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A large, six-wheeled vehicle pulled up in front of the Traffic Control office. Several Wardens jumped out of the vehicle’s cab. Nearly a dozen leapt out of the rear cargo area. They all hustled off to another part of the complex.

Standing under the awning sheltering the office door from the suns, Crichton, D’Argo, Chiana, and Aeryn stood waiting for Soren to return form the Controller’s office. The crew had been given caps to help avert the powerful glare. D’Argo was unable to wear one due to the dissimilarity between Luxan and Sabbacean cranial physiology. Chiana had put hers on backwards, defeating the purpose. Aeryn and Crichton wore theirs according to specifications and were grateful to have them.

Crichton whistled appreciatively, “Can you believe this place?”

“It is amazing.” Aeryn agreed, “I wonder how long they’ve been here.”

Crichton gave her a curious glance, “Y’mean you don’t know?”

She shook her head, “Some of their tech resembles relics from over two hundred cycles ago.”

“You mean when Fluffy was still spry?” Crichton chortled.

Aeryn gave him an annoyed glare, “Would you stop calling Rygel that?”

“Oh, right.” He protested, “Like you have any lost love for the little blowhard.”

She shrugged, “You have a point there.”

“This is pointless!” D’Argo snapped, “We should be concentrating on purchasing supplies, not wasting time on the history of some…SSSS…Peacekeeper history.”

Crichton wasn’t sure what the translator microbes had refused to render to him, but from the set in Aeryn’s jaw, them’s was fighting words. He tried to get in between them before they decided to unload on each other. Chiana watched while leaning up against the wall of the building. Her smile was one of pure relish.

“What’s this gonna prove?” Crichton asked, preparing to shove them away from each other.

“Don’t touch me.” D’Argo warned.

“Stay out of it, John.” Aeryn said evenly. A silent request passed between Aeryn and Crichton. He decided to trust her. He lowered his arms and stepped back.

“D’Argo.” Aeryn said slowly and carefully, aware of her own temper, “These people are heavily armed and have Moya surrounded. It is tactically prudent to learn more about them in case of any difficulties.”

“You’re just feeling loyal to them because they are Sabbacean.” D’Argo spat.

“As was your wife.” Aeryn nearly whispered, “And your son is half Sabbacean.”

D’Argo’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed menacingly, “Leave Joffe out of this. He has no relation to Peacekeepers.”

“His uncle is a Peacekeeper, D’Argo.” Aeryn hissed, “You can’t deny him half his heritage.”

“What heritage?” D’Argo scoffed, “A legacy of murder and treachery?”

They stood a hand’s width apart, eyes locked. They stayed that way for several microns before either one of them noticed Crichton’s discreet coughs. Both looked towards him. He motioned towards the office door with his eyes. Soren stood there with a bemused expression on his face.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.” He said mischievously.

“Not much.” Aeryn replied, stepping back from D’Argo, “Just a difference of opinion.”

“On whether or not to trust us.” Soren replied. He saw the stricken expression on their faces and held up a hand to deflect their fears, “Not to worry. I would do the same in your position.”

“Would you?” Aeryn asked sceptically.

“Yes. I would.” He assured her. He glanced towards every member of the landing party, “You’re all a long way from your homes. Under similar circumstances, I wouldn’t trust anyone.”

“Why should we then trust you?” D’Argo asked sharply. Aeryn gave him a harsh glare.

“Because I’m going to show you everything and let you make up your own minds.” Soren replied easily. He reached into the pockets of his uniform pants. He pulled out four moulded squares affixed to chains.

“These are your travel permits.” Soren informed them, “If I’m not around, show them to anyone that challenges you.”

“Will that happen often?” D’Argo asked warily.

“We don’t get many aliens here.” Soren admitted, “With the war on, some people overreact to those visitors we do get.”

“War?” Aeryn and Crichton asked simultaneously. They gave each other an annoyed glance.

Soren chuckled wearily, “I’ll tell you about after we get into the city. You must be hungry.” He pointed to the six-wheeled “truck”, “We can take that.”

They walked towards it with Soren in the lead. He approached the cab. Using the handhold and the runner, he stepped up and peered into the cab. He hopped down and walked around the vehicle. When he reached the back, he grinned.

Jutting out from beneath the rear of the vehicle was a pair of boots. Soren tapped one of them lightly with his foot. A stream of curses erupted from beneath the truck. The feet began moving as their owner began scrabbling across the ground to get out from underneath.

Coming up in a cloud of dust, Soren was suddenly confronted by a sandy haired tech around Chiana’s height. She was fuming and not afraid of showing it. She ripped her work gloves off her hands and threw them down on the ground. She stepped forward and placed her dirt-covered face a breath away from Soren’s chin.

“Who the frell d’you think you are?” she demanded, “D’you know who’s lorry this…” She stopped shouting as her brain registered what her eyes had been inputting. She snapped into a rigid posture that appeared to be universal for “attention”.

“Begging the Warden’s pardon.” She stammered, “I didn’t recognise you.”

“At ease, Tech Sergeant.” Soren relied with a laugh, “We’ve got guests.”

“The aliens?” she asked with keen interest.

“Well, not all of them.” He replied motioning her around the corner of the vehicle. When she followed him around and saw them, she gasped.

“Sabbaceans.” She whispered.

“One of them at least.” Soren informed her, “Master Crichton appears to be a complete mystery.”

“Where did you come from?” The Sergeant blurted out.

Soren gave her a reproving glance, “Sergeant Qek, I promised these gentlebeings some refreshment. Are you going to make a liar of me?”

“No, sir.” She replied smartly.

“Then I suggest we load up.”

*****

“What do you think?” Crichton asked Aeryn as they rose in the back of the lorry.

It was headed for the centre of town. Qek had retracted the flexible ceiling and walls of the cargo area in order to provide a better view. The lorry was travelling over cobblestone streets.

“What do you mean?” she asked as they experienced another jarring shock from a rough stone.

“What do you think of all of this?” he clarified as he swept his hand past the passing buildings and pedestrians, “It can’t be often you get to see Sabbacean rustic.”

“No.” she replied pensively, “It’s not.”

“It’s a trap.” D’Argo mumbled.

“Get over it D’Argo.” Crichton suggested forcefully, “Wait until they actually screw us before you get pissy.” D’Argo’s only reply was a low growl in the back of his throat.

“What about you?” Crichton asked, waving towards Chiana.

“Oh, now you notice me.”

Crichton’s face twisted in confusion, “What?”

“The entire time we’re here, you ignore me, and now you want to talk.”

“Am I missing something here?” Crichton asked plaintively.

“Usually.” Aeryn interjected.

He gave her a droll look, “Thanks.” He returned his attention to Chiana, “Okay, you feel ignored. I’m sorry.”

“That’s better.” Chiana replied mercurially shifting from a sullen mood to giddiness, “I think this place is rife with possibilities.” Aeryn, Crichton, and D’Argo all gave warning looks. She held up her hands in mock surrender, “Alright. I was only joking.”

“I’m not when I say I will rip your arms out of you steal anything.” D’Argo warned.

*****

The lorry stopped in front of a single level building with an enclosed courtyard. Various people sat there eating. Soren and Qek jumped out and motioned for the others to join them. After an exchange of neutral glances, the four hopped out of the back of the vehicle.

"Welcome to the best eatery in Cecler.” Soren announced, then seeing the confused looks, “That’s this city.” He amended almost sheepishly.

“What do you call this planet?” Aeryn asked.

“Perit.” Soren replied, “After the astrocartographer that discovered it.”

“How long ago?” she asked.

He held up his hands, “Please, let’s eat.”

Aeryn relaxed a little and smiled. Soren motioned for them to enter. Everyone came, including Qek. It was becoming obvious that these people were a different breed of Sabbacean. The arrogance that was normally associated with all things Sabbacean seemed to be missing, at least on the surface.

They took their seats at a table near the outer walkway and waited for a server to arrive. The other patrons were staring slightly, but it seemed to be normal curiosity rather than animosity. When the waiter arrived, he took the orders from Soren since none of the visitors had any idea of what was available. The waiter had been politely intrigued by them, but asked no questions.

“How come no one seems to be reacting to us?” Crichton asked.

Soren shrugged, “Because they know you’re with an Intelligence officer. They assume that because you’re not in custody you must be harmless.”

“Intelligence officer?” D’Argo repeated.

Soren’s smile was apologetic, “Yes.” He pointed at an insignia over his left breast. It displayed a small character from the Sabbacean lexicon. “It is from the word, ‘insight’. I suppose that’s what I’m supposed to reflect.”

Crichton studied Soren for a moment. The Warden appeared to be about his own age. He wasn’t lean, but he wasn’t heavy either. He was slightly soft around the middle, but Crichton supposed that was the result of deskwork. He shifted his focus to Qek. She reminded him of Galina in many ways. She had the same openness and intensity without the fear of being killed.

“You’re saying you’re not insightful?” Crichton asked with just a hint of teasing.

Soren’s eyes never wavered, “That isn’t my call to make. I just do my job.”

“So what’s your insight say about us?”

Soren chuckled softly, “I’d say you pose no threat to my people, and may even be able to help us.”

“With what?” Aeryn asked. Crichton noticed D’Argo tense slightly. Chiana seemed lost in her own little world, as usual. Just then, the waiter and another server arrived with the food. It smelled delicious.

“Ho boy.” Crichton said eagerly, “Is Scruffy gonna be pissed that he missed this.”

“Scruffy?” Soren asked as he paid the waiter.

“One of our comrades aboard Moya.” Aeryn explained, “He has quite the appetite.”

“You mean he hogs all the good food.” Chiana grumbled as she dug into her food.

Even D’Argo forgot his reticence as he devoured the meal. The food was cleared away within moments. Soren and Qek had barely begun their meals and stared at the others’ empty plates with unabashed astonishment. Crichton and Aeryn both broke into embarrassed laughter.

“We haven’t eaten this well in awhile.” Aeryn explained.

“So I noticed.” Soren retorted.

“That’s actually why we came here.” Crichton jumped in,

“We were hoping we could get some fresh supplies.”

“You said we may be able to help you.” Aeryn retook the initiative of the conversation, “Perhaps we could arrange a trade.”

Soren shook his head, “We’d be happy to give you what we can.”

“Are you certain you are Sabbacean?” D’Argo asked suddenly.

Aeryn looked mortified. Crichton’s face was in his hand. Chiana giggled. Soren and Qek looked dumbfounded, then slowly wry expressions filled both their faces.

“Yes, Master D’Argo.” Soren replied without a trace of ire, “We are Sabbacean.”

“We have the records to prove it.” Qek interjected with a teasing tone.

D’Argo continued to glower, “Then how did you come to be here?”

Soren shrugged, “It’s a long story.”

“Do tell it.” Aeryn insisted.

“Very well.” Soren relented. His tone and smile indicated that his reluctance had been an act to draw his listeners’ attention. Now that he had them hooked, it was time to reel them in.

“A long time ago…almost three hundred cycles to be exact, the Peacekeeper Command had a little problem….”


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