An End to the Means

Author: Jen
Synopsis: When the crew of Moya detects a vast Sebacean space station, Aeryn unwillingly agrees to investigate. On the station, Aeryn finds it difficult to reconcile the person she once was with the person she has become. She learns a terrible secret that holds great importance for the rest of Moya's crew - but at what price to herself?
Spoilers: US season two through "The Way We Weren't". I envision this story beginning a new Farscape arc shortly after this episode, although I don't think anything contradicts the events of "Home on the Remains".
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Farscape, its characters, and its storylines belong to Henson, SciFi, and whoever else has legal ownership of them - not myself. Its characters and setting are borrowed with the deepest respect and with no copyright infringement intended. No financial gain is being obtained through this story.

 

John

"Pilot, you picked a darned inconvenient time to call us all up here." I walked into Command wiping my hands on my pants. "I was having such a great time cleaning out the waste ducts. This better be good."

D'Argo made a face at me. "Spare us your complaining, Crichton. We've all been up to our eyeballs in dren maintaining Moya."

"Pilot has found something very important, John," Zhaan said.

She, D'Argo, Rygel, and Chiana were gathered around the main console. Its holoemitter projected a fuzzy image of a camo-colored planetoid with a smooth, black, very definitely man-made sphere in orbit around it.

"Moya's long-range scanners have detected a moon in one of the neighboring systems with what appears to be some kind of orbiting structure near it," D'Argo said.

"Moya and I have never seen such a thing," Pilot said. "I asked you all here to see if any of you were familiar with it."

I thought of Ewoks and Darth Vader. "Holy Death Star, Batman," I commented. "What kind of evil empire made that thing?"

"Peacekeeper," a cold voice announced. Aeryn walked into the room behind me. Damn it, I'd shot my mouth off again.

D'Argo flung an arm at the image. "Is this a weapon?" he demanded.

"No. It's well-armed, but defensive only. It's a Peacekeeper base station. It's - home."

"Home?" I asked. "Is that your homeworld?"

"Sebaceans have no homeworld," she replied without looking at me.

"Why didn't you tell us Moya's course would take us near it?" D'Argo wanted to know.

"I didn't know it was here," Aeryn shot back. "Base stations are located in isolated systems. Their locations are not general knowledge. It's to protect them. They house non-combatants."

"I didn't know there was such a thing," Rygel muttered.

"What, do you think I came out of the womb fully-armed?"

"No, I thought you came out of a tank fully-armed."

"Kids!" I yelled. I wasn't sure, but that sounded like the Hynerian equivalent of "you're ugly and your mother dresses you funny". "What kind of non-combatants?" I asked Aeryn.

"Techs," she answered. "Support staff. Trainees, breeders, children." She stared at the image hovering above Moya's console and then pulled herself back from wherever her mind had gone. "I suggest you give it a wide berth. Non-Sebaceans will not be tolerated." She turned to go.

"Wait," D'Argo said. "Do Peacekeeper military vessels stop at them?"

"Yes. For refits, restocking, and major repair. If you steer clear of the station, I doubt you'll run into any. Why?"

"The station would be a hub for Peacekeepers from all over the sector. A rich source of information on what the Peacekeepers know about us." A suggestive silence stretched on.

"D'Argo does have a point, Aeryn," Zhaan suggested tentatively. Aeryn looked from face to face.

"So you want me to take the Prowler and sneak aboard this station on reconnaissance," she said. Nobody confirmed and nobody denied. She gave the little Death Star another faraway look, and then her expression took on the blank immobility of a mask.

"Right. I'll leave in an arn. Don't deviate from this course or I might not find you again. It'll take me two days to get there and four to get back. If I'm not back in seven, don't wait."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Rygel said under his breath. Aeryn ignored him.

"Wait a minute! Shouldn't you take somebody along?" I asked, presenting myself as the obvious choice. I had no desire to go stomping around with a bunch of Peacekeepers, however peaceable they might actually be, but the thought of Aeryn all by herself in a place that strongly resembled home afflicted with a serious case of deja vu was less appealing.

"Your attempts at impersonating a Peacekeeper haven't gone well, John." That was not exactly true. My first attempt had gotten her skewered. My last attempt had saved her life. That accomplishment was mitigated by the fact that I was the reason her life had needed saving and she had been obligated to pull my ass out of the can. I wasn't sure if that evened out. I followed her out of command with Rygel's sing-song echoing after us.

"Don't hurry. Take your time. Feel free to stay awhile." Then, "Ouch! Frell!", which was probably Chiana yanking his ear.

"Hey, Aeryn! Wait up." I jogged to keep up with her. "You're uncomfortable with this."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing it."

"I'm sure you are, that's not the point." I caught her arm and pulled her to a halt. "The point is, you don't want to go, but you're giving in instead of saying no. What's wrong?" She hesitated, as if there was something she really wanted to tell me. I pressed her. "Come on," I coaxed. "What's going on? Why are you like this? You don't have to go just because Zhaan and D'Argo tell you to. Talk to me." I had lost track of how many times I had begged her to do that.

Her resolve hardened, and the mask slid firmly into place. She shrugged her arm from my grasp. "I'll be back in a week, John." She strode away. This time I let her go.

Her departure was uncharacteristically terse. Her only reply to Pilot's announcement that she was clear to launch was a single "Acknowledged." Her Prowler left Moya, quickly turned into a distant speck, and then disappeared. No goodbye. I wondered why I felt abandoned.

D'Argo watched her departure with me from Command. "This is not like Aeryn."

"Something's wrong," I said. "She's upset. She didn't want to do this." D'Argo looked at me sideways.

"Is she upset because she didn't want to do this?" he asked. "Or because she did?"

I didn't want to admit that the idea of the latter bothered me most.

 

Aeryn

When you have to make a long trip in a Prowler, you do it in four-arn shifts. Four arns asleep, four arns awake. While you're asleep, you're coasting on autopilot. When you're awake, you're at maximum cruising velocity and gazing at the scanners, to make sure you won't run into anything while you're out.

This requires some attention in a populated region of space. In a system as empty as the one I was passing through, there's very little to do. By the time I detected a carrier convoy on its way to the station, I had spent so much time with nothing but my guilty conscience for company that I was almost looking forward to being among Sebaceans again.

It's really quite easy to fall in with a convoy. You come up from behind, in the shadow of one of the Prowlers. Then, as you pull up, you gradually slip away from it. By the time the ops officer realizes there's another Prowler out there, he usually doesn't want to admit to not knowing how many Prowlers he has on patrol, and he rationalizes that he must have deployed one more than he thought. I used this method to join up with the convoy, and my entry went undetected.

Once you reach your destination, you have to avoid landing with the rest of a crew that will figure out pretty quickly that it doesn't know you. I used another simple trick to accomplish that.

"Prowler escort to Command," I said.

"Command to Prowler, go ahead."

"My right starboard stabilizer's burned out. Request permission to proceed directly to Maintenance."

Nice and neat. Why make a shaky carrier landing with a bad stabilizer when you can put down in the wide open space of a base station hanger and get it fixed? There was even a grain of truth to the story. My stabilizer wasn't gone, but it was flaky, and the repair was beyond my capabilities. Might as well get it fixed if I was stuck doing this. As I expected, the ops officer agreed with me.

"Affirmative, Prowler. You are clear to Maintenance. Proceed directly to the hangar. Report to quarters by 2300."

"Acknowledged, Command. Prowler out."

I broke formation and veered off towards the Maintenance hanger, a gaping maw in the giant black sphere. I followed the warning lights that directed me to a spot in the bay and lowered the Prowler to the deck. I raised the canopy, climbed down, and walked straight into Valorek.

Of course it wasn't Valorek. That didn't stop my heart from kicking into overdrive. I was sure I was doomed to mistaking every tall dark Sebacean man for Valorek for the rest of my life. This time it was only an engine tech. He murmured an apology and went past me without another glance. Pulse still racing, I found the locker room, quickly shed my two-day-old flight suit and exchanged it for my uniform, and stuffed my few belongings into one of the lockers, saving the key chip. I crossed the deserted bay and emerged into-

A crowd of Sebaceans. Sebaceans in black infantry gear, Sebaceans in pilot's uniforms, Sebaceans in civilian clothes. Sebaceans selling food and drink, Sebaceans carrying parcels and bags, Sebaceans chatting in groups. Dark Sebaceans, light Sebaceans, Sebaceans with hair braided tightly, Sebaceans with it flowing loose. I reached up self-consciously and remembered I had bound mine before I left Moya. Sebaceans moving quickly, quickly, quickly, every single one of them. I had forgotten how *purposeful* they all were.

Apparently I was not purposeful enough. Someone crashed into me from behind. A male voice rose in protest, then lowered in apology. Two men waved as they passed by me. The one who had struck me looked back over his shoulder at me, once, twice, smiled. My lips curved in an automatic response. His companion had to sling an arm around his shoulder to keep him from running into someone else.

I had definitely been gawking too long. I shook off my disorientation and followed them out of the main terminal, where goodbyes and hellos were being said, and into the best place to go if you want to meet lots of Peacekeepers: the officers' club.

My uniform was enough to get me in the door. I was immediately surrounded by a sea of red jackets like myself. I was very small by Sebacean standards, and the crowd, as always, was stifling. I fought my way to the bar. There were no stools left, and I was stuck between the crowd thronging the open spaces at the bar and the crowd pressing in from the floor. A man turned and asked, "Want a fellip nectar?" It was the same man who had bumped into me and smiled.

"Sure," I said. He reached a long arm across the bar to grab one and turned and handed it to me. I noticed he was a lieutenant, probably fresh off-duty. I wondered where he'd been for the last half-cycle or so. He grinned down at me.

"You look like you could use one."

"Mm hmm." I nodded. The foam spilled over the top of the glass as I raised it to my lips. It was perfect fellip nectar - crisp and thirst-quenching, with no bitter bite on the end. Like beer. I was comparing fellip nectar to beer instead of vice versa. I swallowed half the glass in one gulp and let it rush to my head. We hadn't had a lot to eat on Moya recently, let alone a good glass of fellip.

"What's your name?"

I almost choked. I hadn't even thought of a name. There were a lot of Peacekeepers, but "Aeryn" wasn't exactly common, and it might have gotten me pegged as public enemy number one.

"Karia," I answered, using my mother's name. It was the first thing that came to mind. The lieutenant clinked his glass with mine.

"Here's to twenty-four hours of freedom, Karia."

Three hours and as many fellip nectars later, we were pressed up in a corner of the bar, shouting at each other over the din. I realized how lucky I'd gotten. I was getting friendly with a Special Ops officer who'd been in isolated duty for a quarter of a cycle, working on something "Priority Red One", he informed me with a charismatic grin. This was a man who'd have a high-level clearance and access to privileged information. I couldn't have done better if I'd hand-picked somebody. I pretended to be a good little soldier from Eustar regiment again.

"Prowler pilot, huh? Little snatch like you?"

"Bigger isn't always better," I told him. Three fellip nectars made it easier to smile. I declined another, though - I had to maintain some of my wits.

"Saying you can handle big?" he asked.

I suppressed a shiver and narrowed my eyes at him. "I can handle as big as they come." He tossed back some more fellip nectar, squinted at me, and cocked his head.

"You're different, Karia. Not an ordinary Peacekeeper. There's a stillness inside you. A seriousness." I looked away, tuned him out. If he told me I was special I was afraid I'd throw up. He swallowed the dregs from his glass, set it on a nearby table, and leaned over me.

"There's other ways to fly besides a Prowler."

In my years as a Peacekeeper, the first decent, gorgeous man I ever met was Valorek. Why, now that I was an outcast, did every Sebacean male I ran into have to be good-natured and good-looking? This man was definitely both. He was cocky, exhilarated after a successful quarter-cycle in the field, but that was all. I remembered that feeling. He wasn't cruel, or brutal, or dumb. And standing over me, pressed up against me in the tight confines, lean hard muscle beneath the polished smoothness of his uniform, smelling lightly of sweat and manhood, he made it impossible for me to say no. I was here to do a job, wasn't I? This was part of the job. But if it hadn't been, could I have refused?

"I take it you'd like to show me," I replied.

He took my hand, lifted it, and kissed it, tongue flicking out to taste the fellip nectar that had run down my fingers. It felt like every hair on my body stood at attention.

"I'd like to spend the twenty-one hours I have left doing just that," he said.

He offered the use of his cabin. Just as well. I was dependent on the generosity of strangers. Rank had entitled him to a private one, which would make what I was going to have to do easier. He shut the door and shed his jacket, baring the simple tank shirt we all wore underneath. I undid the clasps on my own jacket, and as he drew it from my shoulders he bent his head and kissed me slowly, softly. The jacket fell to the floor behind me.

Time stopped. I shook. My knees knocked. Every recreational encounter I had ever had, except for Valorek, had been just an extension of the battle into the bunk, a mutual frenzy of take and take, a different, somewhat more satisfying, but only slightly less punishing kind of fight. It had been so long since someone had made it more than that. I wanted it. I craved it with the same desperation I had felt for John Crichton when we were trapped in the transport pod with a quarter-arn of oxygen left. I erased John Crichton from my mind and seized the man who was kissing me now. It surprised him, and then electrified him. My tank shirt lifted from my waistband. His hands roamed over my skin. They were almost large enough to span the circumference of my waist. I tore at the clasp on his pants, pushed them down. He pulled away from me long enough to kick them off, panting already, and reached for the hem of his shirt. For one moment I believed I could erase the past two cycles by sheer force of will alone, that I could make love to this man and wake up in a place where I belonged, whatever misfit I might be, and it would all be nothing but a two-cycle bad dream - and then what little grasp of reality I still had left kicked in.

Moya. Crichton. The others. They needed me. They didn't like me, but they needed me. Need was more dependable than want. I was an outcast. I was irreversibly contaminated. It was because of me that Crichton had gone down to that Gammak base, it was because of me that Crais was now Talyn's master, and it was my betrayal that had cost Valorek his life. I had been irreversibly contaminated from the start - long before Crais ever said the words.

He lifted his shirt above his head. For a moment he was blind. I reached into the holster on my thigh, pulled out my gun, stepped back and leveled it at him. He tossed the shirt on the floor. His expression melded from delight to confusion to shock. We stood there, him clad only in his shorts, me fully-clothed and pointing the gun. Not the first time I had gotten a man naked and screwed him over.

"What the hezmana - Karia-"

"Put your hands up," I told him. He slowly raised them. "Turn around and go to the computer terminal. Put your ident chip in. Slowly."

His face twisted. He turned, sat down at the in-quarters terminal that officers of his status merited, and inserted the chip that hung from a chain around his neck. The system booted up and requested confirmation of his ID.

"Do it," I said. I pointed the gun at the back of his head, steady as a rock. He glanced back over his shoulder at me.

"And if I don't?" he asked. "Will you kill me?"

"I will kill you and place your dead hand on that screen myself."

His expression changed once more - to disappointment. He placed his hand wearily against the screen, and the computer read his palmprint and gave him access.

"Now what?" he asked quietly.

"Get up. Turn around."

He did. Mixed with the disappointment on his face was resignation. I forced my hands not to shake. If only he would be angry. If only he would snarl at me and spit on me and make it easier to hate him.

"Something must matter to you a great deal to make you do this," he said. "There must be quite an end to justify such means."

He was wrong. Nothing mattered. Nothing justified anything at all.

"I'm sorry," I told him. He looked me straight in the eye and did not flinch.

"Not half as sorry as I am," he said, and I knew he meant it about me. I squeezed the trigger with a jerk. He grimaced and spasmed and hit the floor. I had set it to stun. He would be awake in a couple arns and making trouble for me, but I couldn't bear to kill him. I wouldn't. I would finish the job without that. Not that he would appreciate it. When his superiors found out what his trust had permitted, he would wish he was dead. I stepped over his body and got to work at the terminal.

At first the information was encouraging. We did not appear to be of general interest to Peacekeeper High Command. Not surprising - Peacekeeper High Command had other things to worry about besides a lost Leviathin with half a dozen people on board. Then I discovered I had access to data related to a certain individual - Scorpius.

That information was not encouraging. We had been sighted at the planet we bought the crackers on - there must have been Paddac beacons I didn't find. A carrier was now on a course that would have her closing in on Moya within a weeken. But Scorpius wasn't on that carrier. He was busy at a new Gammak base preparing a new craft for its test flight - a craft capable of generating a wormhole.

I sat frozen at the terminal, staring at the word. A wormhole. The thing that had brought John to our world. What Scorpius had stolen from John's brain in the Aurora chair must have been enough for him to complete the research and move into development. What did this mean for John? For his world? And for me?

I didn't dare download anything. That would set off alarms for sure. I searched for the location of this new Gammak base and committed the coordinates to memory. I now had two reasons to get back to Moya as quickly as possible. I signed off the system, jumped up from the chair and grabbed my jacket. I paused and looked down at the figure lying on the floor.

It was the most undignified position possible to be found in. I holstered my gun and hoisted the man onto the bunk with a great deal of effort. The shirt I couldn't manage, but I worked his legs into the pants and zipped the fly. He made a sound low in his throat that nearly caused me to jump out of my skin, but did not awaken. Another tall dark Sebacean man. He had an angular face that more resembled Larraq's - Valorek had been softer, smoother. It was a face I supposed I would be seeing in my memory for some time to come. At least with any luck this one wouldn't die shortly after meeting me.

Jacket neatly fastened, weapon holstered, I walked back to the maintenance hanger. There I found that my Prowler was in a state of partial disassembly. The maintenance tech told me it would be three arns before I could fly it, and then it would only be a half-assed job. I fidgeted. If I pushed any harder it would draw suspicion. I told him I would be back in exactly three arns and left him fuming over the intractability of Prowler pilots.

Where to kill three arns? It was time to avoid any further contact with Peacekeepers. My Special Ops officer would be waking up two hours before I could leave. No doubt all hezmana would be breaking loose shortly. Where on this station would they least expect me to go? Where would I look the least conspicuous?

The answer was surprisingly simple. I headed deeper into bowels of the station and fell in with a class of the youngest Peacekeeper cadets as they moved from one lecture to another. I was so small I blended in with them well. Walking in step with them came back naturally. I remembered learning to walk in step whenever I was with a group from my earliest school year, when I was always the tail end of the line looking at somebody else's shoulder blades because I was always the shortest one. This time I trailed a girl who was probably ten years my junior but was still a hundredth of a metra taller. Apart from that, she could have been my double at that age. It provoked an odd sensation of deja vu, as if I had gone back in time and was reliving it from outside myself.

She chose the rear of the classroom, just like I would have. I sat a few seats over from her. We listened to a ramrod-backed man bearing the rank of captain (inactive) describe the basics of a Stalker's propulsion system. This was before they had separated out the future pilots from the future techs and the future infantry. My double took diligent notes. I wondered which of the categories she would fall into.

The instructor released us. The large group was relieved from having to fall in step this time, and broke into smaller groups on the way to lunch. The girl remained alone. If she had been me, her head would have been full of Stalkers, and dreams of mock-flights and tandem training runs and finally solos, alone in the cockpit with the Stalker at her command. Her only chance to be alone by herself instead of alone amidst a crowd. The other students didn't treat her badly, they just ignored her. She was just the runt. Maybe she would surprise them. Maybe she would find a way to set herself apart. My stomach clenched, and I turned and walked quickly back to the locker room and then the maintenance hanger.

I waited impatiently while the tech finished his business with my Prowler. The alarm should have been raised by now, and I was very exposed, but no one appeared to be on the alert, and I didn't get a second glance. The tech left with a grumble, and I hastily climbed aboard, sealed the cockpit, and followed the lights that guided me up, around, and then out into space. I had to try to look inconspicuous while I watched for a convoy to leave and waited nervously for a general alarm, for the space around the station to be sealed and all the Prowlers recalled. The alarm never came. I fell in with a small departing destroyer and reversed my procedure, sliding farther back behind one of the other Prowlers, then changing course for where I estimated Moya would be. I adjusted my original estimate; I intended to make it back in two days, instead of four.

 

John

I was surprised and secretly thrilled when Pilot announced Aeryn was signaling her return two days early. D'Argo and Zhaan met me in the corridor on the way to the hangar. I tried to keep the grin off my face.

"She's early," D'Argo grumbled.

"Maybe things went real well," I told him. "Don't act so enthusiastic." He shook his head.

"If she made it to the station, she's in one frelling hurry to get back. She would have had to stay awake and at maximum cruising speed for about the last thirty-six arns in order to be here by now."

I hadn't realized that. I wondered what might send her scurrying back here so fast. I doubted it was good.

The Prowler swept into Moya's hangar and glided to less than its usual graceful stop. The second the engine powered down the hatch popped open. Aeryn jumped up and half-climbed, half-fell stiffly down from the cockpit. She yanked her helmet off, ignored everybody else, and walked straight up to me. It gave me an irrational surge of pleasure. She sure as hell looked like she'd been up for thirty-six hours straight. There were dark shadows under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't eaten, either - there were hollows beneath her cheekbones.

"Scorpius has done it," she said, skipping all the pleasantries and sending my stomach into a roller-coaster dive. "He's built a craft to create a wormhole. He's going to test it soon. It's at a new Gammak base, about six days from here."

"Son of a bitch". My brain stalled and then quit. That was the only phrase it was capable of producing. Aeryn turned to the others.

"Somehow we were discovered at the last commerce planet we visited. Scorpius made a correct guess about our present heading and has sent a carrier after us. It will be here in within five days if we don't alter course."

Alarmed looks went around the room. Aeryn was certainly full of sunshine today.

"We've got to figure out a way to stop Scorpius," I said.

"Negative. We need to get the hezmana away from here as fast as possible!" D'Argo replied.

"I refuse to go up against a Gammak base again," Rygel announced to whoever would listen.

"It wouldn't be the same as last time. Moya's not in labor."

"Enough!" This time it was Zhaan who interrupted the ever-present argument. "Aeryn - thank you for taking the risk. This information is vital. is there anything else we need to know?"

There were dangerous shadows lurking behind Aeryn's eyes. "No."

"Then I suggest you get some rest, my dear. We've saved you something to eat. The rest of us will discuss the situation while you sleep."

Aeryn nodded. She bent wearily over the Prowler and hauled her duffel out of it. Chiana followed her.

"How'd you manage to get all that so fast?" she asked.

"I met someone," Aeryn answered reluctantly.

"A guy?"

"Yeah. A lieutenant."

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked. Put it in neutral, hormone man, I told myself. We told her to get the information. She did what she had to do to get it. What right did I have to judge her? And what right did I have to be jealous?

Chiana grinned. "Well, I'm impressed. You've spread your legs for some pretty high-up Peacekeepers."

I never saw Aeryn's hand move. Chiana's head just snapped back, and a bright red welt appeared on her white cheek. The hangar went silent. D'Argo growled, low, and I took a step toward Aeryn in case he thought he had something to settle on Chiana's behalf. It wasn't the right way to handle her, but Chiana didn't have to go treating everybody else like they were a trelk.

Chiana looked shocked, but oddly apologetic. Aeryn, inexplicably, looked close to tears. She turned and stalked out without another word. D'Argo managed to restrain himself.

"Chiana, that wasn't necessary," Zhaan said quietly.

"It could have been a compliment," she sniffed. I put my hand on her hot cheek.

"Sorry, Pip, but that was out of line," I told her.

"Frell you," she said, without much venom. I went after Aeryn.

I thought I was going to have to break down and get Pilot's help to find her. I searched all the places where I might have expected to find her with no luck. The last place I checked was the terrace. It appeared dark and deserted, but as I turned to leave, I saw a shadow tucked in the corner.

"Hey," I said. The shadow didn't move. I went and sat down next to it.

"Welcome back," I said. Aeryn raised a hand and pushed a loose strand of hair out of her way. I reached over, pulled the elastic from the end of her braid, and started combing it out with my fingers. Her hair felt grimy from days of being bound up and stuffed under a flight helmet.

"Chiana just made a stupid remark," I said.

"I didn't," Aeryn said.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't spread my legs."

I felt a guilty and completely unjustified sense of relief. "Chiana's a trelk. She thinks everybody else is."

"What would you have thought of me if I had?"

Ouch. Her hair hung loose down her back. I continued to run my fingers through it.

"I would have thought you did what you had to do."

She was silent for awhile. I was learning that with Aeryn, talking involved a lot of silence, and you had to listen to the silence as well as what she said. She didn't pull away, but she didn't move any closer.

"It's been three years," she said.

"Three years since what?"

"Since - I did anything with a man."

I swallowed. "Since you - recreated with a man?"

"Since I kissed a man. Since I touched a man. Almost," she added, guiltily, as if she had broken some kind of vow.

Three years. Ever since Valorek. No wonder she tried so hard to keep me at a distance, despite the undercurrent of attraction. That explained why it had taken a near-death experience to get us ripping each other's clothes off, why she had been so reluctant to go beyond first base that last night on the false Earth.

"Punishing yourself?" I asked.

She shook her head, tugging at the strands of hair in my hand.

"I could never punish myself for what I did." She said it so quietly I barely caught the words. I ached for her, for this burden she'd been carrying.

"I'm beginning to understand what it's like to be a Peacekeeper. I don't blame you for what you did. You felt trapped, and saw that as the only way out."

It took her time to work herself up to speak again. "The Peacekeeper I betrayed this time - he was a good Peacekeeper. A good man."

"That doesn't mean you're a bad person. He comes from a system that wants to hurt you, that wants to hurt us. You did what was necessary. For all of us."

"Betray you, or betray him. Was that a choice?"

"It was a sucky choice. Sometimes that's all life gives us." I felt her tremble. I wished she would lean back and let me put my arms around her. "What was his name?" I asked. It was the wrong question. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees and drawing her hair out of my grasp.

"I don't know," she replied in a watery voice. I felt hollow inside. We were sitting side by side, but she was more remote than ever before. I stood.

"Don't stay away long," I told her. I walked slowly to the door. She didn't stop me.

End

Endnotes: This story was written to be complete in and of itself, but it is actually the first part of a planned trilogy. I hope you enjoyed it enough to be interested in the next segment.