by Travis
*Author's personal note- The events depicted in the story Opposing Forces were written two weeks before the debut of the episode Nerve. Any and all similarities surprised the author as much as the potential reader. Thank you.
*****
"Sacred dren!" a voice cried out, startling the entire expedition. Most of the techs abandoned their projects and hurried over to see what the alarm was about. Several other curses accompanied the murmurs of wonder and curiosity. Shouts arose as the PK captain in command of the expedition made his way through the crowd.
The techs were swatted aside as though they were mere insects. In the minds of the troop regiment, the techs were walking feces. A tech ranked barely above an alien servitor in the caste system of the Peacekeeper forces. The close proximity the two groups were experiencing during this scouting mission was straining already frayed nerves.
Captain Keirn Barrad of the PK Special Operations Forces stood with his hands on his hips. His sandy close-cropped hair ruffled lightly in the breeze of this arid world. His rugged features were much leaner than when this mission had begun, but that only served to give him a harder, more dangerous aspect. The months spent in surveying planets in the Uncharted Territories had forced him to conquer doubts and fears he'd never known he'd had. He was now a finely honed weapon in the PK arsenal.
Barrad's eyes met those of Chief Tech Annika Ryst. Ryst was much shorter than Barrad, but her gaze was nearly as fierce. She was in command of the techs assigned to the mission and answered directly to Barrad. They had established an uneasy alliance and strove to minimise friction between their respective comrades.
Steel grey eyes looked out from beneath her dark bangs, "Let me talk to my people and I'll give you a report."
Barrad nodded curtly, "Get to it then. I want to know why your techs are disrupting camp."
Ryst bristled under Barrad's implied insult, but said nothing. She merely turned away and laid her hand on her startled sub-ordinates shoulder.
"Jolli, what is it?" she asked in honest concern, "What startled you?"
The young tech glanced back over his shoulder at her. The fear in his eyes was obvious. What lay in the ground was obscured from her vision by his body. He shifted out of the way and she saw what he had discovered.
Her eyes widened as he spoke, "That's what I found."
"What the frell is that?" she whispered.
*****
Chiana stormed out of the Cargo Bay muttering a flurry of oaths under her breath. She nearly trampled Crichton as he approached from the opposite direction. He wrapped his arms around her in surprise. She pressed into him, a coy smile playing across her lips.
"I never knew." She whispered huskily.
John pushed her back by her shoulders. Jesus, her moods could swing!
"What's up?" he asked.
Just as swiftly as it had faded, her glower returned. "I'm fine." She snarled, "Aeryn's the one with the frelling problem!"
Speak o' the devil, John mused, "Do you know where she is?"
Chiana jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the Cargo Bay, "In there. Y'know, I came down here to see if I could help. She's been bummed ever since we met those dren-eaters and I wanted to cheer her up." She shrugged, "I thought maybe she'd appreciate a little fem to fem advice."
Uh oh, he thought, but asked, "And what was this advice?"
Chiana rolled her eyes, "Like its anything we haven't all wanted to say to little Ms. Stormtrooper. I told her to find some male, drink some fermenteds, and frell his brains out. Maybe then she would finally relax and stop being such a...." She paused when she saw the look of disapproval on his face, "What?!"
And I thought she might actually have a selfless motive, not just an excuse to bitch at Aeryn. John sighed, "Couldn't you have find a nicer way of saying it?"
"That was the nice version." Chiana huffed, then continued stalking down the corridor.
Crichton shook his head and chuckled. He always found encounters with Chiana...interesting. He entered the Cargo Bay cautiously. Any room Aeryn occupied was one to be entered slowly. Any room occupied by Aeryn in a bad mood was generally best avoided.
Unfortunately, John also knew he'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't proceed. Ever since her recent brush with death after encountering the Swarm, Aeryn had been pushing herself harder and harder. She spent virtually every waking hour in this Cargo Bay exercising or flying practice runs in her Prowler.
A dull thud echoed through the Cargo bay, followed by another. As John neared the centre of the bay, he could see that Aeryn had managed to hang a metal cylinder from the "ceiling" and was intently pounding at it with hands, feet, and various other hard parts of her trim physique. Her hands were wrapped in cloth and she wore her boots. Her elbows were not so fortunate and looked far worse for the wear. Judging by the tears in her pants, John would guess that her knees had taken quite a beating as well.
She was drenched in sweat and her breathing came in ragged gasps, but she continued to punch the hanging canister. He recognised the innumerable dents across the cylinder as her work. That did not unnerve him nearly as much as the expression in her eyes. Her eyes were vacant, almost lifeless, as she stared mindlessly at the target she had spent the better part of a day trying to reshape with her blows.
As heart rending as this vision was, another baser part of his mind was barraged with a torrent of comments. Oh my sweet Lord, just look at that body! John felt guilty as he thought it and tried to remind himself that his reason for being here was to try and talk some sense into Aeryn, not ogle her undeniably fabulous body. Stop it! He lectured himself, You're drifting. Focus. Stay on target...stay on target...stay on target. Don't think about how nice it would be to be the male frelling her brains out.
Crichton's mind suddenly slipstreamed back to their near "close encounter" in the Transport Pod when they were caught in the Flax. Both of them had agreed that it "never" happened. Unfortunately, often late at night, he knew it had happened. Or, more correctly, it had almost happened. He still found himself half-resenting D'Argo for his untimely arrival.
Down boy! John thought as he snapped his head side to side. He took a deep breath and started moving forward. Mind on the mission...mind on the mission...mind on the mission...question is, what's my real mission here? That particular question stopped John dead in his tracks as he tried to suddenly answer the question that had been plaguing him for months now.
While John stood in mute confusion, Aeryn's fatigue dulled senses finally registered his presence. Tragically, the hours spent here had been spent reliving her encounter with the Swarm. Her near death had forced her to confront questions and thoughts she had avoided until that point. She had finally faced her darkest secret...her true feelings for John Crichton.
She could not quantify what she felt. She had no words for it, no prior experience by which to judge or compare. What she did realise is that she felt a longing that outweighed even her longing for a people and a home. It was a source of both hope and pain. She hoped beyond hope that Crichton desired her, but her fear that he saw her as she saw herself paralysed her and forced her to deny her feelings even more now that she had finally realised that she truly wanted him.
In her opinion, her life had fallen apart over the last few weeks. She'd been unable to overcome the Swarm attackers that threatened Moya, Crichton and the others. Other than D'Argo, she was the only true warrior among them, and she had failed them during a battle. How could she hope to win Crichton's affections when she couldn't defeat a simple insect?
She mentally knew that the values he held were different than her Sabbacean mores, but still, strength was a universal constant. How could she present herself a worthy mate if she allowed herself to be beaten? The greatest horror was that she had fallen while Crichton was watching! Adding to her shame, and her secret pleasure, was that he'd held vigil over her while she lingered between life and death.
She'd berated herself endlessly as she took out her frustrations on the makeshift punching bag. When she'd awoken from her deathlike sleep, she'd thought she finally knew what she wanted. Her home was with Crichton. He'd promised to stand by her, and she finally knew she desired to accompany him to the ends of the universe.
The weeks had worn away that resolve. She felt the desire, but had erected rationalised barriers around it even firmer than those she'd possessed before. Her previous walls had been built around cultural dictates and personal biases. Now that those had been overlooked, she now faced her own inner doubts. Aeryn had no qualms regarding her chances against a tangible foe. Her enemy was herself, and she had no inkling whether or not she could overcome this irrepressible opponent.
When she recognised John's presence, it was while in this fugue state. Her lips curled back in a savage snarl and she lunged forward. Crichton, caught unawares while he teetered on the precipice separating concern and lust, never saw her attack coming. She swung her leg up in a savage kick that caught him squarely in the ribs. Having his reflexes honed by living in near constant jeopardy afforded him enough response to escape any broken bones, but did little to counter her follow through.
Her fist rocketed into his jaw, sending him to the floor. She was on him in a micron. Her left forearm was braced across his windpipe while her right coiled back for another strike if he resisted the suffocation. Although he couldn't get any air into his lungs, he did have air in his lungs. Crichton desperately tried to talk to her before she throttled him.
"Aeryn," he managed to get out, "it's me!"
He could see the cold fury in her eyes, the murderous intent. It chilled him to the bone. He knew that Aeryn had always possessed this side of her, but it had never been directed at him. Not like this, totally unleashed. As he started to lapse into unconsciousness, a stray though darted through his mind, And I wanted to try and take her to bed?
Aeryn blinked in surprise as her conscious mind realised what she was doing. She released her hold on John's throat and pushed off of him. A cold panic seized her gut. What have I done? She wondered in despair, I may have just killed him!
She shook Crichton's shoulders while shouting his name. She was near, for her at least, hysterics when he finally groaned and then began coughing. He turned over onto his stomach while clutching his throat. He managed to get his knees underneath him, all the while facing away from Aeryn.
Relief washed over her in palatable waves. The thought of his passing had threatened to overwhelm her. That added to her sense of inner shame. How dare she almost lose control of herself like that?
It also seemed to bring all of her conflicting emotions into lucid focus. She knew exactly how she felt. She knew what she wanted and how badly she wanted it. She wanted him to turn around, like he was doing now. She wanted to him to take her in his eyes, like he was doing now...well, not quite as he was doing now. She hoped he'd have a kinder expression.
That wasn't important. What was important was that he was facing her. He was facing her, preparing to speak. Her heart leapt. She desperately wanted him to say....
"Dammit Aeryn! What the hell is wrong with you?" John shouted as best as he could.
She'd wanted him to say something else.
*****
Barrad entered the field lab the techs had set up. Ryst was overseeing an examination of one of the bodies Jolli had discovered. Barrad stopped as Ryst let out an appreciative whistle. He found it amusing that a tech could find anything worth whistling at.
"Have you found something, Chief?" he asked.
She turned to face him. The other techs drew back somewhat in apprehension. Ryst displayed none of their fear. Her face radiated pure fascination.
Damnable female, Barrad mentally cursed, she will be taught proper respect even if I have to execute her.
"Captain, this creature is incredible!" Ryst's words tumbled out in an excited tumble, "It is one of the most efficient predators I have ever examined."
"A Peacekeeper Captain undoubtedly being the most efficient." Barrad commented dryly.
Ryst stared at him in mute confusion before finally recognising the teasing quality of his tone, "Yes. Of course, my initial examination indicates that our battle tech is more than capable of subduing these creatures."
"They do have a name Chief." Barrad reminded her. He was feeling much more generous after her proper display of submission and her encouraging report. These months spent in the hinterlands of space would prove worthwhile after all. His name would soon be known throughout Command.
"Yes, Captain." She replied demurely, "Our preliminary dissections indicate that our weapons can destroy the Swarm."
*****
The barriers in Aeryn's mind snapped shut. All thoughts of desires were safely contained within them. Her normally brusque personality engaged and she re-examined Crichton's statement. She blinked in surprise, then a frown settled on her face.
"What do you mean 'what's wrong with me'?" she snapped, "What kind of dren for brains sneaks up on a soldier while she's drilling?"
"Sneak?" John protested, "I couldn't have been more obvious if I'd walked in here naked!"
That would be... Aeryn quickly suppressed that errant thought, "You should simply know better than to enter while I'm disciplining."
"I should have known better than to try to help you." Crichton retorted bitterly, "I came down here because I was worried about you. I should have known that you didn't need my help. You've got it under control and heaven help anyone that tries to lend a hand."
He glared deeply into her eyes, "I've got enough people trying to kill me without having my friends trying to help!"
He turned and stormed out of the Cargo Bay. Aeryn never rose from her kneeling position. His words rang through her mind, a stinging echo of her own accusations. She began planning new, even more intensive workouts. Physical prowess wasn't enough. She needed to build her mental endurance in order to avoid another incident like this one.
*****
"Are you certain?" Barrad asked, "Their carapace appears quite formidable."
Ryst nodded, "Their outer shell is virtually immune to our pulse weapons, but they are vulnerable."
"How?" he asked irritably. He was remembering why he despised techs. They always thought they knew more than an officer. His knowledge was vast enough, and he desperately wished he were at liberty to share some of what he knew with this upstart.
"They bulk of their internal composition is made up of an aqueous solution. Their internal organs, such as they are, literally float in this concoction."
"So?" he snapped.
She rose her dark eyebrows at him, "Their carapace is incapable of ventilation, outside of two specific vents for that purpose, which means the inner fluids heat rapidly."
"Ventilation? Heat?" Barrad repeated, and then he connected the data streams, "Our pulse rifles cause their internal fluids to boil and that kills them!"
She smiled warmly at him, "Exactly Captain. I suspect that such a pressure build up would even cause them to explode."
"Transforming them into a walking anti-personnel device." Barrad mused appreciatively. He motioned towards the tent flap, "Will you follow me?"
Ryst waited for Barrad to turn to before swallowing nervously. She knew of the Captain's barely suppressed desire to harm her. Ryst had little ambition and even fewer political concerns. Her only desire was to expand the knowledge base of her people, thus helping to insure their survival.
Even Peacekeeper Command had acknowledged that she was a brilliant, if eccentric, scientist. They had opted to leave her alone and allow her unrestricted logistical support for her researches. She was rarely impeded by the social stratification of her society. That had all changed when she had been designated to join this mission.
*****
John moved past D'Argo without a word. That in and of itself was enough to alert the Luxan to something being wrong. The dark expression on the human's face only confirmed it. Although loath to admit it, Crichton had earned a grudging respect.
"Is something troubling you Crichton?"
John spun instantly, "No, D'Argo. Everything's fine. What makes you think that anything's wrong?"
"Perhaps the blood on your lip is a clue." D'Argo remarked dryly, ignoring Crichton's sarcasm.
John touched his lip, "That was an... accident. I made a mistake. It won't happen again."
D'Argo snorted, "These encounters between you and Aeryn are getting annoying."
"Who said anything about Aeryn?"
"Your facial expression." D'Argo replied, "Even if you weren't carrying her scent, you always wear that particular expression after dealing with her."
"What expression?"
D'Argo sighed, "You wear your frustrated desire on your face. You look like a lovelorn myrker beast."
"That's an insult isn't it?" Crichton asked defensively, then more forcefully, "I don't wear any stupid expressions!"
"You are right now."
"I am not!" John shouted in exasperation.
Zhaan came around the bend, alerted by the noise, "Is something the matter."
"Crichton has been talking to Aeryn again." D'Argo answered before John could speak.
"Ah." She said. The word carried a great deal of meaning.
"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked.
Zhaan wore her most innocent expression, "Why nothing John. I was merely acknowledging D'Argo's explanation."
"And?"
"And confirming what I already suspected from your demeanour and tone."
"Oh, for the love of..." Crichton muttered as he threw his hands in the air.
"Have you tried expressing yourself to Aeryn?"
"Of course I have!" John snapped, "I tried talking to her a few minutes ago and she nearly strangled me. I've had it! She wants to make herself miserable that's her business."
"She rejected you." D'Argo commented.
Crichton glared at him, "No. She didn't reject me. I haven't asked her for anything, so how could she reject me?"
Zhaan noted the rising hysteria in Crichton's voice and sought to soothe him, "Now John, sometimes it takes some time for different species to overcome all of their respective differences and..."
"You don't get it! There's no differences to overcome!" he protested angrily, "She's my friend, that's it. She's my friend like you're my friend, Zhaan, or you D'Argo."
D'Argo bristled while Zhaan smiled appreciatively, "Why thank you."
John shook his head in surrender, "You just don't understand. Talking to you is like talking to a wall. Maybe Chiana is the only one that I can talk to after all."
"About what?" came a voice form behind him.
"Jesus!" Crichton yelped as he spun around, "What's with you? Do you just loiter about the ship waiting to sneak up on people?"
"What else is there to do?" she asked petulantly, "I could go watch D'Argo build another weapon, or watch Zhaan mix another powder, or go to the Galley and listen to Rygel drone on for hours about his lost empire."
She shrugged, "The most interesting things to do are bug you or watch Aeryn beat herself up. Anyway, I heard my name. I'm bored, want to entertain me?"
"Sure." Crichton growled, "Anything's better than this."
D'Argo and Zhaan watched them go. After they were out of earshot, D'Argo turned to Zhaan, "He's going to get into trouble again."
She sighed deeply, "I'll follow them and make sure nothing happens."
"Life would certainly be easier if Crichton and Aeryn simply moved on with their lives." D'Argo complained bitterly.
"They must choose their own path, D'Argo." Zhaan replied, "We can only aid them down the way they choose for themselves."
Although, she mused inwardly as she trailed Crichton and Chiana, life would be far simpler if they'd finally make a choice.
*****
Ryst trudged along after Barrad. This world, designated Harvre III by their astrogator, was a lush and fertile world. It was also damnably warm. All the Sabbaceans had been forced to strip down to their lightest garments. For the PK officers this meant tank tops and pants. For the techs, they were still required to wear their coveralls, although most were now tying the, off at the waist.
The ruins they'd made camp in had been built a thousand cycles ago. This world had been stripped of all its major lifeforms by the onslaught of the Swarm. A rival species had sold the insectoid marauders the location of their enemies. The terms were the usual set of demands from the Swarm: all conquered peoples were given to the Swarm for food. The insects then pillaged the world for other portable supplies before vacating in favour of their employers.
The rivals appeared do have met a poetic fate. Records on other worlds indicated that they had fallen prey to the Swarm as well. For such a destructive species, they were virtually unknown outside of a handful of sectors. It had originally irritated PK Command that another race could have an equally formidable reputation as the Peacekeepers themselves. That irritation had spawned a jealousy and had prompted these missions into the periphery of Swarm territory.
The individual commanders of these missions were less knowledgeable of the overall situation than Ryst herself. She carefully kept that secret to herself. Barrad's attitude would deteriorate further if he knew that in the eyes of Command, she was the true commander of the survey. It was a unique situation, and she knew it. Only skill and luck had granted her this historic opportunity.
She was in a position to change the way Command saw her class. The arrogance of most Peacekeeper officers prevented them from recognising the contributions of their logistical aides. That was slowly changing. A few, a very precious few, highly placed Commanders were beginning to recognise the limitations of their own caste.
Ryst's mission was a covert operation in many ways. To most, it was simply a search for a way to counter a potential foe. To an informed few, it was an attempt to research the possibility of genetically engineered weapons. A mere handful knew of the other side of her mission. She was here to demonstrate the full capabilities of a tech and to demonstrate that her contribution was as vital, if not more so, than of a commando.
On to part 2
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