be with you in about 30." She advised him. "If they can get past me." She added with quiet determination.

"Don't worry, babe, you got 'em right where I want 'em..." John's voice replied, full of casual confidence. She wished she felt as confident. The odds were three to one, not even counting the Dreadnought. John's module and Moya were unarmed - everything would be down to her, her skill as a pilot and the capabilities of her ship. She just hoped the Prowler was in good condition. It would have to be. "Just keep 'em lined up like that. Everything'll be..."

She closed her mind to everything but the three blips, closing fast now, on her targeting computer, blocking out the radio traffic and the enormous threat-warning caused by the Dreadnought behind them. An alarm went off, signifying the Strykers were now within her weapons' range, followed a microt later by another alarm, warning that she was now in range of them. She automatically toggled the alarms off - they were nothing more than a distraction now.

Throwing the Prowler from side to side to try to avoid the incoming weapons' fire now streaming past her, she fixed her attention on the central Stryker in the formation, weaving it this way and that in her targeting array, never giving them a static target, planning for the moment when she would get a lock on the Scarran ship...

There! She pressed the weapons fire stud on her control column, sending pulse cannon fire streaking towards the middle Stryker.

In the blink of an eye, she was through their formation. She rolled hard to come about to face them again, or rather, to get onto their tails. She noted with satisfaction the orange bloom which marked where the lead Stryker had been. One down. As far as she could tell, not a single one of their shots had hit her.

"Frell!" she exclaimed, realising that one of the two remaining craft was still heading single-mindedly towards the distant, barely visible blue swirl of the wormhole. She couldn't make out the module at this distance, but she knew John would be there, conjuring the same weapon that he had used at Dam Ba Da. And she knew that the other Stryker would be in range to fire on his defenceless craft in a matter of microts. Finishing her turn, she pushed the engines of her Prowler to the maximum in pursuit of the Stryker heading for John, ignoring the proximity warning alarm, signifying that the Dreadnought was now also coming into play.

"John, you have at least one Stryker incoming... I'm going to try to..."

"Just another twenty microts or so, babe. Great job, all the ducks in a row...!" came his apparently unconcerned reply. Frell him, didn't he realise the danger he was in?

She could see the Stryker was lining up to fire on John now - she'd have just one chance to get the Scarran ship before it destroyed John! As she lined up to take the shot, Stryker weapons' fire shot past her, from somewhere behind her, missing her by denches. Frell! The other one was on to her! But of course it was, had the situations been reversed, she and her wingman would have chosen much the same tactics. She'd got lucky once, they had missed her, but she knew it could all be over in the next microt. She just hoped she could destroy the Stryker which was attacking John first, give him the time he needed to activate the wormhole weapon.

Blocking out the threat to her own safety, she concentrated on the Stryker bearing down on John and the module, centring it in her sights. Her thumb began to push down on the trigger to the Prowler's pulse cannons.

Suddenly an enormous bulk swept past her canopy, motras away, on a trajectory which would surely intersect with the second Stryker, the one on her tail.

"Officer Sun," Pilot's voice filled her headset, clear and calm. "You are clear to fire." The weapons fire from the second Stryker had stopped. She knew instantly what must have happened: Moya had rammed the small craft attacking her, likely destroying it with her enormous mass. And now, she presumed, the Leviathan was shielding her from the Dreadnought, like a giant umbrella.

There was no time for words of thanks: She centred the remaining Stryker in her targeting display and fired. The Scarran ship blossomed satisfyingly into an orange fireball.

But then the fireball seemed to grow unexpectedly, bigger and bigger. She had seen the surveillance logs of the wormhole weapon which Talyn had recorded at Dam Ba Da, having been down on the planet during John's flight in the module that day. She knew instantly what it was. John had completed summoning the wormhole weapon.

"Aeryn, Moya, break off NOW!" John bellowed into the comms. Aeryn needed no further instructions, she was already rolling, half towards the mouth of the weapon, half away from the path of destruction it would unleash, trying to put the maximum tangent between her trajectory and the line of fire of the wormhole weapon. As the Prowler rolled, she caught a momentary glimpse of Moya's tails disappearing into starburst and then a wave of orange-white superheated solar plasma surged past her, tripping out systems all over the Prowler.

"We got it! We got it!" she heard John shout just as the overwhelming heat from the wormhole weapon tipped her over into unconsciousness.