In The Flesh - Part One.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at jesspallas@hotmail.com

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Lots of reference to OOTM and LATP, slight passing reference to TWWW, TGAS and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note: This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

 

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Jak Cordak swore loudly and ducked for cover as yet another conduit exploded overhead. He shielded himself as best he could from the blizzard of golden sparks, stumbling backwards, his tall, lean frame seriously oversized in the tiny, narrow corridor. His dark eyes glimmered angrily - he brushed a hand across his short hair to check that no spark had set it alight. His hand caught on the stubbly darkness that had already cost him the six inches of gold locks that had been his pride and joy and silently cursed his ship.

The Motjor was falling apart.

There was no denying it. Their tangle with that peacekeeper marauder - what the frig had peacekeepers been doing out here anyway? - had left the pirate raider, once feared throughout the sector, as little more than a tangled heap of floating metal floating deep in space. If that peacekeeper ship hadn't inexplicably withdrawn in the direction of the rebel Sebacean colonies, that would have been the end of his long and distinguished career. Half his crew were either dead, or nursing crippling injuries, including most of his engineers, leaving himself and the other helpless warriors who knew nothing of technology to stumble around in a ship that look set to dissolve into pieces any microt.

"Grajul!" he roared into his comm. "What the frig was that?"

"That be the power dubler to the cannons!" The voice of the Motjor's lone surviving engineer was fraught and course.

Jak bit back impatience. He hated tech talk. He found it a frustrating irony that his last tech was the one most prone to speaking in terms that made Jak feel ignorant. Jak did not like feeling ignorant.

"And what exactly does that mean?" he said, grinding his teeth audibly down the comm link. He heard Grajul gulp and bit back a rush of satisfaction. He loved it when people cowered before him.

"It means we ain't got no weapons left." The tech ventured warily. He was right to be wary.

"WHAT!!!!" Jak jumped up and slammed his head against the corridor roof. He felt blood in his mouth and swallowed it, fighting rising fury.

"We're defenceless? No weapons at all?"

"Aye."

"But we're pirates! How the frig are we supposed to make a living without weapons? We can't even steal a new ship! You have to fix it!"

"I canna. It's busted up good an' we don't have the parts t'rebuild it!"

"Well find them! Or would you rather I came down there and introduced you face to face to your internal organs?"
There was no response. Jak could hear the frantic intake of breaths.

"I'm commminnnggg!!!!" he drawled down the comm link as he turned towards the lower tiers of his ship. A muffled screech echoed from the other end. Jak smiled to himself. He wasn't really going to kill his last tech of course - just rough him up a bit. It wouldn't help the situation, but what the frig; he'd feel better.

"You'd better come up with a new answer for me Grajul, because if I come down there and it hasn't changed, they'll be picking up pieces of you in…"

"Captain!" The hail interrupted his threat. He tisked in annoyance and changed frequencies.

"Yes, Areni?"

The voice of his second in command was enthusiastic; even eager. "Jak, we've found a ship!"

The pirate was alert at once. "What kind of ship?"

"A derelict, although it still seems to be functional. It looks Halosian."

"Are its weapons functional?" Thoughts of disembowelling Grajul slipped reluctantly from his mind. He'd need the tech after all, if they had to salvage parts and graft them onto the Motjor.

"Looks like it. In fact, most of its systems seem fine. It just doesn't seem to have a crew."

"Could it be a trick?" Halosians weren't known for their subtle cunning but it never hurt to be careful. A Halosian on the evolve was a dangerous thing.

"I don't think so. Its weapons range is greater than ours. If they were going to fire, they would have hit us already."

Jak paused thoughtfully. If the Halosian ship was a derelict, abandoned for whatever reason, it could be just the break he needed. Halosian ships packed a decent punch and most important of all - they were roomy. He would take any chance to get off the Motjor.

"Ready the men," he ordered brusquely. "I think its time we left this heap of junk to rust in pieces."

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

It was astonishing how easy it was. When they boarded the ship, they found only a single Halosian alive, a lone female, struggling desperately to repair the ship and go in search of friends. She found none amongst the crew of the Motjor. They thanked her for her diligent work on their new ship, then dragged her down to the airlock and flushed her into space.

It didn't take long to get things in order. The Halosian bodies were mulched down and fed into the fuel generator, restoring power and bringing vital systems back on line. Thanks to the Halosian, weapons systems were in perfect working order; it appeared they had been the first thing she'd repaired. Jak's men knew the drill; they stripped the ailing Motjor of all her useful parts and transferred quickly to Halos 1, fighting and squabbling amongst themselves as they fought for decent quarters. Jak himself was already comfortably settled in the largest, most substantial rooms. Although the Halosian décor was bleak, the pirate had amassed a fine collection of expensive items from the rampant pillage of numerous Royal barges and soon he had the grim façade looking almost like a home.

They quickly moved on. A single blast from the forward cannon was enough to relegate the Motjor to a pile of drifting scrap, a state it had been yearning towards for many days already. Grajul was rather uncertain at first, but a number of beautifully turned threats from Jak inspired him to excellence and the new engines were quickly in working order. They headed out of the doldrums and set out in the direction of a commerce planet Areni knew. Where there were commerce planets, there were pickings; any pirate knew that. You always got some under armed fool lurking in orbit with riches to be had and no-one else in orbit was stupid enough to help out a ship under siege by Taurax pirates.

Jak had left Areni to guide the way, taking a long nap in his new quarters, but as requested, his second commed him once they were in range. Revelling in the headroom, striding tall, the pirate strode onto the vessels command, grinning broadly and rubbing his hands together.

"So what find delicacies do we have on today's menu?" he exclaimed jovially, approaching the read-outs.

Areni looked a little disappointed. "Not much," he confessed. "Looks like a slow day. Only three ships in orbit worth looking at."

"Well that's three more than we were in any state to fight with in the Motjor!" Jak refused to be depressed. "I want to test this beauty out! Now what do we have?"

Areni hit the panel - a hologram drifted before their eyes.

"Alanian Trader. Crew compliment fifteen. Armed with Rocho cannons and missiles. Carrying a full cargo of Riscus fruit."

Jak pulled a face. "I'm not hungry enough to face down Rocho cannons for that. And anyway, those fruits are disgusting! What else?"

The hologram contorted into a new shape. "Ylou'xive Cruise Fighter. Heavily armed but damaged on the back wing. Crew of forty, but their comm traffic indicates they've suffered heavy casualties. Carrying a cargo of Grousium."

Jak frowned thoughtfully. "Grousium is worth a bit. And their firepower would make a nice addition to my new ship. But Ylouxians fight to the death and they have big teeth - we'd loose men. Still it's worth considering. So who's last on our little list?"

Areni touched the panel again. The hologram stretched, twisting from its spidery form into a long, elegant vessel, with three delicate tapers at its rear.

"A leviathan." Areni raised an eyebrow at his chief. "Fairly young. Looks female, although it's hard to be sure. Comm traffic indicates a small crew; maybe no more than half a dozen."

"Anything of value on board?" Jak was examining the vessel carefully. This had possibilities.

"Nothing specific. But a leviathan in itself is going to fetch a bit if you can find the right buyer."

"Perhaps even more than a shipment of Grousium." Jak smiled suddenly, teeth gleaming with a predator's menace.

"What do you say, boys?" he exclaimed. "I've always rather fancied owning a leviathan!"

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

"Are we ever gonna get out of here?"

John Crichton sighed, glancing impatiently up at the golden ladder that led into the transport pod. Beside him, Zhaan offered a wan smile as she pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders, cradling her basket gently in her arms. Rygel, who had long ago lost patience, peered down from the pod doorway above.

"Aren't they back yet?" he demanded. "What the yotz is taking so long?"

John shrugged. "I dunno, Sparky. If you're so interested, why don't you mosey on out there and fetch them?"

"Because I know what they'll be doing!" The Hynerian retorted. "And I have no desire to see it. Those two are disgusting!"

"Look who's talking," John muttered under his breath but made no other comment.

As far as he was concerned, what Chiana and D'Argo got up to in the privacy of their own quarters was up to them. The only time it bothered him was when it held them up.

Like it was now.

John considered himself a fairly patient man but even for him, this was stretching things. They'd arranged to meet in the maintenance bay more than half and arn ago, intending to take a trip down to the commerce planet in search of a few supplies. It wasn't that they particularly needed anything, but after the secrets and intrigues of the last few weekens, a little time apart from each other would probably do them all some good. They had all been showing signs of strain of late. Despite the undimished frequency of their couplings, the relationship between D'Argo and Chiana had already begun to show cracks. D'Argo had been short, almost brusque with the Nebari and she had returned the favour with pouty looks and sulks. Zhaan had been strangely distant ever since she had returned from her mysterious excursion with Moya and Pilot and Pilot had been even worse, at times quiet and almost subdued, at others snappy and irritable. Neither had offered any explanation for their behaviour, exchanging inscrutable looks and changing the subject whenever they were quizzed about it. And Aeryn was Aeryn; a mystery in black, incomprehensible, at times warm and friendly, at others pushing him back to distances so vast that they seemed to fill the galaxy. Only Rygel remained himself and that of course was one thing that John could have done without. The human sighed. Even he had started to feel of late that he barely knew himself, that something inside him was changing, growing and he didn't like the sensation. There were times when he almost felt as though there was someone else running his mind.

His musings halted abruptly as D'Argo, stony-faced and looking none too happy, strode into the room, Aeryn a step behind. He brushed passed John without a word and started up the ladder, a grim expression set on his features. John glanced across at Aeryn, but she shrugged, as nonplussed as he was about the Luxan's mood. The human knew he was on dangerous ground; D'Argo looked angry and one wrong move could push him over the edge into a hyper-rage that would mean several days of Hell for them all.

"Chi not coming?" he asked mildly.

"No," D'Argo snapped gruffly. "She claims to have a headache."

"Oh." The emphasis was enough to tell John that there had been an argument somewhere along the line and Chiana was probably sulking in her quarters. It was best to leave it for now. Let them cool down apart and forget about it. By the time they got back, the Luxan and the Nebari would be ready to reconcile and carry on where they had left off - in the bedroom.

John looked at Aeryn and swept a bow, gesturing to the ladder.

"Ladies first!"

But the peacekeeper shook her head. "I'm not coming either. I don't feel like it. Besides…" Her voice dropped and she shot a covert glance at Zhaan who was ascending the ladder delicately. "I wanted to talk to Pilot alone."

John caught her meaning at once. "You think he might be a little more forthcoming when it's just the two of you, huh?"

Aeryn nodded. "I hope so. We need to get to the bottom of this. He's starting to worry me."

John patted her shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing. He's probably just a little embarrassed about getting lost again. If he hasn't told you, it can't be that serious. He tells you everything that matters."

She sighed. "I hope you're right. Either way, I'd rather know."

"Good luck," John smiled crookedly. "I'm almost tempted to join you. A trip in a transport pod with D'Argo right now is going to be barrel of laughs."

"Stay if you want," Aeryn shrugged but John shook his head.

"I need the air. I dunno why, but I feel like I'm going stir-crazy up here. Maybe a change of scene with help loosen me up."

Aeryn nodded. "Fine. Just don't make D'Argo any angrier. A fit of hyper-rage is the last thing we need to deal with."

"Crichton, come on! Why do you have to be so slow?" D'Argo's bellow echoed through the bay, causing the tools on a nearby workbench to vibrate.

"Me?" A succession of inappropriate retorts hovered on John's lips but he bit them back in the glare of Aeryn's steely gaze. Muttering about the hypocrisy of Luxans under his breath he turned and climbed the ladder, hauling himself in to the pod and slamming the door behind him.

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

It was with a strange sense of relief that Aeryn watched the transport pod depart the hanger and melt into the tumbled mass of stars. She felt vaguely liberated somehow, freed from the chains of restraint and control that shackled her in the presence of the others. The tension that had hung thick in the air almost seemed to dissolve with their passing, dissipating on an invisible wind and spinning away into nothingness. Relations on Moya had been so difficult ever since they had left the Royal planet; it seemed as though they had all come away with something to hide. The secrecy in their souls had shimmered in the air like a weight, dragging them all down and making them nervous of speaking, for fear that they would reveal more than they should. Aeryn didn't like it. They had all become so close of late, and some part of that seemed to have been lost. It had damaged the atmosphere aboard Moya and steps needed to be taken to repair the breech before it swallowed them all. Talking with Pilot would only be a small patch on the wound but at least it would be a start.

Pilot had felt it too. To begin with, he had ignored it, too busy trying to come to terms with the events surrounding his encounter with Moya's builders, but it had invaded his senses, pervasive and cold, a pall of tension that engulfed the crew and threatened to swallow them entirely. He knew his own behaviour had been a contributing factor but he simply couldn't help that. He had travelled to within the slightest whisper of death, perhaps even further, and the sordid murmur of that darkest of places still lingered in the back of his mind. He had tried to shake it but it clung on, leaping from one strand of thought to another, using his own multi-tasking abilities against him. It distracted him, disturbed him, drove him to snap at the crew and withdraw into himself, seeking solace within Moya and the performance of his duties. More than anything, he simply wanted to put the whole wretched business behind him.

Therefore he was somewhat less than enthusiastic when he sensed that Aeryn was approaching his chamber. He was very fond of her and under any other circumstances, he would have been glad to have her come and talk. But he knew what she wanted and knew as well that he simply couldn't give it to her. He didn't like keeping the truth from her, but for reasons he could not explain, even to himself, he simply couldn't bear the thought of confronting the business out loud. He was just beginning to gain control of his thoughts again now and the last thing he needed was a reminder of the void resurging in the corners of his mind.

"Pilot."

He looked up and met her gaze, a dark silhouette against the golden backdrop as she stepped into his chamber, letting the door swing closed behind her.

"Officer Sun," he acknowledged back. "What brings you here? I would have thought you would have left for the planet with the others."
She shook her head. "I didn't feel like it." There was an almost forced casualness about her as she made her way across the walkway to lean against his consol. "I thought I'd come and talk to you instead. It's been a while since we've had a really good conversation."

"We talked yesterday," Pilot commented mildly. "And the day before."

"We communicated," Aeryn corrected him. "We didn't talk."

He let that pass. "What would you like to talk about?"

She met his eyes. "What happened whilst we were separated."

He was careful not to let his feelings show on his face. "Did you do something you feel I need to know about?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "Nice try. You know what I mean."

Pilot sighed, keeping his eyes lowered as he adapted the amnexus flow on tier seven, carefully considering his answer. He could continue to hedge, which would drag this whole conversation out until Aeryn lost her temper and made him answer or he could get it over with quickly. He opted for the latter.

"I would rather not discuss this now," he said, continuing to avoid her gaze with precision. "I am quite busy."

Aeryn glanced at his consoles. "A few minor anomalies. Nothing on scan. You don't look that busy to me."

He had forgotten she could understand his readouts. That bluff might work with the others, but Aeryn could not be so easily fooled. He knew she was staring at him; he could feel her eyes boring like needles into the top of his head. It was now abundantly clear he was not going to get out of this one without confronting the issue. He took a breath, tapping one claw gently against a control as he considered his next move. He began to wonder if he should simply spill out the truth and get it over with. But a part of him balked inside; telling her would only force him to face the fact that it had all been real. He couldn't do that.

He met her eyes, hoping to find a little sympathy behind the determination, hoping he could make her understand without actually revealing too much.

"I wish I could tell you," he said sincerely. "But I don't want to talk about what happened. I don't even want to think about it. Aeryn, please, out of friendship at least, can't you just leave it at that?"

There was a long pause. Aeryn's eyes remained fixed upon him as she tried to puzzle out the meaning hidden under his words. He could sense her mind working, running through what he'd said in an attempt to gleam from it, some small nuggets of information.

"Whatever happened must have been pretty bad if you can't even bear to discuss it with me," she offered cautiously.

He recognised at once what she was doing. "I will not be tricked into discussing this," he told her bluntly. "Please find a new subject or leave."

She looked rather taken aback by his tone. "All right," she replied, a hint of confusion evident in her voice. "What else would you like to talk about?"

Pilot paused for a long moment. "I have no particular matters in mind," he said blandly. "Have you?"

She shook her head. "Then I guess I'd better leave."

Pushing herself upright, she turned for the door. Pilot felt a sudden rush of guilt. She'd come down to see him out of genuine concern and he'd all but thrown her out. She didn't deserve that.

"Officer Sun?" he called out.

She turned back. "Yes, Pilot?"

He hesitated, uncertain of quite what to say. "I have no wish to chase you away," he ventured finally. "I do appreciate your concern for me; I simply would prefer to keep this matter to myself."

She nodded. "I understand. We all have personal things in our lives we'd rather not share. I have no right to press you on something you want to be private."

He ventured a smile. "Thank you,"

She returned the expression. "You're welcome. Though quite for what, I'm not sure."

He tilted his head. "It would take too long to explain."

Ignoring the blank look on her face, he turned his attention back to his consoles. Something caught his eye almost at once.

"Officer Sun!"

She must have sensed the urgency in his voice. "What?" she responded, wheeling and hurrying back to his side. He barely noticed as his four arms skimmed across the panels, seeking affirmation of his initial reading. A moment later, his worst fears were confirmed.

"Another ship is approaching us with some speed." He was unable to keep the tension from his voice. "It appears to be the Halosian vessel we encountered a while ago."

"The same one?" Aeryn pulled herself half onto the console to get a better look at his readings. "Are you sure?"

"I am as certain as I can be. In physical dimensions, it is identical to Halos 1. It even bears similar scars of damage, although much of it has been repaired."

Aeryn was shaking her head. "This doesn't make any sense. Zhaan said Tak was dead and Yoz was near enough to make no difference. How did they manage to repair the ship? And how the frell did they find us?"

"It could be no more than coincidence. I believe the ship may have acquired new owners." Pilot bent closer, examining the data carefully. "There have been modifications to the weapons array and propulsion systems. I would guess that the ship has been salvaged and adapted for another use."

"By whom? And why would whoever salvaged it come after us?"

"We may have an answer." Pilot cocked his head. "We are receiving a transmission."

"Put it on external vocal."

Pilot nodded and hit a control. A rich voice filled the chamber.
"I am Jak Cordak, captain of the Mot-Halos and lord-chief of the Motchat clan of the buccaneers of Taurax. You will immediately surrender to me and prepare to be boarded. All items of value will be assembled and readied for my inspection. All crew will await my instructions in the landing bay of your ship. Failure to comply will be punished. Your vessel is without defences; to disobey me would be hopeless. If I have not received your acknowledgement of my demands within one hundred microts, I will open fire and destroy you. I'd think fast. I don't like to be kept waiting."

The transmission cut abruptly. Aeryn and Pilot stared at each other.

"It's just never frelling easy, is it?" the peacekeeper exclaimed in obvious frustration.

Pilot watched her in concern. "What do we do now?"

Aeryn rolled her eyes. "Do you want Moya to become a prize of the Taurax?"

"Of course not!"

"Then we fight." Aeryn reached for her pulse pistol. "Contact the transport pod, get the others back here. When I give the word, signal our surrender. We'll let their shuttle land in the docking bay and then I'll try and hold them off until the cavalry arrives."

"Aeryn, no!" Pilot surprised himself with his own vehemence. "That won't work! You'll get killed, the pirates will shoot down the pod and Moya will be captured anyway!"

"Well, what do you suggest?" Aeryn retorted. "That we StarBurst and abandon the others?"

"That is not an option." Pilot tried to hide his fear. "The Mot-Halos is too close. They would detect any attempt to StarBurst and open fire."

"Then what choice have we got?"

"Thirty microts!" Jak's voice interrupted mordantly. "Will you people hurry it up? I don't want to damage my new prize, but I will. Don't ignore me. I'm not going away!"

"Frell!" Aeryn slammed her fist down on the console. "What can we do?"

Pilot paused nervously. He wasn't sure how this suggestion was going to go down.
"We could raise the defence screen," he ventured.

Aeryn stared at him. "Are you insane? After what happened last time?"

"As far as I can ascertain, it is the only option we have that does not involve enslavement or death. The weapons on the ship have been much adapted and I will carefully regulate the modulation of the screen. It may not happen again."

"But it might! And then what the frell do we do?"

Pilot wasn't listening. "The Mot-Halos is powering its weapons systems. Firing is imminent."

He met her eyes. "Aeryn? Do I raise the screen or not?"

Aeryn stared at him, clearly torn. She had no desire to see Moya hurt but the disorientation caused by the switch would leave them vulnerable to boarding and capture. Whatever happened, the pirates would take advantage.

"Ten microts!" Jak's voice was mocking. "Don't you think you're cutting this a little bit fine? I'd transmit now unless you want to be picking up the strewn remains of your ship from across the quadrant!"

"His forward cannon is powering up. It is targeting Moya." Pilot could not hold down the fear this time. "Aeryn, I need an answer!"

"Five Microts! Four, three, two…"

"Raise it!" Aeryn exclaimed. Pilot obeyed instantaneously as the patchwork of red energy rose to engulf the ship.

"One…. Times up!"

"He's firing!" Pilot's eyes met Aeryn's; they both knew what was coming.

But it was too late to do anything else.

Moya jerked and shook with the impact; she almost seemed to scream. A flood of light and energy seemed to engulf the chamber. The blast echoed through the tiers, shaking the very air with the force of the blow.

Pilot felt himself shudder; he felt the pain as he was ripped free of himself. A new shape, a new form, new senses and new vision surrounded him and overwhelmed him all at once. He had time for one quick scream before everything went dark.

END OF PART ONE.