There's No Place Like Home: 2

By Joe Smith

SUMMARY:A Farscape / Dominic Flandry crossover

SPOILERS:None

 

Notes and Disclaimer: See part I

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As the blue skinned Delvian priestess, Pau Zootah Zhaan stood on the Terrace gazing at the rapidly growing yellow star that was the primary for their destination, the Imperial sector capital at Cynosure, a tear rolled down her cheek.  While Zhaan carried the hope deep within her breast that their arrival on this new world would mean an end to their fugitive flight across the Uncharted Territories, she also feared that it would mean the end of the close camaraderie that she had grown accustomed to on Moya.  Although, the elegant priestess chuckled, she couldn’t, as usual, understand John’s human reference when he called the crew of Moya ‘A Jerry Springer kind of family’, she did understand and agree with his assessment that it was a family—and she wasn’t looking forward to it breaking up. 

Taking a deep breath, Zhaan paced the floor for several minutes before stopping to once again look at the universe.  In many ways, she thought, she was the mother of this little family—looking after and fretting over everyone. D’Argo was often the hotheaded younger son, while Aeryn was the oldest sister—strong and dependable, but also seething with emotions and fears.  Chiana was the younger, more impulsive sibling of the family—always getting into trouble, but also always there when she had to be.  Pilot…Zhaan had to think for a while to determine his relationship, and then she smiled as she remembered Crichton talking about his aunt Linda—how she was always there to help the family in a pinch, but never expected any thanks for it.  Pilot was Moya’s Aunt Linda.  While Rygel, to use another Crichtonism, was the crusty old uncle that John would talk about—mostly irritating, but also endearing in his own strange way.  Moya was the matriarch—the grandmother—of this makeshift clan, sheltering and protecting everyone from harm.  And John—the 10th level Pau didn’t quite know where or how John fit into this family.  Most of the time, he was the father, helping Zhaan deal with the myriad crises and emotions that overtook everyone else.  But he was also the older brother—especially to D’Argo and Chiana.  With Aeryn, Zhaan felt that he wanted to be husband—but the former Peacekeeper wasn’t quite ready for that—and neither really was John, Zhaan thought sadly as she heard the distinctive footsteps of the strange human who had joined two cycles earlier.  “Greetings, John.”

“Yo, Blue!”  Crichton replied, a spring to his step.  “How’s it shakin’?”

Smiling indulgently at her friend’s indecipherable reference, Zhaan turned towards him.  “If you’re asking how I am doing, then I am doing fine, John.”

“You sure, Zhaan?”  John asked, as he picked up on his close friend’s concerns both through the unity that they had once shared and through her body language.

Chuckling softly, the elegant priest took her friend’s hand.  “I do admit to some worries, John.  What do we do once we get to Cynosure?  What will life be like for us?  I have to say, my friend, I’ve heard some things about this Empire that I’m not sure of—like the keeping of slaves…”  The former prisoner’s disgust was evident as she finished her statement.

“I know, Zhaan.”  Crichton shifted somewhat nervously, ashamed that an institution he had thought long buried had been resurrected now that his people had reached the stars.  “I talked to Nina about it.  She told me that slavery was a punishment for serious crimes like murder and treason, and that, given the size of the Empire, there wasn’t a whole lot of it —that it was more humane than executing them.”

“Do you really believe that, John?”  Zhaan asked, gazing deep into the human’s eyes.

“No.”  As he vigorously shook his head, the Delvian priest smiled warmly, her smile growing as John finished his thoughts.  “I don’t.  There has to be a better way.  Maybe I can help work towards finding it—I have to at least try.”

“How is Aeryn?”  Zhaan, taking on the role of mother for what might possibly be the last time, knew that while she might be stirring up troubled waters, John needed to be aware of the effect his actions were having on the tormented Sebacean woman.

“Fine…I guess.”  John said in an apologetic tone.  “We haven’t talked much…not since me and Nina started…Ummmm…you know…”

“I understand, John…” Zhaan replied, softly.

“Look, Zhaan…” John began defensively, “It’s not like Nina and I are rubbing Aeryn’s nose in it or anything.  We’re trying to be discreet—she’s not sharing my quarters, and we keep our distance when there’s anyone else around.”  The wise Pau nodded her head in agreement.  Sighing, the time-displaced astronaut looked pleadingly at his cherished friend for understanding.  “I think you know how I feel about Aeryn, but I can’t go on without some response from her.”  Shrugging his shoulders resignedly, John continued.  “Maybe we need some time apart—we’ve spent two years in almost constant contact running from one threat or another—maybe a few months or even years away from each other might give us both the time and distance we need to sort out our feelings.  If we really love each other—we’ll work our way through it”  ‘I hope.’  John didn’t say, but he knew that the wise woman he was standing next to knew that that was what he was feeling.

“Perhaps you’re right, John.”  Zhaan said as she placed a caring hand on her friend’s arm, and then turned to look at the stars.  “I hope so for both of your sakes, my friend.”

*****************************

As he heard the door to his office open, Captain Sir Dominic Flandry of His Majesty’s Imperial Naval Intelligence Corps looked up from the flimsy he was reading, cursing the lack of an interstellar equivalent to radio.  The news from the Athena had just arrived via fast courier, and the Star class light cruiser and her strange prize were due to arrive shortly. He then smiled as his door opened, revealing a beautiful oriental woman wearing a bright, form fitting, rainbow-hued, low cut shimmerlyn gown that accentuated her lovely curves as well as her bronze skin and long jet-black hair “Alana, my dear!  It’s so good to see you again—when was the last time?  Betelgeuse?”

“You know damned well it was at Catawrayannis, on Llynathawr, you rogue—you won ten thousand credits from me at Rudolph’s perpetual poker game.”  The musical voice belonging to the Marquessa of Centaurus, Alana Murakawa brought a smile to the Terran agent’s face, as did her appearance as she walked in his office, a delicate hint of jasmine from her perfume accompanying her.  The diminutive Marquessa, gracefully sitting down, in one of the comfortable armchairs, her almond shaped eyes sparkling with mischief, curled her legs under her like a cat as she regarded her occasional lover and colleague sitting behind a spartan wooden desk.  “I take it that’s the info from the courier that just arrived today?”  She asked as she fixed a cigarette to the end of an ornate silver gilded ivory cigarette holder.

“Yes.  Most interesting reading as well.”  The Terran officer responded as he gallantly lit his guest’s cigarette before lighting his own, and then, walking to the bar that he always kept well stocked with a variety of only the best liquors and liqueurs, poured a scotch for himself and a cognac for his companion.  Taking the offered drink, the Marquessa looked her former lover over with an expert’s eye.  She saw a lean man, about six feet tall, with taut muscles earned from several hours of exhausting calisthenics, with seal-brown hair, a well manicured mustache, piercing gray eyes, and high cheekbones and a straight nose purchased at a biosculpt shop several years ago when it was all the rage.  The uniform he was wearing was, as usual, as flamboyant as he could get away with and still remain just within regulations.  A peach high collared tunic with dark blue sash, white pants, and black leather half boots completed his ensemble.  The dark blue beret with the Imperial Sunburst and the gray riding cloak that accompanied the uniform hung in the corner on the wood coat rack.

“So…” The lovely aristocrat asked, exhaling a stream of smoke.  “Do you believe he’s who he says he is?”

“I’ve been told by those who are experts in such matters that it’s theoretically possible.”  Flandry answered as he took a sip of his single-malt scotch, permitting its smoky taste to linger on his tongue.  “Unfortunately, we don’t have any pictures, but we do know that there was a Farscape mission and that a John Robert Crichton commanded it and that no wreckage of the crash was ever recovered—unusual in itself—even the most catastrophic failure normally leaves something behind.”  Stopping to catch his breath, Flandry drank deeply of the nicotine from his cigarette before continuing.  “It’s a one in a million shot though…”

“So…” Alana asked with a faint shudder, “Are you going to ‘probe him?”

“I’d prefer not to…” The Terran captain shook his head as he relaxed in his chair.  “If the mediscans show that he’s not immune to a narco-quiz, I’ll go with that.  No need putting him through a ‘probe if we don’t have to.”  Putting out his cigarette, Flandry steepled his fingers.  “If he isn’t immune, that would at least give less credence to the possibility of him being a Merseian agent.”

“True…and a mediscan that doesn’t show the usual immunizations and gene work against AIDS and cancer and so on would give added weight to his story.”  The Marquessa added as she picked up the flimsy Flandry had just finished reading, taking a few moments to enjoy the holopicture of Crichton that she called up.  “Not bad…” She flashed a quick leer as she admired the time-displaced astronauts features.  “What about the others?”

“An interesting assortment…” Dominic laughed as he lit another cigarette.  “One is a sentient plant, the other a species called the Nebari that have an ugly little method of punishment called mind cleansing…” Flandry shuddered at that, “Then there’s this guy…” The Terran intelligence officer replaced the rotating image of Crichton with that of the Hynerian, laughing as his partner pouted, “Calls himself Rygel XVI, the ruler of someplace called the ‘Hynerian Empire’.  Your typical deposed despot—they’re a millo-credit a dozen. You know the type—hanging out at court hoping that the Emperor will see fit to help them get back on their thrones so that they can stick it to the people who overthrew them.  And in exchange they’ll pledge to be our gallant allies and clients—right up until they decide to stab us in the back.”  Flandry sneered as he downed his scotch.  “What most of those idiots fail to understand is that the Empire could care less about what happens beyond its borders—so long as whatever hell’s brewing doesn’t spill over.”

“Which it almost always does sooner or later.”  The Marquessa finished as she sipped her brandy, knowing that Flandry kept his inner office continually swept against all forms of eavesdropping.

“Finally…” The womanizing Terran grinned as he replaced Rygel’s image with that of a strikingly beautiful tall athletic dark haired woman wearing black leather pants and top.  “We have Aeryn Sun.  Looks human, but isn’t.”  Seeing his associate raise her eyebrows in inquiry, Flandry chuckled.  “From a race that call themselves ‘Sebaceans.’  And if she’s typical of her species…” Flandry leered as he rotated the image, “…then I would say that it’s our duty to make contact with them as quickly as possible.”

“Of course you would…” Alana laughed back and then inhaled deeply from her cigarette, “So…when do our guests arrive?”

“Very soon.  Athena is in system now.”

“You want to handle the interrogations while I soften ‘em up?”  The Marquessa asked, and then flashed a wicked grin as Flandry nodded his head.  “You know, Nick…I’m looking forward to meeting this Crichton.”  The Marquessa licked her lips as she called up the image of John once again.

“You never change, do you, ‘Lana?”  Flandry laughed as he assisted his former lover from her chair, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Neither do you, Nick.”  The Terran aristocrat chuckled as she returned her colleague’s kiss and then switched the holo-image to that of Aeryn’s.  “I noticed how you looked at her.  Good luck—looks like you’re going to have your hands full with her.”

“Ah…Alana…it’s the chase that makes it worthwhile.”  Flandry laughed as he escorted the Marquessa out of his office and then, returning, turned the background music to a Mozart concerto as he settled down to once again read the report.

*********************************

“Commander St. Simon?”  Pilot’s voice resounded through the command section where everyone was gathered, looking at the growing form of Cynosure with its twin moons.

“Yes, Pilot?”  The Terran officer replied, maintaining an outward appearance of calm, hiding the growing excitement as they neared the end of their mission.

“We are receiving transmissions from the Naval Base directing us to proceed on a heading towards what they say will be our berth.”

“Comply with the instructions, Pilot.”

“Yes sir.”

John and D’Argo stood watching the many ships as they passed them by, Nina and Chiana, who had stricken up a fast friendship on the cruise as well, standing by their men.  “That’s a lotta ships, D’Argo.”

“Uh Huh.”  The Luxan replied, taken aback, along with the rest of Moya’s crew, by the large number and varied classes of ships.

“The Sector Fleet.”  St. Simon said proudly, “Commanded by Fleet Admiral Dame Allison Mackenzie-Faulkes—hero of the Ramnu incursion.”  Then, grinning widely, St. Simon pointed.  “If you’ll look over there, you’ll see the Victory, the Supernova class battleship where she has her flag.

As the giant ship literally blocked out the viewscreen, the crew of Moya, including Aeryn, gasped in astonishment.  The former Peacekeeper, quiet for most of the voyage, lost in the turmoil of her emotions, said in a low voice, “That ship is bigger than three command carriers.”

“She’s the pride of the Sector Fleet.”  The Terran commander preened as launches and Meteor class fighters darted in and out of the great vessel’s launch bays.

As Rygel took in the sight of the battlewagon he allowed himself a sly grin.  He had spent the majority of the voyage talking with St. Simon, asking shrewd questions about the politics and society of the Empire.  To his astonishment, and later that of everyone else once he had told them, Crichton’s people had conquered an Empire that was a sphere 400 light years across containing over four million star systems.  But it was now well within a period of decadence—giving great opportunities to anyone bold enough and crafty enough to successfully navigate the rocks and shoals of Imperial politics—and the cunning Dominar knew that he was precisely that type of being.

*****************************

“I will not allow another medtech to touch me!”  The very irritated D’Argo declared with a menacing growl as he joined the rest of Moya’s crew in an ornately furnished antechamber.  Sniffing the delicate odor of fresh wildflowers that the air recyclers pumped into the room, he made a moue of disgust, a reaction shared by his companion, the former Peacekeeper Aeryn Sun, who snorted her contempt at the extravagant display of opulence and luxury that she encountered upon entering the room.  She saw a plush sofa and armchairs, all carved with intricate patterns along their bases, arranged around a coffee table that looked to her like it was carved from some exotic wood.  Along one wall was a well stocked bar, also with ornate carvings.  “I cannot believe that these are the same people who conquered an Empire as big as they say they did.  How did they ever spare the time from all their pleasure seeking?”  She sniffed, looking pointedly at John who had just walked into the room.

Rygel, looking up at the large idealized portrait of a young man sitting on a throne with crown, orb and scepter, said knowingly, “That was their ancestors, Aeryn.  The humans have now grown contented.”  ‘Like my people.’  The Hynerian didn’t bother to add.  Pointing towards the portrait, Rygel cupped his chin with his hand as he spoke.  “That must be their Emperor.”

Aeryn, looking at the figure, shook her head.  “If that’s what he truly looks like then I’m a Hynerian’s ema.”

The Hynerian royal then turned his hoverchair quickly to stare at the angry woman.  “Listen Peacekeeper…” He growled in a serious tone that immediately caught Aeryn and everyone else’s attention.  “Be careful what you say about him—especially in public.  These people might not like you insulting their Emperor.”

“The little guy’s right.”  A clear, commanding voice with just a hint of a drawl came from the opposite side of the room where a door had just opened.  “I and my companion don’t mind, but there are those who take a dim view of lese majeste.  I would suggest discretion until you get a feel of who you can and can’t talk to freely around here.” 

Turning their heads toward the voice, they saw Dominic Flandry, still wearing his peach tunic with blue sash, white trousers, and black leather half boots, along with a gray cloak and blue beret with sunburst of Empire, worn at a rakish angle.  Next to him stood the Marquessa, her smile and appearance almost literally brightening the room.  “Allow us to introduce ourselves—the lovely lady beside me is Alana Murakawa, Marquessa Centaurus, and I’m Captain Dominic Flandry, Naval Intelligence.  If anyone wants anything to drink, help yourselves, the bar’s well stocked—I’m for scotch, myself…” As they were in the presence of strangers, Flandry used Alana’s title, “Your usual, Marquessa?”

“Thank you, Sir Dominic.”  The lovely oriental woman smiled as she sat down in one of the armchairs, curling her legs as before, and fixing a cigarette taken from her silver case on to her cigarette holder.

“Right now, I could go for a cold beer.”  Crichton laughed uneasily as he sat down on the couch between Chiana and Zhaan, seeing that Aeryn was still upset at him.  D’Argo, muttering curses under his breath as the acrid smoke from the cigarette lit by the Marquessa reached his sensitive nostrils, took his place on the couch next to Chiana, while Aeryn, frowning at the sight of yet another Terran trelk, sat on one of the two empty chairs.

Laughing, Flandry reached into a refrigeration unit and pulled out a bottle.  Then, after pouring a cognac for the Marquessa, he returned with the drinks.  Sitting down in his chair between Aeryn and Alana, he stretched his legs as he took a cigarette out of a cigarette case that matched that of the Marquessa’s.  “There’s cigarettes and cigars on the table…help yourselves.”  The Terran officer pointed towards a large cigarette case and a wooden humidor sitting on the coffee table.

Although not a frequent smoker, Crichton couldn’t help himself as he opened the humidor and saw the cigars—Churchills, they all had smooth dark brown wrappers and, as the smell of cured tobacco wafted towards his nostrils, he couldn’t resist the temptation as he reached in and took one, remembering the victory cigars he, his father, and DK had after they had gotten word of approval for the Farscape Project.  Grinning, Flandry presented him with a gold cutter and lighter.  Cutting the end off, Crichton made a production of lighting the cigar, and then, taking in the smoke, allowed it to linger on his palate before exhaling towards the ceiling, making every effort to avoid blowing smoke into the faces of either of the women sitting next to him.  “Cuban?”  He asked, as he took a grateful swallow of his beer.

“No.”  Flandry grinned ruefully.  “Cubans are strictly the property of the Imperial family—as is Jamaican Blue Mountain and Hawaiian Kona coffee.  But the tobacco is Cuban seed—grown on Nuevo Mexico.  The soil there comes very close to the best in Cuba.”

“So…” Crichton frowned as he looked at both of his fellow humans suspiciously.  “What’s next?  You people have already poked and prodded every inch of us.”

Chuckling, Flandry took a sip of his scotch, permitting its gentle warmth to go down his body before responding.  “This is just a friendly chat.  We’d like to get to know everyone briefly before commencing individual interviews.  You must understand we have a million and one questions.  Such as how did you create your wormhole, what are the major powers out in what you call the Uncharted Territories—ship classes—all that rot.”

“Plus…” The Marquessa added with a winsome grin as she gave Crichton the once over, “…we’d like to understand aspects of the social structure out there—commercial and economic relationships—who hates who—levels of technology—you understand.”

“Also, Mr. Crichton, there’s a lot you can tell us about late 20th—early 21st century life that we just don’t know.”  Flandry took over without missing a beat as his companion, swirling her cognac, examined John’s face through the snifter.

“We shall, of course, cooperate with you in every way we can, Captain…” Zhaan smiled a knowing grin as she regarded the two Terrans.  ‘Neither of these people are as soft or decadent as they would have us believe.’  The wise 800-year-old Pau remarked to herself as she saw their alert eyes—even as the Marquessa was flirting with John, Zhaan noted, she was also paying attention to what everyone else was doing, as was her companion.

“Well…” Chiana grinned as she checked out the male Terran’s features; “…I’d like to know what happens to us after you’re done?”

“If everything checks out, you all will be free to go wherever you want—the Empire’s a big place.”  Flandry smiled reassuringly; taking the opportunity to check out the Nebari’s charms in the same manner she was appraising him, much to the irritation of her Luxan lover.

“What about Pilot and Moya?”  Zhaan asked, her concern obvious in her voice.  Aeryn also turned her head towards the Terran Captain, fixing him in her gaze as he answered the Delvian’s question.

“They’ll stay here for now.  We have lots of questions and tests to run on both of them.”

“Would it be possible for me to stay with them?”  Zhaan asked.

“Probably not—but I’ll see what I can do.”  Flandry shook his head.  “In any event, you’re welcome to stay on planet for as long as you like, and I and the Marquessa will keep you updated on how they’re doing.”

Looking into the gray eyes of the Terran officer, Zhaan saw that, while he was a skilled and well-trained liar, in this instance he was telling the truth.  Seeing that that was the best she could hope for, at least for now, she reluctantly nodded her head.  “Thank you…Sir Dominic.”

The next several minutes were spent in idle chit chat as Flandry and the Marquessa did their best to ease Moya’s crew until Aeryn, impatient at the delay, and wanting to get the interrogation over with, said in a sharp voice as she stared at the two Terrans, her disdain for them obvious in her facial expression, “When do we start these…interviews?” 

Showing no reaction to Aeryn’s expression or tone, Flandry replied with a crooked grin, “Now’s as good a time as any.”  Then, motioning towards the door to his office, the Terran officer bowed.  “Would you care to be the first, Donna Sun?”

With a sharp jerk of her head, Aeryn got up and strode towards the office, Flandry following, taking full advantage of his position to leer at the ex-Peacekeeper’s hips in her tight leather pants as she walked.  Entering the office and expecting a similar display of luxury here as in the antechamber, Aeryn was surprised by the sight of a plain wooden desk with various papers and flimsies and a small computer screen on it, a simple swivel chair behind it, and two armchairs, comfortable, but not nearly as ornate as the ones in the antechamber in front of the desk.  Taking off his beret and cloak and placing them on the wooden rack by the door, Flandry walked towards a smaller version of the bar in the other room and motioned towards one of the chairs.  “Please, Donna Sun…or may I call you Aeryn?”  Taking her slight jerk of the head as assent, Flandry allowed himself a slight grin.  “…have a seat.”  As Aeryn sat down, he then refilled his glass and filled another one with what looked like water.  “Don’t worry…” The Terran laughed as he saw the doubtful look on his Sebacean guest’s face.  “It’s pure water.  As I said…this is an interview, not an interrogation.”

“Then let’s get on with this interview.”  Aeryn said challengingly as she locked gazes with the intelligence officer now sitting opposite her.

 “All right, Aeryn.  Let’s start with the usual…what was your final rank, unit, branch, and commanding officer before you left the Peacekeepers?”

“My former rank was Officer.  I was a prowler pilot, Ikarian Company, Pleisar Regiment.  Commanding officer, Captain Bialar Crais.”  Aeryn Sun spouted out the information as if she were on a parade ground.

“At ease, Officer Sun.”  Flandry smiled as he sipped his scotch.  “How did you come across your shipmates and Commander Crichton?”

Aeryn then told the Terran officer the story about how she had been one of the prowler pilots who had been strafing Moya, but got caught in her starburst and then taken prisoner.  She then recounted her first meeting with Crichton, to howls of laughter from her interrogator when she got to the part where she had thrown the human on the ground, and then again as she described their respective positions on the deck of their cell.  Hearing Flandry’s good-natured laughter and taking evil pleasure in recollecting her humiliation of Crichton that time, Aeryn let slip a slight grin.

“Well I’ll be the Emperor’s chamber pot dumper…” Flandry continued laughing as he refilled her water glass.  “You can smile!  That wasn’t so hard now—was it?”  Then, quickly getting back to business, Flandry asked his next question,  “Why did you hand in your resignation to your former bosses?”

The Terran officer then listened sympathetically as Aeryn recounted her tale of how she and Crichton had escaped Moya only to be recaptured later with D’Argo.  She then told of how Crais had had her declared ‘irreversibly contaminated’, stopping to explain what that meant after Flandry had asked her for clarification.

“Nothing like the good old racial superiority complex.”  Dominic sneered as he lit another cigarette.  “Do the Peacekeepers carry out active campaigns of extermination of other races?”  Flandry asked, a note of growing anger in his voice.  While the Empire was often slow to react to threats, the possible existence of a xenophobic race that practiced genocide near its borders might be enough to persuade the sector governor—who surprisingly was actually quite competent—to turn Mackenzie-Faulkes and the sector fleet loose on them.

“No…” Aeryn replied slowly, surprised at the tone in the voice of the man that until now she had regarded as a decadent fop.  “Not that I know of…” She clarified.  “I didn’t participate in any mass extermination operations.”

“We’ll get back to that later.”  Flandry replied in a grim tone.  “But for now, go on with your account.”

As Aeryn told her story, Flandry’s eyebrows went up at the part where Crichton told her that she could ‘be more.’

“And after he said that you left with him?”

“Yes.”  Aeryn said softly.  “His words…they affected me in a way I cannot easily describe.”

“I understand.”  Flandry said softly as he got up and, standing beside her, placed a surprisingly strong hand on Aeryn’s shoulder.  Releasing his hand, the Terran officer then spent several minutes grilling her about her superior officers, most notably Crais and Scorpius, grunting at her accounts of Scorpius’ Aurora Chair.  “And you say Crichton survived that encounter more or less intact?”  As Aeryn nodded her head, Flandry raised his eyebrows knowingly—he had seen that faint sparkle of pride in her eyes.  “One more question, Aeryn…and this one might not be an easy one.  I need for you to recount for me all—and I do mean all—of your military operations and assignments beginning with your first and ending with your encounter with Moya.  He sat and listened while the computer recorded Aeryn’s history as a peacekeeper, including the time she was on Moya three cycles earlier. 

After what seemed like hours later, the former Peacekeeper finally finished with a dejected sigh.  Dominic, seeing the forlorn look on her face, grinned encouragingly to her.  “Listen, Aeryn.  As a skilled liar, assassin, user, and thief in the employ of the Emperor, I feel I have the right to say this to you.  You have to learn how to put all this behind you.  You were given orders and had no choice but to carry them out.”  Seeing the tormented woman about to protest, Flandry held up his hand.  “Right, Aeryn.  Answer this question.  What would have happened to you if you had disobeyed Crais’ orders?”

“If he were merciful—torture and probable reassignment to a penal unit.”  Aeryn replied in a monotone.

“And if he wasn’t?”

“The Living Death.”  Aeryn replied in soft voice.

Having read the physician’s report in which he described the living death, Flandry winced.  “You see, Aeryn—you had no choice.  If you hadn’t have followed orders, you’d have faced a fate worse than death and that other pilot would still have been dead.  Sometimes, Officer Sun…” Flandry said, deliberately stressing Aeryn’s old rank, “We don’t have any other choice but to stick out a bad situation because the mess we’ll get into if we don’t is worse.”  ‘Sort of like why I, Alana, and a few others fight so hard to keep this ramshackle Empire intact.’  Flandry mused as he took a drag on his cigarette, then exhaled and took a drink from his glass.  ‘Because what would come with the Long Night would be worse than what we have now.’

After several moments of silence, Flandry walked to the bar and poured an extra glass of scotch.  “Here…drink this.  Don’t worry—our tests indicate that alcohol seems to have the same effects on Sebaceans as it does humans—sip it though, it’s got a kick.”

Gratefully taking the glass, Aeryn did as the Terran officer told her to, listening at first with half her mind, but later with increasing interest, to his stories about the different races that dwelt within and without the Empire.  By the time she had finished her drink, she found herself beginning to grin at some of his accounts, particularly the story of his encounter with the Scothani and how he had single-handedly played off several factions against each other, leaving them wide open to a sudden attack by the Terran fleet that he had somehow managed to get word to.

“Thank you, Aeryn.  That’ll be all.”  Flandry smiled as he motioned towards the door.  “You want to send in the next lucky winner?”

Unable to help herself, Aeryn flashed a slight grin.  “Who do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter.”  Flandry grinned ruefully as he swallowed a stim pill.  “All of you are going to get the same treatment.”

As Aeryn and Flandry were engaged in their contest, the Marquessa was busy gradually breaking down the resistance of the others through conversation—and in Crichton’s case, through subtle flirtation.  By answering their own questions about the Empire and its many worlds, as well as reciting the occasional humorous tale, she managed to slowly get them to open up to her about themselves and their experiences together.   Raising an eyebrow, she noticed one commonality—that while they were all as much family as crew, often it was John who was the one who provided the solution during a crisis.  ‘Must be because he was the outsider…’ Alana thought, her respect for Crichton growing as well as her appreciation for his physical charms.  ‘Points towards an ability to think outside the box—that could come in handy later.’  She found her respect for the time-displaced astronaut growing even more as he constantly tried to shift the credit to someone else.  “True modesty is a rarity in the Empire these days, John.”  The jaded Marquessa smiled after he had tried to credit D’Argo for his role in the assault on the Gammak Base.  “Whatever happens, don’t you dare lose it.”

The interviews and conversation continued well into the night until Rygel, the last of the ones to be questioned, had finally left Flandry’s office, subtly shaking his head in admiration at how efficiently the sophisticated human had conducted his interrogation.  The wily Hynerian was frankly surprised at how the Terran agent had extracted small bits of information the several hundred cycles old Dominar had thought he had forgotten.  “That human is good.”  The crafty old Hynerian royal said in admiration after they had been escorted to the suite of rooms that they had been assigned.  “He was able to take the little bits I fed him and draw a very complete picture.”  Then, looking pointedly at Aeryn and D’Argo, Rygel lectured.  “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating these people.  Decadence does not always mean stupidity.”

“Yeah.”  Chiana grinned as she remembered how the Terran officer had flirted outrageously with her while he was pumping her for information about the Nebari mind cleansing technique as well as about all aspects of Nebari society.  “He kept me in there until he had wrung me dry.  Not that I minded it that much…He’s got a nice ema.” Chiana flashed a wicked grin as D’Argo growled.  The young Nebari then recounted for almost everyone’s amusement a particularly off color story Flandry had told her about a pair of exotic dancers that he had met once, an over aged and overweight Terran aristocrat, and a substance called ‘lime jello’.  ‘The more I see of this Empire…’ Chiana grinned inwardly, ‘…the more I like it.  Plenty of opportunities to score big here.’ 

“He wasn’t too rough with me…” Crichton shook his head as he remembered his times in the Aurora chair and while a prisoner of that Scarran.  “He wanted what information I have on wormhole tech, but didn’t make any threats about sticking me under that hypnoprobe device of theirs.”  Crichton sighed with relief as he recalled Flandry assuring him that he wouldn’t ‘probe him, but that he might want to give him a ‘narco-quiz’ later.  “I don’t like the idea of being put under some kinda truth drug…” John made a face as he shook his head violently, “But it sure beats being put under that hypnoprobe—whatever it is.”

D’Argo then broke in.  “When I asked him about it, he said it was a direct electronic attack on the brain, and that depending on the force used, it could wipe out someone’s memories—even destroy their mind.”

Forcing down the nausea that began to rise, John plopped down on the sofa that provided part of the furniture of the common living room that they shared and tried to force a smile as he tried to shift the subject off the topic of hypnoprobes.  “Mostly though, he wanted to know about my experiences with you guys and about what was happening before I had taken off—who was President, what kind of music I listened to, what movies were playing—stuff like that.  I think he’s an amateur historian or something like that.

“He does have good taste in poetry and music.”  Zhaan added.  “He recited a lovely poem by a woman named Shelley and then played a recording of something called ‘The Pastoral Symphony’ by a human composer called Beethoven.  I never knew your culture could produce such emotional work, John.”

“Thanks, Zhaan.”  John replied in a tired, but proud voice.

Seeing her good friend’s wan features and hearing the strain in his voice, the wise Delvian barely repressed a yawn herself.  “I think we are all growing tired now.  Maybe it’s a good idea for us all to rest for a while.”

“Good idea, Blue.”  John said as he got up and stretched.  “I’ll see ya’ll in the morning.”

**********

“Well…what do you think?”  Flandry asked as he handed his colleague a steaming hot cup of coffee before sitting down on the sofa next to her.

Good coffee, Nick.”  Alana grinned as her taste buds reveled over the winy taste.  “Ethiopian?”  Seeing her partner’s smug nod, the Marquessa laughed, until she returned to the topic on hand.  “These translator microbes are interesting.  They should prove quite useful in our line of work.”

“Oh, definitely.”  Flandry agreed.  In fact, it would probably be a good idea for both of us to get injected.”

“Why? What are you planning?”  The petite Asian woman asked, curious.

“A little fishing expedition—I’ll talk to you about it in a bit—wheels are still spinning right now.”  The ace intelligence officer flashed a crooked grin as he stretched his legs out.

“I’m curious about that microchip the mediscans showed in Crichton’s cerebral cortex.  What do you think it’s there for?”  Alana asked, worry lines on her face as she lit her cigarette.

“Tracking device…programmed instructions…probably both.”  Flandry mused as he sipped his coffee and lit a cigarette of his own.  “It’s a sophisticated little bugger—the sawbones told me that there’d be about an 80% probability of him not surviving if they try to take it out—that’s discounting the probability that it doesn’t try to kill him at the first instance of tampering.”

“So…how do you want to handle it?  We tell him?”

“No…not yet.  That might set off the program, and we might not want to do that yet.  It also might set off any self-destruct protocols.  Besides…” Flandry added with a frown.  “We might be able to use it.”

“Oh?”  The Marquessa interjected hiding her concern about the time-displaced astronaut with an amused chuckle.  “And what are you cooking up in that scheming little head of yours Dominic Flandry?”

“Just a little mousetrap.”  Flandry grinned.  “But first, I think it’d be a good idea to get a layout of what’s out there—if you know what I mean.”

“So you’re going to take that miniature souped up warship of yours that you call a yacht out there and see what sort of crap you can stir up, huh?”  Alana chuckled, a twinkle in her eye.

“Something like that.”  Flandry admitted with a laugh.  “I need a guide though…someone who knows the territory and would blend in well—that could handle herself in a fight…”

“And that’s pleasing to the eye…” The lovely oriental woman smirked as she put out her cigarette.

Shrugging his shoulders at being read as easily as he was, Flandry chuckled as he refilled both their cups.  “The problem is…” The Terran officer grinned ruefully, “Her and Crichton seem to be a package deal.”

“Maybe not…” The Marquessa flashed a wicked grin as she let her thought trail off.

“Now who’s being devious?”  Dominic smirked as he regarded his companion.

Laughing in turn, Alana lit another cigarette as she outlined her plan.  “Did you read the report about our astronaut’s fling with that petty officer?”  Seeing her companion chuckle and nod his head, the scheming aristocrat sipped her coffee and continued.  “Did you also read the reports of how our dear Donna Sun reacted?  Dominic—that woman was full scale, 100 % green-eyed monster jealous!  We can use that.”

“How?”  The Terran officer asked, curious as to what sort of plan his old lover had cooked up.

“Birthday’s in a couple of days.  I think I can talk dear Uncle Rupert into sending invitations to his party to all of them—the Governor’s bash—they’d have to come.  Hell, I can think of at least three of them—Chiana, Rygel, and Crichton—who’d want to come—out of curiosity if nothing else.  Before the party, I was planning on throwing my usual dinner party—I think I’ll invite Chunderban as well.  You are coming—right?”  The Marquessa laughed as she shot him a mock glare.

“I’d better—‘less I want a dagger in my back the next time I’m in flagrante delicto with some winsome bit.”  Flandry laughed.

“Anyway…” The Marquessa laughed, “I’ll lay the groundwork at dinner, and then make my move sometime during the party.  If Aeryn reacts the way I think she will, you then get to come in as her knight in shining armor, rescuing her from the evil—what’s the word they use—trelk?  Yeah—that’s it—trelk.”

“Could get ugly, you know.”  Flandry said thoughtfully.  “From what I’ve gathered from the interviews today, she tends to react impulsively and physically.”

“That works even more to my advantage.”  Alana said as she drew from her cigarette.  “If that happens, I’ll, of course, magnanimously forgive her and insist on her being released without any charges or repercussions.  John—if I read him right—will react very negatively towards her actions and positively towards mine.  Once again—you come to Aeryn’s rescue as her white knight and shepherd her away from the whole ugly scene while John sticks around to comfort me.”  She finished, a smug look on her face.

“You are the devious one!”  Flandry said in admiration as he returned from the bar with two small goblets containing amaretto.  “To dangerous liaisons!”  Flandry chuckled as he proposed his toast.

Her laughter sounding like music, Alana raised her glass as she responded to her colleague’s toast.  “To dangerous liaisons it is!”

“So…what do you plan to do with Crichton—other than the obvious?”  The intelligence officer leered as he regarded the attractive woman sitting next to him, taking in the delicate jasmine scent from her perfume.

“I know he wants to see Terra, so I was thinking about taking him, Moya, and the rest of the crew there—let get a good dose of life on good ol’ Earth.  After a few days in that circus, he and the others—except probably for Chiana and Rygel—will probably want to go somewhere—anywhere else.  I figure then that we can meet up with you and Aeryn and you can fill me in on this little plan you’re cooking up.”  ‘I also have another service I hope Crichton will be willing to do for me, Dominic…’ The Marquessa said inwardly, ‘…but I don’t think I want to tell you that yet—you’re too good a friend and I don’t want to hurt you—even though I know you’d understand.’

“Sounds good to me, love.”  Flandry grinned as he placed an arm around his companion’s shoulders.  “We’ll set up a series of rendezvous windows and meeting coordinates before we split up—all right?”

“That’ll work.”  Alana agreed as she finished her drink and putting out her cigarette, leaned into Flandry’s side. 

“So…” The roguish intelligence agent leered.  “Any ideas on what to do for the rest of the night?”

“A few…” Alana leered back as she ran her hands through Flandry’s seal brown hair and then kissed him.  “Actually—more than a few.  Want me to share them with you?”

************************

The chime at the door aroused John from his fitful sleep.  He had dozed off after spending several hours reading about the history of the human race after he had passed through the wormhole.  And a rich history it was too.  The discovery of interstellar flight and the Breakup that accompanied it as humans colonized every available earthlike planet they could reach, then the formation of the Solar Commonwealth and the Polesotechnic League—a mutual aid society of merchant princes that bore a remarkable resemblance to the Hanseatic League, and then the simultaneous collapse of both it and the Commonwealth.  After that came the Troubles—a dark period where even Earth was sacked, its people taken for slaves—until one slave led a successful revolt on one ship.  That man, Manuel Argos, became the first Terran Emperor.  From there the human race went on to conquer its empire.  Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, the rugged astronaut answered the door.

“Greetings, Master Crichton…” The person on the other side of the door was a young boy, about fourteen years old, wearing a light blue blouse with white trousers.  “I was sent by His Excellency, Governor Rupert d’Hauteville, Count Syrtis.  You are all cordially invited to the Birthday festivities at the Governor’s Palace tonight.”

“Thank you.”  John said sleepily as he took the six envelopes from the boy.  Then, speaking into the intercom, he awakened his friends.  “Hey, everybody…rise and shine…mail call!”

Aeryn, Rygel, and Zhaan stumbled into the central living suite wearing robes, while a few minutes later, after a second summons from Crichton, D’Argo and Chiana finally made their appearance, wrapped in bed sheets, Chiana’s hair tousled and her pupils dilated, while D’Argo’s face appeared flushed—making it obvious to everyone present what they had been doing.  “What the frell is so important that you had to wake all of us up?”  Rygel harrumphed as he climbed into his hoverchair.

“We’re all invited to a party!”  John smiled as he handed out the envelopes.  Rygel, caressing the gold engraving and script on the fine paper, smiled knowingly—he’d finally gotten what he’d hoped for—a chance to meet those in power, and maybe gain support for his cause.  Chiana’s face erupted into a big smile as she began to envision the opportunities such a gathering could present for her while a dark cloud seemed to cross D’Argo’s face, his insecurities about his relationship with Chiana growing in the past few weekens, he dreaded what tonight could bring.  Zhaan, exhibiting her usual placid calm, showed no reaction one way or another to the news, although she was hoping that she might be able to influence someone in authority to allow her to return to Moya as she was growing more concerned as each solar day passed about the Leviathan and her pilot. 

As for Aeryn—she didn’t even open her invitation—her Peacekeeper’s mask hiding her fear at being dragged into a social function in which she had no training in how to behave and at being forced to be polite while witnessing the decadent antics of Crichton’s people.  But something else—something that she couldn’t put into words—was also telling her not to go tonight—that if she did, her world would change abruptly and possibly forever.

“This is good news!”  Rygel grinned broadly as he stuffed a handful of Terran fruits that Crichton called ‘grapes’ into his mouth.

“You all can go…” Aeryn said in a petulant tone, “I’m staying here.  I have no desire to go to this…party.” 

“You are going to this gathering.”  Rygel answered back in an imperious tone.  “And you are going to act like you are enjoying yourself.”  Then, shifting to a tone a father uses when lecturing a stubborn daughter, Rygel began to explain as he swiftly backed his hoverchair away from the lunging ex-Peacekeeper.  “If you can control your barbaric impulses and listen for a minute, Peacekeeper, I’ll explain why.”  As the angry Sebacean settled down, Rygel continued to speak.  “These invitations come from their Sector Governor—none of us dare refuse him.  Right now we rely on his goodwill—and he seems to be in a good mood concerning us, so we had better do everything we can to keep on his good side until we’re safely out of his reach.  If I were you, I’d put aside that Peacekeeper arrogance and pride of yours and accept the fact that you as well as the rest of us are guests here and act accordingly.”

“The Toad’s right, Aeryn.”  The world-wise young Nebari added as she drew her bed sheet tight around her to keep out the draft, “Besides, it sounds like it’ll be fun.”  The wicked grin that threatened to cross her youthful face quickly evaporated as she saw the grim expression on her lover’s face.  ‘D’Argo…’ She thought not unkindly, ‘When are you going to learn that I don’t want you as a protector—or even as someone permanent.  I know it’s going to hurt you, but if you keep this up, I might have to make my break before I want to.’

“Much as I hate to say it, Sunshine, I gotta agree with Spanky here.  It’s their ballpark, we’ve got to play by their rules or we’re frelled…” Crichton added placatingly, before trailing off as he saw the glare Aeryn gave him at his use of her nickname.

“Fine!”  The raven-haired woman snapped as she quickly turned her back, refusing to let John see how upset she was.  She had wanted John to stay with her tonight—to not go anywhere near that palace—they could deal with the ramifications tomorrow—they always did in the past, after all—except for recently…

Seeing the strange expression on his companion’s face, John walked up to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Hey, Aeryn…is there something you want to talk to me about?”  Hoping against hope that, even after all that had happened—or maybe even because of it—she was now ready to talk to him…to let him know once and for all how she felt about him, Crichton turned her around and gazed into her eyes.  “Something in private…”

Her face void of expression, Aeryn answered back in an even, emotionless tone, “I have nothing more to say.  I will be there tonight.”

“Fine.”  Crichton growled as he heard the chime announcing that they had an incoming call.  ‘I’ve had it with her swings from hot to cold.  Now that I’m back with humans again, maybe it’s time I started playing the field.’  Pressing the display on the table, the image of the Marquessa, looking radiant even at this early hour, presented itself on the screen.  “Mornin’ Marquessa.”  John, even though still upset at Aeryn, couldn’t resist smiling as he saw the petite oriental woman.  “What can we do for you at this hour?”

“I take it you’ve received your invitations?”  Alana smiled as she saw everyone clutching the envelopes.  “I just wanted to extend a personal invitation to all of you to attend a dinner party I’ll be having this evening before the Governor’s bash.”  Seeing the wide grins from Crichton, Chiana, and Rygel, and Zhaan’s placid expression, Alana chose to ignore D’Argo’s barely audible growl.  “It’s an intimate affair, really.  Just all of you, Sir Dominic, and a few friends and associates.”

“Thank you, Marquessa.”  Zhaan said, her voice one of measured calm.

“Your welcome.”  The Terran aristocrat grinned, and then quickly added, “I’m sure that none of you have proper attire, so I’ll send over some servants who will help you.”  Seeing almost everyone smile, and not giving anyone a chance to object, the Marquessa then said her goodbyes.  “I’ll see all of you this evening then.”

************

“Things are going even better than I thought.”  Alana chuckled as she took a small pastry from a tray.  “Aeryn wasn’t even there—her and John must have had another row.”

“How can you be sure?”  Her companion, Dominic Flandry asked with a leer as he poured coffee.

“I can’t…” The Marquessa admitted, “But it’s a safe bet.  They’d received their invitations, and I could tell by Crichton’s body language that something had disturbed him…so I figure that they had a disagreement…probably over whether to come or not…and that Crichton won—otherwise Aeryn would still be there.”

“I should know never to doubt your instincts on such matters my dear,” Flandry laughed as he lit a cigarette.  “So when are you sending your people over?”

“In a few hours or so.  Why?  You want me to wait?”

“Just for a little while.”  Flandry flashed an evil grin.  “I want to send Chives out shopping and then, if it’s alright with you, have him tag along with your people.”

“Not a problem.”  The lovely aristocrat chuckled.  “And what are you planning on having that darling Shalmuan of yours pick up for you this time?”

“Oh…it’s not for me…” Flandry flashed a crooked grin, “It’s for Aeryn.”

*******

A few hours later, John, Rygel, and Zhaan were busy reading all they could about the different aspects of Terran culture that was currently fascinating them.  John, curious both about the scientific advances that had been made over the past millennium and about the many alien races that now coexisted alongside humanity, concentrated mostly on physics, astrophysics, and xenology.  Rygel, wanting to gain an understanding of the political situation in the larger galaxy, read mostly diplomatic and political history.  Zhaan, possessing great curiosity and a desire to understand not just John’s people, but also all of the other races, concentrated on the many spiritual beliefs, taking an especial interest in Buddhism.  Chiana and D’Argo were, as usual, preoccupied with each other, while Aeryn, begging a headache, had retired to her room.  Hearing the door chime once again, John said as he stretched out his arms, “I’ll get it—I need to stretch my legs anyway.” 

“Is there something wrong, sweet Rygel?”  The wise Pau asked as she saw the troubled look on the deposed Dominar’s face.

“I’ve just finished reading a recent history of this part of space.”  The former Emperor of 600 billion subjects sighed dejectedly as he brought up a holo-display.  “Crichton’s people have ruled for about 500 cycles over an Empire of over four million stars—100,000 inhabited worlds.”  This territory…” Rygel then pointed towards a region of space, causing it to be seen as a red glow in counterpoint to the blue of Imperial space,  “Is the Roidhunate of Merseia—the historical enemy of the humans, with a territory almost as large as the Empire—aggressive and expanding.”  Then, touching another region, causing it to cast a green glow, Rygel sighed once again.  “And this is the Domain of Ythri.  More or less a natural ally of the Terrans, it also consists of over a million stars and tens of thousands of inhabited star systems…”

Seeing where her Hynerian companion was going, Zhaan placed a compassionate hand on his arm.  “Rygel…each of these peoples took several hundred cycles to expand and they’re all highly aggressive cultures.  Not like either yours or mine.  The Hynerian Empire was always first and foremost a mercantile empire—interested in trade, not conquest—except for a few brief occasions.  And we Delvians have never been interested in interstellar conquest.”  Chuckling, the Delvian Pau gently caressed the Hynerian’s arm.  “If anyone is going to be in for a shock—imagine how the Peacekeepers are going to feel when they find out about the empires.”

  Zhaan’s jibe had its intended effect as the depressed Hynerian began to laugh—at first a little laugh, but then soon cascading into deep laughter.  “You’re right, Zhaan!  I can see them all now—the self-important yotzes!  I’d almost give up my freedom to see the looks on their faces—especially if they see that battleship we saw the other day!”

Answering the door, John saw a slender man in his thirties and a slender, bald, emerald green skinned alien, his height coming up roughly to John’s chest, erect posture, and a thin green tail.  Behind them were two other humans—female—all carrying boxes.  “Hello Master…Crichton?”  The human spoke, a slight lisp to his voice.  “We were sent by Her Grace to see to your needs and your attire for tonight’s festivities.”  The man sniffed as he looked disdainfully on the time-displaced astronaut’s black t-shirt and black leather pants.

“And I…” The alien then spoke, “…was sent by my Master to deliver this…” He then presented the large box that he was holding in his hands, “…to Donna Sun.”

Crichton’s jaw clenched slightly as he saw the present to Aeryn, but was soon replaced by a smile as the human spoke.  “Her Grace has chosen these clothes especially for you…” He then motioned back with his head towards one of the servants holding a box, “And she would be honored if you would wear this also...” He then presented John with a saber, its hilt encrusted with rubies, sheathed in a jewel-encrusted scabbard.  “This was given to the first Marquis by the Founder after the Battle of Mirkheim.”

“Please tell Her Grace that I am deeply touched by the honor she’s done me, and that I thank her.”  The words stumbled out of the surprised astronaut as he held out his hands to receive the blade, feeling its weight.  Then, inviting the servants in, John activated the intercom, “Hey everyone…it’s time to get dressed!”

*********

The two young women who were sent to help Chiana choose what she would wear were giggling along with the young Nebari as they discussed men, their weaknesses, and what tonight was going to be like.  “You say this is the style on Terra now?”  Chiana asked as she flashed a wicked grin.

“Oh yes, My Lady—it’s all the rage now—anyone who’s anyone at court goes this way.”

“Can you do this for me?”  Chiana practically begged as she saw a design that practically grabbed her.  ‘Oh D’Argo!’  The young Nebari grinned impishly, ‘You are going to be so frelling mad!’

“Of course, My Lady!”  The serving girl smiled approvingly.  “But we’ll have to begin immediately—it takes a long time.”

“And may I recommend this for dinner…” The other servant interjected, holding out a transparent, sheer gauze wrap.  “Of course you’ll discard it for the party later.”

“Let’s get started!”  Chiana said enthusiastically as she began to strip off her clothes and as the servants unpacked their boxes.

Aeryn stood at the window of her quarters, looking out at the strange alien landscape and at the air and ground traffic criss-crossing it, lost in her own thoughts, when she heard the delicate knocking at her door.  Knowing the sound of Crichton’s knock by now, she knew that it wasn’t him.  Figuring that it was Zhaan wanting to talk to her, or maybe Chiana with more ‘advice’, Aeryn fought down her initial impulse, which was to yell ‘Frell off!’ and instead answered in a low voice “Come in.”

The short green-skinned alien figure surprised the former Peacekeeper.  “Who are you?”

“My Master, Sir Dominic, has seen fit to call me Chives, My Lady.”  Placing the box he was carrying on the large double bed, the Shalmuan opened it.  “He asks that you please accept this gift and wear it during tonight’s festivities.  I am to assist you in whatever preparations need to be made—if that is satisfactory to you, Donna Aeryn.”  The little alien then turned his head up to look at the former Peacekeeper, giving her a warm, sincere smile.  “Please, Donna…accept this gesture and my assistance.”

Totally nonplussed, Aeryn, upon seeing the Shalmuan’s expression of genuine desire to be of service reminding her so much of the Vorc, could do no more than nod her head as she tried to fight down her fears and worries.

*********

“Everybody ready?”  John called out as he looked himself over in the mirror—surprised at just how dashing a figure he cut.  Beige silk shirt with puffed sleeves, unbuttoned just enough to reveal his muscular chest, dark brown trousers, brown half boots with gold buckles, and as the final touch, the Marquessa’s jewel encrusted saber, its sash draped across his chest, completed the ensemble.  ‘I look just like Errol Flynn in ‘The Sea Hawks’’ John smiled approvingly as Zhaan entered the room.

Dressed in her blue priestly raiment, her gold torque shimmering, the 10th level Pau smiled.  “You look very good, John.”

“So do you, Blue.”  John grinned back as D’Argo entered.  “Hey, Big Guy.”

“John.”  The Luxan warrior looked majestic in maroon robes.  “What the frell is taking Chiana so long?  She’s been locked in that room with those two humans for arns.  Every time I knock on the door, they tell me to go away and start giggling.”

Shaking his head, John commiserated with his friend.  “D’Argo, my friend, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about women it’s this—the time it takes for a woman to get dressed is geometrically proportional to the number of women assisting her at the time.”

“Thanks, John.”  D’Argo sighed sarcastically as his friend laughed, “You’re a big help.”

Then, both men’s eyes widened as the door to Chiana’s room opened and the young Nebari emerged.  “Well…what do you think?”  She asked with an impish grin as she pirouetted.  Instead of wearing clothing, her body was painted to resemble what John knew was a white tiger.  Black stripes alternated with white, except for her abdomen which was painted white, and her face which was also painted white with black whiskers.  The only thing covering her was a thin wrap of transparent gauze that hid absolutely nothing.

“Pip…” John stammered as he tried to regain his composure while Rygel just sat in his hoverchair, unable, for once, to say even a word.

“It’s all the rage on Terra.”  The young woman smiled, her normal body movements accentuating her feline appearance.

“You are not going in public like that!”  Her angered lover, finally recovered from his shock, bellowed.

“Yes I am!”  Chiana retorted, with a hint of amusement.  “I think it looks great!”

“I will not be seen with you as long as you are—dressed—in that manner.”  D’Argo growled, issuing his ultimatum.

“Fine!”  Chiana answered back, frustrated at D’Argo’s insistence on forcing her to conform to standards.  ‘Why can’t you be like John?’  The young Nebari sighed inwardly.  ‘He’s almost as shocked as you are, but he’s not going to force me to conform to what he wants—he lets me go my own way.’  Snorting in annoyance, Chiana sneered.  “You don’t have to!  But I’m going anyway—and I’m going to have a good time whether you like it or not!”

As D’Argo turned his back on his errant lover, the door to Aeryn’s chamber opened, the emerald-skinned Shalmuan emerging first, followed by the former Peacekeeper.  John first, then D’Argo and Rygel, dropped their jaws upon seeing their Sebacean companion.  She wore a forest green floor length satin evening gown, cut just low enough to expose a little cleavage and with a diamond cut exposing her navel as well as the skin around it.  Green low-heeled shoes completed the outfit as Flandry thought that she probably wasn’t used to high-heels.  Her hair, instead of being tied in its usual ponytail or flowing loose, was done up, a few tresses deliberately left loose.  A gold tiara studded with emeralds rested on her head.  Matching gold, emerald set earrings hung from her ears, and a gold necklace, also set with emeralds sat round her neck.  The mascara and blush were sensibly applied, accentuating her natural beauty without overwhelming it.  As she walked gracefully into the room, both John and D’Argo became aware of the delicate fragrance coming from her perfume.

“My God, Aeryn…” John stammered as his eyes drank in her beauty.  “You look…gorgeous.”

“Hey, what about me?!”  Chiana pouted, not amused at no longer being the center of attention.

“You look good too, Pip…” John said somewhat absent-mindedly, his mind still picturing Aeryn as his nostrils were filled with her scent.

Clearing his throat, the little Shalmuan gained everyone’s attention.  “If you would all be so good as to accompany me, I shall be happy to carry you to the Marquessa’s villa in Sir Dominic’s personal flitter.”

**********

After a brief, but rather cramped ride, they arrived at the Marquessa’s villa, landing just outside the main entrance.  Entering the atrium, they were greeted by their hosts.  Crichton whistled low in admiration as he took in the richness he saw—Chippendale chairs arranged around a Cynthian table, Persian rugs, a Wodenite sculpture, and a wide variety of paintings were just some of the furnishings that greeted Moya’s crew.  Their hosts were equally well turned out.  The Marquessa wore a full length low cut gown of alternating diagonal wide opaque black stripes and gauze thin transparent white ones that allowed tantalizing glimpses of the bronze skin beneath.  She also wore a diamond tiara and diamond earrings and necklace, and what looked like crystal high-heeled shoes.  Flandry was dressed in white silk shirt, a tight fitting high collared blue tunic with tails, red sash with sunburst of Empire, decorations and medals, including the starburst that marked him as a member of the Order of Manuel, a plumed fore and aft hat, dress saber, and tight white pants tucked into black leather boots that gave the picture of a 19th century naval officer.

 “Welcome!”  Alana’s voice sang out as she went down the line greeting everyone.  “You look fabulous, Chiana!”  The Marquessa grinned as she took in the form of the young Nebari.  “That body paint really is you—I only wish I were as daring!  You’re going to attract quite the following tonight!”  Then to Aeryn, “My…Chives has outdone himself.  That is a most lovely dress, and I like what you’ve done to your hair.  It really is most becoming.”  Finally reaching John, the captivating Terran aristocrat smiled warmly, “I’m so glad you came.  Thank you for wearing my sword…you wear it well.”  Fighting back her emotions at seeing John wearing her family’s most prized possession, the Marquessa grinned as she took his arm, “You’re quite the charmer, you know.”

Following the Marquessa, Flandry also made his greetings, stopping to flirt outrageously with Chiana, much to D’Argo’s displeasure.  Hearing the menacing growl coming from the jealous Luxan, the Terran naval officer, deciding discretion in this instance was the better part of valor, took Chiana’s hand and then released it, before moving on to his real interest.  “Aeryn…you truly are as radiant as the Sun…” He beamed as he took the ex-Peacekeeper’s hand and kissed it.  Momentarily shocked by the gesture, the rest of Flandry’s greeting passed her by, until, seeing his gesture and remembering how the Marquessa had allowed John to lock her arm in his, she took Flandry’s arm, allowing him to escort her into the dining room, her head filled with conflicting emotions as she allowed herself to be guided by this man who in so many ways was like Crichton, but in so many other ways differed completely from the man she grown familiar with over the past two cycles.

Dinner was truly an experience for John and his friends.  John sat near the center with the Marquessa on his right and Zhaan on his left, while Aeryn sat between Dominic, who sat on the other side of Zhaan, and a polite, soft spoken man introduced as Chunderban Desai, a senior Imperial diplomat and a native of Ramanujan.  The cuisine was truly remarkable to a crew that had grown used to stale food cubes livened up with the occasional treat like barbequed keeva.  Everyone remarked favorably on the Cynthian soup, spiced just enough to excite the palate, but not so much as to cause discomfort.  The salad made of exotic vegetables from all over the sector, and the sweet taste of the Hermetian shellfish added even more to the meal.  The roast duck stuffed with figs, dates, and other sweets was cooked to perfection and was so tender that it literally melted in their mouths.  The fresh baked bread brought back fond memories of home for John who remembered fall nights in his family’s Maine cottage where his mother would bake fresh bread while he and his father went fly-fishing.  As he tried to picture his long dead mother, a tear formed.  Seeing the tear, Alana leaned in close and whispered into his ear, her voice reflecting her concern.  “Are you alright, John?”

“I’m fine, Your Grace.  It was the bread…it reminded me of home…” The time-displaced astronaut said softly as he sipped his wine.

“I understand what you mean, John.”  The Marquessa replied consolingly.  Then, brushing his arm gently, she continued.  “I remember my father and I walking the gardens to our estate back on Terra.  We have plum trees that grow the most delicious red plums.  Maybe I can show it to you sometime, and you can show me where your family used to go to in Maine?”

“Thanks, Marquessa.”  John chuckled gently as he looked fondly on the petite oriental woman.  “I’d like that.”

“Anytime, John.”  The Terran aristocrat smiled as she allowed her foot to very briefly brush up against John’s leg.  “And when it’s just the two of us, or when we’re among friends, it’s Alana—alright.”

“Ok, Alana.”  John whispered back as he inched a little closer into his dinner companion’s personal space.

By the time desert was finished, the wines, all carefully chosen by the Marquessa and Flandry and expertly served by Chives, and conversation had vastly improved the moods of even the more surly members of the crew as D’Argo and Aeryn both found themselves laughing at Flandry’s jokes and tales. 

Chives, expertly bussing the table, brought in coffee and cognac, as well as a humidor containing cigars.  Along with Flandry, Rygel, and Desai, John gratefully picked out a cigar, and after clipping and lighting the end, drank in the flavor of the rich tobacco.  As he was doing that, the Marquessa took out her cigarette holder, and after fixing a cigarette to the end, glanced at John and then at the cigarette, raising her eyebrows in a subtle, sophisticated gesture.  “My Lady…” John grinned as he held the lighter to the end of her cigarette, lighting it.

Allowing her fingers to gently brush against John’s arm, Alana sensuously exhaled a stream of smoke.  “Thank you, John.  So…what do you think of the Empire so far?”

As John considered his answer, he noticed both Desai and Flandry paying careful attention.  Wanting John to speak freely, Flandry flashed a crooked grin.  “Don’t worry about nosy neighbors or anything like that, John.  I’m interested in what a Terran from a Western cultural perspective thinks of the condition of the Empire now.

“Definitely.”  Desai added encouragingly.  I’m curious to see whether your perceptions tally with some ideas I’ve been mulling about in my head.”  The small, chocolate skinned man said with a smile as he took a draw from his cigar.

“I’m of two minds…” John said thoughtfully as he allowed the smoke to linger on his palate before exhaling.  “A part of me is proud of our achievement…” Everyone at the table, with varying degrees of pleasure and displeasure, noted the ‘our’ in Crichton’s statement.  “That a species some have called ‘inferior’ and ‘deficient’…” Now Crichton’s eyes literally bore into Aeryn, causing her to glare back defiantly at him, “…has conquered an empire of over 100,000 inhabited systems.”  Unable to resist delivering a jibe in return for all of the denigrating comments she had made about humans over the past few cycles, Crichton asked, “How big did you say that the Peacekeeper’s territories were, Aeryn…a few hundred systems, maybe a few thousand?”

“Something like that.”  Aeryn said in a defiant voice, unconsciously drawing closer to Flandry and away from John.

“There are several factors that figure into that, John.”  Flandry interjected, seeing an opening.  “For example, we’re not sure how long Sebaceans have had interstellar flight.  Also, from what I’ve read and heard, the Peacekeepers are primarily mercenary…right, Aeryn?” Seeing her nod of assent, Flandry continued.  “They might not view control of territory to be as important as control over the means of doing violence.  If they’re the only police force in town, it doesn’t matter if your territory is one star system or a million—they’ve still got the stick—and by God, you better do what they say!  Also, there are apparently plenty of small Sebacean territories and pocket empires—that speaks of the possibility of a larger state once having existed, but that had collapsed a long time ago.  “Remember, we humans have had interstellar travel for almost a millennium—and we’re not at our best now—that was back in the days of the League.”

“Sir Dominic is right.”  Desai added.  “The Empire right now is in a period of decline.  Oh, we’re in no danger of collapse right now—barring the unforeseen—but nevertheless, the Empire is a sick man and will only get sicker.”

“That brings up the other thing I wanted to say…” John, fidgeting nervously, continued. “I’m surprised to see slavery here.  I thought we outgrew that a long time ago.”

“Another sign of decadence.”  Desai chimed in as Rygel nodded his head knowingly.  “Slavery provides a means of securing personal services and cheap menial labor, it reinforces increasingly rigid class boundaries, and it provides further proof of the degradation of the individual in society.  Although it’s not too conspicuous given the size of the Empire, I’m afraid it will grow as the Empire further declines.”

“There must be some means of reversing this…” Crichton declared, attracting a slight smile from Aeryn as she saw the Crichton that had once told her ‘you can be more’ once again.  “The Empire can and should be better than this.”

“Of reversing historical processes…” Desai shook his head sadly as Flandry held back a snort.  “No…it’s something all societies go through.  Rome…The United States…The League…all have gone through similar processes.  Of course you weren’t around when the US Congress passed the constitutional amendment that instituted corporate feudalism and abolished the rights of workers to unionize…”

Respecting Crichton’s idealism, even though he knew that it was a pipe dream, Flandry withheld the quip that he had ready, saying instead, “We all…” The Terran officer then motioned towards Desai and Alana are like the proverbial little Dutch boy.  All we and a few others like us are doing are poking our fingers in the dike to stop the waters.  The problem is…as time goes on, more holes are going to appear and there just aren’t going to be enough of us Dutch boys to poke our fingers in to stop the floodwaters from collapsing the dike.  Probably the best hope for the future lies with human settled worlds such as Avalon or Kraken—worlds outside the Empire—or worlds on the fringes of the Empire like Dennitza or Aeneas…”

Conversation continued in this manner on a wide variety of subjects—the weightier subjects eventually being dropped when they seemed on the verge of bringing down the gathering with either a quip or joke from Flandry, the Marquessa, or Crichton, until finally, the cigars had all been extinguished, and the table cleared.  “Well, I guess it’s time we headed over to Rupert’s…wouldn’t you say Nick?” The Marquessa grinned as she fed John a piece of chocolate from her fork, grinning inwardly at the baleful glare both of them received from an increasingly angry Sebacean.

Aeryn, as she witnessed this, began doing a slow burn and, in many ways reacting like an inexperienced teenager, began paying more attention to Flandry, much to the gray eyed Terran’s pleasure.  However, as the evening wore on, Aeryn found herself surprised to find that the more she talked to the Terran agent, the more she enjoyed his conversation.  His answers to her questions were well thought out, and now, thanks to the Anglic lessons that she had received, she understood most of the little jokes and idioms that Flandry peppered his conversation with.  “And so, here I am, forced not only to outthink, outshoot, and outrun the Merseians, but also having to stay one step ahead of my commanding officer, who was doing his level best to kill me!”  Flandry laughed as he launched into yet another tale.

“I see that you survived…” Aeryn grinned back, enjoying the conversation.

“Barely…” Flandry chuckled as he leaned a little closer into the former Peacekeeper.  “Being able to outthink one’s superior officer as well as one’s enemy is a requirement of any soldier who wishes to enjoy retirement one day.

“I understand what you mean.”  Aeryn replied, finding herself not only enjoying the conversation, but also the lean, svelte form of the man she was talking to.  “I remember when I was first assigned prowler duty, the squadron commander insisted on new recruits taking point…” Aeryn then proceeded to tell a humorous story where she had found herself stranded on a Hynerian colony while pursuing a smuggler.

Hearing the laughter coming from further down the table, the Marquessa, deciding that everything was moving along smoothly, smiled.  “Because we’ve got such a large number of people, I think it would be a good idea if we took separate flitters.  John…” She then traced her finger along the back of the time-displaced astronaut’s hand, “…and I will take mine…” Then glancing at her colleague, noting that he was also making progress in his quest, “…while Nick and Aeryn take his, and everyone else can go with Chunderban in the limo.”  Not giving anyone an opportunity to consider alternatives or voice objections, both the Marquessa and Flandry took their escorts by the hand and guided them out, while a smirking Rygel who had been quietly sitting back watching as the two expert manipulators played both John and Aeryn, and a pensive Zhaan, who also had picked up on what was going on, but also knew that perhaps John and Aeryn needed the perspective that only distance and wider experience could provide watched.  The Delvian Pau, at first unsure of how to react, relaxed as she ultimately decided that, while the Marquessa and Flandry seemed to be both expert users and total hedonists, they also appeared, by their words and actions, to possess a rather pragmatic moral core, and that neither one would willingly hurt or abuse her friends.

As they left the villa, the Marquessa turned in Flandry’s direction and gave him a subtle wink—everything was going according to plan.  Now all that had to be done was to give the final push and they would each have what they wanted.

***************************

As the party passed through a large well cared for garden on their way to the front entrance of the impressive Governor’s Palace, Crichton couldn’t help but remark on the wide variety of trees and shrubbery.  “Rupert’s something of a horticulturalist.”  Alana chuckled as she sidled in closer to the time-displaced astronaut and whispered into his ear, “Maybe later we can go out and I’ll show you his roses—they really are very beautiful.”  Chuckling inwardly as she saw Aeryn quickly glance away, the beautiful oriental woman smiled like a little girl as she pointed out the next attraction.  “Oh…listen, John!”

As John stopped to listen, he was immediately swept away by what sounded like the singing of birds.  “Nightingales?”  He asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and wonder—after two cycles on Moya, he’d given up hope of ever hearing birds sing again, much less nightingales.

“No…I’m sorry” Alana smiled warmly as she looked up into her escort’s face, now showing sadness at his disappointment.  Giving him another tender smile, she squeezed his hand, “It’s a native avian type species called a red darter—sort of a cross between a hummingbird and a bat.  They don’t look very pretty, but their song is quite lovely.  I like to sit next to my window at night and just listen to them before going to bed.”

Walking rapidly ahead of the other couple, Aeryn was forced to draw on all of her Peacekeeper training in order to resist the temptation to look back on her erstwhile companion and his escort.  Easily keeping up with the striding Sebacean, Flandry flashed a sardonic grin.  “What’s your hurry—why don’t you take the time to enjoy the scenery?”

“I’m not used to being on a planet.”  The half-truth came readily to Aeryn’s lips.  “I was born in space, and I’ve lived all my life there.  All these open spaces…” A chill ran up and down the ex-Peacekeeper’s back as her words trailed off, the combination of the natural beauty of the garden and of Crichton with that other woman disturbing her far more than she would like to admit.  Crichton had hurt her with his earlier dalliance with that Earth woman.  ‘Can’t he see that I’m trying?’ The tormented Sebacean cried inwardly, ‘The problem is, I’m not afraid of him rejecting me…I’m afraid of him saying yes.’

Seeing her shudder, Flandry took off his cloak, draping it over the shoulders of his companion.  “Better?”  Seeing her grateful nod, Flandry lit a cigarette.  “You’re far more adaptable than you give yourself credit for, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t forget—I’ve spent several hours interviewing you and your friends and then reading the reports.”  Taking her hand in his, he slowed down their rapid pace to a more placid stroll.  “You came from a culture where you didn’t have to worry about making decisions—all you had to do was not make waves, follow orders whenever they were given, and then wait for new orders.  Then, all of a sudden, you’re thrust into a position where the simple rules you lived by no longer applied, and not only did you survive—you thrived!”

“I had help…” Aeryn said in a soft voice as she heard John and Alana’s laughter behind them.

“True.  But you know, the fact that you accepted that help from John and everyone else also speaks highly of your adaptability.  Your culture is a highly insular one—the idea of even considering asking help of John—or Zhaan, D’Argo, Rygel…” Flandry, hearing his companion’s laughter at the mention of the Hynerian’s name, joined her in laughter for several moments.  Finally stifling his laughter, the Terran agent continued to make his point, “The mere fact, Aeryn, that you asked these people for help says a lot.  You were able to go beyond the confines of your cultural constraints—to be more.”

“Are you ok, Aeryn?”  Dominic asked as he slid a protective arm around her waist, seeing her reaction to his deliberate use of that particular phrase.

“It’s nothing…” Aeryn sighed as she resumed walking, not protesting, to her escort’s immense satisfaction, his arm around her waist.

“Well…let me make you an offer.  Please promise me that you’ll think about it.”  Flandry said with a smile.

“What sort of an offer?”  Aeryn replied, a suspicious look on her face as she regarded her irreverent companion, expecting it to be some sort of romantic proposition.

“I’m planning on going out into your Uncharted Territories in a couple of days.  Now, I’ll go alone if I have to, but I’d much rather have a guide.  I need someone smart, tough, and who knows the players and the turf—and you’re my first choice.”

“And that’s all there is to it?”  The lovely Sebacean smirked.

“No…you’re an attractive woman, and I’ll admit, I wouldn’t mind a little fling with you, but Aeryn, I want you to understand one thing…I’m not trying to get you to fall in love with me, and you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with you…I’m not exactly wired that way.  What I’m going to need from you out there isn’t your lovely body—although I won’t turn it down if you offer it—it’s your brains, your guts, and more than likely your trigger finger.    Anything else either will or won’t happen.  So…what do you say?”

“I’ll…think about it.”  The emotionally tormented Aeryn said softly.  In truth, she was very tempted by the Terran agent’s offer.  A chance to get back out in space, to lose herself in combat…and, she had to admit, the thought of a bit of no strings attached ‘recreating’ with the handsome and rugged Flandry had a certain appeal, as did the fact that she could exact some small revenge for Crichton’s recent ‘recreating’ with that blonde human.  “And thank you for your honesty, Dominic.”  Aeryn added, a slight smile crossing her face.

“Don’t mention it.”  Flandry grinned as he tossed aside his finished cigarette.

Entering the palace atrium, Moya’s crew and their escorts were all greeted by a page in livery and then escorted to the main ballroom, where they found themselves immediately surrounded in an exotic sea of colors, scents, and beings of all shapes, sizes, and colors.  A Cynthian string quartet, their sleek white fur and long prehensile tails immediately marking them as members of that particular arboreal race, played a Cynthian operatic overture in the background; while on one side of the ballroom, a group of naval officers were gathered, all paying their respects to the dignified figure standing in the middle.  “Would you like me to introduce you to the Admiral?”  Flandry asked his Sebacean companion, who was already drawing no small amount of looks from many of the men and not a few of the women already there, taking her slight nod of the head as a yes.  “There aren’t many people I can honestly say I respect…” Flandry flashed a crooked grin as he glanced at his companion, “…but I can truthfully say that, even though Mackenzie-Faulkes is wound tighter than a bureaucrat at quitting time, she’s one of the best officers I’ve ever met and probably the best fleet commander around other than old Hans.”

Chiana, after quickly adjusting to the festive scene and temporarily losing her protective Luxan lover in the crowd, soon found herself standing by an ornate crystal punch bowl decorated with bas-reliefs of couples making love.  As she poured some of the liquid into a goblet, a young human with shoulder length red hair roughly her age joined her.  The woman wore body paint like Chiana, but unlike her, the human wore oranges, browns, and reds—the colors of a New England fall day, and also had her nipples and navel pierced, the nipple piercings being a pair of silver snakes that forming a circle, the head and tail joining at the rosy nubs.  “Greetings.”  The human smiled as she poured the fiery liquid into a crystal goblet.  “You’re new here, aren’t you?  I’m Diana—a dancer.”

Taking the Terran woman’s hand, Chiana smiled back,  “Hi, I’m Chiana.  Yeah, I’m new.  My friends and I arrived a few days ago.”  Then, as she admired her new acquaintance’s painting and piercings, Chiana added with a smile as she gingerly touched one of the snakes, “I love those…where did you have them done?”

“Oh…there’s a little shop in the Cynthian quarter…they do the best piercing and tattoo work I’ve ever seen.”  Taking an instant liking to her new companion, the Terran dancer smiled.  “Maybe we can go there sometime.  I’m thinking about getting a tattoo here…” She said as she pointed at a spot on her right breast.

“Maybe I should check it out some time…” The young Nebari grinned as she admired the workmanship on the snakes.  Then, as her eyes scouted the different groups and cliques, Chiana sidled up close to the dancer and whispered.  “What’s the score here?  Who’s who…who’s available, who should I stay away from…all that stuff.”

Grinning back, the Terran draped her arm around Chiana; “Ok…here’s the quick and dirty...  See that group of people dressed in blue and looking all glum?” 

“Yeah.”  Chiana replied with an impish grin.

“Those are all the captains commanding ships in the Sector Fleet.  They’re paying court on Admiral Mackenzie-Faulkes, everyone calls her Ms. Manners—but not to her face.

“Ms. Manners?”

“Yeah.”  The Terran dancer giggled.  “See that’s her…over there talking to that delicious looking man with a beard.”

“You mean her?”  Chiana saw a tall, dignified looking human female standing before several Naval officers, approximately middle aged, brown haired with touches of gray, wearing an immaculate navy blue dress tunic, with decorations and a starburst similar to that worn by Flandry, white pants, and black shoes that shined as if they were brand new.

“Yep.  That’s her.  Word is she’s one of the strictest admirals in the entire Navy.”  Leaning closer to the young Nebari, Liana whispered conspiratorially in her ear, “She’s a real tight ass about rules and regulations—but she’s a big hero—she stopped some barbarians that had almost reached Hermes at The Battle of Ramnu with only a squadron of old ships—that’s how she got her promotion.  Right now, all her captains are waiting for her to go back to her ship so that they can join the party.”

“Ok…” Chiana giggled, “Who else should I know about?”

“You see that man over there?”  Liana motioned with her head towards a slender dark haired man dressed flamboyantly in scarlet and gold.  “That’s Nicolo Damiani, Count of Beta Crucis.  Avoid him like the plague!”

“Why?”

“Lets just say that his…tastes…are a bit outré and leave it at that.”  Diana replied with a faint shudder.

“Ok…” Chiana nodded her head, taking the hint.  “So who’s fair game?”

“That man over there…he’s Gerhard Bauer—Viscount Io.  He’s in the market right now for a new mistress.  Now if your tastes run the other way, or if you don’t care one way or the other, you might want to think about her…that’s Lady Jessica Lyons…Baroness Provence—she’s supposed to be really generous—and quite the lover too.

“So who have you picked out?”

“Since your friend with the black hair over there seems to have staked out Sir Dominic…” Diana pouted as she pointed discreetly in the direction of Flandry and Aeryn, “I think I’m going to go for that man over there…” She then looked at the black haired naval officer with the beard.  “That’s Captain Alexios Caramades of the ‘Dunkerque’.  His family’s loaded…his mother’s the Countess Deneb and his father owns Caramades Minerals.”

“Mmmmm…Bauer looks like he might have some possibilities.”  Chiana leered as she took in the form of the tall blond haired Terran.  “I’m going to have to find some way of ditching D’Argo though…”

“You know…I’ve got an idea.”  The Terran dancer giggled, and then gave her new friend a meaningful look.  “If you can lose your…escort…why don’t you join me at the orgy later on?  You know, I can use a partner to dance with…” With a slight smile, Diana allowed her fingers to gently brush Chiana’s arm.  “And you look…quite graceful…that way we can both get nice and close to our marks while we have ourselves a little fun.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”  Chiana grinned back as she returned her new friend’s gesture by brushing against her as she refilled her goblet, handing it back to her.  “But I don’t know any of your dances.”

“Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you…” The Terran woman said in a low voice as she took the young Nebari’s hand.  “Maybe you can also show me some of yours—a little variety never hurts, you know.”

*************

“Uncle Rupert!”  Alana called out to an elderly gentleman wearing a plain brown suit with a medallion around his neck involved in what looked like a tedious conversation with two other men.  “Would you come over here please, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Gladly breaking away from the droning sycophants, the Sector Governor made his way to where Alana and Crichton were standing.  “La La!”  He smiled, using the Marquessa’s family nickname.  “It’s been too long!  So who is this strapping young man you’re with?”

“This is John Crichton—you remember—one of the people on that living ship found by the Athena.”

“Oh yes—that’s right.  I’m sorry young man, but in my position you see so many faces and names that they all blend into each other…and I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Oh Uncle!”  The Marquessa gently chided.  “You’re a hundred and ten and I happen to have it on good authority that you’re still chasing the chambermaid!”

“Anti-senescence treatments, gene repair, cloning, and longevity drugs only take you so far, La La.”  The old man said as he shook his head.  “Sooner or later the Reaper comes for us all.  Well, he can wait a while longer for me.  Anyway…from what I’ve heard, this young man over here’s much older than me.”

“By about nine hundred years, I guess, Sir.”  Crichton answered back politely, vainly trying to hold back the pain in his voice.

“I understand my boy…it’s not fair to outlive everyone you’ve loved…” The old man fell silent for several moments as he remembered the dark skinned Ifrian woman with whom he had shared most of his life, a son who’d died during McCormack’s Rebellion, Alana’s father, and many more friends and loved ones who had passed on before him.  “But you’re alive…you have friends…” Rupert smiled knowingly as he saw Alana squeeze Crichton’s hand.  “That’s what’s important, son…don’t you ever forget it.” 

Turning back to the lovely young woman, the governor smiled warmly.  “You know, I’ve had the pleasure of knowing this little girl since she was in diapers.  Her father—the Marquis—and I served together during the Border Wars—the finest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing—he was my best friend, you know.”  Sizing up the younger man, noting especially the sword hanging by his side, the old governor finally nodded his head in approval.  La La must really think highly of you, son, if she gave you that sword to wear.  The last time I saw anyone wear it was the Marquis at court when Georgios was still Emperor.”  Then, turning back to Crichton, John saw in the eyes of that wizened old man the fiery warrior he had once been, long ago.  “You look after my La La now, young man—she’s all I have left.”  Then, after shaking John’s hand and kissing his adoptive niece on the cheek, the old man turned away to greet his other guests.

***********

“Officer Aeryn Sun, formerly of the Peacekeepers, this is Fleet Admiral Allison Mackenzie-Faulkes, Imperial Terran Navy.”  Flandry formally introduced his escort to the commander of the Cynosure Sector Fleet, the tone of respect in his voice slightly surprising the former Peacekeeper who had long since gotten used to his sardonic wit.

As she took in the military presence and bearing of the Terran Admiral, Aeryn snapped to attention and braced like a cadet meeting a member of the High Command.  “An honor to meet you Admiral.”

Impressed, the woman known behind her back as Ms. Manners flashed a brief smile.  “As you were, Officer.”  Nodding her head in approval as the younger woman moved to a parade rest position, the Admiral continued.  “I’ve read Flandry’s report.  It seems you were a fighter pilot…well; it looks like the three of us have something in common then.  Both Flandry and I started our careers in Fighter Command.  Flandry switched to Intelligence while I moved over to the line…but still, there’s times I miss being out in a transatmospheric craft…don’t you agree, Captain?”

“Yes ma’am.”  Flandry replied, memories of his early days as an ensign assigned to Starkad flooding back in his mind—memories of Jan van Zuyl, his wingman who died in a skirmish with Merseian fighters, and of Persis d’Io, the Sassanian dancer who was his first love, all coming back to him in a rush.

“If you don’t mind, Officer Sun, I would appreciate it if you and Captain Flandry would meet me on my ship the day after tomorrow…say 0800?  I’d like to discuss with you certain details of Peacekeeper military organization, tactics, and psychology.  I’ve read the Captain’s report of your interview, and as usual it’s well written and thorough, but reading words on a flimsy or on a computer screen aren’t the same as person-to-person contact.  If you’re willing, I’d also like to ask you to conduct a briefing for my ship commanders and flight leaders.  If someday we should come into contact with the Peacekeepers, I want to be ready.”

“I shall cooperate in any way I can, Admiral.”  The ex-Peacekeeper replied smartly while Flandry winced inwardly at having to wake up at such an ungodly early hour in the morning.

“Very good, Officer Sun.  I look forward to seeing you.”  Then, leaning in close and whispering conspiratorially so that only Flandry and Aeryn could hear, Mackenzie-Faulkes flashed an evil grin.  “Now, I think it’s time for me to take my leave…I think Ms. Manners has tormented her senior officers long enough.”

***********

“Where is Chiana?”  D’Argo growled to the tall, elegant Delvian standing next to him.

“I’m sure she’s fine, sweet D’Argo.”  Zhaan consoled, stroking his arm gently with her hand.  “Sometimes you forget—she’s young, my friend—younger than you.  And with youth comes impatience.” ‘And foolishness…’ She didn’t bother to add.

“I do not like this place Zhaan.  Everything about this Empire offends me.  The sooner we leave the better…” Then, with a low, threatening growl, the impatient Luxan waded into the crowd of gyrating dancers, dodging or shoving to the side both colorful ribbons and revelers as he searched for his errant lover.

************

Spotting Flandry and Aeryn, Alana flashed her colleague and fellow manipulator a subtle signal, telling him that she was now ready to put the next part of her plan into motion.  “John?”  Alana smiled warmly as she took her escort’s arm.  “Would you like to see Rupert’s roses now?  Now that Rupert, the Admiral, and a lot of the more…dignified…people are beginning to make their exit, things are beginning to look like they’re about to get a bit…unrestrained, and I don’t think you’re the sort of person who exactly cares for that sort of thing—I know I don’t.” 

Partly lying, the Marquessa guided her intended paramour towards the exit—while she didn’t mind the occasional orgy, as a rule she preferred her entertainment in a somewhat more intimate setting.  Also, she grinned inwardly, while she wasn’t expecting immediate success with John, should things go better than expected, she didn’t want their first time together to be in front of an audience—the rose garden had more than one well placed gazebo that would work just fine.

“Sure, Sweetness.”  John grinned back gratefully.  Even though the fine wine and witty conversation with Alana’s friends had greatly improved his mood, he really didn’t feel comfortable with the way the party was going.  While he’d done his share of partying in high school and college, including plenty of hot and heavy make out sessions in the tiny dorm room he and DK had shared with girls that they had picked up at one party or another, he was happy that Alana had suggested that they leave.  Placing his arm around the Marquessa’s waist, John escorted the tiny woman out into the garden.

**************

“I know you’re not much for the great outdoors…” Flandry laughed as he took out a cigarette, regarding the rapidly degenerating party, “But I could use a breath of fresh air…and you look like you could too.”  The Terran agent said knowingly as he noticed the look on Aeryn’s face.

“Thank you.”  The lovely Sebacean replied gratefully.  She couldn’t help but notice how the party had been slowly degenerating into what looked like what was soon to become a decadent orgy and was happy to escape the spectacle beginning to unfold in front of her.  Permitting her companion to place his arm around her waist, she allowed him to escort her outside.

**************

D’Argo had searched for what seemed like arns for his errant lover, his mood getting worse microt by microt as he saw the direction the party was headed.  As he went from room to room on his futile search, one thought filled his mind—he was going to take his young lover away from this place as soon as possible.  Hearing music and applause coming from behind a door, D’Argo opened it, only to be greeted with a sight that filled him with both hurt and rage.  Chiana and a human female were dancing very close together in an incredibly erotic manner, the sensuous motions of their bodies intertwining together greatly pleasing the jaded audience they were performing for.  “Chiana!”  The angry Luxan bellowed as he stormed into the room, roughly seizing his lover by the hand.  “We are leaving now!”

Shocked at D’Argo’s rude entrance, Chiana glared at her lover, her new friend holding her hand in support.  “I’m staying, D’Argo!  Why don’t you go on back?  We’ll talk later.”  Diana’s offer to partner up with the young Nebari woman had made her mind up for her regarding her relationship with the Luxan warrior…now this violent act on her soon to be former lover’s part clinched it in her mind. 

Refusing to listen to his young Nebari lover, D’Argo pulled roughly at her in an effort to drag his unwilling companion away, only to be distracted by a hand on his shoulder.  “I say, old boy…”

“Frell off you useless piece of human dren!”  D’Argo growled.  His eyes now red with hyper rage, the enraged Luxan effortlessly picked up the slender man by his neck and tossed him aside on to the floor as the call rang out for the palace guards.

As D’Argo’s outburst was beginning, Zhaan, Rygel, the governor, and Chunderban Desai were sitting in a quiet corner talking.  Zhaan had succeeded, much to her satisfaction, in persuading the governor to allow her to board Moya to talk with Pilot, while Rygel, with considerably less success, was pleading his case with both men to assist him in his efforts to retake his throne.  As they saw the soldiers rush towards the disturbance, Zhaan immediately figured out what must have happened.  “Please, Governor…Ambassador, I think I know what is happening and why.  Let me try to help settle it.”

Nodding his head grimly, the aged governor then turned towards the small chocolate skinned man, “Chunderban?  Would you go with Donna Zhaan and see if you can render some assistance.  I’ll be along in a few minutes—you know it takes a little more time for me than it used to.”

“Of course, Governor.”  The Terran diplomat bowed as he took Zhaan’s blue hand.  “Let us hope we are not to late, Donna.”

As the two figures moved at a quick walk—almost a run, Rygel shook his head, muttering under his breath.  “That stupid yotz.  That’s what he gets for thinking with his mivoks—bipedal breeders.”  The Hynerian royal snorted as he accompanied the aged Terran governor.

**************

Entering the room, Zhaan and Desai found Chiana kneeling on the floor sobbing as a redheaded human female hugged her, speaking softly to her.  Standing at a distance was a sullen D’Argo, humans in uniform on either side of him, slugthrowers pointed at his head.  “I want that thing executed!”  The slender black haired man who D’Argo had thrown to the floor earlier yelled as he got up.  “I’m Count Nicolo Damiani.  He assaulted my person and also that of the Viscount Io and Captain Caramades.”  An evil and cold grin then crossed the Terran’s face.  “Better yet—don’t execute him!  I want him enslaved! I want to buy him—I know just what to do with this piece of xeno-filth.”

“I promise Your Grace we will see to his punishment.”  Desai said in a placating voice, hoping that the dissipated and constantly in debt Count, after having drunk and caroused for the rest of the Birthday festivities, would be satisfied with financial compensation and maybe a nerve lashing for the quick tempered Luxan.  “I will speak to His Excellency personally about a suitable punishment—will that be satisfactory, Your Grace.”  As he finished, Desai motioned to a couple of dancing girls, instructing them with his gestures to join the Count as he filled a goblet with wine and handed it to him.  Desai’s placatory gestures succeeded in temporarily mollifying the outraged aristocrat, as Damiani took both girls and left the room, sparing a withering glare for the hapless Luxan.  After the Terran aristocrat had left the room with the women, Desai turned to the men guarding D’Argo.  “Take him to the cells, and keep him there incognito until Damiani’s ship leaves or until His Excellency, I, or the Marquessa say otherwise.”  Snapping to attention, the guards escorted a shamefaced and crestfallen D’Argo away as a solitary female figure who had been quietly sitting and observing the entire scene got up and left by a side entrance.

  Going to Chiana, Zhaan saw the Terran woman hand her Nebari companion a small red capsule.  “Here, take this Chiana—it’ll make you feel better.”

“What did you give her?”  The Delvian priestess asked in a suspicious voice.

“Oh…it’s nothing more than a mild euphoriac.  It’ll help calm her down.”  The Terran girl said as she held Chiana.  “It’s alright Chi…he’s gone now.”  She cooed as Zhaan looked on.

“It’s time for us to go now.”  Zhaan said in a maternal voice as she placed a gentle hand on the young Nebari’s shoulder.  Glancing around, the Delvian woman saw Desai talking urgently to the governor as Rygel listened in.  Then, after several more words, the governor nodded his head and departed.  She then heard the unmistakable sound of the Hynerian royal’s hoverchair as he joined his companions.  “What did they say?”

“That fool Luxan almost got us all in trouble.”  Rygel griped as he took in the scene before him.  “The Governor wanted us all—except for Crichton and Aeryn—confined to our rooms until further notice, but Desai persuaded him to just lock up D’Argo while he calmed everyone down.  He’s a smooth negotiator—that one—almost as good as me.”  Snorting his disgust, Rygel finished.  “Let’s get Chiana and get out of here before he changes his mind.”

“You all go…” Chiana sobbed, “I’m staying with Diana.”  The euphoriac beginning to kick in, the Nebari girl smiled, “I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I guess now’s as good a time as any.  Diana and I are going to team up dancing.  We’ve booked a working passage on the Empress Kathryn going to Terra.  It leaves in a few days.”

“Are you sure, Chiana?  Maybe you should talk about this with John?”  Zhaan asked solicitously, knowing that Crichton was usually able to reach the headstrong Nebari girl as no one else could. 

“Yeah, Zhaan.  I’m sure.”  Chiana grinned, the drug now working throughout her system.  “You know me, Zhaan…this is my kind of place.  I’ll be by to pick up my things tomorrow and say good bye to everyone.”  Then, remembering her lover, Chiana frowned momentarily.  “I’ll also talk to D’Argo tomorrow and tell him…it wouldn’t have worked between the two of us anyway, you know…we just weren’t compatible.”  She said weakly over her shoulder before disappearing with her new friend, the orgy already beginning to pick up once again—the excitement of just a few minutes ago being rapidly forgotten in the sea of alcohol, drugs, and carousing.

“Yes, child…I know.”  Zhaan said sadly as she and Rygel turned to leave, a solitary tear rolling down the Delvian Pau’s cheek as she realized that what she feared would happen was happening already—her children were leaving her.

***************

“It’s been two years since I’ve seen or smelled roses…I’ve almost forgotten what one looks like.”  John said with a sad smile as he bent over to sniff the red American Beauty rose that stood out a little taller than its fellows on the bush, its petals fully open, its fragrance rich and glorious.

“To be gone so long…with no human contact…in a hostile universe…” The Marquessa shuddered, both from the slight chill in the air and in sympathy for John’s plight as she smiled at her companion’s reaction to the white, pink, red, and yellow roses all in various states of blooming.  “How did you survive it, John?”

“Friends…” John said, a pensive look on his face as he pictured Aeryn in his mind, “Good luck…fast feet…and when all else fails, we’d blame it all on Sparky.” The former astronaut chuckled as he finished, bringing forth the musical sound of laughter from the petite woman standing next to him.  “You have a nice laugh, Alana…”

“So do you, John.”  The lovely Terran aristocrat said softly as she picked up a pair of clippers sitting on a bench and, walking to the rose her companion had just been admiring, skillfully clipped it and, after making sure to clip off all the thorns, walked over to the attractive man she was with and gave it to him.  “Here…please take it…I made sure to strip off all the thorns…you know what they say about beauty—that it can also be dangerous.”

“And are you…” John asked, a quivering smile on his face.

“Am I what, John?”  She asked in a low sultry voice as she drew closer to him.

“Are you dangerous?”  He asked in a soft voice as his arms encircled her waist and as hers encircled his, their lips drawing closer together.

“I can be…but never to you, John…never to you…” Alana breathed softly as their lips grazed, and then all conversation ended as they kissed beneath the clear starry sky.

*************

Several minutes into their walk, Aeryn had found herself pleasantly surprised at how much she was enjoying it.  Flandry wasn’t trying to seduce her…at least not overtly, although the raven-haired woman was beginning to discover why so many people she had talked to recently either liked him or hated him with equal intensity.  He was incredibly charming and witty—his wit often crossing the line into sarcasm and disrespect—mostly for his superiors, although he had plenty of jabs for bureaucrats and governments in general, and for anyone else he viewed as incompetent or stupid.  The ex-Peacekeeper, trained and conditioned to accept ordered hierarchy and discipline, found the Terran agent’s irreverence somewhat intoxicating as he spoke. 

“There’s an interesting story behind the mulberry tree and why its berries have a deep red color…” Flandry said as he pointed towards a pair of the Terran trees that had been planted there several years ago, “It all started several thousand years ago in Terra’s past, long before we had interstellar travel and involved two lovers…” Dominic then proceeded to tell his companion the story of Pyramus and Thisbe and of their doomed love.

The twosome continued in this manner for a long time, just walking hand in hand and enjoying each other’s company, Flandry pointing out plants and trees and then telling a story about each—first a tragic tale, then a heart-warming story, and then a funny story would follow, and every once in a while, he’d spin a tale that was downright irreverent—drawing laughter and a deep blush from his companion.  Aeryn couldn’t figure out which stories were actually Terran in origin and which were the product of her companion’s fertile imagination, and soon it didn’t matter to her—she was having too much fun enjoying the stories until finally they just walked in silence, happy to simply enjoy each other’s company until they reached the rose garden and Aeryn saw them—John and Alana—in each others arms, passionately kissing.

As the tableau unfolded in front of her, the full range of emotions crossed her face—hurt and rage at what she viewed as yet another betrayal by John, anger at herself for not having the courage to tell her old companion how she truly felt about him, and finally resignation as her mind rationalized the events that were happening, telling her heart that she was only getting what she deserved…that for all she had done in her past this was her punishment—to be forever deprived of the one she truly loved. 

Quickly turning around before she lost her temper completely, she walked away at a fast pace, her current companion easily keeping up with her, but not saying a word, leaving her alone with her thoughts as she finally stopped next to the mulberry trees and stood, her eyes tearing.  “Well?”  She turned towards her escort standing next to one of the trees, “Aren’t you going to say that we need to talk?”  She snapped, seeking a target—any target—for her wrath.

“Why?”  He asked as he took a cigarette out of a silver case and lit it.  “If you want to talk to me—you will.  If you don’t—you won’t.  I’ve found that sometimes the best thing a friend can do for another friend is to just shut up.  You’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and of deciding who you can and can’t trust and of who you want and don’t want to talk to.

“Thank you.”  Aeryn said quietly as she began walking again, not objecting when her companion took her hand once more.  After several minutes of silent walking, Flandry heard her soft, “Yes.”

“Yes to what?”  Flandry asked, arching his eyebrows.

“Yes…I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll have Chives fetch your gear for you tomorrow and take it to my yacht.”  The Terran agent said in an even tone even though inwardly he was exploding with joy.  “If you’d prefer, I can take you to your quarters on board the Hooligan and get you situated tonight.”

“Yes…I think I’d like that.”  The ex-Peacekeeper said as she brushed a tear from her cheek.

**************

As the couple broke from their kiss, John sighed.  “Look Alana…its not that I don’t find you attractive—I do, but right now I’ve got a big problem…”

“Aeryn…” The Marquessa nodded sagely.

“Yeah.”  I need to know once and for all where I stand with her before I get involved with someone else.  I know it must sound awfully silly and old fashioned to you…”

“No John…” Alana smiled warmly.  “Actually I think it’s kind of sweet.”  She continued to smile, having planned for this very contingency, “If things work out between you and Aeryn, I’ll be really happy for you…” The Marquessa then brushed her companion’s cheek as she saw the warm smile on his face.  “And if they don’t…then we’ll have the trip to Terra to get better acquainted.”

The Terran aristocrat couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement as she saw the look of pleasure on her intended lover’s face.  “You mean we’re going home?”

“Yep.”  Alana grinned.  “In a few days.  Rupert gave his approval for me to take Moya, you, and any of your friends who want to come along to Terra.  The trip will take more than a month, so we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“I’m going home…” John repeated in a low voice over and over as he held the alluring oriental woman in his arms,  “I’m actually…finally…going home!”

*******************

“Are you sure you want to do this, Chiana?”  John looked into the eyes of the young woman who had become a surrogate sister of his.

“Yeah, John.”  The young Nebari smiled back at him.  Her short, low-cut shimmerlyn dress, gold necklace and earrings, and multicolored tights showed that she was already adapting to the Empire.  “Like I told Zhaan, this is my kind of place.”  Giving her good friend a good-bye kiss on the cheek, she wiped away a tear.  “Give me a few monthans—I mean months—and I’ll be some duke or count’s mistress.”

“Take care, Pip…I’m gonna miss you.”  John cried as he hugged his friend and companion close to him.

“You too, Old Man.”

“I’ll talk to D’Argo before I go, Zhaan…tell him it’s over between us and all.”  Chiana said as she hugged the Delvian Pau close to her.  “I’m going to miss you.”

“May the goddess guide your path.”  Zhaan cried as she delivered her blessing.

“Take care of yourself, Your Frogness.”  Chiana laughed good-naturedly as she playfully twisted the long follicles of Rygel’s mustache.

“You too…you little trelk.”  The Hynerian royal riposted, smiling to show that he meant no insult this time.

As Chiana picked up her belongings and left, Crichton looked around the suite of rooms, even though he was already missing Chiana, there was someone else he was missing even more.  Finally focusing on Zhaan, the preoccupied human asked,  “Hey Blue, you hear anything from Aeryn?”

“No, John.”  The elegant Zhaan shook her head sadly.  “Not since Sir Dominic’s servant came by earlier to pick up her belongings.  I contacted his ship and talked to her briefly.  She said that she was accompanying him on a trip back to the Uncharted Territories.”

“I wish she would have come and talked to me.”  John sighed, his voice filled with regret.  “Why did she just up and leave like that—without talking to any of us first?”

“Maybe she felt that it was the right thing for her to do at this time.”  The wise priestess said gently as she placed a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder.  “There are times, John, when we can only find our answers in distance.  Let her seek her answers—while you seek your own.”  Seeing the startled look on the human’s face, Zhaan gently smiled.  “That’s right, John.  Aeryn isn’t the only one who needs to decide where…and with whom…to go.  You also need time and distance to meditate—give yourself that.  Then, the goddess willing, if it is destined for you and Aeryn to travel together—you will.  But don’t force fate, John.  If you do, you’ll only make both yourself and Aeryn miserable—and I know you care too much about her to let that happen.”

“I still don’t like it, Zhaan.”  The time-displaced astronaut snarled as the doorbell chimed.  “She could have at least told me why.  If nothing else, she could have said goodbye.”

**********

Aeryn sighed as she toweled herself off, briefly allowing the unaccustomed luxury of the terry cloth robe against her skin relax her as she slipped it on.  She had expected Flandry to proposition her as soon as they boarded his luxuriously furnished speedster, but instead, after a quick tour, he’d shown her to her room and left her to her own devices.  After stripping off the finery that she had worn during the reception, the physically and emotionally drained Sebacean woman literally collapsed on the plush queen sized bed and slept through the rest of the night and well into the next day.  Now, after her brief conversation with Zhaan in which she explained to her old companion that she was going away with the Terran agent, it was time to join her host for breakfast, and then they were supposed to meet the Admiral on board her vessel, and then make preparations for departure.  It was going to be a very busy morning, Aeryn thought idly as she picked out her clothing for the day—a pair of pants, one of Crichton’s black t-shirts that she had ‘borrowed’, and a long black Peacekeeper issue duster.

Catching the faintest reminder of Crichton’s scent as she pulled the t-shirt on over her head, Aeryn began to cry as she replayed the events of last night in her mind—the sight of John and the Marquessa kissing in the rose garden finally bringing home to her the fact that John was now home with his own people…that he didn’t need her anymore.  Slipping slowly to the bed, the tormented Sebacean released all her grief in tears, completely oblivious to the chiming sound coming from her door for several minutes, until, its volume having increased, it finally succeeded in intruding itself on Aeryn’s private torment.  Lifting her head, she called out, “Give me a few microts.”

“Ok, Aeryn.  Take your time.”  A calm, even voice she recognized as Flandry’s came from the other side of the door.  After a few minutes in which she tried her best to dry her eyes and compose herself, she opened the door, expecting to hear once again the ‘what’s bothering you…let’s talk about it…’ routine that she had grown accustomed to from Crichton. 

Instead, she was pleasantly surprised to see that Flandry, after taking note of her appearance, instead of saying anything, raised an eyebrow in inquiry—letting her decide whether she wanted to bring up the subject or not.  Flashing a grateful smile, Aeryn managed to get out an unaccustomed quip, “Aren’t you feeling well?”  Chuckling at the momentary look of confusion on her companion’s face, Aeryn continued, “You’re not dressed as you usually are.”

Sighing melodramatically, Flandry face formed a mock grimace as he remarked on the plain white trousers, blue tunic with the diamond insignias of his rank on the collar, and peaked cap with sunburst that comprised the normal Terran Naval duty uniform for officers that he was currently wearing.  “When you’re scheduled for a meeting with Ms. Manners, you wear regulation uniform with everything in its proper place.”  Then, taking Aeryn’s hand in his, he flashed a more rakish grin.  “Well, Aeryn…we had best be off to breakfast otherwise Chives will raise holy hell with both of us.”

**************

John’s mood immediately improved as the captivating Alana Murakawa entered the room, the delicate jasmine scent of her perfume, along with the attractive purple and gold Chinese style dress she was wearing dispelling his bad mood.  Quickly remembering that Zhaan and Rygel were both in the room, Crichton stopped himself quickly from using her first name, instead addressing her by her title.  “Mornin’ Marquessa.  You come for your sword?”

“No.  I know that it’s in the safest of hands for now…my servants will come for it later.”  The alluring petite Terran aristocrat smiled as she regarded the ruggedly handsome time-displaced astronaut.  “And, everyone…” The Marquessa smiled warmly as she regarded the other crewmembers of Moya, “…please call me Alana when we’re alone together.  After all, we’re going to be living in pretty close quarters for the next month or so.”

“Thank you…Alana.”  Zhaan smiled beatifically as she regarded the woman who, along with Dominic Flandry, had been their chief liaison with the outside world.  “If I might ask…do you have further word on D’Argo…what is to become of him?”

Seeing the suddenly tense expressions on the faces of the others, Alana took a deep breath as she found her center.  “I had a long conversation with Count Damiani and also with D’Argo.  Damiani owed a…very sizable…gambling debt to me.  I told him I would cancel the debt on the condition that he drops formal proceedings against D’Argo, accepting instead a formal public apology.  Then I saw D’Argo and told the…baka…” Upon hearing that Japanese word, John winced in sympathy for his old friend—her choice of that word, along with her voice tone showed that the Marquessa was really upset with the Luxan warrior. Then, he heard the sharpened tone of the Terran aristocrat as she continued to speak, “…that he will very meekly apologize to Damiani and then he’s to return here and not show his face in public until we board Moya later on today.”

“That fool Luxan doesn’t know how lucky he is!”  Rygel harrumphed as he popped another grape in his mouth.

“Well, lets go get the Big Guy.”  John sighed, relieved that his old friend was getting off as lightly as he was, instinctively drawing closer to the Marquessa as they all filed out to leave.

***********

“D’Argo, we both knew that what we had wouldn’t last.”  The young Nebari sobbed as she looked sadly on the dejected face of her former lover. 

“Why, Chiana?  Because some frelling ointment that we put on our tongues tasted bitter when we kissed?  Do we let that tell us that we are not compatible?  Are we going to let that run our lives?”  The hurt Luxan raised his voice as he looked everywhere about his spartan cell but at the gray-skinned woman sitting next to him.

“No…D’Argo.”  Chiana mournfully shook her head as she wiped her tears away.  “You want something…someone…I can’t give you.  That’s why we’re not compatible.”

“What do you mean?”

“D’Argo…you want Lo’laan.”  The young Nebari quietly sighed as she placed a comforting hand on her former lover’s shoulder.  “You want someone to protect…to care for…to love…” Tears flowing down her cheeks, Chiana forced herself to continue even as she saw her former lover’s heart shattering before her eyes.  “I can’t be that person for you.  I can make you laugh, I can give you great sex…” Nervous chuckles filled the room for a few minutes as the tension lifted momentarily, “I can give you all the excitement you could ever ask for—but I can’t give you a home…children…security—and D’Argo, my love—that’s what you crave more than anything else.”  Then, getting up, the graceful Nebari woman bent over to kiss her ex-lover on the cheek, tasting his salty tears.  “I hope one of these days, D’Argo, that you find what you’re looking for…because you deserve it.”  Then, turning towards the door, she nodded her head at the Marine standing at attention at the entrance, telling him that she was ready to leave.  With a sympathetic look towards both parties, the Marine opened the door, escorting Chiana out while D’Argo sat staring at the door as she left and the guard shut it once again, leaving the lonely Luxan alone with his thoughts.

*************

As their launch docked at the landing bay of the Victory, Aeryn was once again struck speechless by the sheer size of the Terran battleship.  The Peacekeepers had nothing in their armada that could even hope to match it.  “Yeah, I know…” Flandry chuckled as he took a last drag on his cigarette.  It’s a mother frelling big ship.”  Seeing the look of surprise on his companion’s face, the Terran agent laughed as he chucked his cigarette down a disposal chute.  “Alana and I injected ourselves with translator microbes as a test.  I personally prefer the Terran expression—it has a little more color—but I figured I might as well get used to how your slang works as I anticipate using it quite a bit.”  Flandry grinned as the hatch to their launch slid open, exposing both of them to the organized chaos of the busy hangar bay.

As they stepped on to the conveyer belt taking them to the turbo lift at the other side of the bay, Aeryn took note of the crew moving smartly about its business, and then smirked at the irritated expression on her companion’s face.  “What are you upset about?” 

“I want a cigarette, but Ms. Manners has a strict ‘No-Smoking’ policy on her ships—you can only smoke in certain rec areas and at certain times.”  The Terran agent shook his head ruefully at what he considered a simply barbaric policy.

Unable to keep from laughing, Aeryn shook her head.  “When I first met Crichton, I thought he was the most bizarre creature I had ever met.  But after spending the last few solar days with you, I see that I was wrong, Dominic—you are.”

“Why thank you, Donna Aeryn…” Flandry flashed a sardonic grin and then bowed.  “I try my best.”

Still shaking her head at her companion’s antics, Aeryn snorted.  “I can’t see how you can put those things in your mouth—they can’t be good for your health or your endurance.”

“Anti-cancer shots, lung flushes, and other medical treatments take care of the health issues…and as for my endurance…” Flandry leered as he appraised Aeryn’s figure, “You’re welcome to test it anytime you want.”

‘I might just take you up on that…’ Aeryn smirked inwardly as she took in the lean, muscular form of the Terran agent.  ‘It’s been too long since I’ve been able to recreate with someone without recriminations.’  Instead, she chose to take her partner’s double entendre the other way.  “Are you proposing a training bout?”

Reading the expressions on the Sebacean woman’s face, Flandry smiled both inwardly and outwardly.  “Actually, that was on my plan for the day…” Seeing the surprised look on Aeryn’s face, Dominic steamrollered on, “But first, I want to check you out on Terran weaponry—blasters, slugthrowers, needle guns—that sort of thing.  Then, I was thinking about putting you through your paces in the gym.  I need to see how well you can handle yourself in an unarmed combat situation.”

“You need to see how well I can handle myself?!”  The surprised ex-Peacekeeper exclaimed disbelievingly.  “The solar day one of you humans can defeat me in unarmed combat is the day I’ll…” Aeryn stammered, unable to complete her thought.

“You’ll wear the dress Chive bought for you to wear to dinner tonight.”  Flandry smirked, sure of himself and of his abilities.

“You’re that sure of yourself?”  Aeryn smirked back at her cocky companion.

“Yup.”  Flandry drawled.  “And to back it up, if you win, I’ll…refrain from smoking for a 24 hour period—bet?”

“It’s a bet, human.”  Aeryn smiled confidently as she took the outstretched hand of her partner, knowing from her time with Crichton that this was the human form of sealing a wager.

*************

“I most humbly and abjectly apologize to Your Grace, Count Nicolo Damiani, and beg your forgiveness for my crass and ill-mannered actions.”  The proud Luxan, on bended knee, abased himself before the dissipated Terran aristocrat, the Governor-General, Chunderban Desai, the Marquessa, and all of his friends—Chiana being noticeable for her absence.

Looking down with studied disdain at the noble warrior who had so humiliated him at the Birthday celebration of a few nights prior, the count took out a scented handkerchief and sniffed, waving the piece of cloth airily.  “Apology accepted.  Now take this piece of xeno-trash out of my sight before I change my mind.” 

Standing and bowing as instructed, D’Argo left the chamber, followed by the Marquessa and the rest of Moya’s crew.  The flight back to the groundside naval base where they were quartered was made in silence, no one wanting to upset further the humiliated Luxan, but, as they entered their suite, John turned to where the Marquessa was standing by his side, and flashing a quick look at the Luxan, was pleased to see her nod her head, understanding that he wanted to speak to his old friend alone—man to man.

“Zhaan…Rygel…” The Marquessa called out in her musical voice, “Would you mind accompanying me for a few minutes?  We need to begin getting ready to transfer everything up to Moya—after all, we’ll be leaving for Terra this evening.”

Seeing what the Marquessa was doing, Zhaan nodded her head wisely, “Of course, Alana.”  Then turning towards the Hynerian royal, Zhaan said in a sweet voice.  “Let us go Rygel.”

“Right.”  The dispossessed Dominar said, uninterested in whatever conversation the human planned to hold with the Luxan.  Rygel wanted to be on the way to Terra as quickly as possible—he had audiences to arrange before Emperor and Policy Board, and the ears of influential people to bend.

*************

As they entered the office of Admiral Mackenzie-Faulkes, Aeryn took in the wooden desk with built in computer screen, bronze nameplate, and simple office chair.  She also noted with interest the model of what looked like a wooden sailing vessel sitting on a shelf behind the chair, along with several two dimensional pictures and on the back wall, a very large painting of a man lying bleeding on the wooden deck of a sailing vessel, with other men clustered around him, obviously in distress.

“Admiral Nelson at Trafalgar.”  A female voice said as Flandry snapped to attention.  Seeing her companion’s actions, Aeryn also stood rigid at attention until the voice continued.  “As you were…be seated…both of you.”  They both continued to stand until the admiral took her seat behind the desk, only then did Flandry and Aeryn sit down on the spartan chairs before the admiral’s desk.  “And that…” Mackenzie-Faulkes motioned towards the model, “…was his flagship—HMS Victory.  I keep both as a reminder.  Nelson died at the moment of his greatest triumph.  To me it’s both humbling and it puts things in perspective—death comes for all of us eventually, but that does not excuse us from doing our duty.”  As a steward came in bearing a tray with cups of hot coffee, the stern admiral known as Ms. Manners flashed a wry grin.  “But I didn’t wake you up early in the morning to discuss ancient Terran history…I called you here to discuss Peacekeeper strategy and tactics.”

The discussion that followed was an informative and engaging one as the admiral asked probing questions that Aeryn did her best to answer.  “Thank you, Officer Sun.”  The admiral said at last as she finished her coffee.  It’s pretty much as I thought.  Our missiles and beam weapons possessed far greater range—tens of thousands of kilometers—as opposed to the 45-metra range you give for the Peacekeepers’ frag cannons.  And they’re also far more powerful than anything the Peacekeepers have in their arsenal.  All we need do is stand out of range and dissect the Peacekeeper ships at long range, and if they decide to sortie Marauders and Prowlers, our Meteor class boats and light fighters should be able to pick them off before they even reach us—just like the English longbowmen did to the French at Crecy.”  Then, standing up, the admiral motioned towards the door.  “If you wouldn’t mind, my ship commanders are gathered in one of the large conference rooms.  I’d appreciate it if you could brief them as you’ve done me.”  Seeing the ex-Peacekeeper’s nod of assent, the admiral grinned.  “Thank you, Officer Sun.  Hopefully, we won’t need your knowledge, but forewarned is forearmed.”

*************

“Hey, Big Guy.”  John said as he placed a hand on the shoulder of his friend.  “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“And I am sorry about you and Aeryn.”  D’Argo said in a low voice.  “I guess both of us screwed the peach.”

John laughed as he shook his head.  “That’s pooch, D’Argo—both of us screwed the pooch—and you’re right—we did.”  As the words sunk in, John hung his head down.  “We screwed it big time, my man—big time.”

“You’re right, John.”  The Luxan warrior growled as he hung his head down as well.  “What do we do now?”

“I guess we try to go on—that’s all we can do.”  John sighed in resignation.  “Maybe we can get Alana to help us look for your son?”  The human added hopefully, trying to make something good of a bad situation.

“I don’t think she’s going to want to help me, John.”  D’Argo shook his head as he remembered the chewing out he had gotten from the little woman.  “I don’t think even Aeryn knows as many ways to say ‘frelling idiot’ as the Marquessa does.”

“She’s just pissed at you because you cost her a lot of beer money.”  John laughed good-naturedly as he clasped his friend’s shoulder again.  “Give her some time to cool down—I’ll talk to her and see if I can get her to help us out.”

“Thanks, John.”  The Luxan smiled as he raised his head.

“Anytime, Big Guy.”  John grinned back.  “That’s what friends are for.”

*************

“Two out of three falls?”  Dominic Flandry, now wearing shorts and a gray t-shirt grinned as he eyed his opponent, Aeryn Sun, also wearing gray t-shirt and shorts.

“Agreed.”  The former Peacekeeper grinned back as she assumed an on-guard stance.  She had been looking forward to this all day—a chance to physically take out all of her frustrations.  The firing range was helpful—she was frankly stunned at the lethality of the Terran weapons—especially the blaster.  At the narrow beam setting, in the hands of a skilled marksman, which she found her partner to be, it was an incredibly deadly weapon at far greater ranges than her pulse rifle; while at its wide beam setting, it was a savage short-range weapon, emitting plasma that incinerated whatever it came into contact with in a conical field of fire.  But now, she was in her environment—unarmed combat, where instinct and conditioning prevailed over cunning and guile.

The two circled each other warily for several minutes, studying each other, looking for weaknesses, until Aeryn, seeing what she thought was an opening, lashed out with a Pantak Jab.  This move always worked in her sparring sessions with Crichton—he was never able to counter it.  Only this time, her blow didn’t hit flesh.  Flandry had, with surprising speed and agility, using an aikido move, sidestepped her lunge, and then, using her own momentum against her, threw her to the mat.  “That’s one.”  The Terran grinned as he moved to a neutral corner, giving his chagrined opponent time to get up and reassume her on-guard stance.

More cautiously this time, the former Peacekeeper probed until, seeing the smallest of openings, she struck, catching Flandry with a wheel-kick, bringing the well conditioned man down to the mat.  “That’s one for me.”  Aeryn smirked triumphantly as her opponent grinned back.

“This is for all the marbles.”  The Terran smiled as he assumed a combat stance.  Once again they circled each other, their eyes showing their mutual respect of each other’s abilities.  Then, the woman described by her old companion as the ‘Poster Queen for Frontal Assault’ made a fatal error.  She saw what seemed to be the slightest dropping of her opponent’s guard and quickly struck to take advantage of it.  However, it proved to be a feint as Flandry easily blocked her punch, and taking advantage of her poor position, felled her with a combination karate jab and kick.  “Good match.”  He grinned as he offered a hand to his felled opponent.  “It looks like we’re going to have a lot of fun in the gym on our trip.  But for now, I’d suggest we shower and then get back to the Hooligan.  Chives’ll want you to try on your dress so that he can make any necessary alterations before dinner.  And in honor of your courage and skill…” Flandry bowed to hide the pained look on his face, “I shall refrain from smoking for 24 hours—but not one second longer!”

***************

Transporting Moya’s crew’s belongings back to the Leviathan didn’t take that much time.  It was transporting the baggage of the Marquessa that took most of the time and effort, but by the end of the afternoon, all gear had been loaded, quarters had been assigned to the Marquessa and her servants—including four hard-bitten and grizzled men who were nothing like the rest of her servants in either their manner or bearing, the galley had been reprovisioned with plenty of fresh food for the voyage to Terra, and, much to John’s pleasure, he had been presented by the Marquessa with an acoustic guitar.  “I hope you like it, John.  I saw it in a music shop yesterday, and I remembered you telling me that you used to like to play—maybe you can play for me once we get going.”

“Thanks, Alana.”  John beamed at the alluring oriental woman and then idly strummed a few chords as they walked down the corridor towards Pilot’s Den.  Opening the door, the Terran aristocrat came face to face with the Leviathan’s pilot for the first time.  “I understand you’re the pilot of this remarkable vessel.”  The Marquessa flashed a winning smile as she regarded the crustacean-like figure sitting behind the console.

“Yes.  I have that honor.”  Pilot responded in his usual crisp voice.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”  Alana smiled as she held out her hand.

Understanding by now the human gesture of greeting, Pilot held out one of his arms, gently taking the small human hand within his massive claw.  “And it is our pleasure to meet you.”  Pilot responded, referring not only to himself, but also to the Leviathan he was bonded with.

“I look forward to talking to you later on about this bonding process.”  The Marquessa said as she looked about the chamber, noticing the DRD’s going about their business.  “I find it simply fascinating, but for now, I know you’ve got a million things to do.”  Then, changing the subject, she asked, “Did you find the star charts we downloaded into your system helpful?  Are you able to plot a course for Terra?”

“Yes…we found your charts most helpful, Marquessa.”  Pilot replied.  “A course for Terra has been laid in.  We are ready to depart upon your orders.”

“Ok.  Everything’s been loaded and everyone that’s going with us is aboard…so, I guess now’s as good a time as any.”  Then, turning towards her companion.  Alana grinned as she cupped his chin and kissed him.  “Well, John…you ready to go home now?”

***************

As Hooligan slipped out of it’s berth, Aeryn started as she saw the form of the Leviathan that had been her home for two cycles from the view screen in her room.  A tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered her time aboard that vessel and the friends that she had made—one friend in particular.  She wasn’t sure why she didn’t call him to say goodbye—except maybe for the reason that she didn’t want to say goodbye—to admit that it was over between them.  Even now, as Moya receded into the background, Aeryn couldn’t say that word, clinging to the hope that one day her and Crichton would be reunited, and that when that day occurred, they would both be ready.  But until then, she had Dominic.  Looking at the dress lying on the bed, Aeryn smiled warmly.  Chives had spent most of the afternoon fussing over the dress, making sure that it fit her perfectly, and now he was in the kitchen, promising to outdo himself.  Flandry was keeping his promise—he hadn’t touched one of those cigarettes of his since his last one this morning.  Shaking her head in amusement, she promised herself that she would lift him from his obligation after dinner.  “Why not?”  She grinned wryly as she spoke to Moya one last time.  “He’s earned it.”  Then, as she began to put on her dress, she looked one last time at the tiny speck that Moya had become.  “Maybe it’s time to…as John would say…turn the page.  Yes—I think tonight I will.”

***********