There's No Place Like Home: 3
By Joe Smith
SUMMARY:A Farscape / Dominic Flandry crossover
SPOILERS:None
Notes and Disclaimer: See part I
Dominic Flandry looked at his reflection in the mirror with a satisfied grin. His trim, athletic frame easily carried the white silk shirt, black tie, white dinner jacket, red sash around his waist, dark blue trousers with a slender red stripe, and black shoes polished and shined to a mirror finish that he had chosen to wear for tonight’s dinner. Pulling down his jacket, the ace intelligence officer nodded approvingly as he finished his last minute adjustments. “Well, old son…” Flandry grinned as he turned towards the door of his quarters, “It’s time to see whether all the hard work of the last few days has paid off.”
Arriving in the sumptuously decorated galley before his companion, Flandry sat at the mahogany bar nursing his scotch, the Chopin nocturne not really improving his mood. Craving a cigarette, the roguish Terran cursed himself for giving in to that sudden impulsive promise he had made to forgo tobacco for 24 hours. But then suddenly, just as he was finishing off a particularly colorful curse that he had learned several years ago from a grizzled old chief petty officer from New Essex, the doors slid open and she entered, forcing the jaded intelligence officer into silence as his eyes stared transfixed at her loveliness. Her hair was done up as it was at the Governor’s reception and she was wearing a wine red floor length silk evening gown with plunging neckline and a slit on the right side that tantalizingly exposed her calf and thigh as she glided gracefully into the room on red low heeled shoes. A white fur wrap made from the pelts of an ermine like species that was native to Cynosure, gold necklace wrapped around her sinuous neck and matching earrings hanging from perfect ears gleaming as they reflected the gentle lights of the dining room completed the picture of glorious starburst as she approached him.
Recovering from his shock, Flandry flashed a rakish grin. “My God, woman! If I were a lesser man, I’d have died of shock just now! From now on, a new ship’s rule goes into effect—henceforth before you enter a room, a herald and trumpeter must announce you! Otherwise mere mortals such as myself would be helpless before you!” Chuckling gently, the Terran agent stood, motioning his companion towards the stool next to where he sat. “You look lovely, Aeryn. Please, have a seat, I’ll fetch you an aperitif.”
“A…what?” The confused former Peacekeeper asked as she sat down on the stool while her escort went behind the bar to fetch a pair of crystal goblets and a bottle.
“An aperitif.” The hedonistic Terran smiled as he poured a tawny colored liquid into the goblets. “It’s an important part of the dinner ritual. You have it before the actual meal is served. It helps loosen the mood and improve conversation.” Coming back around the bar, Flandry took his seat next to his dinner date, setting one of the little goblets on the bar before her and then setting the other down next to his still unfinished scotch. “This is sherry—try some.”
Experimentally sniffing and then taking a small sip, she found both the taste and aroma most satisfying. Sweet, yet not cloying. Taking another sip, she then smiled as she set the goblet down. “I had no idea you humans had such complex dining rituals—dress, drinks. The only dinner custom I ever saw Crichton engage in was to unbuckle his pants after gorging himself on something he called ‘barbequed keeva’.”
Laughing good naturedly, Flandry took a sip from his sherry before replying, enjoying the warmth of the fine alcohol as it went down his throat. “Well…you never really had time now—did you? You people were constantly on the run, and when John appeared, it was literally with just the clothes on his back and his flight suit. After that, you lot went from one frying pan into another with barely a moment’s rest. Gourmet dinners were probably the furthest thing from his mind.” Smiling as he saw the radiant Aeryn Sun take another sip of her sherry and then chuckle, the Terran continued. “I like dressing for dinner—it adds to the appreciation of the meal. Besides, it’d break Chives’ heart if I didn’t—he puts so much of himself into his work. He really is a master chef, Aeryn. I think you’ll be pleased.”
“When and how did you and Chives meet?” Aeryn asked, curious about her new traveling companion and his funny and kindly alien servant.
“I ran into him a few years ago. He comes from a bronze tech planet called Shalmu.” A dark cloud noticed by the alert Sebacean momentarily crossed Flandry’s face as he continued. “The sector governor where Shalmu is located—a bastard by the name of Aaron Snelund, ran an illegal slave trade. Chives was caught by some of Snelund’s slavers and was purchased by some minor noble who owned some iridium mines.” Snickering, Flandry took another drink as he once again craved a cigarette. “I won Chives, the other miners, and the mines in a poker game in which I cheated.” Laughing gently at the disbelieving look on his companion’s face, Flandry finished. “We’ve been together ever since. I don’t know what I’d do without him sometimes. He’s the best butler, chef, pilot, and bodyguard a man could ask for.”
Just then, the emerald skinned Shalmuan entered. “Sir Dominic? Donna Aeryn? Dinner is served.”
Standing up, the elegant Terran held out an arm for his dinner date. “Well Aeryn…dinner awaits.”
*****************
“That was simply the best steak I’ve ever eaten.” The happy and very full John Crichton sighed gratefully as he loosened his belt buckle after finishing off the 32 ounce Porterhouse steak, baked potato with butter, chives, and sour cream, and fresh baked bread, washing the rich meal down with a cold beer.
“I’m glad you approve.” Alana chuckled as she took the time-displaced astronaut’s arm, leading him away from Moya’s galley.
“Sure beats food cubes and barbequed keeva.” John laughed as the couple walked down the Leviathan’s corridor towards their quarters.
“I’ll make sure to pass on your compliments to Lisa.” The Marquessa smiled back. “I’m so glad I was able to beat out those other people bidding on her…”
“What!” John cried out, a look of righteous outrage on his face as he disengaged from Alana, giving the petite oriental woman an accusatory glare. “You telling me she’s a slave—and that you own her?!”
“Of course she is.” Alana replied, a confused look on her face. “All of my servants are slaves.” Seeing the look on her companion’s face, the Marquessa continued in a firm voice. “You know slavery exists in the Empire, John.”
“Yeah—I know.” The American astronaut replied, the look of disappointment on his face both hurting and angering the Terran aristocrat. “I just didn’t think you’d own any slaves.”
“John…” The Marquessa began, her aristocratic pride warring with the feelings she was beginning to have for the time lost anachronism standing before her. “Do any of my servants look like they’ve been mistreated or abused?” Seeing her companion shake his head, the diminutive woman pressed her attack. “No—because they’re not. And if you don’t believe me—why don’t you talk to them. There’s no bugging devices on Moya—you can talk freely to my people alone or together—I don’t care.” Reaching her quarters, the Marquessa of Centaurus fought to keep the anger out of her voice. “Why don’t you take the time to find out all the facts before you judge me some sort of horrendous monster!” As the door to her quarters opened, the proud noblewoman bid her companion a crisp “Good night”, and then turning her back on him, retired to her room.
*************
“That was great Chiana!” Diana grinned as she hugged the young Nebari woman. “I just loved your moves on the floor—especially this one…” The redheaded Terran flashed a wicked grin as she imitated an especially erotic dance move that Chiana had used during their latest performance. “I think you caught someone’s eye too…” Diana teased as she stepped into the shower and began scrubbing off her body paint.
“ I did.” Chiana answered back with a smug grin. “I’m meeting Vladimir in two hours for a little…private…dinner in his quarters.” The former crewmember of Moya grinned as she talked about the young nobleman whose acquaintance she had made at the bar between dance sets.
“Isn’t he that perfectly scrumptious man with the long brown hair you were talking too earlier?”
“Yeah—that’s him.” Chiana answered, raising her voice slightly in order to be heard over the cascading water.
“Mmmmm…you’ve got good taste.” Diana laughed and then called out once again to her roommate. “Chiana, love? You wanna be a dear and come in here and get my back while I get yours—there’s plenty of room in here for two, you know.”
“Sure, Di.” The young Nebari woman called back as she entered the bathroom of the room that the two dancers shared aboard the luxury liner Empress Kathryn, and then, stripping off her robe, entered the shower.
****************************
Dinner was everything that her host had promised it would be. In spite of herself, Aeryn found to her surprise that she enjoyed the dinner that Flandry said was a Terran crustacean called ‘lobster’, that, upon her host’s advice, she dipped into a sauce that the Terran gourmet said was melted butter with an herb called ‘garlic’. The mixed vegetables were prepared just right—each bite rich in flavor as the natural taste of the broccoli, peas, corn, and carrots mixed with the spices that Chives added. The wine that Flandry recommended—a Moselle—was the perfect accompaniment to the meal. The desert, a pastry the Terran agent described as “key lime pie”, was both tangy and sweet at the same time, its flavor sending the ex-Peacekeeper’s taste buds, unaccustomed to such delicacies, into rapture. “So…” Aeryn smiled warmly as she sipped her coffee—a human beverage that she had grown quite addicted to since her arrival into the Empire—what comes next?”
“Well…” Flandry grinned ruefully as Liszt played in the background, “Normally I’d suggest we retire to the bar for cognac, conversation, and an after dinner cigar…” He then flashed a rueful grin as he gazed appreciatively at his companion, “But since I made a certain lovely lady a promise that I’m duty bound by my oath of chivalry to keep…”
Aeryn laughed with genuine mirth as she saw the twinkle in the Terran officer’s eye. “I think I had better release you from your vow before you go fahrbot on me. Besides…” She said with a warm smile, “I wouldn’t want to do anything to disrupt your precious human dining rituals.”
**************
After his quarrel with the Marquessa, Crichton wandered the dark silent corridors of Moya alone, lost in his thoughts. While he felt that deep inside Alana was a decent person, and he had no doubts that she treated her people well, the thought of her owning slaves struck at a particularly deep part of his soul—that good and decent part of him that hated cruelty and injustice—that part of him that kept him going while both Crais and Scorpius hunted him down—that part of him that bonded him to his friends on Moya and to a certain ex-Peacekeeper who was now light years away from him in the company of a strange man. Hearing the distinctive sound of Rygel’s hoverchair coming from behind him, the lonely astronaut turned around and greeted his tiny companion. “Hey, Buckwheat! You got a few microts?”
“Only a few, Crichton.” The Hynerian royal snapped as he stopped a few paces from the human. “I’d have thought that you would have retired by now, human.”
“I was just thinking, Sparky.” John said in a low voice. “Did you know Alana’s people were slaves?”
“Yes, of course I did.” The dispossessed Dominar spat out. “Any yotz with half a brain could see that they are.” Then, seeing the look on his oft times confusing companion’s face, Rygel’s features softened somewhat. “But any yotz can also see that she treats them well and that they adore her. What’s your problem with it?”
“You have to understand, Rygel…” Crichton began, a note of sadness in his voice, “Where I come from, individual freedom is probably the most important thing we have. My father put his life on the line for that, and I had a great-uncle who died at Normandy for that right. Then, I find out that something I had thought died in our barbaric past is back—with a vengeance, and that someone whom I am growing…attracted to…is a slave owner...”
“So you and the Marquessa had a quarrel…” Rygel prompted.
“Right, Sparky. I told her how I felt and then she told me that I should talk to her people before judging her.”
“So—why don’t you—you yotz.” The tiny Hynerian replied. “Find out what they have to say before you go into the human equivalent of Luxan hyper rage over her being a product of her culture.”
“I think I will.” The human said softly as he raised his head and then smiled as he regarded the Hynerian royal. “Thanks for the advice, Guido.”
“I didn’t do it for you…” Rygel said gruffly. “I did it because I need the Marquessa as an ally if I want to get my throne back. Now go—I have more important matters to tend to than serving as a counselor for bipedal creatures and their dysfunctional relationships.” The dispossessed Dominar harrumphed with a twinkle in his eye as he set his hoverchair in motion once again, leaving his human companion behind.
****************
“Mmmmm…I’m glad you kept our date.” Chiana, dressed tantalizingly in a gauze thin transparent peach gown purred as she sat down at the bar next to her companion, Vladimir Korolenko, the Earl of Ukraine.
“I’m glad you came.” The attractive Terran, a man in his mid-twenties with long brown hair and goatee, wearing a loose fitting beige cotton shirt with matching trousers and slippers, grinned as he stood up for his guest.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” The young Nebari leered as she ordered a drink, a Cynthian liqueur that she had acquired a taste for recently.
“So…would you like to hear what I’ve got planned for this evening, my love…” The Terran nobleman leered back as he offered Chiana a red capsule that was a combination euphoriac and aphrodisiac.
Knowing exactly what her companion was offering her, Chiana smiled as she brushed her hand against Korolenko’s thigh. “So what do you have in mind?” Chiana smirked as she continued to let her hand wander as she swallowed the capsule, feeling its warmth almost immediately.
“Why don’t we take a walk to the Observation Dome and I’ll tell you.” Vladimir grinned back as he took the Nebari’s arm, escorting her from the bar.
****************
“So, Aeryn…you’ve spent a little time amongst humans now…what’s your take on us?” Flandry asked as he took a draw from his cigar, enjoying the taste of the fine tobacco on his palate.
“You are a most bizarre people.” Aeryn replied with a straight face as she sipped her cognac, feeling its liquid warmth course through her system.
“Oh, I quite agree with you…we are.” The Terran agent replied as he swirled the cognac in his snifter, inhaling its luxurious fragrance before sipping. “But then all sentient species are strange to those outsiders trying to figure them out.”
Remembering her experiences since joining the crew of Moya, Aeryn nodded her head in agreement. “Peacekeeper training never really dealt with other races—except for their weaknesses and strengths in combat.”
Quickly replaying his interview and conversations with her, as well as the recordings from Moya’s databanks and his interviews with her companions, Flandry nodded his head. “That’s right. You’re people weren’t much for xenological studies. But then, highly militaristic cultures like yours tend not to be. In many ways, your people remind me of the ancient Spartans on Terra.”
“Who?” Aeryn asked, a look of genuine confusion on her face.
Chuckling with good humor, the human officer took another draw from his cigar and another sip from his cognac before telling his Sebacean companion all about the ancient Spartans and how their entire society was oriented towards war and battle. “And before her son or husband went off to battle…” Flandry concluded, grinning at how Aeryn was holding on to his every word, “The woman would give him his shield telling him to, ‘Come back with it or on it,’ in other words, he was to either come back victorious—or dead. Neither retreat nor surrender were acceptable options to these people.”
Thinking back to the exhortations of drill instructors and past commanders to never accept defeat, to fight until the last breath, Aeryn nodded her head knowingly. “You’re right, Dominic. These ancient ‘Spartans’ are very similar to us. But still, you humans are most bizarre. For instance, even though I have translator microbes and I now understand your Anglic, some of your expressions—and almost all of Crichton’s—are incomprehensible to me.”
“That’s because they’re all rooted in our culture, Aeryn.” Flandry smiled back, understandingly. “Just as you have expressions that we wouldn’t understand. But once you understand something about us and where we come from, I think you’ll find that you’ll start making some sense of us—not completely though…” The experienced Terran agent shook his head and then took a last, satisfying draw from his cigar before letting it die out in its ashtray. “Because we are two different species that evolved separately and so have different frames of reference, it’s impossible to get completely in each others’ head.” Then grinning, Flandry finished, “But you don’t have to understand us completely to get an idea of who and what we humans are. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have, and Hooligan’s library banks are well stocked with a selection of text, video, and audio works from throughout humanity’s history. Why don’t you take the opportunity to study some of them while we’re enroute to your Uncharted Territories? It’ll take a few weeks for Hooligan to get there—even at her fastest speed—and this baby is fast. And while you’re doing that, you can help me begin to understand something of your people and the races that you’ve encountered—deal?”
“Agreed.” The ex-Peacekeeper nodded her head and sipped her drink as a Strauss waltz played in the background.
“Excellent!” Dominic beamed back. “And I think that the best way to start your lessons is by teaching you how to dance.” He grinned as he stood up, stretching out his hand to his companion.
“Dance?” Aeryn asked, a confused look returning to her face as she once again encountered a bizarre human custom.
“Yep.” Flandry chuckled at the expression on his date’s face, “Dance. Think of it as a form of unarmed combat exercise—only the point of it is to have fun—not hurt anyone.” The Terran chuckled again as he took his companion’s hand and led her to a clear space of floor next to a large view port displaying the stars gleaming, brightening the dark night. “If it’s alright with you, we’ll start with a waltz—it’s a simple dance easy to learn.” The worldly Terran smiled warmly as he took the beautiful Sebacean woman’s hands. “Just trust me.”
After some hesitation in which Aeryn slowly adjusted to her partner taking the lead, she soon found herself enjoying the subtle movements and the gentle music, and it didn’t take long before Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper, Ikarian Company, Pleisar Regiment, found herself, to her great enjoyment and astonishment, dancing her first waltz.
************
Coming into the hangar bay, Crichton found the person he was looking for. A grizzled, scarred man who looked in his late forties-early fifties, with close cropped blond hair now touched with gray, sat on a crate sharpening a wicked looking combat knife. Approaching the man, who he had recognized as one of the four toughs who had boarded the ship with Alana, Crichton smiled in greeting. “Hey.”
“Yeah, mate.” The man looked up momentarily, irritation at having been disturbed evident in his face.
“Sorry to bug you, man…but I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions?”
“Shoot.” The other man responded as he went back to sharpening his knife.
Taking a deep breath, John blurted out his question. “How long have you been a slave of the Marquessa’s?”
Looking up again, the hardened tough appraised his questioner. “About five years now—what’s it to ya?”
“I was just curious about how you came to be a slave—if you don’t mind me asking.” Crichton, fighting down the rattlesnakes, forced himself to continue his interrogation.
“Pull up a seat and I’ll tell ya.” The other man said as he motioned towards the crate next to him. As the time-displaced astronaut took his seat, the knife wielding man began his tale. “Ya see, I was a Marine gunnery-sergeant stationed on Freehold. Another ten years service, I’d have had my pension and retired back home—maybe opened up a cutlery shop. Had a wife I loved more than life itself…” The ex-Marine’s voice choked up momentarily as he mentioned his wife. Then, quickly regaining control, he continued. “Problem was, my CO took a fancy to her. Well, the bastard arranged for me to be sent on a high-risk mission, and while I was away, he made off with my wife—doped her up so that she did whatever he wanted her to do, then killed her when he was done. Thing was—he didn’t count on me survivin’. I found out what happened an’ burst into his office with my blaster—I made sure to set it low enough so that it would melt his face off before it killed the bastard.” The man smiled grimly as he set his knife down.
“I see.” Crichton said softly, stunned by the man’s story.
“No you don’t.” The older man growled. “You see, a man like me—I ain’t no pretty boy, so I don’t have to worry about some brothel picking me up—lessen’ they need a bouncer. An’ it ain’t too likely that some rich lady lookin’ for a boy toy’s gonna wanna buy me for a little fun an’ games. So, if I’m lucky, some noble’ll buy me as a bodyguard, an’ maybe he won’t decide to have me brain conditioned first. More likely, I end up either in radioactive mines, or workin’ on some planet with a corrosive atmosphere—or maybe in some aristo’s private arena. The Little Lady just happened to find out about me and bought me. When I was brought before her, she told me that if I served her well, she’d restore my pension, and once I’d completed my ten years, she’d free me and help me get set up in business back home.” Flashing a thin smile, the man continued, “It’s just like bein’ in the Marines—I get a regular paycheck, time off, an’ the Little Lady’s a good boss.”
“What about the others?” Crichton asked, curious.
“Similar stories.” The grizzled veteran shrugged his shoulders. “Some of us were falsely accused, some sold illegally into slavery. Take Lisa…” He said as he returned to his knife. “Her family sold her to pay off debts. It’s illegal, but people do it anyway. Well, The Lady found out about her an’ outbid three brothels for her. Lisa’s savin’ up her money an’ learnin’ all she can about bein’ a master chef. The Marquessa told her that when she got enough money set aside to buy off her freedom, she’d help set her up in a restaurant back on Terra as a silent partner. We all love the Little Lady—she’d do anything for us an’ we feel the same about her.” The older man then chuckled as he shook his head. “Yeah…she likes her pretty boys, an’ every once in a while she’ll buy one. But she takes good care of ‘em, an’ when she’s done with ‘em, she doesn’t sell ‘em off ta brothels or to old hags or sadists who’ll mistreat ‘em. She makes sure that their new owners’ll treat ‘em right—an’ she makes a tidy profit too. She’s a smart one—she is.” Then, glancing back up at the rugged ex-astronaut, the old veteran smirked. “But you ain’t no pretty boy. The Little Lady really likes you.” Then, taking his knife, he pointed it at Crichton in a gesture that, while not immediately threatening, was most definitely intimidating. “It’d be a shame if you were ta hurt her—none of us here would like that.”
“I think I understand.” John gulped as he got up, now even more confused than he was earlier.
“That’s good. Understanding’s a good thing—it helps you live longer.” The hard-bitten man said in an even voice as he sheathed his knife and got up.
*************
As the waltz finished, Aeryn stood in Flandry’s arms, breathless. This evening was unlike any that she’d ever known. The dinner, their clothing, the alcohol, the witty conversation, the dancing, and the view of space from the large view port all conspired to render the tormented ex-Peacekeeper helpless as she gazed into the gray eyes of the man who was now holding her in his arms. As he brought his lips down, she found hers being pulled up towards him as they met—first gently grazing each other, then a light kiss, and then Aeryn surrendered as their lips locked and their tongues met.
*****************
Stopping momentarily at his quarters to pick up his guitar, Crichton then made his way to the Terrace where he could idly strum to himself while trying to figure out what he should do about what he had just heard and about his growing feelings for the alluring oriental woman that he found himself falling for more and more. As he opened the door, he found Alana standing there, looking at space. “I’m sorry…” John blurted out. “I didn’t mean to disturb you…I’ll go now.”
As he turned to leave, the lonely aristocrat called back. “No, John…don’t go…stay…please.” Turning back, the time-displaced astronaut returned. “I know it’s not comfortable, but please join me.” Alana smiled wanly as she sat down on the floor.
“Thanks, Alana.” John smiled back as he sat next to her. “Ummmm…I talked to some of your people like you said…”
“So…” The Marquessa’s lips trembled, “Am I some sort of soulless ogre because I keep slaves?”
“No…” John shook his head gently, taking her hand. “You’re no monster. You’re a good and kind woman who I’m really beginning to go for…but please, don’t ask for my approval. I know you’ve saved these people from a whole lot worse, and I know you’re not a bad person, but you gotta understand, it’s the institution itself that’s evil. You see, Alana, it doesn’t just demean the slave—it dehumanizes the slave owner as well.” Seeing that his words had their desired effect, John smiled warmly at his companion who now rested her head on his shoulder. Feeling moist teardrops, Crichton smiled warmly as he kissed the Marquessa’s forehead. “I remember you telling me that you wanted to hear me sing a song for you—well, if you still want me to, I’ve got one for you…”
“Please, John.” Alana smiled as she adjusted her position to give her companion room to play his guitar.
“Ok, Sweetheart…here goes nothing…” Smiling warmly John began to play, his rich voice combining with the notes he strummed soon filling the Terrace with sound.
It's the time of the season
When love runs high
In this time, give it to me easy
And let me try
With pleasured hands
To take you in the sun to
Promised lands
To show you every one
It's the time of the season for loving...
What's your name?
Who's your daddy?
Is he rich like me?
Has he taken any time
To show you what you need to live?
Tell it to me slowly
Tell you what I really want to know
It's the time of the season for loving...
Then John ceased singing, his fingers strumming the chords of the instrumental portion of the song from memory, until it was time for him to once again sing the chorus.
What's your name?
Who's your daddy?
Is he rich like me?
Has he taken any time
To show you what you need to live?
Tell it to me slowly
Tell you what I really want to know
It's the time of the season for loving...
His song ended, John allowed the final chords to die gently as he took in the sight of the beautiful Marquessa Centaurus, tears rolling down her cheeks. Then, setting the guitar gently down, he reached over, and taking her gently into his arms, kissed her.
****************
As Aeryn woke from her languorous slumber, she nuzzled the hard bare chest of the man lying next to her. The past few weeks had been a blur for the former Peacekeeper. Her mornings began with a strenuous workout in the gym with her partner. While his skill, experience, conditioning, and cunning resulted in him winning most of their bouts, Aeryn took consolation in the fact that she was constantly improving, as she learned the human martial arts skills that Flandry was more than willing to teach her, while she in turn taught him how to execute a Pantak jab and kick—techniques that Crichton—while an attentive pupil, had never quite mastered.
After their workout and mutual shower, it was time for breakfast—and more of the human coffee that the Sebacean woman had grown so fond of. Then, her day varied. Sometimes she would talk to Flandry and Chives about the races that inhabited her end of the galaxy, trying as best she could to explain the political, social, and cultural situation. Other times, much to her great pleasure, either Flandry or Chives would take her into the pilot’s section of the Hooligan, teaching her how to fly and fight the fleet and well-armed speedster.
Most often though, at Flandry’s urging, she found herself studying the Hooligan’s library banks, trying to learn as much as she could about humans in an effort to understand both Flandry and her separated companion whose presence constantly intruded into her thoughts. As she read the texts, watched the holovids, and listened to the audio recordings, she couldn’t help but be struck at how contradictory and confusing a race humanity was. She found that humans could be a warrior race that rivaled…no…exceeded…the Peacekeepers in courage, ferocity, and ruthlessness—images of the Battle of Denebola where the Terran Navy dealt a severe defeat to the Merseians during the reign of Pedro II showed humanity at its most courageous while pictures of the Nazi Holocaust, of the Cambodian killing fields, of the orbital bombardment and sterilization of Maris III illustrated that human beings were more than capable of matching the Peacekeepers in cruelty and evil. But at the same time, Aeryn marveled at how Crichton and Flandry’s people produced a Buddha, a Christ, a Mother Theresa, a Martin Luther King, a Gandhi, and so many others of all races and creeds, all devoted to peace and beauty. As she sat enraptured at the sounds of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, and then as she cried at a holvid of “Romeo and Juliet”, she saw, in many ways, her own situation, not only with Crichton, but also with Velorek, in that tragic tale of two lovers doomed by fate, poor timing, and their own tragic flaws.
As Aeryn lay in bed, John’s image once again crowded out her thoughts. She remembered the first time they met in one of Moya’s cells, chuckling inwardly as she recalled the mental picture of her straddling him. She then remembered how he had come to her aid after Namtar had infected her with Pilot’s DNA, and of their explosive encounter when their transport pod was trapped by the Flax and, their oxygen supply all but depleted, thinking themselves dead, they had surrendered to their physical yearnings only to be interrupted by D’Argo. ‘It always seemed as if there was some force intentionally impeding us.’ Aeryn thought ruefully as she then replayed the incidents that led up to John’s marriage on the Royal Planet and of how she had almost lost him forever. ‘Now I have…’ The troubled Sebacean sighed as she gazed at the Terran officer lying next to her, snoring softly as he slept. Forcing John’s image from her mind as she wiped a tear from her eye, Aeryn, needing physical release from her emotional torment, suddenly climbed on top of her new lover, showering his face with kisses as she straddled him.
“Huh…wha…” Flandry stammered as he awakened to the sight of the lovely Aeryn Sun’s nude body on top of him, kissing and nipping his face and chest. “Mmmmm…Aeryn….” Flandry grinned, his gray eyes gazing into those of his lover as he stroked her back with soft caresses. “Again? Not that I’m not flattered, but don’t you ever rest, or are you just insatiable.”
“Shut…the frell up…Dominic…” Aeryn breathed between her urgent kisses and nips, “And…just…make love…to me!”
******************
“Commander Crichton?”
“Yes Pilot.” The human member of Moya’s misfit crew replied softly as he sat in the chamber of Moya’s bonded pilot, wearing nothing but his Calvin shorts, softly strumming his guitar.
“We are due to arrive in the Terran Solar System in 24 arns. It is now 0100 Terran Standard Time. May I ask what you are doing up at such a late hour…is all well with you?” The soulful face of the large crustacean reflected his deep concern for the man who, while he might have started out as an unwilling and somewhat inept at times member of this hodgepodge crew, had quickly proved himself a resourceful and courageous individual who had more than pulled his own weight during their two cycles together.
“I’m fine, Pilot. I just needed a little quiet time.”
“I’m…sorry…to have intruded, Commander. Please, stay as long as you like.”
“Thanks Pilot.” A wan smile crossed the human’s face as he saw the look of concern on the face of the being in front of him. “You mind if I play a song?”
“Please.” Pilot responded, a note of pleasure in his voice. “Moya would like you to play as well.”
Smiling sadly as he pictured Aeryn in his mind, John began to softly sing:
Well no one told me about her, the way she lied
Well no one told me about her, how many people cried
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there
Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there
Well no one told me about her, what could I do
Well no one told me about her, though they all knew
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there
Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there
Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there
As John finished his sad song, the door opened and his new lover, Alana Murakawa, Marquessa Centaurus, walked in wearing a pastel kimono over her transparent negligee. Stopping behind her man, the alluring bronze skinned woman encircled him with her arms, gently kissing the back of his neck. “What are doing up so late, John? We have a busy day tomorrow—you’re going home, you know.”
“I know, hon.” John smiled back as he took on of her hands, and raising it to his lips, kissed it. Then, turning around, he held her loosely in his arms as he bent down to kiss the petite woman. “I was just feelin’ a little restless and didn’t wanna disturb you—you were looking so lovely lyin’ there.” And she was, John admitted to himself as he recalled the image of the beautiful Terran aristocrat lying in bed beside him asleep, her naked body half covered by the soft bed linen, the rest of her soft brown skin exposed, begging for his caresses. ‘Well…’ Crichton thought sadly as he gazed into the Marquessa’s deep brown eyes. ‘How does that old saying go? If you can’t be with the one you love—then love the one you’re with.’
Seeing her paramour’s mood beginning to improve, Alana stroked his cheek and kissed him again. “Let’s go to back to bed, John,” Then, taking his hand, she led the rugged astronaut away from Moya’s Pilot who was already plotting the Leviathan’s course through the crowded space lanes of the home system of the Terran Empire.
****************
Trailing gentle kisses along the back of her gray skinned roommate, dance partner, and lover, Diana, stopping as she reached the small of her partner’s back, smiled warmly as she regarded the sleeping form of the young Nebari, before working her way back up to her neck again with another stream of gentle kisses. “Morning, lover.” Diana chuckled softly as Chiana turned over, groaning from the Cynthian liqueur that she had drunk the night before at the orgy thrown by Vladimir Korolenko where she and her partner had danced. “Hungover, are we?” Diana laughed as she snatched away the pillow that Chiana used to cover her head in a futile effort to stop the infernal pounding. “Well…I have the perfect cure for that.” The redheaded dancer purred as she licked her lips.
“So…” Diana said in a soft voice as she gently stroked her Nebari lover. “Feeling better now?”
“Mmmmm…much.” Chiana answered back as she nuzzled in closer, basking in her lover’s warmth.
“That’s nice.” Diana whispered back as she stretched her sinuous body. “You know, we haven’t seen that much of each other in the last couple of weeks.”
“I know.” The young Nebari dancer flashed an evil grin. “I’ve been busy with Vladimir, while I know you’ve been keeping company with a certain naval officer.”
“Yeah.” The captivating redhead laughed back as she sat up on the bed and reaching for the herbal cigarettes lying on the end table next to her, offered one to her partner. Lighting Chiana’s first, Diana then lit hers, and drawing deeply, exhaled a steady stream of smoke before speaking. “So…you hooking up with Vladimir when we reach Terra?”
“Yeah…sort of.” Chiana smiled back as the young Nebari, not used to smoking, took in a small amount of smoke, not inhaling, instead allowing it to caress her palate before exhaling.
“You’re still moving in with me…aren’t you?” The human asked, a note of worry in her voice.
“Oh yes!” Her lover replied in a reassuring tone as she ran her fingers through the human’s shoulder length red hair. “Vladimir has a fiancé—an arranged marriage, you know. Besides…” Chiana sighed inwardly with relief as she saw the look of relief that crossed Diana’s face, “I’m looking forward to you showing me all the sights you’ve been raving about in…what was the name of your home again? Paris?”
Nodding her head in confirmation, Diana smiled back. “I can’t wait to take you to this little bistro I like to go to whenever I’m home. They have a band that plays old jazz and they serve fresh ground coffee, and…”
*********************
“Well, Aeryn…” Flandry flashed a cocky grin as he regarded his companion, now clad in her usual black leather top and pants, her pulse rifle slung as it had been so many times before in the past, the Terran needle gun in an ankle holster a new addition at the insistence of her partner. “You ready?”
Shaking her head in disbelief at the dress of her companion—a loose fitting, flowing light blue shirt that easily concealed the blaster holstered at his waist, white pants, and black boots that hid a needle gun in an ankle holster similar to that worn by Aeryn, the ex- Peacekeeper asked, chuckling wryly, “And what exactly are we supposed to be again?”
Grinning at the look on his partner’s face, Flandry answered. “Simple. I’m a merchant from one of the Sebacean colonies you were telling me about, and you’re my body guard and mistress.”
“All right.” Aeryn said in a matter of fact voice. “And why are we using this ruse?”
“Well…this is what you call a commerce planet—right?” Seeing his companion’s nod, Flandry cracked another crooked grin. “So, the best way to get the layout of the place is to—commerce. Now, if we were to go down there wearing those Peacekeeper uniforms we took with us, then all we’d get would be a bunch of hostile looks and not much information. Also, if we should run into Peacekeepers groundside and we’re wearing those uniforms, there’s a good chance they’re going to ask a bunch of embarrassing questions.
“But Sebacean merchants aren’t exactly that common, Dominic.” Aeryn replied, a note of doubt still in her voice as she remembered the tragic results of the last time she tried a masquerade with Crichton
“True, but as you told me, they do exist. It’s easier and in the long run safer and more productive passing ourselves off as merchants than as soldiers.” Grinning, Flandry’s voice took on the tone a teacher uses with a particularly bright, but uninformed, pupil. “You see Aeryn…the trick of the undercover game is to pick a cover that not only conceals, but is also useful. I’ll have some initial problems until people see me as one of those rare Sebacean merchants, but once they do, all sorts of doors open up. Information is just like booze—it’s a commodity that can be bought and sold, and a merchant’s job is to buy and sell—understand?”
“And what about me?” Aeryn asked, curious as to her role.
“Well, if all goes as it should, you’ll quickly fade into the background—the merchants and customers will very quickly dismiss the bodyguard for the new player in town—which is a good thing because people say all sorts of things around those they view as social inferiors. For instance, if you want to know what’s really going on in Countess Verrucci’s bedroom, you don’t ask her brother or sister—you ask the maid and the cook. There’s an old Terran saying that goes, ‘The walls have ears.’ As we go along, you’ll find there’s a lot of truth in that. While they might hold back on letting spill some juicy tidbits in front of me, they might just let something slip where you can hear.” Smiling as he saw that his new protégé had understood his lecture, Flandry then concluded as he checked his chronometer. “Chives should have finished loading the launch by now with some trade goods, so we had best be going.” Then, arm in arm, the two lovers made their way to the awaiting launch.
*************
As they saw the blue and white globe growing on the viewscreen, D’Argo and Zhaan talked quietly among themselves. “It is beautiful, is it not, sweet D’Argo?” Zhaan asked gently as she stroked her friend’s arm.
“It is—if you come from there.” D’Argo replied curtly. “But to me, it’s just another planet.”
“I know it hasn’t been easy for you, D’Argo, but at least the Marquessa has agreed to help you in your quest to find your son—is that not something to be thankful for?”
Nodding his head, D’Argo replied in a low voice. “It is, Zhaan—it is. I just want to begin looking for my son. I do not like this Empire—it’s soft, and the humans are a decadent people seeking only pleasure.” Softening his tone as he glanced at Crichton talking with the Marquessa, D’Argo continued. “Not all humans, of course. Crichton is a warrior and a man of honor—but then he comes from his people’s past, before they became corrupted. And yes, the Marquessa has a core of honor, but she is also decadent…” The Luxan warrior pointedly looked at one of the Marquessa’s servants who had come in to deliver a message, referring to the fact that the Terran aristocrat was a slave owner.
“You might be right, sweet D’Argo, but for now, we’re dependent on her and her people. You should remember that.” Zhaan concluded as she turned her gaze back towards the growing form of the Earth.
“You know, Alana, I’d given up hope on ever seeing the old girl again.” John sighed as he took in the view of the Earth.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” The captivating oriental woman, now wearing a long, flowing peach blouse and matching slacks, agreed as she clung to his arm.
“Nothin’ like it.” The former astronaut smiled as he made out the shape of the North American continent. “So…when do we land?”
“Soon.” The Marquessa chuckled at her lover’s impatience. “We’ll take a transport pod to my family estate on Honshu, then, after we get settled, you and I have to take a flitter to Colorado—I have an appointment with Admiral Kheraskhov at Admiralty Center, and I have a feeling once he reads the dispatches that Dominic, Mackenzie-Faulkes, Uncle Rupert, and I have written, he’s gonna want to speak with you.”
“Should I be looking forward to this?” Crichton asked, a note of concern in his voice.
Her musical laughter lightening the mood of not just the time-displaced astronaut, but also that of his companions, Alana smiled. “If he goes for what we’ve cooked up—and I think he will—Vassili always was one for taking chances—even though he doesn’t show it, I think you’re gonna be surprised.”
*****************
“All packed, Chiana? The launch leaves in half an hour!” Diana called back to her partner as she finished packing her last suitcase.
“Just finished, Di!” The gray skinned woman answered as she appeared at the door with a pair of suitcases.
“Great!” The alluring redhead smiled as she regarded the svelte form of the beautiful alien that she had first met at d’Hauteville’s reception a month ago. For some reason that the jaded Terran dancer couldn’t understand, she had been instantly drawn to this captivating creature whom she had taken under her wing. The young Nebari possessed that rare mixture of an innocent seeming face and appearance with a smoldering sexuality that blazed with a fire and passion that attracted almost everyone they met. Their month together had been both a very profitable and enjoyable one as the two women clicked on numerous levels. “The steward should be here soon.” Then, joining Chiana, she encircled her waist with her arms. “Well, love…you ready for Paris?”
“Yeah.” Chiana grinned back, “But is Paris ready for me?”
*****************
As their flitter set down at Admiralty Center, nestled deep in the Colorado Rockies, John remembered wistfully the last time he had been to the Rockies. It was an extended holiday, and he, Alex, DK, and DK’s girlfriend at the time—Akiko—John recalled with a chuckle, had all gotten together to go camping. He then shed a single tear as he remembered Alex’s reaction to the snow covered peaks and how DK had quickly taken out a sketchpad to draw them.
“You ok, John?” His lover, Alana, asked solicitously as she placed a soft hand on his.
“Yeah, darlin’.” John replied softly, I was just reminiscing.”
“Well…why don’t you tell me about it? It might help.”
Chuckling at how often he had uttered similar words to a certain Sebacean woman who was now light-years away, John smiled as he told Alana about his weekend in the mountains so long ago with friends now long dead and forgotten, his mood improving as he recounted the details of that time with, for all he knew, a woman who could easily be a descendent of either Alex, DK, or Akiko.
The onboard computer, guiding their craft through the dense air traffic surrounding what was in many ways far more the heart of the Empire than the Imperial Court itself, brought the flitter to a smooth landing where the Terran aristocrat and her escort were greeted by a polite young lieutenant who then escorted them to Vice Admiral Kheraskhov’s office.
As they entered the admiral’s office, Crichton was struck by the simplicity of its furnishings. The room was large and lushly carpeted, with a vid screen on one wall, a few two dimensional pictures of what were apparently family displayed on some shelves in one corner, a small bar occupying the other corner. The rear wall was an animated screen currently showing a three-dimensional image of Jupiter as seen by an approaching ship, the Red Spot prominently displayed. The Admiral himself was a large barrel chested man with a shock of white hair and bright, intelligent blue eyes. “Ah…’Lana! It’s so good to see you again! Please, be seated!” Then, turning his attention to the time-displaced astronaut currently holding the Marquessa’s hand, the hard-bitten Terran admiral looked the younger man over carefully, and, liking what he saw, grinned broadly. “And you must be John Crichton. Have a seat, young man.” Kheraskhov commanded as he motioned towards one of the chairs positioned in front of the large oak desk. “You’ve taken quite a roundabout route home.”
“Thank you, Sir.” John replied politely as he took the seat next to Alana, who, with a smile, handed her parcels to the head of Terran Naval Intelligence.
“Thanks, ‘La.” Kheraskhov growled in a low voice as he took the papers and began reading them. “I was surprised that you didn’t come in with that rogue Flandry…” The admiral allowed a sly grin to cross his face as he mentioned the name of one of his best—and most troublesome—agents. “But it seems that he’s already found a means to get himself into trouble.”
Speaking quickly to defend her colleague and occasional bed partner, Alana started, “Captain Flandry felt that he needed to act. He was worried that, because of the slowness of communications…”
“Some devil or other might bite us on the behind while we’re collectively scratching it.” Kheraskhov finished laughing. “Oh…I’m not pissed at him, La. He just did what I or his immediate superior would have ordered him to do anyway—he easily saved us two months of time.” Then, returning to the dispatches, he continued to read for several minutes. “So he took this Aeryn Sun with him?”
“Yes, Sir.” Crichton interjected, not successfully hiding the note of concern in his voice.
Looking up from his papers, the older man regarded the rugged brown haired man sitting across from him, and then glanced at the lovely oriental woman next to him. “I think I understand.” Then, seeing once again the look in Crichton’s eyes, Kheraskhov said sympathetically, “It’s a good move on Flandry’s part. He needed a guide…someone who’s familiar with the terrain. It’s better than his usual MO of going out alone and stirring up the pot to see what comes up. And, from what I’ve read of this woman, she’s got a level head on her shoulders…she’ll do just fine with him. They should both keep each other out of trouble.” ‘As for what’s really bothering you, young man…’ The more experienced Kheraskhov thought inwardly, ‘All I can say is that Alana’s the perfect cure for a man with a broken heart.’
“You’re right, Sir.” John said quietly as Alana squeezed his hand.
“As for the other matters, Alana, it’s fortunate that Rupert and Mackenzie-Faulkes are stationed in that sector. If things do go badly, Mackenzie-Faulkes has plausible deniability in that she can tell a board of inquiry that she was merely following the orders of the Governor-General, while Rupert’s at the point now where he can tell Policy Board and even the Emperor to sod off and there’s not much they can do about it. Looks like you and Flandry have cooked up a good plan here. And as for the other matter…” Kheraskhov then looked slyly at John, “I should be able to swing that too. I’ll have to take care of some formalities, and there’s this whole matter of Donna Sun not being an Imperial citizen, but I should be able to push it through—D’Aubisson owes me a few favors—I think I’ll cash one in. Come back in…oh…3 hours and everything should be in order.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” The Marquessa smiled as she rose from her seat, holding out her hand to be kissed.
“What was that all about?” Crichton asked as they walked down the corridor back to their flitter, a note of worry in his voice as he tried to figure out what his lover was scheming now.
“It’s a little surprise.” Alana grinned slyly as she kissed the back of John’s hand. “You’ll find out in a few hours.”
******************
While they waited, John and Alana took a leisurely walk outside the grounds of Admiralty Central. John, seeing the mountains, was once again awestruck by their majesty.
“They’ve been here before we human beings came into the world…and they’ll still be here when we’ve been long forgotten.” Alana sighed as she took her lover’s hand.
“It sort of puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?” John said in a soft, reverent voice.
“Yes, John…it does.” The beautiful Terran aristocrat smiled sadly as she thought about not just her own mortality, but also about how all things must end one day. “One day, the Empire will be nothing more than a faded memory…everything—music, literature, art—everything—will just disappear.”
“Like my world…” John finished, a tear in his eye, “A bunch of recordings and a few scattered documents…” Then, facing his lover, the time-displaced astronaut asked, “Is that all there is to it?”
“I don’t know, John…I just don’t know.” Then, struggling to break free of the dark cloud that had enveloped both of them, Alana smiled impishly, “But, tell you what…I’ll make a deal with you—if I should find out, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”
Seeing what his lover was trying to do, John smiled back. “Deal—and if I beat you to it, I’ll tell you first.”
“Done and done!” Alana chuckled as the two shook hands sealing their deal. “Now, I think it’s time for us to be getting back to Vassili—he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
As the two lovers returned to Kheraskov’s office, they found him standing behind his desk, a piece of paper in his hands. Clearing his throat, the barrel chested man began to speak in a formal voice, “His Imperial Majesty, Josip the Second, High Emperor of the Terran Empire, Supreme Guardian of the Pax, Grand Director of the Stellar Council, Commander in Chief, Final Arbiter, etc., to our trusty and beloved John Robert Crichton. Greeting: We do by these presents constitute and appoint you to be Lieutenant Commander, Reserve, in our Navy…” As Crichton’s jaw literally dropped at the news, Alana’s musical laughter almost overwhelmed Kheraskov’s solemn pronouncement. “Reserve commission to be activated…” Kheraskhov then glanced at his watch, noting the time, “1803 hours, 11 October. Branch of assignment—Imperial Naval Intelligence. Commanding Officer, Vice Admiral Vassili Mikhailovich Kheraskhov.” Finishing, Kheraskhov extended his hand to the dumbfounded Crichton. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander.”
Then, setting the first paper down, the Terran admiral read from another paper. “Orders to Lieutenant Commander John Robert Crichton. You are hereby requested and required to take command of His Majesty’s Leviathan Class Vessel, Moya, proceeding with all due haste to the area of space known as the Uncharted Territories to conduct reconnaissance operations in cooperation with Captain Sir Dominic Flandry, Imperial Naval Intelligence, and Lieutenant Aeryn Sun. Your orders are to determine if a threat to Imperial security does exist within this sector, and if so, the nature and severity of that threat.” Then, presenting a pair of sealed envelopes to the newly minted captain of Moya, Kheraskhov continued, “These sealed dispatches are to be delivered to Governor General Rupert d’Hauteville and Fleet Admiral Allison Mackenzie-Faulkes upon your arrival at Cynosure.”
Laughing to himself as he saw the expression on the still stunned Commander’s face, Kheraskhov, clearing his throat, used his best ‘junior officer intimidating’ voice, “Well, Lieutenant Commander…do you understand your orders? Do you have any questions?”
“You better answer him.” Alana teased. “The Admiral doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“That’ll be enough out of you, young lady.” Kheraskhov growled, a twinkle to his eyes. “You might be Marquessa Centaurus, but I can still put you over my knee and give you a good spanking.”
Seeing the mischievous twinkle in his lover’s eyes, Crichton quickly interjected as he imagined her probable retort, “I do have a couple of questions sir…”
“Well, Commander…” Kheraskhov tapped his desk, feigning impatience.
“Why?”
“Why the commission?” The Admiral allowed a slight grin to cross his face. “Simple. When the decision was made to commission Moya, she needed a commanding officer. The Marquessa suggested that, instead of putting in some officer who would have to be trained in how to deal with an organic vessel and her bonded pilot, it would be better to place an individual who was already well familiar with this ship. And as you are, by birth, already a Terran citizen, I was able to secure a reserve commission for you.”
“Yes, Sir. I guess I understand, but…wait a minute…did you call Aeryn, ‘lieutenant’?”
Grinning once again, Kheraskhov nodded his head. “Yes I did, Mr. Crichton. As a commissioned officer, she can legally commandeer certain resources should she have to and Captain Flandry is otherwise unable to do so. However, as a non-citizen, the highest commissioned rank I can secure for her is that of lieutenant—and I had to call in a few more favors to accomplish that…” The Terran admiral looked pointedly at the Marquessa as he admitted that. “Donna Sun will just have to get used to the fact that you outrank her—but from what I’ve read about her in her dossier, I’d strongly suggest that you not press the point unless you have to. I’d hate to have to read of her court martial for threatening a superior officer.” Then, returning to the chair behind his desk, the head of Terran Naval Intelligence sat down. “Here’s the paperwork officially notifying Ms. Sun of her commission and her activation and confirming her current mission. You may give it to her when you see her. And as for your departure, you’re scheduled to leave at 0800 hours on the 17th. Until that time, you’re officially on liberty. Dismissed.”
As Alana took the still stupefied Crichton by the arm to lead him out of the office, Kheraskhov called back. “Oh, Lieutenant Commander…one last item.”
“Yes, Sir.” John answered as he slowly began to recover.
“The next time you report to me, it had better be in regulation uniform.”
“Yes, Sir.” Crichton automatically answered as the couple left the office of his new commanding officer to Alana’s amused laughter as she accompanied him.
*****************
The Peacekeeper Command Carrier under the command of the half-Scarran, half-Sebacean, Scorpius had been searching this region of space in vain for a monthan when Lieutenant Braca, fighting back his fear, approached. “Sir, our patrols are returning…no trace can be found of the Leviathan or her crew.”
“I see…Braca. Prepare to set course for the next sector and resume search pattern.”
“Sir…with all due respect…” His training overcoming his dread of his dangerous superior, Braca continued his protest, “We’ve already proceeded further than any known vessel. Isn’t it safe to assume that Moya and all aboard have been lost?”
Looking down on his subordinate condescendingly, Scorpius permitted a cold thin smile to cross his lips. “Maybe…but I think not…Crichton would not…permit…that to happen. Continue the search pattern.”
“Yes, Sir.” Braca confirmed as he turned to issue the appropriate orders. But before he could do so, he received a communication from the carrier’s tactical officer. “Sir…”
As the half-Scarran turned towards the lieutenant, Braca continued his report, “Tactical reports two disturbances in local space…one approximately 500 metras away, the other 200.” Turning toward the viewscreen, both men were shocked as two ships entered normal space, one considerably larger than their command carrier, the other only slightly smaller. “Sir…” Braca interjected, a note of surprise in his voice. The more distant vessel has charged its weapons and has fired.” Just then, a beam of energy crossed the bow of the stationary command carrier, stunning both Peacekeepers. “I’m receiving a communication from the larger ship, Sir.”
“Put it on. Let’s meet our new friends.” Scorpius said in a low voice as the implication of what he had just witnessed sunk in—whoever these beings were, they were far more advanced than the Peacekeepers.
A stocky half dinosaurian figure, with humanoid face, obsidian black eyes, and green skin that looked leathery, and wearing a close fitting silvery trimmed black uniform looked back at them. “This is Trodwhyr of the Vach Ynvory commanding the Gwendryff. You have violated territory claimed by the Roidhunate of Merseia. Surrender and stand by to receive boarders or prepare to meet the god.”
**************************
“Sir! The Isaurians are attacking!” Braca interjected with a note of pride as he pointed to the viewscreen. “Now we’ll put these aliens in their place!” The proud executive officer exclaimed as the twenty prowlers and ten marauders of the crack Skolos Company of the elite Isaurian regiment, quickly gathering in attack formation, began their run against the Gwendryff.
“This should prove instructive…” Scorpius mused as he witnessed the scene unfolding before him.
“Yes, Sir.” The enthusiastic Braca responded. “These creatures will soon be made aware of their inferiority. The Isaurians have never been defeated in battle.”
“We shall see…” The half Scarran flashed a thin, cold smile as he cupped his chin with his right hand, watching as the prowlers and marauders closed to within 200 metras of their foe. Then, death in the form of energy beams poured out of the many gun turrets of the Merseian cruiser, lancing out at the distant Peacekeeper ships, too far away to even think about returning fire. Little puffs of red indicating the destruction of individual war craft filled the viewscreen, their explosions reflected in the calculating eyes of Scorpius and in the stunned and disbelieving eyes of his subordinate, soon joined by those of the other shocked Peacekeepers who made up the bridge crew of Scorpius’ flagship, many of whom seeing for the first time the appearance of defeat as their comrades died without even being able to fire a shot in return, ruthlessly slaughtered by the superior technology of the Merseians.
Slowly turning away from the carnage, Braca faced his commanding officer, a tear forming in his eye. “Sir…they’re all gone. The Skolos Company has been slaughtered…there are no survivors.” The myth of Peacekeeper invincibility that had been drilled into him since childhood suddenly shattered, an ashen faced Braca asked, “What do we do now, Sir?”
“Why Braca, I should think that the answer is obvious…” Scorpius responded in an even tone, “We surrender.” Then, barely repressing his amused laughter at the shocked look on his subordinate’s face, the half-Scarran continued. “And I would suggest that you send our surrender message immediately—it seems both alien vessels have targeted us now, and they seem to be the impatient sort.”
*******************
After the command carrier had surrendered, the Merseians moved quickly to take control of their new prize. Boarding parties of the greenskinned invaders, clad in combat armor, seized control of the ship, immediately confining all absolutely nonessential personnel to quarters. A few arns later, the passageways of the command carrier were barren except for those few Peacekeepers permitted to remain on duty going to and from their tasks under the careful vigil of their Merseian guards who were outfitted in either combat armor or in their tight fitting black uniforms with silver trim. A crestfallen Braca remained on the bridge, forced to watch helplessly as the aliens ransacked the Peacekeepers’ computer databanks and analyzed their technology, while Scorpius relaxed in his chambers, waiting patiently for the being who now announced his presence by politely sounding the door chime.
“Enter.” The half-Scarran called out as if he was still master of his ship.
“Greetings.” The alien seemed to smile as he entered Scorpius’ quarters. A look of curiosity overtook the half-Scarran’s face as he regarded his guest. He saw a being of obviously avian descent, approximately six foot, one inch in height, fine boned and lean, with wide shoulders, and a jutting chest. He had six fingers to a hand, extra jointed and with amber colored nails. Four claws and a spur extended from each of his feet, and he had a big hooked nose, pointed ears, and thin lips with deep gold colored skin. A shark fin crest of dark blue feathers on the crown of his head and tiny feathers for eyebrows presented a picture of dignified elegance to the leather clad Scorpius. The alien’s eyes were huge and red-brown—without a trace of white, and his voice, when he spoke, was low and pure music. “My name is Aycharaych…” His smile temporarily disappeared as he took a seat across from the half-Scarran, only to be quickly and smoothly replaced by yet another grin as the top Merseian intelligence agent regarded the being who was, he had found out from both his quick perusal of the command carrier’s databanks and from his brief surface scans of Braca and other crewmembers, in many ways, his opposite number among this race calling themselves Peacekeepers. “Hmmm…curious…it seems we have something in common…”
Smiling coldly, Scorpius regarded the being sitting across from him with a mixture of curiosity and wary respect. “Yes, it seems our telepathic talents make reading each other’s minds impossible—or highly difficult at best.”
“You are quite correct…Scorpius?” Seeing his quarry’s slight nod, Aycharaych continued, “This, of course, necessitates a change in my usual manner of conducting…interviews.”
“I will, of course, answer all of your questions truthfully.” A sly grin escaped the half-Scarran as he finished his statement.
“I’m sure you will.” The Cherionite responded with an equally sly grin. “You see, I’ve just finished taking a tour of your fine vessel, and I was especially taken by that device of yours that you call an…Aurora Chair.” Seeing Scorpius’ nod, Aycharaych again grinned. “You know, our people have a similar device that we…acquired…a long time ago from the Terrans called a hypnoprobe. Like your Aurora Chair, it’s a direct electronic attack on the brain. However, it seems that the hypnoprobe can go far deeper into the subconscious, literally ripping whole memories out of the mind of the being subjected to it. The problem, of course is, when that much force is used, very little of the mind remains. The hypnoprobe is also still effective—provided proper medical facilities are on hand—in the event an individual has been deep conditioned to die upon probing—a common trick in the intelligence community. Your device does not seem to possess that ability—a serious defect.”
“I see…and thank you for pointing out that defect in design for me. I’d never really considered the possibility of deep conditioning—it’s not commonly used in the Uncharted Territories—although there are rumors that certain disruptors are so conditioned.” The half-Scarran responded in a level tone, not revealing any sign of intimidation. “Your hypnoprobe seems to be a most intriguing—and effective device. But I assure you; you’ll not need it. I have no secrets to hide…” The avian creature then smiled slyly as he began to hunt.
The next several arns consisted of the most brutal, yet polite, grilling the Peacekeeper had ever experienced. His interrogator, Scorpius was forced to admit, was a master of his craft, and by the time he had finished, he had left the half-Scarran with only one card to play. Taking a deep breath as he prepared to play his gambit, Scorpius flashed a thin smile. “From what I’ve seen of your vessels, your Roidhunate is obviously a great empire. Think of what it could accomplish with me and my people as allies.”
Gaining even more respect for his opponent’s courage and coolness that reminded him so much of a certain Terran agent whose path had frequently crossed his, Aycharaych trilled, “Why should the Roidhunate seek you as allies? You’re obviously less advanced than us—what’s to stop us from just taking what we want and making you our subjects?”
“Well, leaving out the fact that willing allies work more efficiently than unwilling slaves that have to be constantly watched over and subdued…” Scorpius smirked, as he looked into the eyes of his adversary, “You would then lose out on a valuable opportunity to gain some valuable technology.”
“Such as?”
“The ability to create stable wormholes.” As he uttered his statement, Scorpius smiled inwardly as he realized that his gamble had paid off—his adversary would take him up on his offer. ‘The Peacekeepers will have to adjust to being vassals instead of rulers…’ The half-Scarran chuckled in his thoughts, imagining the expressions on the faces of the members of the Peacekeeper High Command when Merseian warships appeared in their space, ‘But I’ll be able to find a position with our new rulers and continue my research. All in all, an equitable proposition.’
“Oh? And how do you propose to accomplish this?” Aycharaych asked, a predatory gleam to his eyes.
“We must first secure the person of the human, John Crichton…” Scorpius’ eyes flashed a predatory gleam of their own as the half-Scarran and his new ally began to make plans.
******************
“Hey John—did I ever tell you how much I love a man in uniform?” Chiana leered at the image of her old companion on her vidscreen, fully decked out in his new uniform, the single gold pip denoting his rank of Lieutenant Commander shining on each of the lapels of his blue tunic, white pants and black shoes completing his wardrobe.
Pulling at his collar somewhat uncomfortably, Crichton smiled back. “Not recently, Pip. So, what’s up? Is everything ok? How is Paris?” John’s questions came rapid fire as he realized just how much he missed his young traveling companion.
“Everything’s just perfect, John.” The Nebari girl purred as she regarded her handsome friend. “I’m living with Diana now, and she’s got a really nice apartment with a great view overlooking this river on its left bank—I can’t remember its name…”
“It’s the Seine…” John added helpfully with a grin. “Sound like you’ve got it made, Sunshine.”
“Yeah—I guess I do.” Chiana smiled warmly as she took a bite from a piece of chocolate; the delicious sweet, along with Cynthian liqueur and her lover’s herbal cigarettes becoming new addictions to the young Nebari woman. “Diana’s out now doing some shopping, then we’re going to this place she called a…bistro. She wants me to meet another dancer she knows and says they’ve got musicians who perform something called jazz—whatever that is.”
“You’re in for a treat, Chi.” John smiled wistfully. “Maybe, if you’re lucky, they’ll play some Miles Davis. Wish ‘Lana and I could join you.” John added enviously, remembering the last time that he had listened to his Miles Davis records with his father and DK.
“Well…you know Vladimir’s throwing a big party in a couple of days at his villa…why don’t you and the Marquessa come over.” A look of pleading mixed with her usual mischievous smirk as she finished, “You know, you haven’t even seen me and Di dance yet…we’re really very good...we’re becoming all the rage now, and I’m sure Vladimir wouldn’t mind you two showing up.”
Chuckling warmly at both the expression on his former companion’s face and the earnestness of her plea, John answered, “I’ll ask Alana and see what she says…right now I don’t see any real problem with it…I don’t think Alana’s made any plans for us —Rygel’ll probably wanna come, but I doubt Zhaan will—she’s been spending a lot of time at a Buddhist monastery close to Alana’s villa.” Then, taking a deep breath, John brought up the name of the Luxan warrior with whom his surrogate sister had just recently been involved. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea to invite D’Argo—if you know what I mean…” Crichton trailed off, guilty at leaving out his good friend, but understanding the awkwardness of the situation.
“Yeah…you’re right. I mean, I tried to let D’Argo down easy and all, and John…I still care for him, but it’d be best if he didn’t come.” Chiana sighed, her good mood temporarily deflated, and then recovering quickly, grinned broadly as she looked at the man who had become a substitute brother for her. “I’ll send over the coordinates for Vlad’s villa and you’ve got our number here, right?” Seeing John’s confirmatory nod, Chiana finished. “We’ll see you at Vlad’s then.” Flashing a final leer and wink, Chiana added salaciously, “Oh, by the way, when Di and I dance things tend to get a little…warm…if you know what I mean…”
Flushing crimson in embarrassment, John stammered as the young dancer’s meaning became clear to him. “Uh…right, Chi.” Then, recovering, Crichton added, a protective note in his voice. “You and your friend be careful, ok—and we’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“What did Chiana have to say?” Her lyrical voice and the delicate hint of jasmine from her perfume immediately told the ex-astronaut, now Imperial Navy officer that his lover, Alana Murakawa, Marquessa Centaurus, had just entered the luxurious bedroom that they shared in her Honshu villa.
“Oh—nothing much.” Crichton said with a smile as he kissed the alluring oriental woman, now wearing red silk pajamas, the top buttons unbuttoned enough reveal the smallest amount of cleavage—enough to tantalize, yet not so much as to be overly revealing. “She just wanted to invite us to a party…” John continued as he undid a couple of the bottom buttons of the pajama top, and then slipped a hand underneath to better caress his lover’s smooth bronze skin.
“Mmmmm…sounds like a good idea…” Alana purred, and then gasped as John’s hands touched an especially sensitive spot. Her hands wandering as well, the Terran aristocrat, eyeing the four-poster Queen Anne bed, smiled, “Why don’t we discuss this later?”
“Sounds good to me, babe…” John leered back as he took his blue uniform tunic off and allowed himself to be guided to the bed.
***************
Soon after landing on the commerce planet, Flandry had set himself and Aeryn up in the biggest and most luxurious suite at the finest hostelry in the bustling trade city near where they had landed. After first christening the bed of their new room with a bout of especially strenuous lovemaking, leaving both partners temporarily drained and exhausted, Flandry had gone about his business of establishing contacts within both the local merchant quarter and amongst the more shady denizens of the underworld. After several days in which he and his ‘bodyguard’ had slowly gained acceptance by the other merchants, the Terran agent had finally achieved success.
He had, soon after arrival, discovered that there was, in fact, a Peacekeeper presence on the planet in the form of a small garrison and communications post. Now, he and Aeryn were planning on meeting one of those new underworld contacts that Flandry had made in the hope that he could gain an entryway into the garrison. As he sipped his fellip nectar, savoring its unique flavor, Flandry smirked as he took in the sights of the tavern where their meeting was to take place. The long wooden bar crowded with customers in various states of inebriation, beings of all races being accosted by a variety of working girls, con artists attempting their scams on any new face that showed up—all reminded the Terran agent of similar places on countless other planets. “No matter where you go in the universe, Aeryn, there are certain constants…” Dominic grinned as he prepared to deliver yet another lecture to his mistress and protégé, “And the most important of those is that sentient life will always find some means of expressing its dark side.”
Smirking because she knew that, while the man whose bed she had been sharing for the past month loved to talk, he almost invariably told her something in his lectures that was very important, be it practical such as how to conduct an interrogation, or more esoteric such as a lecture he had given a few days ago on how translator microbes were, once you got past their obvious use as a means of making oneself understood, a disadvantage to the intelligence community because understanding a people’s language often provides a ready means of understanding their outlook and culture—vital elements in forming a complete picture of an adversary. He had given her a perspective that she had previously not even thought of. Seeing the look on her partner’s face, the former Peacekeeper encouraged, “And this is important because…”
Grinning back at the raven-haired woman sitting next to him, Flandry drained his drink and, lighting a cigarette, continued his thought. “All species, Aeryn, regardless of origin, are corruptible. The key is to find out how and then use that to get what you want.”
As the Terran spy finished his lecture, the Zenitan pirate entered the bar. Seeing the party he was scheduled to meet, the stocky tattooed renegade sauntered over to the table where Flandry and Aeryn sat. “Tell your ‘bodyguard’ to point that rifle she has under the table in another direction.” The battle-scarred Zenitan growled as he took his seat across from the Sebacean appearing couple.
“Aeryn…” Flandry chuckled, “Our friend’s here to talk and do business—not fight.” Then, turning to the pirate, the Terran agent smiled his most disarming smile. “So, Kraanz, how did you find the brandy sample?”
“Intriguing.” The Zenitan pirate captain admitted with a sly grin as he weighed the risks of attempting to rob the merchant sitting across from him instead of agreeing to the exchange that he had agreed to earlier in the market. Then, as he carefully appraised both the foppish merchant’s bodyguard and the alert eyes of his potential quarry, he reluctantly decided to reject that notion for now—he was unable to bring his full crew and there were already Peacekeepers on the planet, there was no need looking for trouble now, besides—he still had to find the traitor Staanz. “And you say there’s nothing like it in the Uncharted Territories?”
“Far as I know this stuff’s brand new here.” Flandry answered, flashing a sly grin of his own, knowing exactly what was going through the mind of the pirate as his hand went smoothly to blaster holstered at his waist.
“And you say you’ll give us a case of this ‘brandy’ in exchange for what we talked about earlier in the market?” The pirate asked, seeing the Sebacean appearing man’s hand move underneath the table and not believing he was getting such a good deal for only a small tidbit of information.
“With the promise of doing even more business with you if you keep to your end of the deal.” Flandry added, hoping that this little bit of incentive would encourage the Zenitan to play it straight—at least for now.
Weighing his options, Kraanz decided to play it honest for the present. “Done, then. We’ll conduct the exchange at the marketplace tomorrow—agreed.”
“Agreed.” The Terran smiled back as the rugged pirate got up to leave.
*********************
“That was naughty!” Flandry scowled as he dodged the Peacekeeper’s Pantak jab, retaliating with a rabbit punch to the solar plexus that caused the younger man to collapse to the floor in a heap. “Take a few microts to recover, then we’ll talk.” The Terran agent smirked as he sat down on a chair in the little apartment, his needle gun pointed at the kneeling figure on the floor while Aeryn stood watch at the window, her pulse rifle at the ready. As the Peacekeeper Lieutenant staggered to his feet, Dominic motioned with his needler towards the other chair; lighting up a cigarette once the Sebacean was seated. “Lovely woman…” Flandry smiled sadly as he slid the picture of the blonde woman wearing the garb of a Peacekeeper officer that he had gotten, amongst other pictures and information, from Kraanz in exchange for a case of Terran brandy, over to the young lieutenant. “Now, as I understand it, while your people don’t object to some honest ‘recreating’—a fine custom by the way…” The Terran officer smiled quickly, and then, just as quickly, his smile turned into a scowl as he regarded the piece of filth before him. “They do take offence at murder—bad for discipline and all that, you know.”
“Look…it was an accident—I didn’t intend to kill her!” The Peacekeeper stammered helplessly as Flandry shoved, his face expressionless, the next picture of that same woman, her nude covered with welts and bruises, across the table.
“That maybe the case…” The Terran agent replied, deliberately blowing smoke across the table into the face of the Peacekeeper. “Maybe all you intended was a bit of S & M with you as the S and her as the willing or unwilling M and it got out of hand, but she’s dead now. You figured that you’d dispose of the body and no one would be the wiser.” Flandry continued, a cold smile crossing his face. “However, you slipped up—you let someone see you—and worse, that someone took some pretty pictures. Now, you’ve got a big problem…it seems she came from a major Sebacean house, you know. I do believe she enjoyed the patronage of a Captain Taudor who might or might not be her father—either way, he’s taken a rather active interest in her life and career.” Then, turning towards his lover, Flandry cocked a sardonic grin. “This Captain Taudor—he’s the vindictive sort—isn’t he Aeryn?”
Looking down her nose at the cringing figure sitting across from Flandry, the former Peacekeeper snorted derisively. “Yes, very much so…he also has a long memory and a short temper.”
“I thought so.” Flandry flashed a smug grin. “You see, Letan Nur, that alone is enough to hang you. When you add in the fact that you’ve been dealing with the Zenitan pirates…” The Terran agent then shoved a list of names, dates, and transactions across the table as he glanced once again at his companion. “Aeryn? What do you think—penal servitude or Living Death?”
“Depends on who’s sitting on his tribunal, on whether they’re on good terms with Taudor, and on what sort of mood they’re in. Either way, it won’t be a pleasant experience.” Aeryn replied, relishing the mental picture her words brought forth in her mind.
Sagging in his chair, Letan sighed. “What do you want?”
“Oh…all sorts of things.” The Terran replied airily as he put out his cigarette. “First thing I want you to do is, when you report in for your shift tomorrow, download everything you’ve got having to do with Peacekeeper ship and troop movements, command and control, planetary garrisons, and especially the movements of a certain individual named Scorpius. Then, you’re to take this data and execute a burst transmission at this time and to these coordinates.” Flandry then made him repeat both time and coordinates until he was sure that the blackmailed Peacekeeper had them both memorized. “After you’ve done that, you’re to wait for further instructions.”
“And you’ll keep silent about…”
“We’ll keep our mouths shut. In fact…” Flandry then flashed an smile as he decided to add a little positive reinforcement and incentive, “If you perform well here, there’s a good chance that you’ll be well compensated for you efforts—you could well find that your experience as a Terran agent could be a most lucrative one.”
“And if I fail?”
“Then everyone will know about your little extracurricular activities. By the way…” Flandry then added as an added precaution. “Should something unfortunate happen to either me or Aeryn…death, for instance, or capture…or should your information be…less than accurate…” The Terran agent then shrugged his shoulders, “Then I’ve made arrangements for the appropriate people to be made aware of what you’ve done. You understand?”
“I understand, you frelling piece of dren.” The Peacekeeper responded, his tone a mixture of surliness and resignation.
“Good. I like establishing understanding relationships—it makes life much easier for all concerned.” Then, as the Terran agent got up, he pointed his needle gun at the lieutenant. “Don’t forget—send that burst transmission at exactly the right time to those exact coordinates—you won’t get a second chance. And now, we bid you good night.” With that, Flandry fired his needler, the tranquilizer needle easily puncturing the Peacekeeper’s neck, its sedative taking immediate effect.
*****************
Much later, Aeryn lay in bed next to her lover, basking in the afterglow, her breathing soft and gentle as her fingers idly traced circles on his firm chest. “You know, Dominic…Nur’s a piece of dren. Do you really think he’ll keep his word?”
“He has no choice, love.” Flandry responded as he reached across Aeryn to pick up a couple of bottles of fellip nectar. Sitting up, he handed one to his lover before taking a long, satisfying draught. “He tries to frell us—he gets frelled worse. However, once Chives gets his transmission, we’ll head out and check out a few sites at random before we send the raw data back to Cynosure by courier. That way, we’ll know real quickly whether he’s lying or not.”
“How do you stand dealing with people like him and Kraanz?” Aeryn asked as she took a swig from her bottle. Once they had returned to their room, she had insisted on a shower to wipe away the filth from her brief contact with the Peacekeeper lieutenant
“Oh…” Flandry cocked a sardonic grin as he regarded his companion. “I have no problem sticking it to guys like Nur or using people like Kraanz. Nur has it coming to him, and Kraanz understands how the game is played. As long as you understand the rules and keep on your guard, you can do business with the Nurs and Kraanzes of the universe. It’s when you have to put the screws to an innocent or to someone who’s basically a good sort that it starts getting ugly—like for instance, a little maneuver we in the game call a ‘honey trap.’” Taking a deep breath, Flandry finished his fellip nectar before continuing. It works something like this—there’s a woman who has access to vital information, but you can’t bribe her because she’s loyal to her superiors. She has a husband and children that she loves and who love her. But because the lives of billions might just depend on those data crystals she keeps, you set her up with some good looking guy and she makes a mistake, and you take a lot of pretty pictures of her making that mistake. Then you use that mistake to blackmail her into providing you what you need—that’s when playing the game gets bad—but you have to do it because the stakes are just too damned high.”
“And are you using me?” Aeryn asked softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
“Just as much as you’re using me.” Flandry replied in an even voice. “You see, Aeryn, when I asked you to come along on this little trip, I told you exactly what I wanted from you—I need you as a guide, and as an extra set of eyes and ears, and as someone I know I can rely on in a fight. I’m also enjoying making love to you—I love every millimeter of your delectable body…but you’re also using me, Aeryn.” Seeing the surprised look on his bedmate’s face, the worldly Terran smiled a soft smile. “You see, Aeryn—this is your way of both getting back at John for Alana and that petty officer and for maybe someone else—I don’t know about that—and you’re also running and hiding while you regroup.”
Smiling warmly at the woman who he had found to be on the one hand a tigress in bed, and on the other very much a naïve child-woman, Flandry kissed her gently and softly. “What you’re doing is a natural response—it seems in some ways…where it counts—humans and Sebaceans aren’t that different from each other. You’ll work it out eventually, but be honest with yourself while you’re doing it, Aeryn—if you do, you’ll find that you’ll work it out quicker and with far less pain.” Then, Flandry took Aeryn’s bottle from her and set it on the table next to their bed. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her softly and gently, first on the cheeks, then the neck, and then her lips. “I think for now though, my lovely Aeryn, we’ve done enough talking…”
“You’re right, Dominic.” The troubled woman responded as his kisses and caresses slowly reawakened her desire. But, as she kissed and caressed her lover, replaying his words in her mind, she was forced to admit that he was right—that as much as he was using her, she was using him as a shield while she sorted out her thoughts and feelings towards John, and also, she had to admit with some shame, to take a measure of revenge against her former companion. Much later, as she screamed her passion, a part of her deep inside cried tears of loss and regret.
********************
“Aargh!!!” John shot up from his bed as the pain and the nightmare that had plagued him on an on-again—off-again basis for the past cycle was back with a vengeance. It started at the base of his skull as a dull ache as Scorpius’ voice began as a whisper; becoming a stabbing pain by the time it reached the front of his skull as the voice of his tormentor intruded on his dreams with ever greater force and violence.
“What’s wrong, John?” The normally lyrical voice of his lover, Alana Murakawa, now edged with worry, asked as she wrapped the ailing man in her arms, comforting him with her gentle caresses.
“It’s just a frelling headache.” Crichton answered in a wan voice, the strain of his nightmare evident on his face.
Knowing that it was far more than that, Alana said softly as she handed him a pill and a glass of water. “Here, John…take this—it’s a mild sedative—it’ll ease the pain.”
“Thanks, darlin’.” The ex-astronaut, managing a slight grin, gratefully swallowed the pill and then, after gulping down the water, lay down on the bed once again in the hopes of gaining a few hours of sleep.
Joining her lover and running her fingers through his brown hair, the Marquessa shed a tear as she recalled her conversation with Flandry about the chip they had found in John’s skull. ‘It looks like it’s enacting some sort of protocol.’ Alana thought as she gently caressed her man’s cheek, and then, placing a cigarette into her ornate silver gilt holder, inhaled it into life, drinking deep of the nicotine. ‘If this is what he’s got to look forward to…’ the Terran aristocrat sighed inwardly, ‘Then I don’t care what Dominic’s scheming—I’m not going to just stand by and let him go through this hell. I’m going to have to do something about it—maybe see if Zhaan might be able to help…Dom’ll just have to cook up something else—shouldn’t be too difficult for him.’ Then, as she regarded the now peacefully sleeping form of the man lying next to her, the blood of the first Marquis of Centaurus, Hideo Murakawa, the man who led the spearhead that won the Battle of Mirkheim, came to the fore as a forbidding look crossed her normally gentle features, ‘And then, I’ll personally conduct the interrogation and hypnoprobing of that yaken Scorpius.’
******************
“Well, it looks like friend Nur’s living up to his end of the bargain.” Flandry flashed a smug grin, as he and Aeryn lay prone on the ground observing the movements on the Peacekeeper base that they had been watching for the past several arns.
“Apparently so…” The former Peacekeeper agreed as she took note of the patrol being dispatched. “Well…what now?”
“We get back to the Hooligan and send off a copy of that data while we analyze the original.” Flandry replied in a light voice. “C’mon now…” He teased as he slapped his lover playfully on the rump, “Get a move on! Time’s a’wastin’!”
Getting up, Aeryn shook her head as she slung her rifle, repressing a grin at the antics of the human who in so many ways reminded her of the man she had left behind, but in so many other ways, was totally different. Not so long ago, she would have lashed out at him for even daring to consider doing what he had done. Now, after spending almost two monthans with this man and his funny, kindly servant, and after having spent many arns studying his people, she thought that she was beginning to get some inkling into how these strange people thought and acted, causing her to miss a certain human all the more.
*********************
“Are you sure you’re feeling up for the party tonight?” The Marquessa asked, worry and concern still coming through in her voice as she sighed with pleasure as John brushed her jet-black hair.
“I’m fine, darlin’.” Crichton replied in a reassuring tone, deliberately laying the Southern accent on thick as he played with a lock of the alluring aristocrat’s hair. “Like I said—the headaches come and go. This was the first one I’ve had since I’ve been back home. Besides…Chiana’s counting on us coming—we wouldn’t wanna let her down, now, would we?”
Pressing his palm to her lips, Alana sighed, “No, John…we wouldn’t.”
******************
As they entered the villa, their host, Vladimir Korolenko, greeted them, with a warm smile, hugging Alana close to him. “Alana, dear—it’s been too long.” The Earl of Ukraine grinned as he took in the lovely figure of the captivating Marquessa, who had chosen to dress Polynesian for tonight’s festivities, wearing a two piece sarong type outfit—a light blue wrap around skirt with matching top that left both shoulders bare, a flower in her hair completing her dress. “And this must be the infamous John Crichton I have heard so much about. Chiana’ll be out in just a second, Commander…” The Terran aristocrat said, taking note of John’s dress uniform and motioning for a servant to take his coat. “I know she wants to say hello to you.” The young Earl grinned as he shook Crichton’s hand.
As the servitor left with the blue dress tunic, Chiana made her appearance, wearing a tight leather skirt and matching top, the top unbuttoned just enough to reveal tantalizing glimpses of what lay beneath. “JOHN!!” The young Nebari squealed as she ran towards Crichton, leaping into his arms just as she had done on Moya not so long ago, much to the amazement and applause of those looking on. Hugging him, the playful young alien kissed him on both cheeks before breaking from their embrace. Appraising his new look, Chiana purred as she licked her lips. “You look good enough to eat alive, Johnny.” Then, catching sight of John’s lover, Chiana smiled, “Hello, Your Grace…thank you for coming.” Then, turning towards Rygel who was already eyeing the buffet table hungrily, Chiana grinned mischievously, “Hi, Your Frogness…I’m even glad to see you.”
Harrumphing in mock outrage, a slight smile nevertheless crossed the face of the deposed Dominar. “I didn’t come here just to see you…there are people here I need to talk to if I’m going to regain my rightful place.” Then, eyeing the Duke of Mars, Rygel propelled his hoverchair towards the spendthrift and wastrel, knowing that while the young man was an idiot, he had the ear of powerful people at court.
Turning her attention to the young Nebari, Alana smiled. “The pleasure’s ours, Chiana. I’ve heard so much about you and your partner—you’ve attracted quite the following, you know. We wouldn’t miss seeing you perform for anything in the galaxy.
“La’s right, Pip.” John grinned affectionately as he regarded his young former companion who, not surprisingly, seemed to have adjusted very well to life in the decadent Terran Empire. Then, a serious look overtook his face as he continued. “Zhaan says hi, and D’Argo wanted me to tell you that he’s still thinking of you.”
At the mention of her former lover’s name, the young Nebari’s happy grin vanished momentarily, only to be quickly replaced by another, sadder and warmer smile. “Tell him I said hello and I hope he’s doing better.” Chiana said softly, and then, regaining her good humor, chuckled as Vladimir slipped a hand underneath her top to caress her back. “Di and I have a new routine we’re trying out tonight—I gotta go get changed now—we’ll talk later, ok?”
“Sure thing, Chi.” John smiled as he kissed his old friend on the cheeks.
Eyeing a group of women laughing and talking near the bar, Alana took her lover’s arm. “John…I’d like you to meet some friends of mine.” The Marquessa said with a smile as she directed John’s attention first to the tall, voluptuous, woman standing before them.
“This is a good friend of mine—Lady Eowyn, Duchess of Venus.”
John’s heart skipped a beat as he regarded the stunning woman. The Duchess wore a clingy and low cut deep red satin evening gown that contrasted nicely with her alabaster skin and accentuated perfectly her luscious curves and ample chest. Reluctantly taking his eyes off her bosom that gently rose and fell with her soft breaths, John saw what looked like a crystal necklace around her sinuous neck, and a fair face with deep sea-green eyes and a turned up nose, her wavy auburn hair streaked with blonde crowned by a crystal tiara. Bowing as Alana had taught him, and then taking the statuesque aristocrat’s outstretched hand, Crichton gallantly kissed it. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
Smiling, the Terran noblewoman spoke with just the faintest traces of an accent that John couldn’t quite identify, “The pleasure’s all mine, Commander.” Then, turning towards the Marquessa, Lady Eowyn flashed a wicked grin. “So…’Lana…this is the reason you’ve been so hard to reach.” Turning her gaze back towards Crichton, the Duchess leered as she regarded the Marquessa’s escort with an expert eye, “I can’t say as I blame you, dear…but La…you really are the naughty one—after all, you know, you’re supposed to share with your friends.” Then, smiling once again at John, the Duchess said in a low, sultry voice, “I’m sure we’ll see …more…of each other tonight.”
“Uhhhh…yes Ma’am.” John stammered as the captivating Lady Eowyn left, the faintest traces of her perfume delicately scenting the air as she walked past.
Taking her lover by the hand, the Marquessa then guided him to the woman who had been standing next to the Duchess. “John, this is the Countess Charlena de Montmorency.”
Gently laughing, the Countess smiled as she regarded the attractive man before her. “So he’s why you didn’t come to Henri’s last weekend! You know, La…you could have brought him along with you! Henri wouldn’t have minded…” then a wicked grin crossed the face of the attractive, Rubenesque woman wearing what seemed to John to be a Restoration Stuart type dress that immediately drew attention to her ample chest. “But then again…” Charlena smirked, “If you had brought him, you’d have had to hide him from Henri as well as us!” Smiling warmly, the Countess then went on to recount her weekend, “It really was the best—the weather was perfect, and Henri got a new mare—the most beautiful palomino I’d ever seen—deep gold with the most striking white mane. Oh, Alana…she was the most gorgeous horse I’d ever seen!”
“I’m sorry we missed it.” The Marquessa replied warmly, knowing her friend’s love for animals, “But we’d literally just gotten back from Cynosure earlier this week, and we’ve been tied up in business.” Alana Murakawa was that rarity amongst the nobility of Terra—a working aristocrat. Smiling again at her dear friend, the lovely petite oriental asked, “Did you get the Ansan chocolates I sent you for your birthday?”
“Oh, yes, La!” The fun-loving Countess grinned, “And they were absolutely delicious…” Then, after giving John a meaningful look, she finished, “As scrumptious as I’m sure that man of yours must be.”
Giggling as she took her leave from the now visibly red-faced John, the Countess joined her friend, Lady Eowyn, who then smirked as she whispered in her ear, glancing back at the rugged man standing next to the Marquessa. “Did you see that face?”
“Did I?” Charlena giggled, “And it’s all natural—not a sign of a biosculpt job at all! I wonder if the rest of him’s the same?”
“Mmmmm…” The statuesque auburn haired aristocrat licked her lips lasciviously, “If Vladimir’s parties go as they usually do…we’ll know soon enough…”
“Yeah, but do you think Alana might get upset?” The Countess asked as she once again eyed her good friend’s escort. “She seems awfully close to him…”
“Alana? Are you forgetting about that Marine captain at dear Tetsuo’s party last year? Our darling La La didn’t mind us playing with him. Lana’s not going to care so long as we remember to give him back when we’re done!” Eowyn leered as she began mentally undressing the ex-astronaut.
Alana, seeing the last of her friends, a somewhat shy woman with short brown hair and soulful brown eyes wearing a translucent white silk ancient Greek Ionian style chiton with the left should bare, smiled warmly, calling her over to join them. “John, this is the Contessa Leonora of Nuovo Firenze.”
As he took in the beautiful Contessa’s short brown hair and soulful brown eyes, his attention was immediately drawn to her lovely nose and smile that both instantly told him that there was far more to this woman than lay on the surface and that also reminded him in so many ways of a certain Sebacean woman who kept persistently crowding into his thoughts.
“A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”
Taking in Crichton’s rugged good looks, the Contessa said in a soft, almost shy voice, “Lana…I like him. There’s something about him that’s just so…” Then, turning her attention back to John, the captivating Leonora’s deep brown eyes looked deep into the former astronaut’s striking blue ones. “I can tell just from your eyes that there’s something special about you.”
Blushing at the Italian countess’ praises, John tried to appear modest as Alana laughed gently. “Yeah, John is one of a kind. I’d have to wait a thousand years for another one like him—and you’re right, Leonora, he is a very special man.”
“I can see that, La.” Leonora smiled back, and then, seeing her friends waving at her, joined them in their conversation about the man they had just met.
***************
As they crossed the broken terrain to return to their launch, Flandry and Aeryn kept a careful 360-degree watch, making sure not to neglect the sky as they did so and maintaining silence. As they approached the brambles where they had carefully camouflaged their craft, Aeryn, on point, her pulse rifle at the ready, heard the sound of voices. Stopping, she held up her hand, giving the universal symbol to hold, and then smoothly took cover behind one of the numerous large rocks that lay strewn along their path.
Seeing her signal, Flandry quietly took a similar position, making sure that he had his lover covered. Turning back to the Terran spy, the former Peacekeeper then signaled for them to take a bounding overwatch. Acknowledging her signal, Flandry first moved to her position, then stealthily moved up to cover closer to where the voices came from. Aeryn then repeated Flandry’s actions, the twosome moving as one towards the potential threat until Aeryn signaled halt, and then pointed, indicating that she had discovered the enemy.
Approaching his lover’s position, Flandry then saw what she did—a patrol of four Peacekeepers—three men and one woman who had found their ship and were now standing guard around it. ‘Damn!’ Flandry cursed to himself. ‘Means a larger unit is probably on its way—we’ve got to act now.’
***************
“I wonder when Pip and her friend’s show starts?” John asked as Alana guided him to a place on the floor covered by large comfortable pillows made of crushed velvet.
Settling down on the cushions, Alana, taking two goblets from one of the servants, gave one to John and then settled comfortably in his arms. Taking a sip of the sweet wine, she smiled, “Pretty soon I would think. See…everyone’s settling in.” Alana smiled as she motioned towards all of the guests settling down on the comfortable cushions in couples and small groups.
“Yeah, darlin’.” John grinned as he took a sip of his wine, and, savoring the flavor, took another sip. Then, spotting Rygel out of the corner of his eye lying on some cushions near the buffet table, his head cradled in the lap of a serving girl who was feeding him grapes, the ex-astronaut laughed as he pointed out the sight to his lover. “Well, it looks like Sparky’s getting into the spirit of things!”
Her musical laughter once again entrancing the former castaway, Alana grinned and then motioned for the Duchess and the others to join the couple. “Yeah—although he’s beginning to make a pest out of himself at Court and with the Policy Board…”
“That’s enough of boring business, La…” Lady Eowyn gently chided as she motioned for a servant to refill their goblets with more of Vladimir’s sweet wine. “It’s time for fun now—see—the show’s about to start!” The lights began to dim as the Duchess leaned back on the opposite side next to John, deliberately grazing his arm with her fingers. Charlena and Leonora also relaxed near the ruggedly handsome man, Charlena deliberately positioning herself so that John had a clear view of her assets while Leonora, setting a pillow against one of John’s thigh’s, settled in, placing a gentle hand on his leg as she did so.
Alana, observing the actions of her friends, chuckled inwardly as the aphrodisiac spiked wine began to exert its effect on everyone, including her. ‘John deserves a little fun after all he’s been through…’ The alluring aristocrat sighed contentedly as she relaxed in the embrace of her lover, smiling silent permission for her friends to join them.
*******************
Motioning with his hands, Flandry instructed Aeryn to take the two Peacekeepers on the right while he took on the ones to the left, taking out his needle gun, telling his lover through that gesture that he wanted the enemy taken out without the use of energy weapons in order to avoid setting off any sensors that the Peacekeepers might have set out. Immediately understanding his instructions, Aeryn nodded her head once and, drawing her needler, silently moved out. Once she had set out, Flandry did the same, but in the opposite direction. Taking advantage of the cover, they smoothly and swiftly covered the distance between them and their opponents until only a few paces separated them from their adversaries.
Taking careful aim at the more distant of her targets, Aeryn waited until she heard the double tap coming from her communicator—Flandry’s signal that he was in position and ready to strike. Counting to three, Aeryn fired, the cyanide tipped dart striking true into her opponent’s neck. Firing at her second opponent, however, her needler jammed. Swiftly rushing towards the surprised Peacekeeper, the poster queen for frontal assault quickly closed the distance between them as the red and black clad soldier raised his pulse rifle to fire, shouting the alarm into his communicator. Leaping into the air, she struck him feet first square in the chest, driving both of them to the ground. Remembering both her training and Flandry’s lessons, Aeryn rolled with the impact, and, recovering first, struck, driving her foot into her opponent’s neck, collapsing his windpipe and killing him instantly.
Quickly clearing the jam, Aeryn moved swiftly in order to render aid in the unlikely event her partner needed it. As she rounded the launch, she saw Flandry bent down over the bodies of his two targets, a man and the woman, removing their ident chips and rifling their pockets. Eying his companion, the Terran agent cocked a sardonic grin. “The chips might come in handy…”
“And you never know whether they might be carrying something of military value on their persons.” Aeryn finished as she returned to where her targets lay and copied her lover’s actions. As he came around to join her, the former Peacekeeper glanced at the sky. “We’ve got to get going, Dominic. Reinforcements will be here any moment.”
“Right.” Flandry said grimly as he opened the hatch to the launch and the twosome made ready to lift off.
*******************
The lights in the large room where the party was being held dimmed until everything was clothed in pitch dark, rendering John’s sight totally useless while at the same time, his other senses, thanks to the effects of the drugs that were placed into the wine, raced. His ears seemed to pick up on every word of the muted conversations going on all around him as the pleasurable sensations from Eowyn stroking his arm, Charlena running her fingers through his hair, and Leonora caressing his leg made him want to scream out in pleasure. As he kissed Alana’s bare shoulder, he heard her gasp as he stroked her bare stomach, the aphrodisiac heightening the oriental woman’s senses just as her lover’s.
Luxuriating in the attention of the women around him, John took another sip of the wine, feeling its warmth course through his body as the music began…first soft and low, almost indistinguishable from the background noise, then…slowly…gradually…with ever increasing force…it gathered momentum and volume, finally ending with a crescendo of brass and drums as the ultraviolet lights kicked on, revealing the two women standing nude in the center—one with red hair, her body painted orange, yellow, and red, in the form of a raging fire; the other, wearing body paint that not only enhanced her gray-white skin and white hair, but also seemed to reflect the fire that was her partner, representing ice. Smiling at the gasps and scattered applause, Chiana and Diana began their dance—fire and ice—the warmth of the fire tempting and seducing the frozen ice which in turn cools and soothes—until finally both are consumed in each other.
As John sipped his wine, he became lost in the sinuous and erotic dance of his friend and her partner, gasping as the two women seductively touched lips, then teasingly pulling back as the ice temporarily drove back the fire only to have it return to draw ever closer as more of the ice melted in its seductive warmth. Reluctantly taking his eyes off the dancers for a moment, John looked down at his lover, her dilated pupils, swollen lips, and ragged breath revealing her growing arousal. The sight of his lover, along with the seductive music, the effects of the drugged alcohol coursing through his system, the wanton dancing of the young Nebari and her friend, and the caresses, now joined by kisses from the lovely women around him, forced him to surrender to the impulses and desires raging through him. Pulling down Alana’s top to reveal her petite round bronze breasts, John’s hands and fingers wandered as his lover let out a throaty laugh and as a pair of female hands reached around his chest to unbutton his shirt, taking the opportunity while there to caress his firm chest, another pair of hands reaching around his waist to unbutton his trousers, while other hands removed his boots and socks.
Ending their dance, the two women kissed to scattered applause from those not otherwise occupied as fire and ice melded to become one. Then, seeing the activity going on where John was, Chiana flashed a leer as she caressed the arms and breasts of her lover. “Well…Diana…” The young Nebari purred as she tilted her head towards where her other, titled, lover, Vladimir, and a handsome young Marine lieutenant were reclining, “Why don’t we grab Vlad and his friend and join the party?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me, Chi.” The stunning redhead leered back as she kissed her Nebari lover again.
Rygel XVI was no stranger to decadent parties, but even the jaded Hynerian was stirred by the dance of his old companion and partner in crime and her lover. Unable and unwilling to join in the humans’ orgy, the Dominar settled for lying back on the luxurious cushions, smoking his hookah while the serving girls fed and massaged him. Watching the human with whom he had lived for two cycles, an amused grin crossed his face as he mused, ‘I wonder what a certain Peacekeeper would say if she ever found out about this?’
*****************
As her lover piloted the craft, Aeryn frowned. “Dominic…we’ve got company.” Nodding her head at the display, the raven haired Sebacean pointed to two prowlers closing on them rapidly.
“I see them.” Flandry growled as he put the launch into a bone-wrenching maneuver. “Call up Chives and tell him to get his green butt over here—yesterday.” The Terran said as he barely dodged the weapons discharge from the nearest of the two prowlers, now within its extreme weapons range.
Following her companion’s instructions, Aeryn contacted Chives and then activating her weapons console, tried to get a fix the maneuverable prowler in order to fire the launch’s single turreted plasma cannon as Flandry continued carrying out his evasive maneuvers. Finally able to get a lock on the prowler, Aeryn fired, receiving as her reward a red flash indicating the destruction of the enemy vessel. Then, as the other prowler had finally gained position on the Terran launch, it’s detectors signaling the enemy’s successful lock on, the Hooligan appeared, a single lethal beam of light lancing out from its nose as the other prowler disintegrated in a red flash.
The mild mannered voice of the Terran agent’s trusty assistant then filled the small control cabin of the launch. “I trust I arrived in time.”
“Just like the cavalry, my friend.” Flandry laughed in relief as he lit a victory cigarette. “Open the bay doors and break out the bubbly, Chives—we’re coming home and we’re in one piece.
*****************
As he awakened, the first thing John felt was the warm body of his lover lying next to him. The second thing he felt was another warm body lying on the other side of him. Turning his head, he noticed the white hair and gray-white skin of Chiana lying, her back towards him. Sitting up, the ex-astronaut pulled back the thick fur lined cover, revealing his bare chest. Looking about, he spied the still slumbering form of Vladimir lying on the other side of Chiana, then Chiana’s partner Diana. Wishing for nothing more than aspirin for his hangover and water to wash the cotton out of his mouth, John let out a low moan.
The sound of his voice and his stirrings having roused his companion from her sleep, the Marquessa, her hair tousled, sat up as well, the upper part of her naked body exposed in the same manner as her lover. “Morning, love.”
“Mornin’.” John managed to get out as he laid a palm against his forehead. Then taking in the nude body of his lover, John forced himself to ask as he motioned with his hand around the room of sleeping men and women, “Ummmm…’Lana…did we…in front of…”
Knowing what he was asking, the Marquessa nodded her head, an amused smile on her face, “Uh Huh…dear Vladimir spiked the wine with an aphrodisiac.
Then, looking around, Crichton realized that his lover’s friends were no longer there. “Uhhhh…Lana?”
“Uh Huh?”
“Uhhhh…did I…with…all three of them?” He then looked towards where the three women had reclined.
Nodding her head again, the petite oriental woman smiled, “Yep.”
Slapping both hands against his forehead, John tilted his head back, his face now crimson with embarrassment. “Oh boy!” Then, glancing down at the now slowly awakening form of his Nebari shipmate, the red-faced former astronaut asked in a soft voice, “Did Chiana and I…”
Shrugging her shoulders, Alana grinned, “I don’t know. I was otherwise…occupied…at the time…I hope that’s not a problem for you.” She said, a note of worry in her voice as the twosome began rustling about for their clothes.
“No.” John said simply as he found first underclothes, then pants and shirt, then finally socks and boots, all strewn about where they had been sleeping. “Seein’ as I was doin’ much the same thing…”
“That’s good.” Alana smiled in relief as she began to dress.
Finally sitting up, Chiana shook her head, and then, as she saw John getting dressed, flashed a mischievous grin. “Hey, Johnny. That was some performance last night. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
His face once again flushing red with embarrassment, John stammered, “Uhhhh…Pip…Uhhhh…we didn’t…did we?
Smiling warmly at her close friend’s discomfiture, Chiana kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t remember, John. But if we did, I have a feeling that it must have been great.”
“Thanks Pip.” John smiled as he kissed the young Nebari’s forehead. He wasn’t sure whether she was telling the truth or whether she was lying to protect him and their friendship, but right now it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that she was still his friend regardless of what did or didn’t take place.
Later, after they had all dressed, Lady Eowyn, Countess Charlena, and Contessa Leonora appeared, all dressed as well. Approaching the still embarrassed John and his amused lover, Eowyn winked as she said in a sultry voice, “Well John, you certainly know how to treat a group of ladies.” Then, after kissing the Marquessa goodbye, the statuesque Duchess of Venus, along with a blushing Leonora and giggling Charlena, departed.
Spotting a servitor, Alana called for him, taking two goblets full of water and some pills. Giving one of the goblets and some of the pills to John, the Marquessa said as she gulped them and the water down, “Detox pills and stims. They’ll get you operational fast, John. Don’t forget, you have a ship you’re responsible for and we’re due to depart in…” Checking her wrist chronometer Alana finished, “24 standard hours.”
***************
In Scorpius’ quarters of the still occupied Peacekeeper command carrier, Aycharaych spoke in his usual musical tones, “So…we’re set then?”
“Yes.” The half-Scarran grinned. “I’ll send a courier to our operatives ordering them to set their respective parts of the plan in motion. I’ve also sent orders to our units in that sector to begin their mobilization.
“Very good.” Aycharaych flashed a slight smile. “I’ll alert our operatives on Cynosure and Terra to approach the Luxan with our offer whenever they spot him.”
“Right.” Scorpius frowned. “And you’ll withdraw your forces from my ship.
“Yes. But the Gwendryff will accompany you. Her captain, by the way…” The Cherionite spy flashed a sly grin at the black clad Scorpius, “Has strict orders, in the event of treachery, to first destroy your ship, and then, in the event he cannot escape, to destroy his ship and all hands aboard.”
“I see…” Scorpius grinned back. “A wise precaution…but there’ll be no treachery. With our arrangement, we both get what we want. I get Crichton and his data on wormholes that I shall, of course, share with the Roidhunate, while you get the Uncharted Territories to use as a springboard to flank this Terran Empire you talk about.
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