When Skies are Gray 2

Daddy's Girl: 4

By Amy J

"Don't touch that." L'Tan said sharply. "Are you insane?"

"Okay, boss." John drew his hands into the air in a surrendering motion. He turned away from the Jocosta's propulsion compartment, directing a sardonic grin at her. "And, no, I'm not... yet."
The young woman leaned protectively against the prowler's wing, analyzing his every move. She was deathly pale. Sunken hollows lined her glassy eyes. A vitality, that was more than corporeal, was missing in her.
But L'Tan had proven to be more like Aeryn than he had first guessed: denying her infirmity, unwilling to talk about her moment of weakness; her attempt to claim her own life less than two solar days ago.
He watched as she distractedly chewed on her thumb, her only nervous habit. One of his own, he noted, feeling a strange tug in his chest.
"What." She demanded, lifting her head. Her emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why are you staring at me?"
"Nothing." He smirked, waving a dismissive hand. "Just... nothing."
John returned his attention to spheroid in its nest of conduits and field coils. The same intriguing hum filled the air around it. "Okay. Can you at least tell me what this deally-gig is?"
"That deally-gig," she mocked. "Is a naked singularity housed in a metallic hydrogen casing."
"What?" John took an apprehensive step back, unconsciously wiping his hand on his vest. Eyes wide with disbelief, he looked up at her. "There's a singularity? In that?"
"Yes." She stated with the aloof arch of an eyebrow. "You're very astute."
"How? I mean... how?" He questioned, approaching her.
Avoiding his eyes, L'Tan wordlessly pushed away from the prowler's wing in search of the sanctuary of the cockpit.
"Well?" He pursued.
"It's very... complicated." She sighed, lowering herself into the seat.
John leaned over the cockpit's edge, looking down at her. "You don't know, do you?"
"Are you always this annoying?" She asked with tepid exasperation.
"You'll have to excuse me." He said, rolling with eyes. "It's only the second time I've seen a black hole stashed inside someone's glove compartment."
L'Tan regarded him with a quizzical look. "You are the oddest creature."
"Yeah. I get a lot of that." He returned. "And you didn't answer my question."
"The spheroid is not Peacekeeper technology." She admitted, resting her head back onto the seat. "It was obtained from a species called the Ciax. It does what it's supposed to do... create wormholes. My primary concern was designing the Jocosta."
Frowning, she unplugged a charred circuit node. With disgusted relish, she threw it out into the hangar.
"Just like Corsair." L'Tan muttered.
"Who?"
"Delvar Corsair. Someone I... knew." She said, gazing inward to some personal desolate landscape. "So cavalier. Never thinking ahead. You remind me of him. A little. He wasn't afraid of me like everyone else. Never had the foresight to fear me."
John tensed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Her pale mouth pulled into a thin line as she patiently maneuvered the snarl of console cables into a semblance of order.
He fell silent, watching her work. The world did not exist for L'Tan beyond her ship and its organized chaos of circuits and schematics.
"Jocosta..." John whispered thoughtfully. "What does that mean?"
Her hands halted, only briefly. "It's a Delvian word."
"And... what does it mean?"
"It means," she squinted reflectively, still intent on the panel of circuits before her. "A distant.... far horizon."
"Far horizon?" He arched an eyebrow.
Seemingly oblivious to the significance to him, L'Tan gave him a shallow nod before she looked away.
John grinned to himself, bemused.
Farscape.
**********************************************************************
Metur took an appalled step back as the one called Crichton barged through his doorway, the dying woman in his arms.
The stranger's voice was tainted with panic. "She's dying."
"There." The alchemist gestured to a thick pile of pillows in an alcove, anxiously eyeing the other curiosities that had appeared with them: a Delvian priestess and a rather imposing Luxon.
Crichton gently lowered the woman's limp body to the cushions before he whirled on Metur, snagging him by the collar of his robes. "Don't just stare. Do something. Help her."
"John. Please." The Delvian implored. She moved swiftly between them, placing a calming hand on her companion.
"We are desperate for your help, Salis Metur." She turned to him. Her face was grave as she pressed the shattered remains of a tiny glass vial into his bony fist. "She drank from this. It's xiocine, I believe. Can you help her?"
"Enough." Scorpius ordered. He signaled to his attendant, fully annoyed. Niem responded with a subtle, obedient nod. The images vanished from the viewer.
He turned to the Trelgin strapped to the Aurora chair, temper slipping. With very little experience with the subject's anatomy, he had been forced to improvise on modifications for the chair's effectiveness. The success to extract information from his mind was, at best, limited. Until this moment, Scorpius had begun to doubt the report of the recent sighting of Crichton on Denor.
"I am not interested in this... drama." He waved a hand disgustedly. Through fissured black lips, he enunciated each word. "Tell me where the leviathan is headed."
"I know nothing... nothing of leviathan" Metur slurred. The alien's misshapen head hung over his chest in ragged breaths. He was dying. The chair's effects had been far more detrimental on his physiology than anticipated.
All of these things Scorpius observed clinically, as he circled the chair. He paused, leaning on the viewer to peer down at the Trelgin.
"Again." He ordered, coldly.
Metur uttered a thick moan as the chair hummed to sinister life once more. The tortured muscles in his body snapped into rigid protest against the restraints.
Disjointed images rolled across the screen:
The dead Onari bounty hunter sprawled across the floor of his house...
A brilliant yellow sky pinioned with two suns...
The young female, her delicate features framed by a tangle of dark hair. She was sickly pale, skin glistening in the meager flicker of the oil lanterns. He pressed the bowl of elixir to her clenched jaw. She twisted her head away, eyes squeezed shut.
"Jocosta. My ship." The woman muttered feverishly. "Return me to my ship."
Scorpius nodded to Niem in an unspoken command.
The viewer went blank.
He pushed a gloved hand beneath the Metur's chin, impaling him with an icy stare.
"I want to know where the leviathan is." Scorpius' voice lowered into a menacing growl. "I have no interest in this dying stranger."
**********************************************************************
L'Tan landed badly, balance off-center, arms thrown out to meet the sparring mat as it rushed up to her. The air left her lungs in a painful rush. Blood began to well between her teeth almost instantly. For a long moment, she lay there panting, feeling the indignant flush on her face and neck.
"Again." L'Tan commanded, rolling onto her side to face her opponent. She wiped a hand across her bloody mouth, ignoring the sting of her split lower lip.
"No." Aeryn shook her head, hands on her hips as she caught her breath. They had been sparring for over an arn. The match so far had ended in a draw. Each refusing to yield.
"I think that's enough for today—"
"I am not a child. Again!" Her brow furrowed in determination as she pushed herself up from the floor.
"You're still weak from the xiocine." Aeryn argued. "You mustn't push yourself so hard."
Without another word, L'Tan fell into defense stance, her face stony. The point was apparently no longer open for negotiation.
"Alright then." She muttered. "One thing is for certain... you're as stubborn as a Crichton."
Aeryn returned to her corner of the mat, disguising a limp. L'Tan had taken her off her feet in a surprise move early in the match. The thick muscle of her thigh was now a riot of pain.
They exchanged a terse nod. Soon the two women were studying each other, circling.
"Your attack stance is familiar." Aeryn observed, cautiously side-stepping, looking for an opening. "You trained with Ravstar commandos, didn't you?"
L'Tan's bloodied lip pulled into a smug smirk. "Black Star regiment... Arachnid... Icarius... Mikzan."
"Good." Aeryn returned, with a secretive smile. "Then this should be over soon."
***********************************************************************
"Hold still." Zhaan rebuked, studying the fresh cut over L'Tan's eye. She pressed a tincture-soaked cloth to the wound.
"What is that dren?" The young woman hissed, squirming away. "It burns."
"It should." She said, holding L'Tan's chin firmly in place to examine to the gash in her lip. "Serves you right. You should be resting. Not sparring. Aeryn should have known better as well."
"I am fine." L'Tan said, rising from her chair.
The Delvian pushed her back down. Her strength easily a match for her. "You nearly died two solar days ago. You're fortunate to be sitting here bleeding right now."
"Yes. That's my first thought every morning." L'Tan mumbled with vicious sarcasm. "How fortunate I am."
Zhaan stepped back, regarding the cleaned injuries. Her voice was low, deliberate. "It must be very tiresome. Being that angry every waking moment of your existence. Hating yourself so much."
L'Tan's mouth formed a bitter line. The barb had struck deeply. "Are you finished?"
Zhaan nodded after a long measuring moment. She turned back to the workbench, her hands moved over bandages and glass bottles, touching them without purpose.
"You weren't always like this." She said over her shoulder. "You were once happy... cared for. I saw as much in your memories."
L'Tan paused in the door, head bowed.
"That child is dead." She snapped. But she remained in place, facing the corridor. Unable to go. Reluctant to stay.
"I can help you understand, my dear." Zhaan said quietly. Approaching she placed a gentle hand on L'Tan's shoulder. "I can help you see past the anger and the hatred."
************************************************************************
"Come see...this way." The gentle voice was barely a whisper, like the song of chimes on a soft breeze.
L'Tan looked down to see a young girl in a purple shift, tugging at her hand.
"That's me." She looked to Zhaan with the subdued astonishment of a sleepwalker. "What do I do?"
"Go with her."
She succumbed, feeling herself pulled along. The motion was fluid. Not the drudgery of muscle and bone; the confines of the corporeal did not exist here. The lab dissolved, swiftly taking the shape of another room.
The air was alive with the voiceless mutter of Moya, not the same subdued purr she knew from her waking hours, but an undeniable presence that permeated the air, the floor, the walls.
Moya, the way that Ellie thought of her.
The gleaming copper walls were festooned with pastel garlands of cloth. Colorful crude paintings covered the floor, all done in the same childish hand: planets, stars, arching comets.
"My room. It was Mother's once. But it became mine" L'Tan said, sorrow framing the words.
"See that one's Earp, Daddy. See?" Ellie pointed proudly to a brilliant circle done in swatches of blue and green.
"Ellie." John Crichton gathered her up onto his hip, disguising an amused grin. "What's the right word?"
She gave a sheepish smile and lisped through missing front teeth. "Earth."
"Good girl." He kissed his daughter's forehead and placed her gently back on her feet. "Come see. I've got a surprise for you."
"I remember this day." L'Tan felt her throat tighten. "I had just turned seven... my mother's message to me."
The specter of John passed through L'Tan, dissolving and reforming as he led his daughter before the console.
An image sprang to life.
Aeryn Sun smiled warmly, a hand nestled protectively over the pregnant rise of her stomach. But there existed in her the taint of winter, written in the sunken hollows of her cheeks and the deep shadows beneath her eyes as she spoke:
"My daughter... my only regret is that I will never meet you, or look upon you and to tell you what an incredible gift you are to us..."
L'Tan turned away, retreating. "I cannot watch this."
"Why? What is it, my dear?" Zhaan pursued in a trail of gossamer.
She felt, more than heard, Zhaan's questioning push against her mind. It was like a walking against a sudden gust of wind, seeking to anchor her to this painful place.
"This is how I learned that I was the cause of my mother's death. She chose my own life over hers."
"I don't understand." Zhaan pressed.
"When they discovered that Mother was carrying me, I was not... viable. I would not survive because of defects in my chromosomes. They found someone to help them. An outcast scientist. He performed the double helix manipulation on me before I was born."
"It worked... to a fault. I thrived, slowing stealing her life. I was born; Aeryn Sun died. And I was the cause. That is what I learned on this day."
"L'Tan... Ellie." Zhaan soothed. "I am certain this was not their intent... to make you feel this guilt."
"Utter nonsense." The sinister chuckle surrounded them in a cold draft.
Scorpius.
An etching of black and chalky white, he stood out like an ogre in the bright and cheerfully colored room. The fanged monster beneath a child's bed. The fearsome creature in the darkness.
"Listen to me. He does not exist here." She felt Zhaan surround her protectively. "He has infected your memories. You must fight him."
But it was useless.
"No. No. No. Please... continue." Scorpius stepped forward, gloved hands outstretched in a counterfeit entreaty. His voice was oily. "Go on. Please tell her how wanted she was. How ...loved."
Zhaan ignored the pale shade, continuing her plea to L'Tan. "You're doing this. Stop it."
He dipped behind her back, circling, like a great hungry beast. "They wanted nothing of you, my dear. Especially Crichton. It was as though he knew what a monster you would become. You have killed many. Your mother was your first victim."
"This is false. This is not a real memory." Zhaan maintained.
"Stop!" L'Tan pulled away, pushing her hands over her ears. She felt cornered, trapped, as if the very breathing walls of the leviathan would collapse upon her. "Get out of my frelling mind!"
The room dissolved abruptly, like shifting sands at the mercy of a windstorm. The connection was broken. The unity ended.
The lab once more surrounded them.
L'Tan snapped her lowered head away from Zhaan and took a shambling step back.
The Delvian collected herself, reeling slightly from the sudden break in their connection. She opened her impossibly blue eyes, great pools of sorrow as they focused on L'Tan.
"I don't need your pity, Delvian." She husked, her internal torment building. "I don't need you.
"Ellie." Zhaan reached out cautiously, her hands enveloping the young woman's. "You are not the monster he calls you. He is. He twisted the mind of an innocent child."
"I destroy..." L'Tan stammered, her eyes filling with agonized tears. " I destroy everything that is close to me. Mother. Delvar. And now—"
Her jaw snapped shut as she caught herself, afraid that Zhaan could sense her guilt. She had already said and done far too much. The distress beacon. The tampering with Moya's calorics chamber.
L'Tan stumbled away from her, violently upsetting a neat row of instruments and jars. She crumpled to the floor, holding her head against a crushing wave of guilt and despair.
"Don't." Her voice was a naked plea as she waved Zhaan away. "Just... don't."
**********************************************************************
"Dren." Aeryn muttered, frowning before the mirror in her room. Gingerly, she prodded the red welt beneath her left eye, wincing. It was already starting to turn purple.
There was a whistle from the doorway at her back.
"Nice shiner, Officer Sun." Crichton called as he leaned in the threshold.
"I'm afraid the compliment goes to L'Tan." Aeryn replied to his mirror image. "Lucky shot."
Stiffly, she turned and pulled herself up onto the shelf, grimacing at the twinge in her injured leg.
"Really?" He teased with a mischievous grin. "Same lucky shot got you that limp, too?"
"Oh. Yes." She said, cutting him a scathing look. "I forget how well you did in subduing her when she first arrived."
Ignoring the jeer, he plopped onto the corner of her bed and peered about her orderly room. As always, she could tell by the pensive set in his jaw when he had something on his mind.
"What do you think of her?" Crichton asked, as if on que.
Aeryn drew in a breath, massaging the painful knot on her thigh. "She is an efficient fighter. Hard to predict—"
"Aeryn, that's a critique." Crichton interrupted. He leaned forward on his knees. "What do you think of her? As a person?"
She looked at him for a long, silent moment before answering. It would be easier to be irritated with him, his tireless parade of questions, but she resisted the urge. "Why is this so important to you, Crichton?"
"It's important to her, Aeryn." He countered, rising from the bed.
Aeryn slipped from the shelf at his approach and busied herself with straightening things that were already immaculately neat.
"I know what you're trying to do."
"What? What am I trying to do?" He needled, following her from workbench to chest and back. "So we'll both know."
"You're hoping to push us together, so I would accept her." Aeryn halted, tossing down an armful of gear onto the shelf. "I don't."
Crichton turned to the room with an impatient flourish, seeking solace from the mute walls. "Aeryn—"
"But I will tolerate her." She said quietly.
Irritation fading, Crichton pivoted back to face her. He must have expected a larger battle.
"I guess that's a start." He said.
"FRELLING TRELK!" L'Tan's curse suddenly shattered the air.
Something heavy hit the floor with a hollow clatter.
John and Aeryn exchanged a glance: "Chiana."
They darted out the door, quickly covering the short distance to L'Tan's new quarters. John cleared the entrance first, taking in the chaos with one glance.
L'Tan and Chiana were a snarl of flailing fists and legs as they rolled on the floor in an all-out brawl. With alarm he watched as his daughter deftly changed tactics and brought her hands around the Nebari's throat. John quickly moved in and scooped his arms around her waist, pulling her away from Chiana.
"Break it up." He ordered.
"No!" L'Tan protested. She struggled to be free of him and maintain her lock Chiana's throat at the same time. "No. Get off me!"
It took all of his strength, but she finally came away in his arms.
"Is knowing your fate so important?" L'Tan hissed over his shoulder at her target. "I'll kill you now and spare you the suspense!"
"Knock it off, now!" John shouted, dragging her to the door.
With feline grace, she slipped out of his hold and dove for Chiana, only to be suddenly caught in D'Argo's fierce tackle as he rushed into the room. He was far less gentle, grabbing her by the hair at the base of her neck.
"What the frell is going on?" The Luxon demanded, looking to John for an explanation.
"You want to know your fate, Nebari?" L'Tan strained against the painful grip on her hair, her eyes burning into Chiana. "Is that why you are rummaging through my things?"
John moved between the two women, stooping over Chiana.
"Chi, is that what you were doing?" He asked, sternly.
D'Argo growled. "John, this is not—"
"I was talking to Chiana." John snapped, without looking at him.
Chiana turned soulful eyes up at him. She pulled herself up to her hands and knees, effecting a pitiful cough. "I wanted to know why she doesn't remember me or D'Argo. That's all."
"So you just started ransacking her room?" He pressed, immune to her drama.
"I deserve to know!"
"Then I will tell you." L'Tan erupted with renewed rage. "Gladly! Very soon, you will end your brief and miserable career in the custody of Nebari constables."
"Shut up!" D'Argo yelled, slipping a thick forearm under her chin.
"And you..." L'Tan turned angrily on her captor, pressed against his dense chest. "Dumb enough to give your life trying to save her thieving ass."
"That's enough!" John wrangled her from D'Argo and shoved her through the doorway. She faltered to the floor in the corridor, trembling with rage.
"John! She does not belong—" D'Argo began.
"I didn't ask for your opinion!" John whirled on him, his own temper slipping.
He turned back to the hallway, angry words ready for L'Tan.
But she was gone.
John looked at Aeryn as she leaned against the wall, arms folded, her face impassive.
"That way." She nodded down the corridor.
**********************************************************************
John crouched down before of the latticework of the access tunnel, peering inside. Within, a brief glimpse of a hand retreated into the shadows at his approach.
"Come on out." He said, patiently.
L'Tan's reply was a flat echo. "How did you know where to find me?"
An errant shaft of light caught the liquid glimmer of her eyes beneath disheveled dark hair.
"Your memories... you would come here to hide from Zhaan when you were little." He answered, marveling briefly at his own acceptance for referring to the future as the past.
One possible future. It does not have to end that way.
A pensive silence followed. John was beginning to think that she had noiselessly stolen away until she spoke.
"Leave me."
"Sorry. Can't do that." He said, seating himself in front of the tunnel's opening.
"Chiana was wrong to do what she did." John continued. He wished he could just see her face, to judge the reaction there as he spoke. "But it doesn't make what you did okay."
There was no response. Only the silent shift of her hunched frame.
"I don't belong here." She said, finally. "Even the Luxon believes that. Why don't you?"
"Because I'm annoying, remember?"
He paused, his tone turning serious. "Don't you even want to try?"
"Too late." L'Tan muttered, cryptically. "Too late for me. For everything."
"No. I don't believe that." John said. She was redeemable. He firmly believed there was a genuine soul beneath the tormented exterior of L'Tan Sun. This was more of a reason than the inexplicable guilt he felt about this lost child, left to the revenge-driven onslaught of a madman.
"I would never know peace. I can't get him out of my mind. I wouldn't know how." She said with quiet terror.
Scorpius.
A shudder moved through his body. The very thought of his name was the crawl of spider's legs on his skin.
"What happened? What did he do to you?" John ventured, licking his lips apprehensively. He was not certain he wanted to know. But there were ugly truths that had to be told, their deformities drawn into the light.
L'Tan crawled into view and looked up at him, her eyes full of secret pain. She wound her delicate fingers through the latticework.
"I tried. Very hard to be strong... to be brave. At first..." Her voice trailed off as she looked away.
"He used the chair on you, didn't he? The Aurora chair?" He asked, the muscles in his jaw tightening. A dark hollow blossomed in his heart. A certainty he knew without waiting for her answer.
A guilty pause. "Yes."
There was an instant rush of miserable anger. He struggled to keep his composure.
A child.
Scorpius would do that to a child. Without provocation. Without reason.
"Why should I be surprised?" He asked himself, looking up at Moya's mute walls.
"I was a... curiosity to him." She said, simply. A polite excuse thrown in the face of sinister deeds.
John slowly rose and removed the lattice from the tunnel entrance. L'Tan recoiled further into the darkness, uncertain.
"Come out of there... please." He extended a hand to her. "This is ridiculous."
Hesitantly, she squirmed from the small space. They stood facing each other for a tense moment. Abruptly he folded her into his arms. L'Tan was a rigid bundle of muscles against him. But, finally she yielded, much to his surprise, tucking her head beneath his chin. A quiet shiver wove through her shoulders as she began to cry, noiselessly.
"Shhh. Shhh. It's okay." He crooned, hating the part of his mind that knew the truth. What had happened to her was most definitely not okay.
John pulled her to his chest more closely.
"Daddy." She said once, softly.
**********************************************************************
Incoming Trans:
Priority distress call.
Ravstar regiment 8873.74.3
Scorpius stopped reading and peered over the top of the transparency at Lieutenant Vedit Corsair, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"How long have you known about this?" He asked, his annoyance plain.
"Only a few arns, sir." Answered Corsair with a small nod, hands clasped. His distaste for the hybrid was evident in the downcast bow of his mouth.
Scorpius glowered. "Arns."
Corsair shifted his weight and swallowed, dread mounting. "Sir... yes. Sir."
"This is a priority distress call directed for my eyes only." Document clutched in his gloved hand, he rose from his chair. He circled Corsair as he silently read the remainder.
"Of an unverified source... on an experimental hyperlink channel." Corsair spouted, seeking to fill the tense silence. Regardless of Scorpius' dubious position of rank, one did not tempt fate. "I felt it was unlikely to be genuine... possibly a trick to throw us off the leviathan's trail."
Scorpius stopped in his tracks. His eyes focused on a single word:
Jocosta
"Lay in an intercept course," he ordered, thrusting the document back at Corsair's chest. "Hecht 11. Immediately. To the last known coordinates transmitted by this distress beacon."
Corsair looked up from the document to him, dissension ill-disguised. "Sir, there has been no verification—"
"Do it now!" He clipped. "Find this distress beacon, and we find the leviathan."
"Yes... sir." The young officer responded reluctantly, swallowing any additional protests.
Dismissing him with his back, Scorpius turned to Niem. "Prepare the Trelgin once more for the Aurora chair. I want to know more about the woman Crichton brought to him."
**********************************************************************
The guilt was a coiled serpent in her chest, hungrily devouring her heart. L'Tan lay restlessly in the thick shadows of her room, waiting for some nameless moment that would never come.
Self-absolution.
A clearing of the conscience.
But nothing.
She rose to slip through Moya's sleeping corridors, pretending not to know her course. Until she turned the corner to the hangar. She hesitated, leaning against the smooth copper curve of the door.
Iwillnotthink....iwillnotthink...iwillnotthink.
The mantra pulsated in her brain.
But it did nothing to stop him.
What are you thinking, L'Tan?
Her master's voice hovered at the base of her skull, weaker, but terrifying nonetheless. The grotesque vision of him flitted in the corner of her eye, a trick of her tortured brain.
That you can undo what is already destined?
The end is so close. You can return to me.
Fighting the urge to obey, she forced her paralyzed legs into motion. Slowly at first. Then faster until she was sprinting to the Jocosta.
Stealth no longer a consideration she scaled the side of the prowler, pawing open the canopy with frantic hands. Her mind raced, trying to keep pace with her thudding heart as she slipped into the cockpit.
There was time.
There still had to be time left.
A quarter arn? Microts?
Time enough to undo this... then fix what she had done to Moya.
No one would need to know.
Her hands shook violently. The identchip did not go into the scanner until the third try. She jammed the occulars onto her head.
"Jocosta." Her voice cracked. "Identify Pilot: L'Tan Sun"
Voice Identification Confirmed
"Cancel automated distress signal." She said hurriedly.
The image shifted within the oculars. What she read there was an icy jab to her heart.
Cancellation Denied
Detection Confirmed - Trans Received: 8873.74.3
Tracking Coordinates Transmitting
Ravstar Extraction
ETA: 2 Arns
1447 Microts
"No. Not fair. Not frelling fair!" She protested, fist slamming the console.
Tearing off the occulars, she scrambled out of the cockpit. Hectically, she climbed atop the sloped angle of the fuselage, throwing herself down in front of the com array panel. The cover would not budge.
As she pawed at the jammed cover, it sliced deeply into her palm. But she was heedless of the pain. Finally it opened. Hands slippery with her own blood, she pulled at the com array's harness. The component surrendered to her in a shower of sparks as she dashed it to the bay floor.
L'Tan slid down the side of the Jocosta on dead legs, panting. She studied the dead com array in the half-light. It lay on the floor like some crushed insect.
"Not fair." She muttered.
Violently, she kicked the ruined device. It skittered across the floor, banished to a black corner. L'Tan collapsed into a knot under the Jocosta's outstretched wing, her heart as empty as the shadows there.
Her master had been right.
There was no time.
She envisioned the calorics cells. Their precious fluids slowly bleeding onto Moya's deck.
Just numbed enough by the clorium she had stolen from Zhaan's apothecary.
Just enough to drain the energy from starburst, unnoticed by Pilot.
Just enough to end this all.
"Not fair."