A Crichton Story Part 5
by Lt Commander Lewis
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------John climbed out of the module and slumped to the ground. His head was pounding from the memory and he was having a hard time breathing.
It had been…the Aurora chair.
This was a new memory…actually being in the Aurora chair.
He could feel the bonds on his wrists that held him in…the searing pain shooting through his entire brain…even the slight turning of the chair itself.
John closed his eyes and lay down on the maintenance bay floor, its cool surface calming his trembling body slightly.
What in hezmana was happening!?!
John shouldn’t know any of this…none of this should be happening.
After John had calmed himself down as best he could he stood up and braced himself against the side of the module.
A DRD chirped and spun around as Pilot came on the viewer; "John, do you wish me to alert Zhaan?"
John’s breathing was still labored and he shook his head, "No…Pilot. I’ll…be fine."
"All right John." Said Pilot as his image disappeared.
John pushed himself off the module and he started walking towards the door, bracing himself on the tables along the way. He had to find out what was going on and he had to do it soon.
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Zhaan had the crew meet her in the Center Chamber so they could discuss what was going on.
"Zhaan, what is wrong?" asked Chiana.
Zhaan sat down and folded her hands together on the table; "John’s memory flashes have worsened. I spoke to him earlier about his past before we found him…I told him all of what we know, about his parents and the Peacekeepers."
D’argo growled slightly at the mention of the Peacekeepers. He had still not found Jothee, thanks to them.
"What in hezmana are we suppose to do for the poor boy?" Said Rygel, the once conceited Dominar had softened over the cycles.
"I do not know what to do, that is the problem. I believe that these are being caused by something the Peacekeepers did."
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John walked into his quarters and sat down on the floor next to his bed.
He ran his fingers over the hard metal barrel of the pulse pistol on his thigh; he hadn’t taken it off for two solar days now.
In some odd way it was comforting to have it on him.
John closed his eyes and leaned his head back so that it rested on the bed.
He felt compelled to leave Moya…his only known home.
He despised the Peacekeepers but he knew that he must find them…he was going to find them.
John stood up and grabbed a black duffel bag.
He started throwing his clothes and possessions in it.
As soon as they reached the next commerce planet, he was going to leave Moya…
To Be Continued…