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Crichton landed the transport pod at what passed for a spaceport in the largest city on Cierra. “Okay, we’re down and safe,” he said, conversationally, making sure all the pod’s systems were shut down.
“Right, let’s go,” said Aeryn, opening the door with the air of someone who had been on too many wild goose chases recently.
Without comment, Jool stood back to let Crais be first down the stairs, then scurried along behind him. John and Aeryn brought up the rear, closing up the pod behind them.
The four walked nonchalantly through the spaceport towards the entrance to the town. They planned to rent a local ground transport to continue their search for some trace of a legendary Leviathan Cloaking Collar – emphasis on *legendary,* as far as everyone except John was concerned. One of the prisoners they had taken when they attacked Scorpius’ command carrier a quarter cycle earlier had told them of the experimental device’s supposed existence. According to his story, the device had been lost when the Leviathan being used to test it had broken free and had to be destroyed in this general area of the Uncharted Territories. John was determined to have it for their final assault on the Gammak Base where Scorpius had fled after the assault.
“Hey, this is just like Earth,” John said as they walked through a semi-secure area. “Airport, customs, car rental…. I hope you brought the maps this time,” he added, glancing at Crais.
Crais grimaced slightly at the reference to the fiasco while following up their previous lead, but he didn’t rise to the bait.
John frowned, but said nothing more. Somehow he and Crais had never quite come to be comfortable with each other, despite everything that had happened since Talyn rejoined Moya. They worked together well enough, but John didn’t think they’d ever be friends.
“These people look near enough like us, but their clothes! If this spaceport is anything to go by,” Jool announced, gazing around the area, “we’re not exactly going to blend in here.”
She was right. All four of them were clad in their customary black leather, though Aeryn had on a long-sleeved shirt under her vest, a concession to the cool weather Talyn had warned them about, and John, Aeryn and Crais were all wearing the long black coats favored by Peacekeepers. Jool herself had found a more stylish pelt to go over her short outfit. But the locals all seemed to wear more homespun clothing – for the most part, they favored light-colored woven fabrics, and they didn’t seem to mind the weather. No one seemed to be wearing any kind of overcoat.
“That’s okay, we’re tourists,” said John. “Tourists always stand out. All we need are some fanny packs and a couple ‘a cameras!”
Aeryn shook her head at him and said, “We are NOT tourists, we’re frelling idiots,” but her expression was affectionate. Whatever the actual state of their romantic relationship – and no one on Moya or Talyn would have dared to hazard a guess, except that they didn’t seem to be sharing quarters – she and John seemed to have at least put aside the worst of the problems between them, and were a comfortable team.
Aeryn and Jool kept watch discreetly while John and Crais arranged for the transport. Crais collected maps of the local terrain, John collected the chip that allowed them to use the vehicle, and they all trooped across something John would have sworn was asphalt to pick up what he delightedly kept calling their “car.” He even kicked what would have passed as black sidewall tires on Earth, causing the others to wonder about his mood.
Their main goal was to get out of town into the countryside, searching for the area where Talyn’s sensors had suggested there was crash debris from a Leviathan. John and Aeryn took the front seat. She insisted on driving, and he let her, seemingly puzzled by her resolve. John rode shotgun with the maps, and Crais and Jool took the back.
“Crais, why don’t you tell Junior he can go now, and pick us up in a couple days,” said John, tossing a careless look behind him in the general direction of Talyn’s captain.
Without bothering to acknowledge Crichton’s order, Crais spoke aloud, reaching Talyn through the sensor implanted in the back of his neck. “Talyn, we have arrived safely on Cierra. We have procured transport, and also have obtained local maps to supplement the ones you prepared for us. It is time for you to leave this planet to avoid the beltron rays coming from its sun.”
He paused for a moment, listening, and then responded, “Yes, Talyn. You need to retreat from this planet and hide among the asteroids in a more distant orbit around the sun. We agreed. You will check back in one solar day to see if we are ready to leave.”
Aeryn listened to Crais’ part of the conversation with Talyn with interest. The Leviathan gunship seemed to have matured somewhat, after everything that had happened while they were separated from Moya. The one time she had talked about it with John after their return, he had explained to Aeryn with a straight face that human offspring were always surprised to discover how much their parents had learned, after they themselves had grown up. Maybe that was some of what was going on with Talyn. Or maybe it had something to do with Talyn having some of Crais’ psyche. Whatever it was, Crais and Talyn seemed to be on much better terms now.
“Talyn, we agreed. Yes. Thank you. One solar day,” Crais said firmly, which seemed to end the conversation.
Jool looked nervously at Crais. “You didn’t sound very positive he’s going to be there when we need him.”
Crichton twisted around, draping his arm over the back of his seat, evidently curious about the answer.
“When we need him is not the issue,” Aeryn said, not taking her eyes from the road. “It’s when we don’t.”
“Dam-ba-da,” agreed Crais.
John and Jool exchanged a look and decided not to pursue *that* line of discussion.
“He’ll be there,” sighed Crais, and they all lapsed into silence.
* * * * * * * *
As they got farther from the spaceport and into a more congested area of the town, John started feeling uneasy. The streets were narrow here, with very few side streets. It made him feel hemmed in. “Does anyone see anything odd?” he asked the group in general, turning back and forth and looking out of the various windows.
“Like what?” Jool asked, peering out the window next to her.
“Like that,” Aeryn announced, pointing to a barricade being rapidly assembled in the street about fifty metras in front of them.
“Frell,” they all muttered under their breath in a chorus.
There was no where to turn off or around, and even if Aeryn had been more experienced with driving a ground vehicle, no amount of fancy maneuvering was going to get them out of this one.
“Well?” Aeryn asked, throwing a glance at John without slowing down, attempting not to arouse suspicion.
He looked at the map he had spread all over his lap and the panel in front of him. So close. If they had managed to drive only a thousand or so more metras, they would have reached the turn for the main road out of town.
Sighing, he said, “Well, I can’t think of any real reason they’d have a beef with us. Guess we should stop and see what they want. With a little luck, they’ll wave us through.”
Aeryn laughed at that, but decreased her speed as she approached the barrier.
One of the people at the site looked down at some kind of hand-held information device, then back again at their vehicle. He pointed excitedly at them.
“That looks like a wanted beacon of some sort,” Crais said unnecessarily.
“And it looks like they want us,” Jool added.
Aeryn and John exchanged annoyed looks, and John appeared to make up his mind. “Drive through,” he decreed, adding, “Step on it!”
Aeryn tried, increasing their speed as much as possible, but the barricade was stronger than it looked, or the transport more fragile. They came to a sudden smashing halt, thrown hard against their seat belts as the front of the vehicle crunched in.
When the movement of the collision stopped, John looked at Aeryn, Aeryn looked at John, silently assessing personal damage, and then they both looked in the back seat. “You okay?” they asked Jool and Crais simultaneously.
“I’m going to be horribly bruised across the chest,” Jool said, “but I think I’m all right.”
“Fine,” Crais reported succinctly.
When they looked around them, it was clear they were surrounded in a very loose circle by half a dozen law enforcement officers of some sort, whether civilian or military. They wore a dark uniform in contrast to the light colors of the civilians scurrying from the street, and all carried weapons, though none were currently pointed at the group.
“Out on the right,” Aeryn said, and Crais and Crichton grunted approval on their way out the doors. For the time being, while they had no idea what this was about, there was no point in splitting the group. Aeryn and Jool followed, and the four of them formed a back-to-back-to-back-to-back circle, warily eyeing the officers who were approaching them cautiously from a distance.
“What seems to be the problem, Officer?” John asked smoothly, choosing one at random to be spokesperson.
It was an impossible attempt to charm their way out of the situation, especially considering they had just tried to run through an official roadblock.
“Hands away from your weapons,” growled the officer John had spoken to, and gestured to the rest of his squad to move in and search the “suspects.”
Automatically, four hands, even Jool’s, reached for pulse pistols, which only made matters worse. One of the officers immediately opened fire, dashing any hopes of a standoff. John, Aeryn, Crais and Jool scattered to find cover, as a general firefight broke out.
John and Crais dove to the right, while Aeryn and Jool headed left, around to the other side of the ruined vehicle.
Improbably, the local constabulary seemed to be very poor shots. Aeryn made it to the rear of the motor vehicle and stopped briefly to see what was happening, Jool scrambling along behind her. Jool was cringing every time a pulse blast rang out, but she grimly kept her small pistol up and was looking for possible targets.
Crichton and Crais weren’t so lucky.
Although neither one of them had been hit, and between them they had taken out three of their attackers, Aeryn could see they were boxed in in an entryway to some kind of store. She could only guess they hadn’t called for help because they didn’t want to attract attention to her and Jool, hoping to give them a chance to get away.
Frell that.
She motioned to Jool to help her pick off the officers and give John and Crais an escape route. Aeryn’s first shot hit the target she was aiming at, but rather than taking him down, it only seemed to make him angry, and he turned in her direction. Jool’s shot went wild, but at least it missed the men they were trying to protect.
Then a piece of stone blasted loose by a shot fired at her hit Aeryn in the head. She dropped like a rock, hitting her head on an edge of the vehicle as she went down.
From his vantage point across the street, John saw her fall out of the corner of his eye. “Aeryn!” he screamed, tensing up his body in preparation to dash across the street to her aid.
“Crichton,” Crais hissed at him, ducking as another blast just missed him, and then firing once more. “Crichton! Stay where you are!”
John gave him a frantic look, then tried to see what was happening where Aeryn was. The car was in the way, and he couldn’t tell a thing. Reluctantly, he gave Crais a sharp nod.
At that moment, the local cavalry arrived, and John and Crais realized they were totally outnumbered. Reluctantly, they threw down their weapons, allowing the newcomers to storm in and roughly search them.
As they were led away, John tried to see if Aeryn and Jool had been captured as well. Of the two women, there was no sign.
* * * * * * * *
Jool was very close to panic.
Somehow, she and Aeryn had managed to crawl away from the melee without being followed. Well, not “somehow.” Aeryn had been conscious then, if woozy and obviously in pain, and had led Jool across the street, into a shop and out the back way, down several alleys, and finally into a shed in back of a building that appeared to be abandoned.
“Frell Crichton and his plans,” Aeryn muttered, catching her breath, and laid down and closed her eyes. “Make sure we didn’t leave a trail.”
Jool made haste to do as she was told. When she got back, much to her dismay, Aeryn was unconscious.
The time she’d spent on Moya had given Jool more experience as an emergency medic than she would have liked, so she tried to stay calm as she crouched down and assessed Aeryn’s condition. She found she was talking to herself, a nervous habit she thought she’d outgrown cycles ago until she woke up on Moya.
“Trust the Peacekeeper to pass out in a filthy place like this,” she complained as she started her exam. “Okay, her breathing’s regular, that’s good, that’s a start.” She pulled back Aeryn’s eyelids and had a look. “Pupils seem normal, too.”
Jool wiped at the trail of blood on Aeryn’s cheek, where she’d been cut by the sharp edges of the flying stone. “No more blood on her head, anyway. I guess that’s good.”
Feeling around the skull, looking for the injury sustained when Aeryn fell, Jool grumbled, “There’s got to be a lump here somewhere…. Frell! It’s as big as a plovek’s egg!” she gasped loudly when she found what she’d been looking for on the back of Aeryn’s head, hidden underneath her Peacekeeper braid. Then she stuffed her other hand in her mouth briefly to remind herself to be *quiet*. “What I wouldn’t give for a scanner,” she murmured softly, probing the mound with care. Jool decided that it probably wasn’t a depressed fracture.
“Well, that’s good news, anyway,” she said with relief.
“Aeryn,” Jool said softly, tapping her companion on the side of the face. “Aeryn, wake up.” She hit Aeryn a little harder, and then harder still, hoping for a reaction. “Well, it’s not like SHE has a good bedside manner….” But, though Aeryn stirred slightly, she remained senseless. “That’s not good with a head injury, well, not in Interons and humans, anyway,” Jool worried, but so far Aeryn’s condition seemed stable.
Wishing again for a scanner, Jool did a superficial check for other injuries. Aeryn hadn’t said anything to suggest any other damage from the battle, but Jool felt she should be as thorough as possible. “Not that I’d expect Officer Aeryn Sun to complain about it if she HAD been hurt,” she huffed.
Check-up finished with negative results, she removed the lining from her coat and folded it up, placing it under Aeryn’s head. “There, that’s better,” she said in satisfaction, then took a deep breath and sat down next to her patient.
“All right,” Jool said, “think about the situation.” The shed was dirty – well, dusty, anyway – and dark, but it seemed safe enough to hide in for now. They had been dressed for cold, and being in the enclosed space would probably help keep them warm if they had to stay here for long.
Not that she wanted to, but she had to face the possibility.
Crichton and Crais had definitely been captured, she’d seen that before Aeryn dragged her off. Maybe they were even dead. Wherever they were, there was no way she was going to be able to help them by herself, and she couldn’t expect them to find her.
Talyn was out of range, and wasn’t due to make contact for nearly a full solar day. If Crais was dead, and Aeryn didn’t wake up, Jool wasn’t at all sure the gunship would even acknowledge her comms.
“That’s all there is to it,” she said aloud again. “I’ve got to make Aeryn better. Then we can go find the others and get out of here.” She began to think about everything she knew about treatments for head injuries….
* * * * * * * * * *
After being divested of every weapon either of them carried, John and Crais had been escorted to a small holding facility and thrown together into a single cell. It was almost more like a basement storeroom than a jail, but the walls were thick, there weren’t any windows, and the door seemed unbreakable. There didn’t seem to be anything they could do at the moment but wait and see what was really happening here.
They were searched again and stripped of their comms, and one of the guards tore out Crais’ interface link with Talyn. At least neither one of them seemed to be seriously injured, just a few scrapes and bruises from guards who seemed to have a personal grudge against them.
All questions were met with silence, and as the soldiers left the cell, John, in frustration, hollered, “Hey, what about a lawyer? Don’t I get a phone call? Come on, guys, what are the rules around here? You can’t just lock us up for no reason!”
This too, was ignored, and he leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, hands around his knees, and stared balefully at the door.
Crais regarded him curiously.
After a moment Crichton asked, “Crais, did you see Aeryn at the end there? Is she okay?”
As if considering his words carefully, Crais took a moment to answer. “I saw her fall, as you did,” he finally said. “I do not know how badly injured she may have been. I hope,” he admitted, ”as you do, that she is alive.” He paused again, and then said, “I believe you had better focus your energies on our predicament here and now. Whatever her fate, you cannot help her from this cell.”
John was taken aback by the concern he heard in Crais’ voice. He chose to concentrate on the practical. “You’re right. We have to get out of here. And we need to be able to contact Talyn.”
“One of the comms would do, but my transponder would be better.”
At that moment, the door to their cell opened and a young man they hadn’t seen before entered.
“My name is Trinh,” he said. “I’m told you asked for counsel?”
John and Crais looked at each other. “Uh, yeah, I did,” Crichton said, rising to his feet and examining the new arrival. He looked so youthful John might have called him “pimply-faced” if he’d been human. “You the public defender?”
“Why are we being held here?” Crais demanded. “We are being detained for no –“
Trinh cut him off. “Oh, my friends, you are in very serious trouble indeed. Our planet has very strict laws about pulse weapons. I’m told you were carrying at least six between you.” He raised an eyebrow and waited for them to deny it.
“Well, more or less six, I guess,” Crichton said. “For protection. We’re strangers here. We didn’t know.”
“Irrelevant.”
“Ignorance of the law is no excuse,” John muttered. “What’s the penalty?”
The lawyer looked at them sternly. “One weapon is considered possession. The penalty is five cycles hard labor. More than one, and the presumption is that you intend to sell them. If convicted, that charge carries a life sentence.”
Crais sputtered, and John laughed sharply. “I’m inside a Turkish Prison! Anyone for ‘Midnight Express’?” he all but giggled.
“This is serious,” their counsel told them. “Our legal system particularly dislikes offworlders.”
John struggled to regain his composure, then ducked his head and waved his hand placatingly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just crazy. Where we come from, it’s just plain safety to carry weapons.”
“I presume we were scanned at the spaceport?” said Crais.
“All incoming visitors are scanned for weapons,” Trinh confirmed.
“Well, why the hell didn’t they just tell us THERE! We could have left the guns behind on our ship,” John asked reasonably.
The lawyer shook his head. “As I said, the presumption is that you intended to sell them. You were allowed to enter the city in hopes of leading the militia to your contact. When you neared the open road, you were stopped.”
“Hell of a way to run a police state,” John muttered. He asked, “All right, so what can we do about this?”
“Right now, nothing,” Trinh told them, looking between the two, apparently taking the measure of them. He seemed to feel somewhat sympathetic towards them, and John risked a request.
“Look, if we’re going to be here for the rest of our days, could you see if you could get my friend’s transponder back?”
Crais looked at him sharply, but said nothing.
John continued, “He needs it. It’s a medical device. It fits in the socket in his neck and regulates his insulin level.” He hoped to god that translated into something that sounded like a Sebacean might need regulated….
Trinh looked at them again and Crais turned to show off the socket, trying to look ill. “I’ll see what I can do, both on the charges, and your device,” the lawyer told them.
“Thank you,” said Crais quietly, and this time it was Crichton who looked at him in surprise.
When their lawyer left the room, Crichton and Crais followed him out the door with their eyes, and then looked at each other.
“Well,” John said, “this does NOT sound good.”
“I take it you don’t trust him,” Crais said neutrally.
“Do you?”
“Perhaps,” Crais said. “But we would do well not to rely on his legal expertise. We may not stand a chance if their system is as inflexible about weapons smuggling as it appears.”
“We weren’t smuggling weapons,” John said petulantly. “But I know what you mean,” he added.
They both sat down, this time each on one of the two separate cots that lined opposite walls.
“If we get the transponder back,” John began, “or if Aeryn is okay…we may have some help getting out of here.”
Crais looked at him appraisingly. “If Aeryn is free, she will tear this building down to get you out.”
“Don’t go there, man,” John said softly. “Just don’t go there. I’m not him. You don’t know me like you think you do, so just shut up.”
Crais grunted acceptance, and they settled in to wait for further developments.
