by DVSonne
RATING: Mostly PG to PG-13, but it *does* discuss NC-17 topics (so Becca, TJ, and all you other under-17's out there BE CAREFUL and don't say I didn't
warn you!
SUMMARY: The title says it all.
SPOILERS: Nothing too overt, but the entire oeuvre is more or less covered.
DISCLAIMER: This is a spoof/parody, and so protected by copyright. However, even in concocting this spoof, I have tried to maintain the integrity and "reality" of the characters. No insult is intended toward the characters of the Original Creators (Henson, Bannion, etc.) and it is hoped that none is taken.
*****
(Pilot's Den/Early Morning Ship's Time. All Crew Assembled)
PILOT: The area of space... Moya is currently transversing... appears to be enhancing... some of our systems... Moya says she has... "interfaced" with something called... the "World Wide Web."
CRICHTON: (Look of disbelief -- and agonized hope -- on his face.) The Web! Omigod! That's Earth! (Looks toward the closest wall, an automatic reflex action he is not even aware of.) Moya, can you track that signal?
PILOT: Moya says... she does not believe... the signal is coming from our reality.
ZHAAN: (Very perplexed look on her face.) Not from our reality. What-- what do you mean Pilot?
D'ARGO: (Half-humorous, half-disgusted glance shot to Crichton.) Hmmph. More human nonsense.
RYGEL: (Hovering just out of reach of the others. He is eating the last of one of the fresh fruit delicacies picked up on their last run to a commerce planet and is in no mood to have it snatched away.) Hmm. (Nods in agreement with D'Argo's words.)
AERYN: (Raises a brow. Walks over to one of the control panels. Checks out the readings. Looks around.) It's definitely another reality. But how? We haven't had to starburst for more than a weeken.
PILOT: (Shrugs as well as a sentient crustacean is able.) These signals... just appeared. We have never... seen anything like this... before.
CRICHTON: Yeah, well, technical jargon aside (Ignores the small smile of amusement appearing on Aeryn's face at this.), what do the signals say? Is it anything we can use to vector a point in this space-- wait a minute. What am I saying. If the Web is in another reality-- (Horrified) Did I-- Am I-- Does that mean I'm from an alternate dimension? Does Earth even exist in
this dimension? (Swings around in frustration.) Damn, I need some quantum texts. What I wouldn't give for access to Amazon.com. (Starts to perk up, then sinks into depression again as he realizes even if he could contact Amazon.con through Pilot's connection to the Web, there's no way he could get a delivery made.)
CHIANA: Now okay, I may not be a tech or a PK, but something's not right here. Pilot, why are you so sure this is another reality? I mean, why couldn't the messages just be coming from a very remote part of space. (Snorts.) Hey, these are the Uncharted Territories for a reason, ya know. No-one -- not even my people, know everything that's out there.
PILOT: (Makes an adjustment to his controls. What we would recognize as the official SciFi Channel Farscape web-page appears.)
Interwoven comments from all of the others, almost indistinguishable:
"Omigod, that's..."
"Frell! Where did..."
"...us! But how..."
"Criiichton! What human trickery..."
"Hmmmph. I am much handsomer than..."
"...those likenesses of us come from. How..."
"...is this? How..."
"In the Goddess name, what...
"...that. Much handsomer. How..."
"...is the meaning of this. How..."
CHIANA: (She is the only one, aside from Pilot, who has not spoken during the last section.) Look at you guys. How, how, how? Who the frell cares 'how'? I wanna know 'why' and 'what' it means for us? (Turns to Crichton.) This some kind of trick you've been playing on us? You look Sebacean. Maybe you are Sebacean. Maybe all the "helpful" hints you give are just to get us in deeper vorpal dren so you can be in on a major arrest.
ZHAAN: (Shaking her head.) No, child, I assure you. His body contains microbes and bacteria no self-respecting Sebacean would be caught dead with. (Pauses thoughtfully.) Well, actually, that's probably the only way a Sebacean would be caught with them.
AERYN: (Says nothing, but gets a very self-conscious look on her face as she very ostensibly refrains from glancing over at Crichton. On the other hand, everyone else does look at him.)
CRICHTON: Yo! Hold it right there. This's just as much a shock to me as it is to you.
D'ARGO: Then what does-- (Points dismissively at the vid-screen) what does that mean? I would guess those squiggles are Earthen writing?
CRICHTON: Well, Terran, actually. And not even that, English. (D'Argo makes an impressively impatient gesture in Crichton's direction.) Okay, okay. (He reads the information from the page to a rapt audience. From the Farscape homepage he goes to the journal entries, episode description, the crew roster. The other crew members are alternately flattered, amused, concerned, worried, suspicious. The most common response is a concerted, "But this is our life, how do they know about this?" John, who was an SF fan back on Earth, starts to tell them about the alternate timeline theory of quantum physics, and how that plays into the fannish theory of colliding fictional universes. But since he's not sure how he feels about seeing his most
recent adventures written up as "fiction" he refrains. BUT... He is only human, and so he does what any of us would probably do in the same situation. He goes surfing.)
Pilot, let's see just what else we can find out about how they view "us" in that universe. Dial up Onelist.com. You'll have to log on as a subscriber.
Can you do that?
PILOT: (Does not even deign to respond.)
JOHN: Wow! Will you look at this? All these lists are devoted to discussion
of our show! That's really amazing. At this rate, we'll soon be giving
Buffy a run for the money! Way cool.
AERYN: Our show? "Way cool"?
ZHAAN: Buffy?
RYGEL: Money? Our exploits might fetch money in this other reality?
CHIANA and D'ARGO: (Almost, but not quite, simultaneously.) Criiichton!!!
CRICHTON: (Goes to some of the Onelist mailing lists, reads off some of the posts. The others are impressed by the comments, relieved that they seem non-threatening. He then goes to the Farscape-Shippers list. As luck would have it, he selects at random digests from after the first showing of "The Flax." He starts to read out the posts, and pauses.) I-- um-- I really don't think we should spend any more time with this. We do have to find a commerce planet, and soon.
AERYN: (She is a bright red. She has a very good idea of what will be spelled out in the posts.) I agree. We have a lot of work ahead of us if we're to make that commerce planet run before the rest of the fresh produce disappears (She glares in Rygel's direction. He has finished his fresh fruit and looks back at her as innocently as he can with pulp and juice running down his chin.)
CHIANA: (A smack-it-off smirk on her face) Nah, nah, nah. No secrets around here, guys. Let's hear the rest of it. (Turns to Pilot) Flyboy, sweetie, can Moya let us know if what he says he's reading is what he's really reading?
PILOT: Not from a direct... comparison of the symbols. Moya does not... have access to a data-bank... storing that set of... symbols, or a... translation thereto. (Pilot blinks once to hide his small expression of satisfaction. There is no reason at present to let Crichton or the others know that, while Moya does not have access as yet, she is, even as they are speaking, downloading information that might help in the future. Informational databases he had found on this "World Wide Web" that were labeled as "Dictionaries" and "Encyclopedias" seem to be just what he needs.) However, she can... monitor his vital functions and alert us... of any dissonance caused... by an attempt to be... less than truthful.
D'ARGO: An attempt to "lie," you mean.
AERYN: (Mouthing the words silently.) Crichton, *do* something."
CRICHTON: (He nods to her and is able to read off one or two of the less -- er, shall we say celebratorily graphic posts. Then he pretends to fumble with the mockup controls they've rigged and is booted out of Onelist.) Uh-oh, looks like we hooked in through AOL. That means we've timed out and can't go back until tomorrow.
PILOT: That is not... a statement of fact, JohnCrichton.
D'ARGO: Criiichton!!!
CRICHTON: Jeez, all right, already! Damn, D'Argo, don't you have anything else to say but "Crrriiiichtonnn"!!!!!
D'ARGO: I do not say "Crrriiiichtonnn"!!!!! I say "Criiichton"!!! And I only say it because you deserve it.
CRICHTON: Yeah, whatever. (He logs on through a search engine rather than through the SciFi Channel. When the others comment on not seeing the familiar home page, he explains that he's exploring other sections of the web,
sections that the SciFi Channel might not be aware of.)
CHIANA: So you're going to the Unexplored Territories of this "net" of yours?
CRICHTON: (Turns to her with a pleased "big-brother" look on his face) Yeah, that's a good analogy, Pip. 'Cept that it's a little easier to get around
there, cause the addresses are registered some place or another, it's just a matter of finding them.
(He finds the Farscape Web Ring, and spends some happy time looking at the web pages fans have set up. Pilot is thrilled at some of the pages dedicated to him, D'Argo is taken back by the attention he has garnered, Zhaan is completely overwhelmed by the impression she has made. By mutual, unspoken consent John and Aeryn avoid lingering over any site that seems to link them
together romantically. Since that means a number of sites, they are skipping over quite a few of the more interesting ones.)
RYGEL: Hmmmph. I don't think much of these humans. They seem to ignoring me for the most part.
ZHAAN: Oh, no, Your Eminence. I believe you are misreading the evidence. These people have no knowledge of one of your stature, power, and position. I am sure that they are merely embarrassed at the thought that they might inadvertently insult you and so, to avoid this, they do not write about you.
RYGEL: (Preening his eyebrows.) Harrumph. Of course, of course. You are very obviously correct, Zhaan. (He waves regally to Crichton.) Continue reading this most interestingly primitive literature, Crichton.
CRICHTON: (Mouths "primitive literature" under his breath and glares at Rygel. He leaves the WebRing and starts clicking onto assorted fiction archives. The others are enthralled and refuse to let him stop. Wearily, he shakes his head.) Cm'on, you guys, we've been at this at least five hours already.
PILOT: (His usual quiet, Spockian interjection for the sake of factual data.) Seven arns.
CRICHTON: Whatever, Pilot. But I'm tired and hungry and I really think...
D'ARGO: Pilot, can you feed this information into the view-station in the central chamber?
PILOT: Of course.
ZHAAN: You see, John? A perfect compromise. We can relax over a good midday meal of fresh produce (she cuts a glance at Rygel), have some good entertainment during the meal, and still be able to make our destination in time to replenish our food supplies and any other resources we may be running low on.
CRICHTON: (Grumbles under his breath.) And how I'm going to get any eating done if I'm doing the entertainment. (At a sudden thought.) Zhaan, Pilot. The
translator microbes. Is there anyway to alter them so that a person's able to read another language as though it were his own?
ZHAAN: (Shakes her head) It seems to be the same for all sentient beings. Different sections of the brain are involved in utilizing the spoken or the written word. We've tried to develop mutations to affect written symbolization, but they were completely unstable and led to irreversible insanity. It seems as though symbol-making is too intricately involved with
who -- and what-- we are to be artificially altered.
CRICHTON: Okay, yeah. (He nods thoughtfully.) I can see that. Chomsky and those guys. (He frowns.) Or at least I think it was Chomsky. "The map is the territory" and all that stuff. If you can't think it or visualize it, it doesn't exist for you, and you may never be aware of it. (A gleam of discovery appears in his eyes.) And that's why all the translator hiccups when I say something the least bit metaphorical! I'll bet over the time you people have been depending on these microbes, unless you're talking to your own peoples, in your own native languages, you seldom use slang, or similes,
or--
CHIANA: (Who seems to be the only one clearly following Crichton's digression.) Of course we do. How many times have I told Sparky here that he's a toad, hmmm?
CRICHTON: (Looks at her thoughtfully. Somewhere or another, he's aware that there's a major flaw in what she's said, but he can't quite put his finger on it.) Oh, well, it was just a thought. (He looks pained at the thought of having to serve as interpreter for an alternate reality's view of his universe for the rest of his life here.)
AERYN: (Coming up behind him.) Cheer up, Crichton. Remember, Pilot said access to this "web" of yours opened up without warning just as we entered this particular section of space. It is probably an anomaly that will cease just as quickly as it began. Now come. I'm starving.
CRICHTON: (Cheers up at Aeryn's comment.) I'm with ya, babe.
(Scene shifts to Central Chamber. DRDs have already set an impressive table. The crew sit down, start to serve themselves. Crichton bites with obvious relish into the equivalent of a thick, juicy, steak -- he is very careful not to ask its origins, and is only glad it is not something to be eaten raw.)
CRICHTON: Pilot, that download you found of the TV program episode that started all this, "Farscape"? Could you play it for us so I can get some food
into my system?
PILOT: Certainly. (He obliges by playing what is obviously a digitally enhanced bootlegged version of the pilot [sorry] episode of "Farscape." Crichton is obviously affected by the scenes of the Florida dawn and by the image of his father; Aeryn is startled by how much this image resembles the "father" she met several months ago. D'Argo and Rygel attempt to ignore the violence of their first contact with Aeryn and Crichton. Zhaan directs a conciliatory smile in their direction, but also shrugs as though to say, "Well, really, what else were we to do?")
CHIANA: (Chortling loudly.) Hey, will ya look at that? They gave you guys an even harder time than they gave me! (She turns to Rygel.) And you ever even think of directing that mucilaginous, odoriferous spittle in my direction, Toad-boy, and you'll wake up without your salivary glands.
RYGEL: Harummph. (Nervous laughter.) Yes, but you'll have to get to me first, I've changed my door code.
CHIANA: (Smiling nastily.) That's never stopped me before. (Reaches over and tweaks his brow.) Remember how good I am at turning up where I'm not expected?
(The first episode ends and the others, with the exception of Aeryn, encourage Crichton to continue with the excursion into the world of Farscape fan-fiction. Aeryn and Crichton exchange commiserating looks, but there's no escaping it. Zhaan, D'Argo, Rygel, Chiana, and even Pilot have become Farscape fan-fiction fanatics.)
CRICHTON: (He starts to read the first story on the list. It is only then he realizes he has connected to an NC-17 archive. Unfortunately, he cannot just switch to another archive. Chiana would immediately insist he was hiding something from them, and the others might agree. He reads the story, finally reaching the ending.) "...and so Aeryn Sun stood over the body of her slain opponent, smoking blaster still in her hand. She turned to her life-mate. 'We've avenged our comrades, let us go home now.' Chiana nodded. Turning, the two women strode down the street to their Prowler, leaving the body of ex-captain Bialor Crais to rot on the streets of Loredas. The End."
AERYN: It's a pulse-gun. And it doesn't smoke. (Looks over at Chiana.) Life-mate? You? Don't tell me. Salis was the female of your species and you're really the male?
CHIANA: Might as well be. I have more ba--
CRICHTON: Watch your mouth. Remember, we're on at 8:00pm.
AERYN and CHIANA: (Both turn on him simultaneously) So?
CRICHTON: (Looking extremely harassed.) So that's the family hour. Gotta keep it squeaky clean.
AERYN: After that story you just read us? Frell you.
CRICHTON: I-- Um-- I don't think you should say that.
CHIANA: If you're gonna frell him, does that make you the male of your species?
AERYN: That question has already been answered.
CHIANA: (Grinning widely) Not for me, it hasn't.
CRICHTON: Need to know, Pip, and you don't.
RYGEL: Body breeders are always so -- so bizarre in their sexual attitudes.
D'ARGO: Look who's talking. 1000 wives and 5400 children. It's a wonder your kind haven't taken over the entire galaxy by now.
ZHAAN: This is wasting time. We don't know how much longer Pilot can maintain contact with this alternate timeline. I for one want to hear more of the imaginary adventures they have written for us.
PILOT: Indeed, their description of our past adventures seem miraculously accurate. Who knows how many of these "fanfics" might not also turn out to be true.
AERYN: You take one step toward me, Chiana, and believe me, there'll be a "smoking blaster" in my hand. (Chiana only grins and blows a kiss to her.)
ZHAAN: John, would you continue?
CRICHTON: All right. Just let me change this site.
CHIANA: Why? things are just getting interesting.
ZHAAN: Yes, John. Your people are certainly-- imaginative...
AERYN: (Sotto voce) Stupid.
ZHAAN: ... when it comes to describing sexual partnerships.
CRICHTON: (Gives a long-suffering sigh.) All right. This one is called, "The Natural Resolution of Luxan Hyper-rage." (He closes his eyes. They wouldn't.
They couldn't.)
Ah, maybe we should go on to the next one. I'm sure hyper-rage is not something that should be bandied about. Probably really private, you know, like Vulcans and pon farr?
D'ARGO: We have no time for your nonsense, Crichton. Vulcans? Pon farr? Just read the story, please.
CRICHTON: O-o-ooka-a-ay, but if you hear something you don't like, don't say I didn't try to warn you. (He clears his throat and starts reading. His expression of consternation grows as he gets deeper into the story.) "Ka D'Argo stretched contentedly, enjoying for once the comfort of a bed long enough to accommodate his height, wide enough to accommodate his breadth, and sturdy enough to accommodate a full night of intense Luxan sex-play. He smiled in reminiscence. He'd not had such a sensual partner in cycles. Even now his hands remembered the softness of smooth, alien skin tightening to his caress, the shocking pleasure of an untentacled head, silken hair rippling through his fingers, and lithe limbs interwoven with his. And the activity of the evening had completely burned away the last vestiges of his hyper-rage. Such contentment."
CHIANA: (Leaning over to punch D'Argo on the arm.) Hey there, big guy, go for it.
ZHAAN: (Beginning to look as worried as Crichton.) I don't know, John, perhaps you are right. This story seems more... intrusive than the other. Perhaps you should switch to another site now.
CHIANA: I wanna know who they pair him off with. It's not you, 'cause the woman's got hair. It could be me or Aeryn, but somehow I don't think so. My hair doesn't really "ripple" through someone's fingers, and sorry to insult you, "life-mate," but you sorta strike me as all-business, rather than the Queen of Sensuality.
AERYN: Well, you shall never know, now, shall you?
CHIANA: Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, I'm betting that it'll be a "guest star." What did you call them, Crichton? "Marnie Slews"?
ZHAAN: "Mary Sues."
CHIANA: Ri-ight. A "Mary Sue." That's my bet. Any takers?
AERYN: You mean you think one of these Earth-women would envision herself in an intimate relationship with D'Argo? (She looks vaguely shocked, but definitely not as shocked as she would have been before coming aboard Moya.)
CHIANA: (Looking disdainful; after all, she doesn't recognize the change in Aeryn's feelings for D'Argo.) PK background clicking in there, Sun?
AERYN: (Frowning dismissively.) Of course not. It's just that these Earth people have never encountered alien beings. And in the simulation the Old Ones ran, their reaction to aliens -- including D'Argo -- was somewhat less than romantic or sensual.
ZHAAN: Ah, but remember what John told us about these "fans" -- they have been reading stories of alien encounters and romances since they were youths. If anyone on his world will be prepared for contact (Ignores Chia's hoot of laughter at her choice of the word "contact") with a being such as D'Argo, it would be such a "fan." (She looks around, nods to Aeryn and Chiana, who exchange glances with each other then nod in turn.)
ZHAAN, AERYN, and CHIANA: (In unison.) A "Mary Sue" story.
CRICHTON: (In desperation, hoping that the women's voices cover his own, he has continued to read aloud during the foregoing conversation. However, silence falls just as he reaches the, er, climatic moments of the fic.) "D'Argo fell back on the bed, fully sated. Never had he had such total and complete abandonment of all inhibitions, such almost unbearable pleasure. This second session -- no, this fourth session; last night had been truly memorable -- proved that theirs was no casual coupling. This was a partnership for all the ages. A fellow warrior..."
CHIANA: Dren! It's you, Aeryn.
AERYN: What just because I am a warrior? I don't think so. The author could have inserted herself into a warrior role. Crichton says "Mary Sues" are always the best at everything they do. A warrior whose also a sensualist? And if she's that much of a warrior, why is her skin so smooth? Why does she not have at least one or two scars? And why did he not call her body disciplined, rather than "lithe-limbed"?
CHIANA: (Shrugging) "Disciplined" isn't exactly a "sensuous" word.
AERYN: (Bowing her head.) My point exactly. She's describing her own dream-fantasy, she is not describing me.
ZHAAN: Children, hush. If you can't keep quiet, so we can hear the end of this tale, I shall have to ask you to leave the room.
AERYN and CHIANA: (They exchange glances, then speak as one.) Yes, mother.
CRICHTON: "... and best of all, an ally he could trust, one who knew his secrets and accepted him for them. Yes, he would indeed ask this most wonderful of beings to be his life-mate."
AERYN: "Mary Sue".
CHIANA: And didn't we know it! But what is with these people and life-mates. (Turns to Crichton.) Doesn't anyone on your world have sex just for the having of it?
CRICHTON: (He has come to the end of the story. The denouement is only fifty-eight words away. Dare he risk a substitute name for D'Argo's lover? Biting his lip, he decides to go for it.) "Ka D'Argo rolled over on his side and reached out a hand to his new-found love. He caressed the other's skin; their most recent bout of lovemaking rendered the smooth surface warm from exercise and blood infusion. He took one of his love's hands in his own; his was so much larger, he completely engulfed it. Ma-- Mary Sue..."
AERYN and CHIANA: (They high-five each other) We were right!
PILOT: I am sorry to interrupt at such an important moment as this, JohnCrichton, but Moya says her readouts show you are not relating the information accurately.
CHIANA: (Stares at Crichton incredulously.) You're lying? Mr. Play-It-By-the-Rules Crichton is lying?
CRICHTON: That's "Commander" Play-It-By-The-Rules Crichton, Pip, and don't you forget it.
CHIANA: (Giving a mock salute.) Aye, Aye, Commander, Sir. Now forget the nonsense and read us the right name.
CRICHTON: (He directs a glare toward Pilot's vid-station. Pilot's interference at just that moment has completely destroyed his plans.) "... He took one of his love's hands in his own; his was so much larger, he completely engulfed it. John, John Crichton, will you join me in a life union? THE END" (Stunned silence greeted his final words. Hoping to avoid any immediate confrontation with D'Argo, he starts to get out of his chair. D'Argo's voice stops him.)
D'ARGO: Crrriiiichtonnn!!!!!
CRICHTON: (Throwing caution to the winds.) Told you that's what you called me.
D'ARGO: You-- ME-- (He breaks down. His guffaws of laughter fill the Chamber. Nervously at first, then for real, the others join in. He speaks between the howls of laughter.) Life-mates? (If possible, the laughter becomes ever louder.) You and I are to be life-mates??? Are all of your people insane? (By now he is laughing so much he is unable to speak coherently.) You-- me-- not physically-- (Weakened from laughing so hard, he falls off his chair and rolls on the floor. The laughing continues.)
(Zhaan and Chiana are laughing almost as wildly as D'Argo and are clinging to each other for support. Rygel is roaring in amusement, arms and legs punctuating his gales of laughter. Even Pilot has a small smile on his face and a gleam of amusement in his eyes.)
CRICHTON: (Stares right into the camera.) This is the end of hyper-rage?
(Laughter from all except Crichton and Aeryn continues and we cut to black.)
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