Till Death, Part Three

By: Speedbump <ledbette@ttc-cmc.net>
Rated PG-13 | 61KB | Archived 01.31.00
Spoilers: Season one
Summary: In part three, Aeryn becomes the reluctant leader of the Many,
Crichton is on the long road to recovery, and they discover an old enemy is
still stalking them. Pretty much it. :)

Disclaimer: Same old thing, aint mine, making not a dime, yadda yadda yadda.
Spoilers: part one, of course, little bit of my other three. Takes place
after Bugs Life, before Nerve etc. Alternate universe kinda thing now,
considering where Nerve and Hidden Memory have taken us.

Archive: Here, Pilot’s Farscape Zone, Browny’s, and Zen’s.

---

Aeryn had never known grief. PeaceKeepers were trained not to get involved, to
stay apart from their comrades, to forego emotional ties. Emotions clouded a
soldier's judgment, weakened their resolve, made them focus on the individual
rather than the whole. So while Aeryn had seen literally dozens of her
"friends" die, none of those deaths meant much more to her than stepping on an
insect. The life of a PeaceKeeper commando was one of sudden death and no
regrets. But grief had found it's way into Aeryn's heart and buried itself
deep.

It consumed, devoured, overwhelmed. It threatened to be the focus of her
existence, to envelop her as securely as a cocoon. And she welcomed it, for
with her grief she felt John was with her still, in some way, as long as she
kept his memory fresh. His face, his touch, his nimble mind, his eyes, so
startlingly blue they seemed like rare gems. All these things tumbled randomly
through her mind, surfacing and then disappearing, and then resurfacing again.

The PeaceKeeper troops marched her away from the alley where John lay dead and
headed towards the center of town. She imagined they would wait there for a
transport of some sort to wherever the command carrier was, but this thought
only occupied a small portion of her attention. Mostly she thought of John and
how he had died. And how she had failed him. She should have been able to care
for him, to protect him. And so her grief was mixed with equal portions of
guilt, a heady mixture at any time, a dangerous one now. She felt her resolve to
fight for her life slip away, and instead decided that if she could just get
hold of a pulse rifle or, failing that, a knife, she would join John in
oblivion. It was preferable to her than existing alone; to breathing, walking,
eating, without him.

A sudden movement that normally would have alerted Aeryn flickered in her
periphial vision. She didn't notice, but walked on unseeing. Again it
flickered, and this time she saw it. Her eye slid sideways, seeking now. There,
a stutter of gray seemed to be shadowing them. And another. There, more. Why
didn't the PeaceKeepers see it? But she already knew why. Having just defeated
the rebels back at the alley, they assumed they had destroyed all of them, or at
least all that were capable of hurting them. Maybe they saw the natives
following them, but chose to ignore them as one would ignore a bug crawling on
the ground. They were no threat, so they weren't there. Aeryn saw at once,
even in her beleaguered state, that this was going to be a fatal error. She
almost smiled with grim humor, but kept it tucked away inside, for her and John
to share. No sense in alerting the PKs.

And then for the second time in that tragic hour, Aeryn was in the middle of a
fire fight. Gray skinned natives by the dozens descended from nowhere to attack
the PeaceKeepers with every weapon and tool imaginable. Grief and guilt warred
within her, the former telling her to stand up, let a stray shot finish her off,
join John wherever human's go when they die, but the latter telling her no, she
must suffer here without him as a price for not protecting him better. In the
end the decision was taken from her when a small band of the squat aliens
grabbed her and rushed her from the middle of the fray.

She didn't resist. Guilt had finally won out over grief, realizing that if she
were to stay alive it could feed forever. Aeryn herself had no will left at
all, no desires but those of pain and remorse. She was antipathy's child.
With a jolt she realized she was in a basement with a hidden door, and a tunnel
leading down, down, deep into the bedrock. Wordlessly she followed her
rescuers, wondering now if it was such a good idea. Guilt worked best with an
audience.

They traveled down for what seemed forever, and then leveled out. The way was
lit with small glowing orbs of indeterminate origin. Her captors said nothing,
merely led the way at a brisk pace. After maybe an arn or two, they stopped at
a junction. One of the natives ran ahead and was gone for only microts. When
he appeared nothing was said, but they all moved on at the same reckless pace.
They slowed again at a door, now open. Stooping to get through, Aeryn followed
the natives into a small well lit and very warm cavern. Until she felt the heat
against her skin, Aeryn hadn't realized she was cold. But as soon as the warmth
misted around her like blanket, she began to shake. Disturbingly,
embarrassingly, she found her legs giving way, and she fell to the floor. With
her arms bound behind her she had no way to break her fall, but a wordless shout
from someone in the cavern alerted one of her captors, and he broke her fall.
She was uncuffed then, somehow, and a blanket was brought to her. She was half
helped, half carried to a small bed, far to short for her long frame, but long
enough to accommodate her if she curled up. It seemed the preferable position
for pain, grief and numbing cold anyway, so she never noticed. As soon as she
was settled, she looked around her, to assess her situation.

There were roughly ten or twelve of the gray skinned natives there, some busy at
a console, others packing some durable looking bags with weapons, explosives and
provisions. Aeryn's eyes perked up at that, but felt her gaze drawn closer to
her.

An old man sat nearby, more hunched and crooked than the younger ones. His
roach of bristly black hair started well back of the normal spot at the bridge
of the nose and was thinner, and grayer than the others, but there was no
mistaking who was in charge. He observed that Aeryn's attention was on him and
nodded briskly.

"And so, you are with the Many." He said without preamble.

"The Many?" she asked numbly.

"We, we here, all we on this place, we are the Many." Calm assurance tinged his
archaic sentence structure. Despite herself, Aeryn was intrigued.

"You call yourselves the Many." she said in reply. He nodded. Obviously he
wasn't a big conversationalist, she heard John say in the back of her mind. She
closed her eyes against the pain that threatened to well up, and forced it out
of her mind.

"Why did you take me from the PeaceKeepers?" She asked.

"You go with them want?" He queried in amazement.

"No, I just wondered why you took me, why you...saved me from them." Frell it,
John was always the one trying to save her, not these gray skinned lumps of
dren. She squashed that feeling too as soon as it surfaced.

"Need you, we. Saved you, we. Glad, you?" He asked in all sincerity.

"You didn't save John." She spat out bitterly, and wondered where that had come
from. Left field, she heard John say whimsically, and winced.

But the old man was shaking his head sadly. "Tried, we. Failed." He gazed at
her intently, measuring her with his steely eyes. "PeaceKeeper you?"

"Yes, I mean no, I mean, I was but I'm not anymore. Not for almost a cycle."
Not since I met John, she thought dismally.

"Love him, you?" He asked, and Aeryn had to wonder at the depth of his
question. This old man was shrewdly gauging the depth of her soul, of her
heart. His habit of nimbly jumping from one subject to another was carefully
crafted to keep her off her guard, but she found herself unable to lie.
"Yes, love him I did." She replied simply.

With a soft sound of surprise, the old man sat back. His astonished eyes took
her in completely, from her shaking, miserable body to her pain wracked face.
This then was a woman grieving for a lost one, someone capable of love. No
PeaceKeeper the Many had ever met was capable of emotions this strong. And the
Many, emotional barometers all, could feel her grief held back like a dammed
river.

"Hold that one in your heart, you will. Let go your pain, you must. Learn to
live again, you shall." He proclaimed as if it were holy writ. She shook her
head.

"I don't think I can." She said, and to her immortal shame began crying.
The small cavern room was empty save for Aeryn and the old man whose name she
had yet to learn. Her crying jag had scared her. Never had she cried, not
since she was a child. But the anger, the fear, and the pain of loss were so
raw she felt bloody with it. Tears cleansed her, but left her with an edge
like a razor. Years of pent up emotions teetered on the brink of spilling over,
bursting forth, running amok. She held them in check with an effort. The old
man was speaking again.

"Long ago, Others came, enslaved the Many. Weak the Many were, then. Stronger
we are, now. Never did the Others find all, never see what you, PeaceKeeper,
now see." He gestured around the cavern demonstratively and continued. "Fought
back, we. Won. Time later, more Others came, different. Fought back, we,
again. Won, again. Never the Many kneel before Others, never." His old eyes
glowed with memory.

"You are going to fight off the PeaceKeepers." She said in wonder.

"Fight, yes. Win we will." He replied smugly.

"PeaceKeepers have a habit of getting what they want." She said by way of
warning. "I have never seen a target not taken, once it's been identified."
"Kill us, maybe. Some. Find us, all, never." He grinned and waved around the
room again. "Our home, real home, here. We are Many."

"Yes, I believe you mentioned that." She said distractedly. "But the
PeaceKeepers..."

"No, understand again. We are the Many, but we are Many. Not all you see up,
are all..." He trailed off, searching for words that the translator microbes
could deal with.

"You mean most of your population lives underground, here in these caves?" She
asked incredulously.

"YES!" He responded emphatically. "We are MANY!"

Aeryn settled back in the bed to think on this. A hidden population could
possibly over come or wait out the PeaceKeepers. It was fairly certain the
PeaceKeeper's main objective here had been their capture, not any real conquest.
All the Many had to do was wait, and hope. But if they captured her...

"Wait a minute. If you had waited it out, let them capture us, they would have
left you all alone. They wouldn't have wanted your world, you're too far out of
the way. Why did you try to rescue us..." she swallowed back threatening tears
at the reference to 'us', "...instead of letting them finish what they
started?"

"Need you, we. PeaceKeepers leave, no. Teach lesson, say. Lead us, you?" he
spoke calmly, as if asking her the time of day. She gaped at him as if he had
grown wings from his ears.

"You want me to lead your people against the PeaceKeepers?" She said then.
"Been here before, them. Kill the Many. Gone we want, help you will?" He
asked again.

"You are asking me because I know how they think, how they work, am I right?"
"Yes." was his simple answer.

"Why should I help you? What will I gain?" The old Aeryn was in charge, the
emotional Aeryn had taken a step back.

The old man leaned forward carefully, his eyes gauging hers. She almost
recoiled from his dissection of her soul, but held her ground stonily.
"Revenge." Was his only reply.

Rage unleashed rose in Aeryn, waiting to be cut loose like a caryll cat on a
chain. Unbidden came John's face, laughing, happy. She squeezed her eyes
closed to shield her from the pain, and heard herself answer the old man.

"I will lead."

Pain, overwhelming, indiscriminate, spiking. It surged and flowed through his
body with his blood, pulsing and pounding. How could he hurt so much? How could
anyone survive pain like this? He heard screams from a distance and wondered
who else was in such agony, who else was in this nightmare of his. Then he
realized he was hearing himself screaming and felt sanity slipping away like a
receding tide.

Darkness and pain but less of it than previously. He couldn't see anything and
he couldn't raise his hand to see if he could even see that. The pain was still
too much. It seemed to be centered around his belly, a pit of fire. Shouldn't
have had that last chili dog, he told himself hysterically, and fainted once
again.

Light, dim and green but light nonetheless, filtered into his vision next. So he
could see, he wasn't blind. The agony of the previous times of wakefulness had
receded yet again, meaning it was just unbearable instead of unendurable. With
his brain still fuzzy and only a dim light available to him, he began to check
out his surroundings.

Rounded walls, low ceiling and doors, no windows, green glowing lights. Not much
to speak of, actually. A small chair across the room, next to the door, and a
table with a small array of medical equipment. He shuddered, imagining some or
all of it had been used on him at some point. He wondered how long he had been
here. And the immediate here seemed to be a bed that was a trifle too short but
had been added to accommodate his longer frame. Just what had happened to him
and how much could he remember?

An alley, rain, fire. That much came back to him posthaste. Small, hunched
gray skinned natives with roaches of black hair from their noses to their backs,
and PeaceKeepers...

He almost sat bolt upright, but thought better of it. PeaceKeepers had ambushed
him and Aeryn, and the natives had attempted a rescue. Whether it was a success
or not he had no idea, he remembered little. There had been a blast of pain
like a red hot spike driven into his belly, and then Aeryn had been there,
speaking to him, holding him. He remembered nothing else after that. He closed
his eyes again, this time to a pain not of his body. Aeryn, what had happened
to Aeryn? He had to know. He tried to call out, and that was when he became
aware of his sandpaper coated throat and over stuffed tongue. A miserly croak
was all he could manage, but somehow he was heard.

A small gray woman with a thin roach of hair scuttled into his room. She
avoided looking at him, instead she managed to bring a pitcher of water and a
cup to him and give him a drink without once meeting his eyes. The water felt
heavenly on his throat, and he drank all she would allow him. As she helped him
settle back on the bed, he smiled his best smile.

"Thanks." He coughed once, and winced. "Where am I?"

He received no answer, in fact, she acted as if he had never spoken. Instead she
scuttled back out of his room in the same manner she had come in. He watched
her, puzzled. But in short order another gray native, this one male, entered.
He came to the bed and seemed to be studying it's occupant as if he were a
specimen.

"Hey, what gives? Who are you?" He managed to sit halfway up, despite the
flare of pain from his belly.

The newcomer gently pushed him back until he was laying flat again. Satisfied,
he nodded briskly. "Lucky you are, PeaceKeeper. We did not think ever would you
wake." His voice was slightly grating.

"Well I guess I have you to thank for that, but I aint a Peacekeeper. Just
kissin' cousins." Was his reply. The native seemed perplexed.

"This you say makes no sense. You are not a Peacekeeper yet you are related to
them and have sexual relations with them?"

"No, I mean, no to most of that. I am not a PeaceKeeper, and I am not related
to them. As for relations..." He trailed off, suddenly wondering how much he
could tell this guy.

"The woman, she is your mate." The gray being said for him.

"Yeah, she is." He closed his eyes, realizing how ungodly tired he was.

"She is a PeaceKeeper?"

"Yeah, well she was. She isn't now." He opened his eyes again, assessing this
man.

"An ex PeaceKeeper mated with a non PeaceKeeper, an Alien life form." He seemed
to be contemplating that, digesting it slowly.

"Yeah, that's about the size of it." He replied slowly. "Is she all right? Do
you know where she is?"

The being seemed to come back to himself then, and observed him more closely.
"You need to sleep. You are healing, but your life is still in danger. Rest,
and we will talk later."

"Where is she?" he asked, almost frantic.

"I do not know. I do know that other's of the Many took her, so she may be
living still." He put his hand on John's shoulder to keep him flat. "But you
must have rest now."

"Sure, sure, but tell me, who are you?"

"We are the Many." was the simple reply.

"No, I mean what's your name?" He said stubbornly.

Frowning as if he misunderstood, the small alien cocked his head. "You wish to
know my name, my hatch name, the name my family honored me with?"

"Well, not if it's a forbidden topic or something. Just tell me what I can call
you."

The alien nodded once, reassured. "You may call me Jixvt." The closest
approximation of that name came to John as "Jicksh".

"And you can call me John." He said. "John Crichton."

"Happy I am to be meeting you, John Crichton." Said Jixvt.

"Pleasure's all mine, Jixvt." John mumbled, and drifted off to sleep.

What they lacked in stature they more than made up for in numbers, Aeryn decided
some time later. In a cavern an ungodly distance underground they resembled
nothing more than insects in their nest, stirred with a stick. Bustling to and
fro like madmen, assembling the ingredients for a rebellion...and Aeryn Sun was
there to lead them. To certain death, she was thinking, to freedom, they were
thinking. It amounted to the same thing.

She had examined their weapons, and though some were old all were in good
repair. There were no pulse rifles, other than the one Aeryn carried and the
ones confiscated from the PeaceKeepers. But since they would have a tough time
finding Chakan oil to refuel them, she felt they could make do with the
projectile weapons the natives had to offer. There was even a huge assortment
of knives of all shapes and sizes. She would make certain that all were
outfitted with a knife of some sort and trained in their use as well.

They needed to find out the strength and deployment of the PeaceKeepers, their
actual purpose for being here, and any weaknesses they might have. Those, she
knew from experience, would be few. They also needed to find out where the
command carrier was in orbit. If they could time their raids to when the
command carrier was in orbit on the opposite side of the planet, they might
stand a better chance. Hit and run, that was the tactics of guerrilla fighting
the galaxy over. And Aeryn had an idea of how to do this.

"Do you have any sort of tracking gear, something we can spot the command
carrier with?" She asked her guide, and darker gray male.

"No, nothing that they wouldn't be able to detect." Was his distracted reply.
He kept his hands busy sorting weapons. She had discovered that not all the
natives spoke like her nameless first encounter, some of them spent more time
above ground, with the aliens who landed to trade, and as such spoke less in the
local dialect than their underground counterparts.

"Right. Well then, I know where we can find something to do that, but I will
need a few of your people to help me out." She slung her pulse rifle over her
shoulder and squared to face him, almost expecting a refusal.

He turned his bland eyes to hers and nodded once. "I will find willing of the
Many." was his only reply. With that he turned and gestured briefly. Three
natives peeled themselves from the edge of the cavern and presented themselves
to her as if they had been waiting for her command all along.

"Right. They will all need weapons, but this will be something we want to keep
quiet. No quick tempers or trigger fingers. We need to sneak in and out
unseen."

"Of course." he replied at once. He nodded his head at the three standing
quietly in front of her. "They will be more than adequate for your needs. Where
is it you desire to go?"

"The landing pad in the main commerce town. It's where we landed before. It's
where my...mate's ship is." She swallowed pain, an empty lump. "His ship was
damaged, but the communications array may still be intact."

Once more a nod, and then weapons were passed out to her crew. Projectile
rifles, short and deadly, along with smaller hand weapons and two knives apiece.
Satisfied that they were properly equipped, she faced them.

"Right then. This will have to be quick. We need to get to the ship unseen and
remove the communications array without the PeaceKeepers spotting us. I can get
the array by myself, so it will be up to you to keep the PeaceKeepers off my
back. Understood?"

Nods all around confirmed their acceptance of her commands and her leadership.
She turned to the male who had handed out the guns, instantly dubbing him as the
Ordnance master. "How do we get there?"

"I will take you there. The Many will be in hiding to create a disturbance,
should one be necessary. Will that be acceptable to you?"

"Yes, that's more than acceptable." she nodded. "Let's go."

Days wandered by at a maddeningly slow rate. John could do little but lay on
his makeshift bed and wonder where Aeryn was, and if she was safe. All his new
friends could tell him was that she was in good hands, away from the
PeaceKeepers. More than that they couldn't say. Or wouldn't. Frustrated didn't
even come close to describing his mood.

He seemed to be healing slowly, more slowly than he did on Moya at any rate.
Jixvt told him their medicine had kept up with that of the various aliens
landing on their planet, but just barely. Most of what they knew was old news,
much of the equipment they needed was above ground where it was no longer safe.
But there were enough skilled physicians among the Many who lived below decks to
take a human as mortally wounded as John and make him whole again. It just took
time. That he had been truly dead and not just clinging to life was a detail
the Many left out when they explained what they had done for him. Mental
instability in newly resuscitated dead was not unheard of. They thought it
better to hedge their bets and keep him in the dark about that much at least.

He still felt like shit...no dammit, dren. Somehow that alien word seemed to
convey his feelings much better than mere shit. He couldn't do anything for
himself except eat, and that took more strength than he thought he could muster
most days. And the food was world class...third world that is. Mush and bland
vegetables, puréed until they resembled something even Gerber would hesitate to
market. He supposed he needed soft bland foods so his damaged intestines
wouldn't have to work overtime but man, couldn't they add a little spice or
something?

As soon as he began having thoughts like that one, he felt remorse. Here he was
convalescing in these peoples homes and bitching about the quality of food.
They certainly didn't have to risk their lives to save him, but they did. Talk
about ungrateful. He supposed he was just feeling restless after being confined
and totally bedridden for countless weekens. He wished he felt better, that
Aeryn were here with him, that Moya would come and take them away. He was just
coming to the realization that he wasn't wishing to be on Earth when his good
buddy Jixvt came in, followed by another of the aliens.

"Hey Jixvt, what's the word?"

"Word?" Jixvt queried.

"I mean, is there anything new?" He said contritely.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking there is." His gray companion replied. He nodded
to the native who had followed him in. "This is Qathr. He is a messenger from
the leader of our rebellion against the PeaceKeepers. He has news for you."
"Greetings, John Crichton. I bring news of your mate, Aeryn Sun."

"Aeryn? Is she all right? Where is she?" He tried to sit up, but once again
Jixvt gently pushed him back.

"She is well, John Crichton, but I cannot tell you where she is. The rebellion
and it's leaders keep moving so that they might not ever be found."

"Wait a minute, is she involved with your rebellion somehow?" He asked
suspiciously.

"She is leading our fight against the PeaceKeepers. None but one of their own
could do so well." He replied firmly.

"Why? I mean, why is she helping? Why isn't she looking for me..." He trailed
off, and looked at Jixvt, confusion and suspicion warring within. Sudden
comprehension widened his eyes, and then just as swiftly narrowed them. "She
doesn't know I'm alive, does she? She thinks I'm dead."

"The PeaceKeepers declared you dead while she was still there beside you. She
was rescued as you were, but she and her rescuers went far underground before we
could let her know you lived. Now it is far too dangerous to inform her of the
fact." Qathr seemed almost smug in his recital.

"What did you offer her to make her accept? I can't picture Aeryn as a leader
of a bunch of half grown pack rats living in tunnels without some huge
compensation. What was it?" He was angry and let it show. Despite Jixvt's
admonishments, he propped himself up on one elbow.

"We offered her a chance at revenge." Qathr said simply.

"Did it ever occur to you that she might just use this as a good way to die?"
Seeing the blank looks from both natives, he sighed. "No, of course you didn't,
one of the Many wouldn't so why would a Sebacean." He said sarcastically.
"You mean she might put herself into danger as a way of ending her life?" Jixvt
asked incredulously.

"Maybe, I don't know. But she's a soldier, dying in battle is how she would
prefer to go." He lay back down. "But not if she knew I was still here. If
she thinks I'm dead, she'll be less careful, more likely to go out in a blaze of
glory." He rested his hand on his forehead, suddenly feeling more punky than he
had in days. Maybe he shouldn't have sat up.

"This is impossible news." The newcomer said in agitation. "What if she dies
before we complete our objective?"

John could take no more. He lurched up from his bed, arms swinging. With a
squawk of protest, the newcomer fumbled backwards, spilling John to the floor.
He felt something give way in his belly, felt a rush of pain and then,
thankfully, he blacked out.

It was Jixvt who carefully settled John back into his bed, who called for the
physicians once again, who worried and fretted over him after the physicians had
left, shaking their heads in negation. The Sebacean male was seriously wounded,
maybe more seriously than they could administer too. He would probably die,
here in their hands. He needed medical attention and medicines that they
themselves didn't possess. And so Jixvt sat and worried over a single male,
something unheard of with the Many, where single deaths were mostly overlooked.

These Sebaceans, these PeaceKeepers, they hatch one at a time, he thought. Do
they mate that way as well? One mate for life? It was barbaric, unheard of in a
culture as hive like as the Many. But as a surface dweller, he had seen many
different species and understood that their ways were far different from the
Many's...or each others. If Sebaceans mated for life, than this would be John
Crichton's reason for being upset with Qathr. This would be why he was so
worried about his mate. If she truly thought him dead and exposed herself to
unnecessary risk, she could die. And if she died without knowing that her mate
was alive, he, Jixvt would feel the guilt for all time. It was a curse of
living among the surface dwellers and the aliens, but it was the truth in all
ways. He must get word, somehow, that John Crichton lived. He looked down at
John, sleeping uneasily in a fog of pain killers. But he must find her soon,
before it was too late.

Farscape sat alone in a muddy field, a forlorn relic long abandoned. Seeing it
filled her with a desperate longing. This was John's pride, this silly obsolete
craft. Just looking at it made her wish for him again. As if she ever stopped.
She took a deep breath and settled herself for the business at hand.
"You, Chil, circle wide. Vryll, go low, down by the water. Gval you take the
high side, near the spaceport buildings. All of you, signal if you see
anything. Got it?" Nods of obedience all around. Aeryn nodded back. "All
right then, move. I'll give you 200 microts and then I'll move in."

She watched them disappear in the rain, hunched gray figures that moved like
quicksilver in the dim evening light. Her fingers played absently with the
small teardrop shaped gem at her throat, her memory on better days. But she
pulled herself back to the present as her 200 microts wound down. Time to get
to work.

It was dark enough now to hide her low running figure as she darted across a
short expanse of landing pad towards Farscape. She ducked under the stubby wing
and looked for any pursuit. No signals from her lookouts, no movement at the
base. So far, so good. She ducked back under the wing and pushed aside some
tall growth to spring the latch. It opened with an audible creak. Frelling
weather here, never stopped raining, and plant growth was incredible. The
canopy was weighted down by huge weeds that threatened to choke the very life
out of everything. She pushed the canopy up high enough for her to gain
entrance and then boosted herself into the interior. Once in, she pulled the
canopy down, almost latched, to keep the rain out.

John was here, in every line, every memory, every scent. His IASA jacket lay on
the floor, discarded in a hurry. She picked it up and brought it to her face,
inhaling a smell uniquely John's. Tears threatened, something that weekens ago
would have shamed her but now were all to common. Without a second thought, she
stuffed his jacket into her pack. It was John's and she wanted it. After all,
she had nothing else of his to remember him by, nothing but the small gem at her
throat.

There was nothing else loose in the cockpit for her to take, so she settled in
to remove the communications array. When she and John had replaced most of his
old Earth systems with bio-mechanical ones, the communications were one of the
first to go. And since she had installed it, it was simple to remove it. A few
quick snaps, take out a screw or two and there it was, in her pack.
Her job was done, but still she lingered. Memories flooded her senses and she
closed her eyes against them. This small relic was her last link with John, and
she found she didn't want to leave it. In here, surrounded by his scent and
inundated by memories, she let the tears flow without shame. A moment, no more.
Huddled in the seat with her arms clasped around her she allowed herself the
luxury of self pity. Tears flowed and sobs wracked her body, but soon they
ebbed and then stopped. She wiped her face and straightened her body. Time to
go. A last look around, and then, before she opened the canopy to the elements
and her future, one last word for John.

"Good bye, John. I love you." And then she left.

Jixvt stood tall before his elders, shoulders squared in defiance. He must make
them understand how important this was, how the honor of the Many was at stake.
They must allow a message to get through.

"The male, John Crichton, is much worse now. We have tried all we know and
still he burns with fevers and vomits blood. It is to our shame that his mate
believes him already dead and we use that to gain her help. She must be told
that he lives, but is ill. She must be allowed to come to him."

The elders turned their stern gazes from Jixvt and deliberated amongst
themselves for a moment. One looked back at him and spoke a question.
"Why need we concern ourselves with a lone male? Why is this of such
importance, clan prefect Jixvt?"

"These two are not of the Many. Some species, like these two, mate with only
one, and for life. These two have a bond that we as the Many do not create and
therefore do not understand. They think of the death of one as we would the
death of many. It is our honor bound duty to help them, to bring them back
together. To let him die without bringing her to his side, to let her fight
thinking he is already dead, these things are without honor. He has implied
that if she believes him dead, she may well try to die in battle rather than
lead us to victory. How then would that help us attain what we desire?" Jixvt
spoke eloquently, stopping when he had said all he felt necessary. Let them
then decide what they would, he had done his best.

The elders Quorum huddled again, voices a mere murmur. Jixvt stood attentive,
waiting patiently. In less time than he had thought, they sat up once again and
faced him. One proceeded to speak in a sonorous tone.

"Clan Prefect Jixvt, we have heard all you have to say concerning these aliens
among us. We understand the attachment, however odd it seems to us, that they
hold for one another. We also understand that time is fleeing, and that the
male may die soon. We are in agreement with you on this; that the female must
be reunited with her dying mate. If he lives, she may still be persuaded to
lead us. If he dies, then we will be right where we have been for some time,
and she may choose to still lead as she has been. Messages wil be sent to her
location. She will come to him when it is deemed safe."

Jixvt was elated. His honor was appeased, his family name was not to be smeared
with the blood of anothers. And his friend, John Crichton, would see his mate
before he died. Of that he would make sure. He nodded his head briefly in
recognition and then assumed the stance of one who has more to say. The elder
in charge made an expansive gesture with one hand, and Jixvt spoke again.
"There are facilities above ground that contain medicines and equipment that
could save the life of this male. I would like permission to locate one of
these facilities and take what we need for him."

There was a buzz of surprise among the elders. One leaned down to look closely
at Jixvt, incredulous. "Why?"

"With the correct medicines he will live."

"But why do you care?" He inquired again, mystified.

Jixvt thought his answer our carefully before he gave it. "Because this male,
John Crichton, has earned my respect and admiration. I think it serves my
family honor to do all I can for him." He nodded once in finality. The elders
Quorum listened, then convened once again. Longer this time, and with more
arguing. Then the same elder who had addressed him previously did so once
again.

"You may take some of your own clan to do this thing, but you must hide your
activity in some way. If the PeaceKeepers find missing equipment or medicines
that point to one of their own, they will become more suspicious than they
already are."

"Would a riot that burns the building down be sufficient?" Jixvt asked.

"It would." Came the answer.

"Than it will be as you say." He replied. Inside he was rejoicing. At last,
he could help John Crichton. His honor would be satisfied, and his friend would
live to see his mate once again.

Aeryn tossed restlessly in her sleep as she had every night since John had died. The dreams to two different tacts, each morbid and disturbing in their own way. In one dream she was making love to John in a nondescript room. Every caress
and murmur of love was exquisite, every exhalation and exclamation painful in
their intensity. He held her, his hands everywhere, as he drove her over the
edge into oblivion. Only John had brought her to such heights. In her dreams
she was brought right to the edge, dangling over the precipice, screaming for
release and pounding his back with her fists in anticipation...

...only to waken to a damp and lonely cot, crying, sobbing and all alone, with
no hope of satisfaction.

The other dream was more base, more violent. In every one she and John were
together in the same alley, with PeaceKeepers descending web like ropes like
macabre spiders, spitting pulse fire with their mouths and laughing as they shot
John again, and again, and again. He writhed and screamed in agony while she
only watched, helpless to do anything but call his name in a near whisper.
John was dead.

Aeryn felt that loss every waking moment like a sharp pain that dulled with time
but never quite left, a pain that lingered like a bad odor. She held onto that
pain, nurtured it, for with it she could continue on and fight for revenge and
someday die. To join John in death was all she felt she had to look forward to.
Certainly she had no real stake in this rebellion of the Many. But it felt
good to fight and kill, to exact the revenge she needed to sate her hunger.
John would be avenged, whether he wanted it or not.

This night she woke from a dream of ecstasy trembling and crying. How had she,
Aeryn Sun, PeaceKeeper, come to this? Crying over a man, not even a Sebacean
man, and waiting to die? What had so changed her that she felt no shame in this
at all? The answer of course was John himself and four little words: You can be
more. Ok, she could and she was. But at what cost? John's life?

Tired and confused, she stood and checked the time. An arn before dawn, a good
time to be up anyway. She stretched and began her morning workout.

Two arns later she was in the communal mess hall eating a plate of whatever it
was the Many ate when two natives sat at her table. She eyed them
speculatively, and continued with her meal. Eating was a luxury she never
ignored.

"Aeryn Sun, we must have conversation with you in private." began one that she
didn't know. The other was known to her, the leader of the group she was
currently with. She moved from one cell of the rebellion to another so often
she rarely got to know any one officer by name, and this one was no different.
She called him Spot because of a small dark scar on the tip of his nose.
Somewhere she was certain John was laughing at her joke, and she took comfort at
that.

She chewed and looked at the stranger thoughtfully, then swallowed and spoke to
Spot.

"What's going on, Spot?" She asked conversationally.

But Spot only shook his head, he didn't know a thing. Aeryn was inclined to
believe him, he wouldn't know what an obviously higher level coordinator like
this one had in mind. She fixed the new one with a jaundiced eye and stared for
a microt or two. She knew from experience that unnerved the Many to no end.
Sure enough, the new one began to fidget and dart his eyes. After she felt she
had made him suffer long enough she consented.

"Right then. I'm done here. Where would you like to talk?"

They settled on talking in a private alcove, with Spot guarding them from prying
eyes and ears. Aeryn took up a position with her back to the wall and her pulse
rifle at the ready. She looked at the nervous alien and said conversationally,
"What do you want?"

"Aeryn Sun, you understand that this military effort to shake our oppressors has
to remain secret, that there are surface dwellers of the Many who accept bribes
from the PeaceKeepers and turn over our locations and that we keep you moving so
that none may find you..." He was nervous about something, and Aeryn got the
feeling he wanted to be anywhere but here, stuck in an alcove with an armed
ex-PeaceKeeper.

"Yes, yes, I am aware of all that. What do you want?" She let her irritation
show.

Nervous though he was, he blurted it out in the next breath.

"Your mate, John Crichton, is alive." He stepped back to avoid the blow he felt
would be delivered. But Aeryn stood as stone.

"What...what did you say?"

"Your mate, John Crichton, is alive. When he was killed by the PeaceKeepers,
the Many rescued his corpse and performed an ancient ritual of the Many. He was
lucky, they were able to revive him. He lives, but he is still very ill."
"He's ALIVE?" The words erupted from her mouth as molten anger. She took
another step closer to this administrative toady, and spoke the next words in
little more than a whisper.

"And how long have the Many known that he was alive, and how long did it take
you to decide to tell me about it?"

"We...we..." He swallowed once, hard, and darted his eyes around nervously.
Spot watched benignly from the doorway, refusing to make eye contact with his
superior. "It was known by some that he had been revived, and by others that
you had been rescued. But not all knew both parts."

"Did you?" She asked.

"Y-yes." he responded.

Areyn dropped him with a pantak jab and never looked back.

"You with me?" She asked Spot. He nodded once in affirmation. "You know
where we're going?" Again a nod. "Let's go then."

Jixvt watched the block of stores burn with flames that scorched the Nuvbt trees
above them. Scurrying gray forms dotted the night as rebels and townspeople
alike ran hither and yon either fighting the flames or adding to them.

Satisfied that he had gotten what he needed and hidden the real purpose of his
mission completely he signaled his men. They found their doorway easily enough
and dropped down into the shelter of the caverns. No one, not even the most
depraved of the surface dwellers revealed the location of the caverns. To let
yourself be subverted by others was a sentence of death to the guilty but his
family and clan were not so charged. To let be known the existence of the
caverns was a penalty worse than death. The guilty party and his entire clan
were taken to the Justice Cavern. No matter how old or young, each clan member
was slaughtered mercilessly until only the guilty party was left. He would be
put to the task of burning the bodies of his dead, and then would be thrown into
the flames, alive.

No one in the long memory of the Many had revealed the secrets of the caverns.
Jixvt and his associates hurried. Medicines and machines that might save John
Crichton's life dangled in carry bags or lay across shoulders of the Many. No
one complained. They jogged on in their tireless way for arns.

Home cavern finally beckoned. Jixvt and the others took the left most tunnel
after going through the atrium. This one would take them to the med wing
quickest. He felt a sense of urgency and hissed to his men. They stepped
lively.

The door to John Crichton's room was ajar. Jixvt hurried in, only to stop so
suddenly that the man behind him ran into him. He was unaware. He was
mesmerized by the sight before him.

Aeryn Sun sat at John Crichton's bedside, her hands caressing his face and tears
streaming down her cheeks. John could only watch her and smile. Jixvt nodded
curtly to his men, who lay down the stolen supplies and left as quickly as they
had come. Aeryn turned finally to see who had disturbed her.

And Jixvt suddenly found himself face to face with the most terrifying figure he
could remember. Even the PeaceKeeper he had had to deal with two months ago
hadn't frightened him this much. This woman, mate to John Crichton, was
considered the Terror of the Many. In the last few months she had led raid
after raid that left hundreds of PeaceKeepers dead and ships destroyed. The
Many adored her, but also feared her. Her zeal for killing the PeaceKeepers
surpassed even the fanatical Many.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

Jixvt could only open his mouth like a fool and wonder if she would kill him
slowly or quickly.

"Aeryn, this is Jixvt..." John paused then, weakened by just that much. "He
saved me. He's one of the good guys." A flimsy grin was pasted on his face,
and Aeryn managed a smile back.

"Then I have you to thank." She said simply, all her animosity washed away.
"What do you have there, Jixvt?"

Barely believing his luck, Jixvt took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Medicines and supplies that are for PeaceKeepers. I thought they might
help..." He gestured helplessly toward John.

Aeryn walked quickly to the piles. "Do you know what any of this is, or how to
use it?" she asked quickly. Clearly she understood the urgency in the
situation.

"Yes, I worked with a doctor on the surface who administered to our...other
clientele. I understand much of what is needed, but you understand, it may be
too late?" He cast an eye to John, now dozing on his bed. "I tried all I knew,
and guessed at the rest. I argued with everyone I knew to get permission to get
this. It is to my eternal shame that it took them this long to allow me to go."
He hung his head as he rummaged through the packs. Aeryn shook her head.
"Beauracrats are the same on any world." She muttered. "You aren't to blame.

Let's do what we can then."

And they did.

For John, the world of pain ceased to bother him the day Aeryn returned. He had
been dozing and wondering where Jixvt had gone to. Normally the alien doctor
was found hovering over him and making reassuring doctor noises, but he had been
suspiciously absent all day. The nondescript females that tended to him were no
help. John had learned from Jixvt that no females were allowed on the surface,
and none were given translator microbes. Since they never spoke in his
presence, he had no idea if they even could. This went a long way to describing
the awe that they seemed to hold Aeryn in, for her exploits with the rebels were
widely known.

But this day he was restless for reasons unknown. He felt drained, as if he
were a battery that had run down. A lassitude that he had never known before
enveloped him, letting his mind drift into a state not unlike that of the Unity
he had shared with Zhaan. He was puzzled at his lack of care at this new
change, his indifference. It wasn't until he thought of Aeryn that he realized
he was dying, and that his only regret was not being able to say good bye. He
let his eyes drift shut, waiting for her image to come to him.

A soft and insistent voice called him, bringing him back. He was asleep,
dammit, why couldn't they let him sleep? He felt he could sleep forever. He
kept his eyes shut. No, he didn't want to wake up. He was tired, tired of
hurting, tired of waiting. No, he wouldn't wake up. They couldn't make him.
One voice was irritatingly insistent. A hand touched his face, stroked his arm,
held his hand firmly. Who was there? A spark of curiosity overwhelmed him.
Maybe he would open his eyes, one more time.

His eyes fluttered open to the dim glare of the green lights. My God, he
thought, this is a damn fine dream. That looks like Aeryn. But this dream
Aeryn was crying, and Aeryn Sun didn't cry. Ever. Big girls don't cry, he
thought hysterically.

"John, I didn't know. I thought you were dead. All this time, I thought you
were dead." She scrubbed tears from her face with the back of her hand. "I
would have been here if I knew, I wouldn't have left you." She leaned down and
kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

It was then that John knew it was truly her. Aeryn was here, she was really
here. He smiled, but the futility of it all wasn't lost on him. Now that his
strength had waned and his will to live had weakened, she was here. He didn't
know if he could hang on much longer. He was so tired...

And then Jixvt walked in and saved the day. Again.

Zhaan was leery of sleep these days. The seek dream had never repeated itself,
but the fear that it would haunted her. She slept sporadically if at all.
Today was like the previous ones, meaning most everything was in working order
but just barely. Moya's baby seemed to be fine, so far. They hoped their
frantic struggles had not been in vain. She passed a weary hand over her face
yet again and turned back to the console. Pilot interrupted her.

"Zhaan, are you quite all right?" He asked with genuine concern. Zhaan looked
up, surprised.

"Yes Pilot, I am fine. I'm just tired." She made another adjustment, and Moya
lurched slightly.

"Be careful Zhaan, you almost overloaded Moya's gravity compensation
adjustments!" He looked carefully at her through the static of his holo
projection. "I believe you must get some rest. I will call D'Argo up to
command."

"Really Pilot, it isn't necessary..." She began.

"Oh, but it is. You need to sleep. D'Argo has been resting for some time."
Zhaan sighed, knowing that Pilot was correct but dreading the consequences of
sleep. She turned when she heard footfalls entering command.

"So then, what was that all about?" Chiana demanded, with eccentric body
language that was all her own.

"Just a fluctuation in the gravity field, we are fine. I need to get some
sleep, Pilot is calling D'Argo up." Zhaan yawned hugely as D'Argo walked in.
"Go, Zhaan, I will take it from here." He caught her worried expression and
moved close enough to lay a comforting arm on her shoulder. "It was a dream,
Zhaan, and you have no idea if it is the past, present or future you saw. Or
none of them. Sleep, rest. We need you here."

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand as it lay on her shoulder. "Thank you,
sweet D'Argo." She left silently.

"What was a dream? What are you talking about?" Chiana demanded. D'Argo
looked her over closely, and decided Zhaan had been correct not to tell Chiana
and Rygell about her seek dream. Rygell would mourn by cleaning out anything of
Crichton's, claiming the dead needed no belongings. Chiana though might react
differently, given the way she had seemed to feel towards John. Better that
they never tell them, better they find out at a later date...if it proved to be
true. For now he shook his head at Chiana and told her only, "Zhaan had a
disturbing dream about an old friend. It does not concern you." Oddly enough,
it seemed to satisfy the little thief and she soon wandered off in search of
trouble.

D'Argo stood in command, alone.

Zhaan slept the sleep of the innocent. Arns flowed by as she accepted much
needed rest and rejuvenation. No dreams haunted her, nothing disturbed her.
When she woke rested and calm, the urge to visit the terrace claimed her. She
welcomed the vast tableau of stars and their brittle glow. Slipping out of her
robes, she sat in her meditation pose and let her mind flow.

Inward, ever inward, to the center. Peace and tranquillity, balance and
proportion, life and the living. She rejoiced in all she had known and knew
now, and that which she would someday learn. She found her center and it
welcomed her. Peace, peace, soothing, all encompassing, absorbing...
A flicker in her sense told her that she was not alone. She almost fell into a
panic, so wrapped into her own mind she was, until she felt the fear and pain in
the other sense. Someone lost, hurt, alone. Someone not able to find their way
home, wherever home was. Someone who needed her to help. She began to search
for more than just a faint trace, to look for their soul cast out upon the
winds.

Ahh, there, she felt it stronger now. Fear and pain in equal measure, confusion
and anguish abundant. Soothing now, she moved closer. Closer, closer. The
sense was strong, so strong, so...alien.

"Oh, oh John!" She almost moaned with her own anguish. In a rush of
recognition, he enveloped her.

"Zhaan! Where are you? How did I get here?" His relief at finding her was
overshadowed by his great fear. "And where is here, anyway? Where am I?"
"Hush, John, you must be calm. I will help you all I can." She sent soothing
thoughts to him, and was relieved when they seemed to work. He relaxed in her
mind, and an almost visual image flickered in her minds eye, John sitting down
on the floor and looking up at her with those strangely beautiful eyes. "I do
not know where your physical body is, but you, your soul and your heart, are
with me in unity. I am meditating and so my mind is open." She didn't mention
that only the strongest adepts within the Delvian Seek could do what he was
doing, and he was doing it with no training. It was amazing. He was amazing.
"What do I need to do?" He asked, calmer now.

"What do you remember?" She asked carefully. Memories could damage their
connection, but they were essential to finding out where he was and what had
happened.

"I...I remember Aeryn and I fighting off PeaceKeepers in some alley and, and...I
guess I was wounded or something. I ended up with some of these natives here,
they've been taking care of me. I think I'm in real tough shape, to tell you
the truth." he paused. "Oh hell, I'm dying, aren't I?"

She hesitated slightly, then pushed on. "John, if you are here you are dying or
already dead."

Silence for microts, then he spoke again. "Humans have a state of
unconsciousness that is a kind of medical limbo. Sometimes a patient will slip
into a coma after a serious injury, usually to the brain but not always. Could
that be it? Could I be in a coma, not dead?" She felt the tension in his
thought patterns, felt him clinging to hope with a desperation she admired for
it's depths.

"It could be, John. Do you feel any pain?"

"Um, well now that you mention it, yeah. My belly still burns, that's where I
was shot, I think."

"Concentrate on that pain, John. Let yourself slide into the pain, embrace it,
make it yours. Consume it, and it will no longer rule you."

They worked in this mode for arns it seemed, Zhaan giving John instructions in
how to heal himself, John fumbling and failing, trying again and succeeding.
Once again she felt admiration for his nimble mind. How different these humans
were! she thought.

Arns later, she felt herself come back to the terrace, and knew in her heart
that if anyone could survive, it would be John Crichton. Now she just hoped she
and the others could find their way back to them. She left the terrace, no
longer in terror of sleep but rather, looking forward to her next chance to link
with John.

The days trudged by. One flowed seamlessly into the other, never changing.
Aeryn and Jixvt would take turns monitoring the complex machines that
administered medicines and kept a faithful eye on vital signs. Sometime after
Jixvt returned with the machines, John had slipped into a stage between life and
death, neither awake nor asleep. It unnerved Aeryn to see him move or open his
eyes, he looked awake then. But he was as unaware of her as he was of the
rotation of the planet. Despite his inability to speak to her or hear her, she
talked to him endlessly, hoping that her constant chatter would bore him enough
to wake him. She lived for that day.

Inside himself, John had conversations with Zhaan, or wandered through old
memories, or felt and heard...nothing. Sometimes he heard Aeryn's voice, a
soothing chatter of remembered inflections and tones. He wanted to go there, to
hear her and see her, but it was so hard. He drifted back down, down, deep.
Zhaan found him and brought him back up, closer to the surface. But he was so
tired. Some days he could hardly bring himself to speak to Zhaan, the lassitude
that engulfed him was so strong. But she persevered.

It became harder to find that deep place, it was elusive one day and gone the
next. Zhaan seemed to be there more often than not, soothing, encouraging,
cajoling him to fight it, fight it, reach for Aeryn. Don't give up, don't sink
down again. He began to struggle to wake up.

Agony ravaged him. He felt screams building inside, screams he couldn't
release. He needed a voice to scream, and he wasn't there yet. Oh, try John,
try again. He waved his arms and screamed yet again, agony and ecstasy.
(Did you see that? His arm moved.) (Do not get your hopes up, Aeryn Sun. He is
showing no sign of recovery yet.)

No dammit, I'm here! He screamed again, this time trying to lift his entire
body from it's bonds. Pain laced through his abdomen, and he subsided, wordless
with pain.

(OH! He moved Jixvt, he did. I saw him move.)

(We will see, Aeryn Sun.)

One more time, he had to try one more time. One more time became his mantra,
time and time again. He screamed then, a name, a remembered name, someone he
knew, someone he...loved. "Aeryn," he screamed, "Aeryn!"

(THERE! He said something Jixvt! You heard him!)

(I...don't know...maybe...)

(John! John, wake up, wake up!)

He tried again, sure of himself now. But the pain, the pain...he heard her
voice yet again. Yes, it was worth the pain. He tried again, one more time...

"AERYN!"

And he woke.

John sat in a comfortable chair, just watching her. She was gesturing to the
troops, giving them their orders. No longer did she fight along side them. Her
job now was to plot their destinies and order them to their deaths. The Many
considered it an honor to die for their own. Aeryn had no need to die too.
John watched her in admiration.

He had been asleep, in a coma, for more than a month. Aeryn had been barely
able to sleep and eat, had in fact never left the small suite of rooms
designated as medical. John was her only concern. The rebellion had gone on
without her, but they suffered horrible casualties. Now she was back and the
Many were gaining ground.

And a good time was had by all, John thought ruefully. He shifted uncomfortably
in his chair, feeling the small flare of pain in his belly. He was healing, but
it would be quite awhile before he was whole again.

Aeryn was wrapping up her orders, the Many were filing out. Most would die
tonight, but some sort of small victory would come of it. The Many were
satisfied. Aeryn came to him then, smiling, taking his hand, murmuring in his
ear. He smiled in return, still hardly believing he was alive.

It had been close.

He no longer could connect with Zhaan, so he supposed his mind had found her in
what could only be classified as an emergency situation and that was that. He
hadn't told Aeryn, he wasn't sure how she'd take it. It didn't matter, it was
between Zhaan and himself. She hadn't told D'Argo or the others, either.

Someday, if Moya made it back for them, they would talk about it. For now, John
let it slip his mind as he held onto Aeryn and just smiled.

"We intercepted a PeaceKeeper communiqué from the command ship." Aeryn was
saying. "Would you like to come in the ops room and listen in?"

He did. She helped him up and they walked together, arm in arm.

"It's a different frequency, Sir." One of the Many was saying. "We only just
cracked this code last night. It must be the captain's code. All we've been
hearing so far has been ground to ship reports. Some relevant information but
we felt there was more." He flipped some of the toggles and switches on the
cannibalized Farscape communications array and it spit into life.

"...say again, Lieutenant?" Came a cultured voice through the static. This far
underground the reception wasn't what it could be.

"Sir, the natives seem to be on the run this time. We count more than five
hundred dead on that last assault."

"Do not believe all that you see, Lieutenant. These natives are not as simple
as we were led to believe." Something about that voice, even with the static...

"Yes sir. Anything else, sir?"

"No, that will be all. Stick with the plan, and report to me in six arns."

"Yes sir."

"And Lieutenant?"

"Sir?"

"I want to be notified if there is any sign of Officer Sun or Crichton, is that
perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir. I understand sir."

"Good. Crais out."

"Tollb out."

The transmission ended. Aeryn looked at John, and he returned her look.
The PeaceKeepers wouldn't leave soon. The PeaceKeepers were here for the
duration.

Captain Crais was in town.