Back to part 3

Aeryn awoke with a start, “What are you…?” She glanced around. Her surroundings where unknown to her. Where was she, and why did her jaw hurt like frelling driz?

She shook her head and her memories started coalescing. She’d been in the middle of an argument with Crichton. Crichton! He’d hit her!

“Crichton!” she roared, “I’m going to kill you.”

Her feet came off the cot she’d woken on. As her feet hit the floor, pain struck her head. She reached for her head as she winced. The door to the room opened, revealing Chiana.

She stood leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She wore a bemused smirk. Her dark eyes twinkled with devilish delight. She made a “tsk tsk” sound.

“Shouldn’t be trying to get up so soon.”

“Shut up.” Aeryn growled.

“It’s nice to see you getting knocked on your ass for a change.” Chiana continued, “It restores my sense of…justice.”

Aeryn flew onto her feet. She grabbed Chiana by the shoulders and spun the smaller woman off her feet and slammed her into the wall. Aeryn placed her elbow on Chiana’s throat and leaned forward. She let the Nebari choke for several microns before letting air pass through Chiana’s throat.

“Don’t annoy me.” Aeryn warned, “It can be hazardous. Do you understand?”

Chiana nodded as she gasped for air, “Good. Now, where did Crichton go?”

Chiana grinned, “They left.”

Aeryn pressed on her throat a little, “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Chiana gagged through her constricted throat.

Aeryn released her. Chiana slumped to the floor, clutching at her throat and gasping for air. Aeryn stomped around the room. She muttered savage oaths to herself as she paced. Chiana began to laugh hysterically.

*****

“How long will it take, Pilot?” Crichton asked.

“I estimate it will require eight arns at maximums thrust.” The multi-tentacled alien answered.

“Okay, carry on.” He said, turning to face the others gathered in the mess. Zhaan was engaged in conversation with Katryn. Rygel was yammering away to Soren, who appeared oblivious to the Hynerian’s presence. D’Argo stood at the far side of the room, leaning against the bulkhead, ready to reach for his Q’anta blade at a moment’s notice.

This is a happenin’ party, he thought wryly.

He sat down next to Soren, “Has Stumpy talked your ear off yet?”

The Warden gave him a rueful grin, “At least it’s given me a moment to think about what to say.”

“Still can’t believe that your leaders decided to go ahead with this?”

Soren chuckled, “It is a bit of a shock. We’ve been at war for two hundred cycles. We’ve never known anything else.” He shook his head, “I guess we’ve been afraid to try something different.”

“You may not be Peacekeepers any more, but you’re still Sabbacean.” Crichton reminded him, “You’ll never get past all of that baggage.”

Soren nodded, then turned towards Qek and Zhaan, “Are you two having fun yet?” Katryn smiled, as did Zhaan in her own enigmatic fashion.

“Katryn and I were just discussing some of the social customs upon your world.” Zhaan informed him, “Your society seems to have liberated itself from some of the more restrictive aspects of Peacekeeper society.”

“We’ve tried at least.” Katryn laughed, “I can’t imagine living like what was shown in our archives. It was such a restrictive society.”

“Your people are also so much more accepting of other species than the average Sabbacean culture. Why is this?”

Katryn gave her a wan smile, “Forced adaptation. After we began our settlement, we suffered from a drought and nearly starved. A trading vessel from the Jargta Alliance happened by. We were able to trade astrometric data and star charts in exchange for foodstuffs.”

Soren shook his head, “Our ancestors ate foodcubes or nine months.”

“I feel their pain.” Crichton replied, patting him on the shoulder.

“Later, more and more traders from various worlds stopped by.” Katryn resumed her story, “We began to learn from them and the exchanges changed us. We stopped seeing them as lesser lifeforms and saw them as…”

“Equals?” Crichton offered hopefully.

Katryn shrugged, “I don’t know. We just see them as potential friends rather than as a threat.”

Crichton clapped his hands together, “That’s a positive change.”

“If it lasts.” D’Argo muttered.

Crichton shook his head. The Luxan seemed determined to undermine any consolatory feelings that may arise. Crichton had left Aeryn behind to avoid this kind of behaviour. She would be embarrassed to discover how well D’Argo was filling in her boots.

"Drop it D’Argo.” Crichton said firmly.

“Who are you to order me about Crichton?”

Were Aeryn and D’Argo secretly related, Crichton wondered. “I’m not ‘ordering’ you D’Argo. I’m asking you. Comments like that won’t make our mission any easier.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t be easy.” D’Argo replied sourly.

Crichton sighed loudly. Hr dropped his head into his hands and then rubbed his head. D’Argo smiled in satisfaction, then left the room. Zhaan followed him with her eyes.

“John, perhaps I should speak with him.” Zhaan suggested.

“What’s the use?” Crichton asked bitterly, “He won’t listen anyway.”

“That shouldn’t stop us from speaking.” Zhaan said strongly. She stood and followed D’Argo’s route.

“Well, you’ve certainly driven them all away.” Rygel commented.

“Shut up Rygel!” Crichton snapped, “I don’t need to hear it from you right now.”

Rygel drew himself up in his seat, “I see. Well, I think I’ll be joining the others in staying away from YOU.” He toggled his seat’s controls and floated out of the room.

Soren studied Crichton with an expression of concern, “I don’t think this has been such a great idea for you.”

“It’s going to work.” Crichton growled.

Soren clapped him on the shoulder, “Of course, but will it cost you every friend you have?”

*****

“D’Argo, wait up!” Zhaan called out as he stalked down the corridor towards his workshop.

He turned, glowering at her fiercely, “What do you want?”

“I want to help you.”

“I don’t want or need your help.” He protested.

“You need help in trusting our guests.” She informed him.

“They are untrustworthy.” He snapped.

Zhaan smiled indulgently, “Why? Is it because they are of Sabbacean descent? They could not choose their bloodline any more than you could. Judge them on their actions, not those of their ancestors nor those of their cousins.”

D’Argo pondered her words before releasing a heaving sigh, “I shall…try. I cannot promise more than that.”

“No one is asking for more, friend D’Argo.”

*****

Aeryn hadn’t stopped pacing since she’d awoken four arns earlier. Every so often, she would break into another smattering of curses. Chiana sat on the cot Aeryn had occupied. She sat with her feet up on the mat, elbows on her knees, and chin in her hands, “Are you going to stay in here and pace the entire time they’re gone?” Chiana asked in sullen tones.

“Are you going to annoy me again?” Aeryn asked viciously.

“No.” Chiana replied, rolling her eyes, “Don’t you want to do something?”

“What I want to do is find Crichton, torture him, and kill him.”

Chiana groaned as she slumped over on the cot.

*****

“John?” Zhaan’s voice filtered into Crichton’s sleep. His head jerked up as he snapped awake. What the hell, he thought, I fell asleep in the damn mess hall. He looked to his left to see Zhaan leaning over him.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled, his mouth not working properly yet.

“We’re approaching the Acquatarian ‘fleet’. Everyone else is on the bridge. Pilot thought you may wish to join us.”

He rubbed his eyes, “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec.”

Zhaan nodded in polite incomprehension and left. He tried turning his neck. A stabbing pain shot through him. He reached up and applied pressure as he twisted his neck swiftly.

Crack

“Oh, hell!” Crichton hissed through clenched teeth and fell over sideways.

*****

“What took you?” D’Argo asked as Crichton entered the bridge.

“Don’t ask.” Crichton replied tartly as he rubbed his neck. He approached the display to see a picture of the incoming fleet. He peered at the image. It was a single vessel, not much larger than Moya.

“Where’s the rest of them?” he asked.

“Good question.” Soren replied quietly.

“Pilot, can you hail them?” Zhaan inquire softly.

“Certainly.”

It took a few microns, but an image formed in the viewer. A ragged, golden skinned woman appeared before them. Her hair was frazzled, her clothes ripped and she was covered in grime. She looked at the hologram with a look of desperate terror.

“Please, don’t kill us.” She pleaded.

"We’re not here to kill anyone.” Zhaan assured her, “We are here looking for representatives of the Acquatarians and the Vickel. May we assume you can speak on their behalf?”

The woman nodded, her eyes dull from shock, “We are all that’s left of the Acquatarians.” Stunned silence descended over the bridge.

Zhaan was the first to recover her wits, “How many of you are there?”

“Nearly two dozen.” The woman replied.

“How many of the Vickel have survived?” Soren asked.

“None. They died first.” Came the numb reply.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

“Solar flares.” She nearly wailed, “Terrible solar flares. We had no defence. They disrupted our fission cores and created overloads that detonated many of the installations. The rest were rendered inoperable.”

“Did you know about this?” Crichton whispered to Soren.

Soren shook his head, “We knew there had been flares, but we assumed they would have adequate protection.”

“How can we assist you?” Zhaan asked.

“We need a medical aid.” The woman mumbled.

Soren looked uncomfortable, then the veneer of resolve washed over him again, “Would you like a home?”

The woman’s eyes brightened with interest. The others with him stared at him in surprise. Soren swallowed and pressed on. “I can offer you a place to live. You could have your own private community, or you could join my people.”

Her eyes focused and she peered at his image, “You are a Sabbacean?”

He nodded, “Yes, I am. I came here to discuss peace with you. Maybe now we can discuss your survival instead.”

Her mouth worked but no sound came forth. She ran a hand through her hair, “I…don’t know. We’ve been enemies for so long.”

“We are also fellow colonists.” Soren said, “Let us help you however we can. If you follow us, we can provide whatever provisions you need for a voyage to another world. Or, as I said, you can settle and we can forge a new destiny together.”

She weighed the options. She nodded, “We have little choice. We accept your offer of assistance.” Her face became wary, “I cannot accept the offer of resettlement until we discuss it to a greater degree.”

“I understand.” Soren assured her, “And just to begin things, my name’s Arich Soren."

She smiled for the first time. It was tentative and fleeting, but it was genuine. “My name is Tolena.”

“This is a start.” Soren replied hopefully.

*****

The refugees had to be taken aboard Moya. Their ship had been too badly damaged to maintain life support during the voyage back to Perit. Soren put in a call to the Warden fleet and gave them the position of the abandoned transport. Soren and Katryn spent most of the trip talking to Tolena and her aide Grakus in their cultures’ first peaceful exchange of ideas and history since their division cycles ago.

*****

“Crichton!” Aeryn yelled as she entered the conference room where John, Soren, Zhaan, Katryn, Tolena, and Grakus stood talking.

“Hey Aeryn.” Crichton called back cheerfully, “What’s up?”

“Your death.” She snarled.

He held up his hands, “Wait a minute, all’s fair in love and war.”

“What’s love got to do with it?”

Crichton stifled a laugh as he conjured mental images of Aeryn on stage kicking Tina Turner’s ass, “Nothing Aeryn, it’s a figure of speech.” He replied as straight-faced as he could.

“It’s not funny, John.” Aeryn warned in a low, angry voice.

“Look, you’re upset. I understand that.”

“Do you?” she replied harshly, “Do you really?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” His voice rose, “Every time you guys treat me like I’m an imbecile not worth listening to, every time I’m told I’m too ‘primitive’ to understand, and especially when I’m knocked cold to be dragged off on some suicide mission.”

Aeryn deflated a little, “I suppose you have a point.”

“Of course I have a point.” Crichton crowed.

Aeryn’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t get over-confident.” Her expression softened, “It’s just that…you didn’t have to hit me.”

“Aeryn,” Crichton replied in mild frustration, “you weren’t going to listen.”

“I would have.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Yes. I would.”

Soren glanced over to Zhaan and whispered, “Are they lovers?”

“Not yet.” She whispered back. Soren nodded in sagely and resumed watching the show.

“You still didn’t have to hit me.”

“It was a case of ‘do unto others’.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Zhaan looked back at Soren, “So the Acquatarians have decided to stay?”

He nodded, “Yes. We’re adding a new section to the housing district and recruiting them into the tech base.”

“They should be quite happy here.”

Soren shrugged, “Hopefully. It won’t be easy putting aside two hundred cycles of warfare.”

“That won’t be the hardest part.”

Soren grinned in mild embarrassment, “Yes, there aren’t enough survivors for them to survive as an indigenous culture. They’ll have to merge with ours.”

“It will stimulate growth and change in you both.”

“With lick.”

Zhaan shook her head, “No luck is required. It is the nature of things.”

Soren nodded and refocused on the ongoing debate.

“That’s idiotic! Why would anyone actually endorse a system where one was required to treat others better than they are treated?”

“It’s supposed to inspire others to rise to your level and match your behaviour with equal or better behaviour.”

“That’s ridiculous. What that inspires is the strong manipulating the weak.”

“Not always.”

“When hasn’t it?”

…………………

“Ah ha! I thought so!”

Soren leaned towards Zhaan again, “Good luck to you then.”

Zhaan smiled gratefully, “Thank you. Unfortunately, we DO need luck until nature takes over.”


Feedback
Back to Travis' page