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Oathbreaker

Disclaimer: Two words: not mine.  All characters and the universe in which they exist belong to the Jim Henson Company, the Sci-Fi Channel, and anyone else who isn’t me.  The only thing to which I lay claim is the plot line.

Rating: Probably PG-13 for language, violence, and adult themes.

Author’s Note: Episode one in the Unscripted Territories Series.  Takes place in Season 2, between the episodes “The Locket” and “The Ugly Truth”, and includes spoilers up to that point. You have been warned.  Apologies for all the words I know I misspelled.  Peace be with you, live long and prosper, yada yada yada.


Our deeds still travel with us from afar
And what we have been makes us what we are.
~ George Eliot


“No, Chiana.  Absolutely not.”

The grey Nabari danced to keep up with the Luxan, two of her steps to every one of his long strides.  “Why not?  Zhaan won’t mind –”

“I would mind,” D’Argo growled, turning down another of Moya’s corridors.

Chiana squealed and tossed her head.  “You are so frelling straight!  Fine, then.  If you won’t ask Zhaan, I will.”  She spun on her heel and turned at the next junction.

Now D’Argo was the one following, trying to keep up.  “You can’t.  I absolutely forbid you to ask Zhaan –”

“Ask me what?” The Delvian pa’u stood a little to one side of the passage the quarreling couple had turned down.  “Do you need something?”

“Yeah,” Chiana said.

“No,” D’Argo barked.

“Not good, not good,” Stark tittered, watching them nervously with his one good eye.  “Yes-no, yes-no.”

Zhaan put a soothing hand on the Banik’s arm.  “You seem to be in disagreement.”

Chiana threw up her hands.   “All I wanted to do was ask you for a little love mix –”

“Chiana!” D’Argo snapped.

Zhaan smiled.  “Is that all?  You should hear some of the things Crichton’s asked for.”
   
Abruptly the comm warbled.  “Zhaan?  D’Argo?” Pilot asked.  “Moya is receiving a transmission.  I think you should go to Command.  There’s. . .a ship approaching.”

“A ship?  What kind of ship?” D’Argo demanded, still frowning at the Nabari.

“Peacekeeper, Moya believes.  It’s very far out,” Pilot answered.

“We’ll be right there,” Zhaan promised.

“Not good, not good,” Stark muttered again.

*

“A prowler,” Rygel repeated.  “What the yotz is a prowler doing out here?”  He zoomed his thronesled over to Aeryn and peered over her shoulder at the control station.  “What do the sensors say?”

Aeryn glared at him briefly before returning her attention to the flashing panels.

“Give her a minute, Ryge,” Crichton advised.  “Pilot, that transmission – can you put it on the clamshell?”

“Yes, Commander, I. . . think so.  It seems to be. . . repeating itself,” Pilot replied.  His image wavered out of focus, was replaced by the face of a Sebacean male in a prowler cockpit.

“Attention Leviathan Moya,” the man said, his voice calm and firm over the connection.  “Intelligence reports indicate that you are in the immediate vicinity.  Be aware that I pose no threat to you or your crew.  I am seeking the Peacekeeper Officer Aeryn Sun.  Be advised that I carry an urgent message for her of extreme importance.  Attention Leviathan Moya. . .”

“Letter from home, Aeryn,” Crichton said lightly, looking over to the woman suddenly grown still at the station.  “You know him?”

“Why is a Peacekeeper pilot bringing you messages?” D’Argo demanded, moving to stand behind Rygel.

Aeryn shook her head, but her eyes remained fixed on the repeating image on the clamshell.  “Pilot, send our coordinates to the prowler.  When he comes close enough, deploy the docking web and bring him in.”

Vehement disagreements erupted from every side.

“Pilot, belay that order,” D’Argo directed.  “We are not bringing that prowler aboard.”

“He can’t be far from the rest of the boys,” Crichton agreed.

“Have you gone completely fahrbot to even think such a thing?” Rygel added, snorting in derision.

“We don’t have a choice but to let him come,” Aeryn began, tearing her gaze from the transmission.  “He must have something important –”

“Important for who – you?” Rygel interrupted.

Zhaan agreed, “It must be a trap.”

The others vocally assented, running over each other with reasons why they should not only ignore the transmission, but depart the area immediately.

“We’ve got to hear what he has to say,” Aeryn shouted over the noise.  “He’s not a pilot – he’s a captain!”

The voices abruptly fell silent.

“How do you know that?” Chiana asked.  “I don’t see any special captain’s marks on him.”

Aeryn mutely looked to Crichton.

“Do as she says, Pilot,” Crichton said, rolling his eyes upwards in frustration or surrender.  “But have Moya ready to starburst on a microt’s notice.”

“Done, Commander,” Pilot agreed.  “The prowler is changing course.  And Moya is standing by.”

“Not good, not good,” Stark mumbled.

“Stop saying that,” Chiana told him sourly, accompanying the command with a sharp smack to his arm.

*

Moya’s crew met the prowler pilot with weapons in their hands.  When the bay doors slid open, the first thing the Peacekeeper saw was a handful of people from various species all aiming dangerous firearms at him; the sight gave him pause only for a moment.  With an arrogant lift of the chin he strode over to Aeryn, not even glancing at the others after his first cursory look.

“Officer Sun,” the tall man greeted her.  “It’s not customary to greet a superior officer over the barrel of a pistol.”
“You said you had a message,” Aeryn replied, voice as cold as space.  “Let’s hear it, and maybe we’ll let you live.”

The man spread his hands.  “I am not armed, as I’m certain your scans informed you.  Ease your weapon.”

“Aeryn, you know this frelnick?” Chiana asked, shifting her gaze over the stranger.

“Shut up, tralk,” the Peacekeeper said casually.  “I know about you.  I know about all of you.”

D’Argo growled menacingly.
 
“If you know about us, then you know you’d better start talking,” Crichton warned.  “Who is this guy?” he asked Aeryn.

“Rorhen Kune,” Aeryn answered.  “Captain, Special Ops.”
 
“So you do remember something about your real life,” Kune said.  Slowly he began to move past the group, angling further into the bay.  “Allow me to suggest that you lay aside your weapons.  Truthfully, I’m only here to deliver a message.”

“You’ll understand if we doubt your sincerity,” Zhaan said, her blue lips pressed into a frown.

Abruptly Aeryn dropped her pistol, returned it to the holster at her knee.  “Alright, Kune, talk.”

The tall Peacekeeper lifted a laserdriver from the workbench, casually turned it end over end.  “Privately, Officer Sun,” he said, casting her a sidelong look.

Crichton watched Aeryn stride over to the raven haired male.  She snatched the tool from his hands and threw it back onto the bench.  “I have no secrets from these people, Kune, so say what you came to say and get the frell off our ship.”

If Aeryn felt confident enough to yell at the captain without her hand anywhere near her pistol, then obviously the man wasn’t an immediate threat.  Crichton slowly lowered Winona, and the others reluctantly followed his example.  “You’d better speak up, captain.  The lady’s getting angry,” he advised.

Kune barely spared Crichton a glance.  “I must insist on privacy, Officer Sun.”  His gaze locked with hers.

Slowly Aeryn began to smile – not a gesture of pleasure or amusement, but of barely suppressed anger.  “Oh, Kune, I’d almost forgotten how pitifully easy you are to read.  This is about the Oltai.  There’s only one thing you’ve ever wanted me for, and that’s the Oltai.”

“What’s an Oltai?” Chiana asked.

The dark haired man folded his arms across his chest.  “Don’t overestimate yourself, Officer Sun.  You’re not special.”

“You’re lying,” Aeryn retorted.  “I am special, or you wouldn’t be here now, needing my help.  Just like you needed it ten cycles ago.”

Emotion finally flashed in the Peacekeeper’s eyes.  “You were only a convenience ten cycles ago, Officer Sun, someone assigned to carry out a mission, and the only thing I ever wanted from you was a bit of entertainment.  It was a dreadfully long, boring transport out to the Oltai; you were just some piece of tralk I frelled for diversion.”   

All eyes immediately snapped to Aeryn.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kune,” the ex-Peacekeeper coldly returned.  “Everyone was bored on that transport.  I frelled all the men on the team, and a few of the women, too, you stupid dren.”

“You always did have a problem with addressing me respectfully, Sun,” Kune said, taking a menacing step towards her.

Crichton didn’t know if Aeryn was bluffing or not, but he did know captain crunch was about to get a major ass-kicking if he didn’t leave Aeryn alone.  “Back off, Peacekeeper,” he warned, his hand straying towards Winona.

“I’ve had enough of this dren,” D’Argo agreed.  “Let’s get the frelling Peacekeeper off the ship and leave.”

“I’ve always addressed you as you deserve, sir,” Aeryn sneered, making the last word an insult.

Chiana saw the captain’s hands clench into fists.  “Hey, Aeryn, he’s getting angry –”

The Peacekeeper sprang forward, seizing Aeryn by the shoulders.  He brought his mouth crashing down over hers, but almost instantly thrust her away from him, muffling a surprised cry.  “You bit me,” he said, dabbing a hand to his lower lip.

“What the hell is going on here?” Crichton demanded.

“It’s about pain with him, Crichton,” Aeryn answered, not turning her eyes from the captain.  “He thinks pain equals strength.”

“And you think being strong means not asking for help,” Kune countered.  “Why, Aeryn – why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“So I could drag you down with me?” she mocked.  “I knew what would happen.  I tried to do as much damage control as possible.”
“His pain, her pain, his pain, her pain,” Stark mumbled.

“I’ll give them both some pain if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on!” Rygel demanded.  “Is this some Peacekeeper trick?”

“Stubborn to the last,” Kune said sourly.  “Same old Aeryn.  I am here to help you, even if you won’t ask for it.  Let us talk privately for a while.”

“After the stunt you just pulled?” Crichton scoffed.  “She won’t give you the time of day after that.”  

“You have five microts,” Aeryn told Kune.  “Follow me.”  She turned and walked towards the maintenance bay exit, not looking to see if he followed.

Kune hesitated only a microt before going with her.

“Wait, Aeryn, are you sure this –” Crichton began, but the two had already left the bay.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch on them,” Rygel promised, zooming his thronesled after the pair.

“Frell,” D’Argo said.  “This can’t be good.”

“We have to trust Aeryn,” Zhaan said.  “Surely she knows what she’s doing.”

Crichton was silent.  Chiana moved to pat him on the shoulder.

“Relax, Crichton,” the Nabari comforted.  “She’s obviously already frelled him, and wasn’t impressed.  You have nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks, Chi,” Crichton said sourly.

*

Rygel watched from behind an air vent grill as the two Sebaceans faced each other.  The sound of their voices echoed clearly off the center chamber’s golden walls.

“You look well enough,” Kune said.

“Yes, being hunted like an animal has done me immeasurable good,” Aeryn returned.  “I assume you have something significant to say.”

The captain leaned on the long table between them.  “You were right at first guess, much as I hate to admit it.  High Command has learned that the Oltai are on the brink of making an alliance with the Scarrens.  Should this happen, eight planets – one hundred and eight billion people per planet – will be added to the Scarren empire.  Obviously, we cannot allow this to take place.  You have been assigned to Special Ops for this mission, under my direct command.  Your job is to obtain audience with the First Leader, assassinate him and his heir.  This will allow another faction to take control, a faction more interested in forming an alliance with us.”

Aeryn shook her head, making her thick braid swing.  “I’m not a Peacekeeper anymore, Captain.  Yesterday High Command wanted my head, and today they want my help.  That’s very convenient – for them.”

“And you as well,” the captain commented.  “Once a Peacekeeper, always a Peacekeeper, Aeryn.  You swore a blood oath, remember?”

She smacked her closed fist down on the table.  “No.  I won’t kill for them ever again.  Now, if that’s all you have to say, then leave.”

Kune half turned away from her.  Rygel watched him wearily rub his forehead.  “High Command knew you wouldn’t come back empty-handed.  I have been authorized to offer you a substantial reward for fulfilling this task.”

Rygel’s earbrows perked with interest.

“A bribe, you mean,” Aeryn corrected sarcastically.

“Your life,” the captain retorted, turning back towards her.  “You could be reinstated, given back your old post and rank and a bonus in salary.  Or, you could have your choice of assignments, even a promotion if you complete the mission in a timely fashion.  Or you could retire with full benefits.”

“Radiation-induced brain fever to bring on the living death,” she muttered, looking at him askance.

“Do you think I would allow that to happen to you, Officer Sun?” he asked, spreading his hands.  “Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

Aeryn turned and paced a few steps.  “High Command really gave you that much negotiating power,” she said skeptically.

“The Oltai have thrown our ambassadors off their planets.  They won’t even grant us long-range talks.  We need them on our side, and we are running our of options.”  The captain met her gaze fully.

Aeryn slowly let out her breath.  “Then I will do it – so long as my terms are met.”

Kune nodded almost eagerly.  “Name them.”

“There are six other people on this Leviathan,” Aeryn said.  “I want their guaranteed safety.  I want them to be transferred to their homeworlds or places of their choosing.  I want their entire files erased from Peacekeeper archives.  And I want this Leviathan and her pilot to be free from Peacekeeper confinement and capture for as long as she lives.”

Rygel almost betrayed himself by cackling with delight.

The captain mutely regarded her for a time, then slowly began to smile.  “You’re not serious.  Even you aren’t worth that much.”

She drew herself up proudly, calling his bluff.  “I am a Peacekeeper, worth twenty lives of lesser species.”

“You just said you weren’t a Peacekeeper,” Kune countered.  “You can’t have it both ways.  But. . .you are a Sebacean.  I offer you the Leviathan and four of the fugitives, none of which can be the human.  That abomination of a half-breed has claimed Crichton, and nothing in the galaxy can save him.”

Aeryn scowled at him, considering his offer.  “Five of the fugitives, Moya and Pilot, and I finish the mission within three solar days of arrival.”

“Not to include Crichton,” Kune clarified.

Rygel held his breath.

“No,” Aeryn conceded.  “Not to include Crichton.”

“Done.”  Kune nodded in satisfaction, then paused.  “You do understand that this bargain makes no provisions for you.  I won’t have any authority left to protect you.”

Aeryn shrugged.  “My life wasn’t worth dren before I left the Peacekeepers, Kune, and it wouldn’t be worth dren if I went back.”

Kune frowned.  “They’ve done a remarkable job of conditioning you, Officer Sun.  Still, we have a deal.  I will give the pilot a set of coordinates.  We should reach Oltai space within two solar days; that should be enough time to prepare you, so long as we start immediately.”

“Wait,” Aeryn warned.  “This is all conditioned on the others’ agreement.  I don’t control this ship; I can’t force her to go anywhere.  Let me talk to the others before we begin the conditioning.”

Rygel scrambled to exit the air vent.

*

The Hynerian was so ecstatic about the possibility of going home, he blundered out the first words that crossed his mind when he caught up to Aeryn.

“Are we really going to trust this Peacekeeper to keep his word?”

Instantly Aeryn had her hand around his throat, pushing him back against one of Moya’s golden walls.  “What did you hear, you slug?”

Rygel tried to shake his head.  “Nothing. . . much.”

She glared at him for a microt, then removed her hand.  “Not a word, Rygel, not one frelling word to Crichton or the others.  You say anything, and I’ll cut you out of the deal.  I’ll give Crais your place.”

The Hynerian watched her storm down the passage towards Command.  He believed her threat.

*

“Tell us again, Aeryn,” Zhaan said.  “Why must it be you?”

Aeryn closed her eyes and leaned on the Command workstation.  “We’ve been over this twice, Zhaan.  The Oltai are shunning the Peacekeepers and allying themselves with the Scarrens.  I go in and take care of the ruling power so that another faction can take control.  The new faction will fall in with the Sebaceans rather than the Scarrens.  Really, it’s very simple.”

“Except that it’s not,” Chiana disagreed.  “Zhaan’s right – why you?”

“Because, ten cycles ago, I was the one who brought the current faction to power,” Aeryn said, glaring at the Nabari.  “It’s why I will be granted an audience now with the First Leader – he’s probably still grateful to me for his ascension.”

“Gratitude that you’ll use to assassinate him,” D’Argo growled, shaking his head.  “There is no honor in this plan.”

“And what’s Captain Crunch going to do for you in exchange for doing his dirty work?” Crichton asked.

“You frellnicks haven’t guessed?” Chiana laughed.  “She gets to go back. . .back to the Peacekeepers.  Probably with a promotion for being a good girl.”

The muscles in Aeryn’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

“I think she should do it,” Rygel began, moving his thronesled to Zhaan’s side.  “Remember when we had the chance to go home?  This is just like that –”

“Rygel,” Aeryn warned.

“–Except now, Aeryn’s offering her own arm, and more,” the Hynerian finished quickly.  “Shouldn’t we support her choice?”

“Generous words from a small heart,” Stark mumbled, eyeing Rygel suspiciously.

“Putting Moya that close to Oltai space could put us all in danger,” D’Argo said, shaking his head.  “I don’t think –”

“No, you don’t,” Aeryn agreed shortly, shoving herself away from the station.  “This is not a discussion.  If you don’t want to take Moya to Oltai space, fine.  I’ll take my prowler.  Forget I asked for your support.”  She turned and left the Command area, anger etched in every step.

Crichton was after her in an instant, but had to move quickly to keep up.  “That wasn’t fair,” he said, catching her arm to stop her.

She jerked out of his grasp.  “Truth doesn’t need to be fair, Crichton.  It very seldom is.”

“What’s your problem?” he demanded.  “Captain Crunch gets on board, and suddenly you’re following his orders like he’s your commanding officer, and making eyes at him like he’s an old boyfriend.  The rest of us just don’t trust him as much as you obviously do.”

Aeryn curled her lip in disgust.  “Grow up, Crichton.  I’ve made an excellent bargain with Kune, and I intend to keep it.  If you and the others don’t like that – too bad.”  She continued walking down the passageway.

“And how do you know he’ll keep this great deal?” Crichton asked, keeping pace with her.  “What makes you think he won’t screw you over as soon as he gets what he wants?”

“I know Kune,” she replied.  “As long as I hold up my end of the bargain, he’ll keep his word.  Supply offered, demand met.”

“A Peacekeeper capitalist.  Wonderful,” Crichton muttered.  “Aeryn, we just don’t want you to get hurt.”

She stopped, and he realized they had come to her quarters.

“I appreciate that,” Aeryn told him, “but I can handle matters without assistance.  Now, if you want to help me, get Pilot moving on those coordinates.  Conditioning for the Oltai meeting will take several arns.”  The grates of her quarters split and opened.  She turned and entered, and the grates shut Crichton out.

The Peacekeeper captain was waiting for her, a large bag in each hand.  “Took you a while,” he greeted Aeryn.

Crichton turned away, shaking his head.
*

“They’ve been in there for arns,” D’Argo growled, pacing around the long table in the Center Chamber.  “What the frell are they doing?”

Chiana laughed and ate another food cube.  “Come on, D’Argo, you know what they’re doing.  Now we know what Aeryn wants in a male – tall, mean, and powerful.  No wonder she doesn’t want you, Crichton.”

“Thanks, Pip,” Crichton muttered around a mouthful of food cube.

They were all gathered in the Center Chamber.  Despite the fact that nearly five arns had passed since the Peacekeeper captain had come aboard, neither he nor Aeryn had made an appearance since retreating to Aeryn’s quarters.

“I am glad we decided to take Moya rather than send Aeryn alone,” Zhaan said.  “Rygel was right – this is her chance to go home.”

“Her ‘home’ consists of thugs and murderers,” growled D’Argo.  “Will she one day be hunting us, trying to recapture Moya?  Or perhaps they’ll send her back to assassinate us.”

“Good to know you think so highly of me.”  Aeryn stood on the threshold to the Center Chamber.  Her eyes had dark shadows beneath them; her skin was shiny with sweat, and her dark hair hung in damp tendrils around her face.

“My dear, you look exhausted,” Zhaan said with concern.  She rose from the bench and walked towards the ex-Peacekeeper.

“You look like dren,” Chiana clarified.  “That captain must really be impressive.”

“Shut up, Chiana,” Aeryn said.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  She walked towards the plate of food cubes on the table, stumbled and nearly fell into Zhaan.

“Aeryn–?” the Delvian asked, worry heavy in her tone.

“I’m fine,” Aeryn said quickly.  “Just hungry.”

Crichton took the plate of cubes off the table and brought them to her.  “You don’t look fine,” he said, offering her a cube.  He met her eyes for a moment before she glanced away.  “Hey – what happened to your eyes?  They’re purple.”

She took the cube from him.  “The Oltai First Leader thinks I’m a halfbreed, part Sebacean and part Oltai.  I have to look the part.”  She ate the cube and reached for another.

“The Oltai I’ve seen look very little like Sebaceans,” Zhaan said.  “Surely you wouldn’t –” 

“I’ll do what’s necessary,” Aeryn interrupted sharply.  She bean to reach for another cube, then abruptly put a hand over her mouth.  Turning on her heel, she all but ran from the room.

Crichton shoved the plate at Zhaan and quickly went after her.

“Has anyone noticed how much Crichton follows her around?” Stark commented.

“He has to,” Rygel said smugly.  “She’s got his minvocks in her hip pocket.”

*

He held her hair back for her while she violently retched into the waste receptacle.  “Aeryn, what the hell is going on?”

She took a shuddering breath and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.  “It’s the. . Oltai hormones.  It wasn’t this difficult last time.  I think the hormones are reacting badly to the DNA of Pilot’s that I still carry.”  She retched again, but nothing came up.

“Are you doing this job for yourself, or for that captain?”  Crichton asked.

“You tell me.”

Gently he rubber her back.  “You were lovers, weren’t you?”

“Frell, no,” she answered vehemently.

That made him pause.  “But he said. . you recreated.”

She managed a small, strained laugh.  “So?  That doesn’t mean dren.”  She retched again, this time bringing up blood.  “This is just about the deal.”

Crichton shook his head.  “And what if he doesn’t keep his end up?”

“He always keeps his word,” Aeryn answered.  “It’s the one thing we have in common.”  Briefly she closed her eyes.  “I was bred to be a pilot.  But there are a dozen jobs for pilots with the Peacekeepers, and few of them are glorious.  My goal, my dream had always been to fly prowlers, my fantasy to be part of a marauder team.  I met Kune when I was fourteen cycles old, a small ways though prowler training.  He knew, somehow, about my dreams.  He came to me and said if I didn’t recreate with him, I’d never fly anything by maintenance rigs.  He wasn’t a captain then, but he had enough power to make good on his threat.”  She retched again, then added, “I was in a prowler within the cycle.”

Crichton took a deep breath, fighting down a surge of anger.  “Among humans, we call that blackmail, and when it’s with a fourteen year old girl, we call it rape.”
Aeryn weakly shook her head.  “Sebaceans are fully mature at twelve cycles.  It wasn’t rape.  I had a fair choice.  It wasn’t blackmail.”  She coughed.  “Besides, I’ve had revenge on him a dozen times over the cycles.  Kune was never anything to me, but I don’t think that’s the case with him.”

“He has feelings for you, you mean.”

“I believe so.”

“You believe so,” Crichton echoed.  “That’s why he asked you why you hadn’t asked for his help.  All this time you could have asked him to give you a hand, and you didn’t.”

“Not that simple,” she said shortly.  “He would have owned me forever.”  Slowly she climbed to her feet, once upright, she leaned heavily on Crichton.  “I’m alright now,” she said, her voice shaky.  “I’ll be fine.”  And she promptly fell back on her knees and began to vomit again.

*

Two arns later, when Crichton saw Kune walking down the passageway, he quickly moved to block the captain’s path.  “Yo, Captain Crunch, let’s have a talk.”

“Get out of my way, human,” Kune said, scowling darkly.  He shouldered past Crichton.    

Crichton caught his arm and made him turn around.  “I don’t think so.  See, I need you to stop what you’re doing to Aeryn.  You’re hurting her.”

“You really are one of the lesser species, for all that you look Sebacean,” the captain sneered.  “Officer Sun is keeping her word.  If she went before the First Leader without a disguise, she would be executed out of hand.  She’s a soldier; she knows what is expected of her.”

Meeting the taller man’s gaze squarely, Crichton said, “Aeryn was right – you’re really easy to read.  You have feelings for her that good little Peacekeepers aren’t supposed to have.  How can you do this to her?  Not just the ‘conditioning,’ but he whole shibang.  Making her an assassin, making her kill for you.”

Kune laughed.  “You amaze me with your ignorance, human.  If you knew anything about Peacekeepers – if you knew anything about Aeryn – then you’d understand.”

“Oh, I know Aeryn,” Crichton returned, his voice heavy with implication.

“Is that so?”  Kune said slowly.  “With you, a lesser species?  You’re lying.”

Crichton only smiled.

“Well,” the captain said finally.  “Well, what a surprise this isn’t.  She’s a pilot, after all, and when off duty, prowler pilots only do certain things with objects that interest them.  If it’s alcohol, they drink it; if it’s edible, they eat it; if it’s alive, they frell it.  Life is very simple for them.”

“Do not talk about her like that,” Crichton warned, and shoved the other man hard in the chest.

The captain only stumbled back a few steps.  “You think you know her so well, human, then try a small test,” Kune challenged.  “Ask her how she got that scar on her left knee.  I’ll wager she tells you nothing.  In fact, I’ll wager her life on it.”  He turned to walk down the passage.

“Screw you,” Crichton said to his back.

*

“Pilot says we’ll reach Oltai space within fourteen arns,” D’Argo said.  He moved from one Command workstation to another.  “The sooner we have that cretada off Moya, the happier I’ll be.”

“I assume you mean Captain Kune, not Aeryn,” Zhaan said mildly.

“Of course that’s what I meant,” D’Argo said irritably.  “Even if I do think she’s making one hezmana of a mistake.”

Zhaan gazed out the forward viewport.  “You once asked me what I would trade for a chance to go home.  Do you remember?  I told you I’d give my life.  Apparently Aeryn feels the same.”

“It isn’t her life she’s trading,” the Luxan disagreed.  “It’s the life of an entire race’s leader.  Assassination.”  He hissed with distaste.  “Honorless.”

Stark said neutrally, “She’s not exchanging her life for her freedom. . .she’s exchanging her soul.”

“Yotz,” Rigel brusquely dismissed.  “She’s simply fulfilling her end of a bargain.  You’re all reading too much into it.”

*

“Hey, Aeryn,” Crichton said, swinging his hand over the sensor to open the grates of her quarters.  He strode in, saying, “Pilot says we’ll reach Oltai space in about fourteen –” He halted halfway in, surprised at the sight that greeted him.

Aeryn lay face-down on her bunk, arms at her sides, not a scrap of fabric on her upper body; a bedsheet was loosely draped from the small of her back to the back of her knees.  Kune was leaning over her exposed shoulders, a very large scalpel in his left hand and a strip of silverish metal in his right.  Aeryn’s skin was molted with fresh bruises and new cuts.
“Get the hell away from her!” Crichton demanded.  “Pilot, get D’Argo and the others down to Aeryn’s quarters now!”  He rushed towards the Peacekeeper, ready to take down the man single-handedly.

“Stay back, human,” Kune warned.  “I don’t want to hurt her – this is very delicate work.”

Aeryn lifted her head to look at Crichton.  “John?” she said groggily, her eyes no more than slits.  “It’s alright, John.  It’s just part of the conditioning.”

“Lay still, Aeryn,” the captain said.  Glaring at Crichton, he gestured angrily at the door.  “Get out, human, and don’t come back.  One slip of this knife and her spinal cord will be severed.”

Crichton looked from Kune to Aeryn, confused and uncertain.

“Go on,” Aeryn said.  “I’ll find you soon and explain.”  Her head slumped back down to the bed.

Still Crichton hesitated.

“Now, Crichton,” Kune ordered.  “I’ve got to get this done.”

When D’Argo came sprinting down the passageway, he found Crichton sitting on the deck outside the closed grates of Aeryn’s quarters.  “What’s happening?”

“Crichton, what is it?” Zhaan asked, appearing from the opposite direction.  “Is something wrong with Aeryn?”

“Yes.  No.  I don’t know,” Crichton said, shaking his head.  “Kune’s in there. . . operating, or conditioning, ow whatever.  She looks horrible.  I thought he was attacking her.”

Zhaan peered though the grate.  “I can’t see anything. . .”

“We can stop him,” D’Argo growled, moving towards the door sensor.

“No,” Crichton said, scrambling to his feet and catching D’Argo’s hand before it opened the grates.  “Aeryn said no.”

“Aeryn is a fool,” the Luxan snapped.

*

Crichton didn’t know what to do.  He paced around his quarters, showered, did some more pacing, cleaned his pistol, shined his boots, and did some more pacing.  At last he dimmed the lights and lay down on his bunk.

He wasn’t certain how long he’d been asleep when her voice came.
“Crichton, it’s me.  Are you in there?”

He climbed to his feet, went to open the grate.

Aeryn stood in the passageway, swaying slightly in place.  Her wet hair was pulled back in a loose braid; she wore a black robe belted at the waist, and her feet were bare.  Down the sides of her neck ran thin slips of silver-grey metal, thick as his finger and surrounded by purple bruises.

“Come and sit down,” he offered, swallowing around the emotion lodged in his throat.  He reached out a hand to support her.

She flinched away from it.  “Don’t. . .don’t touch me.  The skin is still very sensitive.”  She walked a few steps to his bunk, sat down on its very edge.  “Do you have anything to drink?”

He moved to pour her a drink.  The door grates quietly hissed closed.  “Water,” he said, bringing her the cup.  “It’s all I’ve got.”  He sat down next to her, careful not to brush up against her.  The skirt of the robe was open on one side; he saw another strip of metal embedded over the outside of her thigh and leg.

“Good enough.”  She took the cup, but her hand was unsteady, and she spilled most of the water down the front of her robe.  “Frell.”

“What are those things?” he asked, pointing at the metal running from her wrist to elbow.

“Sense preceptors,” she said.  “Oltai have external nerves to help them negotiate the environment.  Their eyes see very little, and the light on their worlds is very dim.”

“Does it hurt?”  He wondered why he asked when he already knew the answer.

“It’s necessary,” she said flatly.

“That’s not what I asked,” he returned.

“Don’t be difficult,” she said.  “I didn’t come here for you to nag at me.”  After a pause, she added, “It is extremely painful.”

He stood up, careful not to jar her.  “I’ll be right back.  Wait here.”

She didn’t ask where he was going, and when he came back some time later, she was sitting in exactly the same position as when he left, not having moved at all.

He carefully sat down next to her and set a small blue jar beside him.  Gently he took the cup from her hand, then reached for the belt of the robe.

Her fingers snapped out to seize his wrist in a vice-like grip.  “What are you doing?  I’m not wearing anything under this.”

“You ain’t got nothing I haven’t already seen,” he said, trying to tease a smile out of her.  She didn’t react, so he added, “I brought some painkiller from Zhaan, ointment made out of that same plant she gave you for your headaches.  Should help with the pain.”

“I don’t need help,” Aeryn said, but released his wrist.

“Of course you don’t,” Crichton agreed.

When the robe slipped from her shoulders, she grimaced in pain.  He understood why – the twin strips running parallel down her spine had the flesh inflamed and swollen.  “Damn, Aeryn, I’m surprised you’re even conscious.’

“I have had training to handle large quantities of pain,” she said between her teeth.  “I am also under heavy anesthetizing agents.”  Which didn’t stop her from hissing with pain when he began to apply the ointment.

“This deal with Kune – it’s costing you a lot,” Crichton said after a while.  “You must really hate it here with us.  With me.”

She made no answer.  He paused to look at her face, thinking she may have fallen asleep, but her eyes were open wide, staring at nothing.  Tears were running down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.  “I didn’t mean. . .”

“It’s not you,” she said, her voice steady and normal.  “It’s the frelling implants, and the frelling hormones.  It wasn’t like this last time.”

He nodded, went back to massaging the skin on her back.

“I tried to get Kune to include you in the bargain,” she said abruptly, half turning to face him.  “He wouldn’t do it.  I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said, flashing her his best boyish grin.  “I’ll be fine, especially if I know you’re happy, and safe.  What you want matters to me, Aeryn.  It matters as much to me as what I want.”  He gently kissed her on the forehead, above her left eye.

She smiled at him.  “You know, Crichton, among Peacekeepers, kissing on the mouth is a sign of aggression, of passion or dominance.  It’s not a sign of caring or tenderness.”

So that was why Gilina had looked at him so oddly the first time he’d kissed her.  It explained quite a bit.  “Cultural difference – can’t escape them,” he said lightly.

She nodded.  “If you want to show that you care for someone, that you have feelings for them, then you kiss them on the forehead.”  She reached up and framed his face with her hands.  “Like this.”  And she brought his head down to gently brush his forehead, her lips light as a butterfly’s wings.

*

“Captain Kune, we have reached the designated coordinates,” Pilot announced over the comm.  “We are on the border of Oltai-designated space.”

“Excellent,” Kune said.  “Contact Officer Sun and have her report to docking bay three.”

“As you wish,” Pilot agreed, a hint of irritation in his voice at being given orders.

“You order Aeryn around like she’s one of you underlings,” D’Argo said, crossing his arms over his chest.  “She’s not a Peacekeeper anymore.”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told her, Luxan,” Kune said without looking at him.  “Once a Peacekeeper, always a Peacekeeper.”

Zhaan smiled tolerantly at the Sebacean reviewing the prowler controls.  “I would have believed that, had I never met Aeryn Sun.  Through her, the Goddess has shown me that people can change.”

“Some people,” Stark muttered.  “The pure of heart.”

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Chiana said, poking the captain in the shoulder so that he met her gaze.  “I think you’re angry that Aeryn isn’t on your team anymore, and this is how you’re going to get even.  If she completes her mission, the Peacekeepers will have another assassin to add to their collection; they’ll use her like a tool and throw her out when she breaks.  If she fails the mission, she dies.  Either way, she’s frelled.”

Kune smiled at her.  “Such a beautiful body to house such a stupid mind.”

“Hey, hey, the gang’s all here,” Crichton said, entering the bay.  “Pilot said we’re on target.  Where’s Aeryn?”

“I’m here.”

The creature that walked towards the prowler bore little resemblance to Aeryn Sun.  Dark hair had been bleached to amethyst gray, and was half drawn back to expose shimmering metal strips on either side of her neck.  Her lips had taken on a bluish tint, her skin a faint purple hew.  Her clothing looked to be made from woven ribbons; vest and trousers were cut oddly, revealing skin and metal strips in unlikely places.  Even the knee-high boots she wore were made of ribbons, and resembled sandals more than her customary closed-toe, heavy duty footwear.

“Beautiful,” Stark said, wonder in his voice.  “Beautiful creature to do such an unholy task!”

“Frell, Aeryn,” Chiana laughed, “you’re the drakest looking assassin I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Aeryn said.  She went to the prowler, climbed the short ladder, and tossed in a small bag.

Crichton eyes Kune as he watched Aeryn move.  The captain frowned and shook his head.  “You’re not in character, Officer Sun.  Relax your shoulders, sway your hips more when you walk.  Act like a female.”

“Hey,” Crichton protested on Aeryn’s behalf.

Aeryn touched a toggle in the cockpit, then climbed back down the ladder.  “Frell off, Kune.  I’m not one of your black ghosts.”

Kune met her gaze for a long moment, then dropped his head in acceptance.  “Right, then.  Let’s go.”

“In a microt,” she said, moving past him to Zhaan and Stark.  “Thanks you for the ointment,” she told the Delvian.  “I almost can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Not necessarily a good sign,” Zhaan answered sagely.  “I know you are set on this course, my dear, so I will not try to dissuade you.  But go quickly, do what you must, and return soon.  May the Goddess go with you and guide your path.”

Kune snickered.

Stark glared at him.  “You’re a bad man.”

“Yes, little Banik,” Kune agreed, grinning wolfishly.  “I’m a bad, bad man.”

Aeryn turned to D’Argo.  “Take care of them, D’Argo.  You’re the only soldier left here – don’t let them do anything foolish.  Especially Crichton.”

“You ask much,” the Luxan said, smiling.  “Be well, my friend.”

“Take Moya and leave as soon as we’re gone,” Aeryn added.  “Don’t wait a microt longer than you must.”

“But- but you’ll need us here when you get back,” Chiana protested.

Kune and Aeryn exchanged glances.

“You-you’re not coming back, are you?” the Nabari guessed.  “You don’t think you’ll come back.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Crichton said.  “Scrap the plan.  It’s not worth the risk –”

“It is worth the risk,” Aeryn said, her voice breaking oddly, making a growling sound.  She cleared her throat, then added, “You taught me that, John.  Hope and freedom are always worth the risk.  You all taught me that.”  She included the others in her gaze, smiling lopsidedly.

“What’s wrong with your voice?” Chiana asked.

“Vocal cord modification,” Kune explained.  “Oltai don’t have the upper ranges of sound.  If she should happen to shriek or scream, they would know instantly that she isn’t one of them.”

Crichton rolled his eyes.  “Aeryn–”

“I have never ‘shrieked’ in my life,” Aeryn told Kune sharply.  Turning back to Crichton, she said, “This could take me a while, a long while.  I’ll find you –”

“We’ll wait,” Crichton interrupted.

Aeryn shook her head.  “Crichton –”

“We’ll.  Wait,” he said slowly, stubbornly.  His eyes locked with hers for a long moment, and then she silently turned away.

“Aeryn– wait, Aeryn.”  Rygel finally appeared in the bay.  He zoomed his thronesled over to her, scanned her suspiciously from head to heels.  “Purple isn’t your color.”

“I’ll make a note,” she snapped, setting her foot on the prowler ladder’s first wrung.

Rygel angled his sled up a few notches.  “I wanted to tell you. . .”  For a microt his voice faded; then he added boldly, “Much fortune.”

She nodded once, then proceeded up the ladder.

“Aeryn,” Crichton called.

“If you don’t let her go, human, she’ll never get back,” Kune grumbled.

Crichton ignored him.  “You have a scar on your left knee,” he said, looking up at her.  “How’d you get it?”

“I don’t–” she began, then stopped.  Looking down at him, she said slowly, “I got it from a lieutenant when I was in prowler pilot training.  He called it something to remember him by.”

Crichton glanced at Kune, and there was no mistaking the smugness on his face.

Kune frowned darkly and looked at Aeryn.

The ex-Peacekeeper split a look between the captain and the human.  When she spoke, her eyes were on the latter, but her words were for the former.  “Don’t try to frell me on this, Kune.  I won’t let you.”  Then she stepped down into the cockpit, disappearing from sight.

*

From the forward viewport in Command, Crichton watched the lone prowler dissolve into the darkness between the stars.

“I still don’t know why she took that yotz with her,” Rygel said, his thronesled at Crichton’s side.  “He can’t possibly be a help.”

“Kune said his energy signature would be masked by some modification he made to the engine, and that he would be able to negotiate for Aeryn’s release after the new faction comes to power,” Zhaan explained patiently.  “You were there when all was explained.”

“Doesn’t mean I agreed,” the Hynerian grumbled.

“We’ll wait for her,” Crichton said, still gazing out at the stars.

“Of course we will,” D’Argo agreed.  “Even if all that returns is her body.”   
  
Chiana looked surprised.  “Don’t you think she’ll make it?”

“Truthfully?”  The Luxan shook his head.  “Even she didn’t think so.  She asked me to make sure she was buried in space, not down on some planet.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Crichton demanded, turning to face them.  “If you all thought she was going to die, why didn’t you stop her?”

“Freedom is the greatest of the Goddess’ gifts,” Stark said, answering for them all.  “And. . .  Aeryn is a very difficult person to dissuade.”

*

“Three solar days,” Chiana said as she darted into Command.  “It’s only been three solar days – how can she be done already?”

“Oh, you know Aeryn,” Crichton replied, grinning widely.  “Once she’s got a bee in her bonnet, there’s no stopping her.”

“I have no idea what the frell that means,” D’Argo told him, “and honestly, I don’t want to know.  Pilot, prepare to deploy the docking web.  Aeryn’s prowler is approaching.”

“D’Argo, Moya’s scans indicate that the prowler is maintaining its distance,” Pilot answered, his image appearing on the clamshell.  “Scans also indicate that. . .there is only one occupant in the prowler.”

Zhaan murmured Aeryn’s name softly.  Beside her, Stark launched into a half-moaning tirade of negativity.

“Who’s in there, Pilot?” Crichton asked steadily.

“Moya doesn’t. . .wait.  Receiving transmission.”  Pilot’s image flickered and faded, was replaced by Kune’s face.

“Hey Captain Crunch, where’s Aeryn?” Crichton demanded before the man could speak.

Kune’s face betrayed no emotion.  “I regret to inform you, Crichton, but Officer Sun is dead.  However, she did manage to complete half of her mission; thus, I will honor half of your bargain.  I will arrange safe passage for the Hynerian and Delvian, as Officer Sun requested –”

“Stop, stop,” Crichton said, raising his hands.  “What the hell do you mean, Aeryn’s dead?  And–”

“Where’s her body?” D’Argo demanded.  “What’s this dren about half a bargain?”

“I am attempting to explain, so shut up and listen – that includes you, Banik,” Kune growled.  “Officer Sun was killed while carrying out her mission.  Her remains were unavailable for retrieval.  As for the bargain we struck. . .”  He shook his head.  “Since she did not share the terms with you, I can only infer she meant to alter the details.  Our business here is at an end.  I would advise you to depart the area immediately.  Should you care to know: Officer Sun will be recorded as killed in the line of duty while on a Special Operations assignment; she will be not be remembered as a deserter or a traitor, which is more than any of you could have offered her.”

“Enough yotz from you, Peacekeeper,” Rygel said, zooming his thronesled over to the clamshell.  “I know all about your bargain with Aeryn.  She negotiated for our freedom, not hers!  You promised her our lives if she would do this assassination dren for you –”

“Rygel, explain yourself,” Zhaan ordered.

“I don’t have time for this,” Kune growled.  His image abruptly disappeared from the shell.

“The prowler is moving out of range,” Pilot informed the group.  “Shall Moya pursue?”

“Moya doesn’t have any weapons,” Chiana said.

“No, but Kune’s prowler does,” Crichton replied.  “Pilot, get that ship ready.”

“I will fly the prowler to retrieve that lying yarbo,” D’Argo announced, pushing past Crichton.  “I’ll blast the frelling dren out of him for getting Aeryn killed –”

Crichton cold hear the first edges of hyperrage in the Luxan’s voice.  “No way, D, I’m on this.  I know how to fly a prowler better than anyone else.  Aeryn showed me.”

“Aeryn let you fly her prowler?” Chiana asked.  “She never let me fly her prowler.”

“Which never stopped you from taking it,” D’Argo returned.  To Crichton he added, “And she always thought you were a slow learner.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Crichton dismissed.  “But she did tell me about the new anti-theft mechanism she installed after Chiana’s last escapade.”

Zhaan asked, “What does this device do?”

Crichton grinned.  “Wonderful things.”

*

Within a half arn Aeryn’s prowler was back aboard Moya, and so was its Peacekeeper pilot.  After being forced from the cockpit at gunpoint, Captain Kune found himself marched into the connecting maintenance bay by an unsmiling Crichton, then driven to his knees by a furious Luxan.  It was Chiana, however, who actually landed the first blow.  

The Nabari’s fist caught the Sebacean squarely under the chin, snapping his head back with a loud crack.  “I knew you were going to get Aeryn frelled!”

“Easy, Pip,” Crichton said, catching Chiana’s arm before she could hit the man again.  “We need to ask the good captain here a few questions, and to do that, he needs to be conscious.”

“Give me a few microts alone with him,” Rygel growled.  “I’ll get the truth from his lying mouth.  Now tell them about the real bargain, Peacekeeper cretada, or else –!”  He cuffed Kune roughly across the skull with the edge of his thronesled.

Kune grit his teeth and glared at the Hynerian.  “I truly don’t understand why she was so set on your freedom, slug.  Her contamination must have been deeper than I suspected.  Yes, she argued with me over the terms of the bargain,” he said, turning his glare on D’Argo.  “I came here for her, to offer her a chance to return.  She traded away her one chance for all of you, a ship full of prisoners!  I always knew she wasn’t captain material: too willing to sacrifice herself, but not others.”

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Zhaan said to no one in particular.

Crichton caught Kune by a fistful of fabric at the base of his neck and half-lifted him from the floor.  “Is that what you did?  Exchange Aeryn’s life for your own?”

The captain tried to shake his head.  When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, but held no fear.  “You’re a fool, human – if I’d wanted her dead, all I had to do was leave her with you.  There’s a vid chip in my pocket, if you insist on seeing her death.”

Stark dropped to his knees beside Kune and began to randomly run his hands over the captain.  “Find the chip– where’s the chip– find the chip– ha ha!”  He held up a silver video chip stamped with the Peacekeeper crest.  Jumping to his feet, he skittered over to a maintenance station and inserted the chip.

A pale image flickered to life, a picture of a room filled with people who looked much as Aeryn had before departing for the planet: amethyst haired, violet purple skin striped with silver-white metal, clothing made of woven ribbons.  The males and females appeared to be in some sort of meeting hall; they spoke with low voices in pairs or small groups.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first, but then a long, low keen split the air, and the calmness was broken.  The image blurred as people moved rapidly in the field of view, and was filled with sporadic flashes of faces reflecting concern, anger, and confusion; voices merged into a low hum to accompany the chaotic scene.  After a few microts some semblance of order returned.  The image focused on a short male with long amethyst hair looming over a figure forced to its knees by two guards clad in purple armor.  The figure was Aeryn.

“Not good, not good,” Stark muttered anxiously.

“Shut up,” D’Argo and Rygel said simultaneously.

“You – you have killed my First Wife,” the short man said to Aeryn.  He struck her across the face, and Aeryn rocked backwards from the blow.  “I trusted you, allowed you an audience and a place at my table, and this is how you repay my trust!”  He kicked her in the stomach, and she doubled over to the floor.  The guards quickly pulled her back upright.

“It wasn’t me,” Aeryn gasped, glaring at the man towering over her.  “You’re mistaken –”

“Liar!” the man howled in a deep voice.  Again he struck her, again she crumpled, again she was pulled upright by the guards.  “My Heir saw you kill her, saw her die from your brutal attack.  Who sent you, traitor?  Who sent you to murder my First Wife?”  He reached out with a hand suddenly sporting five long white claws, drove the claws into Aeryn’s bare upper arm, and began to rip the metal strip from her skin.

“By the goddess,” Zhaan murmured.

Aeryn fought, but the guards held her while the short man removed the implant.  Open muscle lay exposed where the metal strip had been, and crimson blood flowed like water to soak the ribbon vest a dark maroon.  She did not scream, but one of the guards let out a low yip of surprise when she ruthlessly sunk her teeth into his unprotected hand.   

“You will tell me who sent you, or I’ll remove every one of your calips before your execution,” the First Leader growled, dangling the bloody metal strip before Aeryn’s face.

The ex-Peacekeeper looked ready to lose consciousness.  Her breathing was labored, her eyes open to mere slits; her arm continued to gush blood, making a large pool on the floor.  Weakly she nodded and whispered something too low to be heard.

“She gave you up,” Crichton said to Kune.  “That’s why you ran.”

Still in Crichton’s hold, Kune answered gruffly, “You underestimate Peacekeeper training, human.”

In the image, the short man bent to grab a fistful of Aeryn’s hair, forcing her to look at him.  “Again, traitor – and perhaps I will have the mercy on you that you did not have for my Heir’s mother.”

Aeryn’s eyes instantly snapped open, wide and alert.  Before the First Leader could react, she broke his hold on her, caught his chin in her unharmed hand, and twisted sharply.  The man’s neck made an audible snap, and the light faded from his purple eyes.

The scene again erupted into chaos, and the image flickered out.

“She looks alive to me,” D’Argo said grimly.

Kune struck Crichton’s hand from his throat and surged to his feet.  “You stupid frelling Luxan – they beat her to death, right there in their Audience Chamber.  When they were finished, you couldn’t find two matching pieces of her to put together.  Were you were that, Luxan?  Is that slug over there worth that sacrifice, or the Delvian?  Frell, no.  When I make my report to High Command, I will say that Officer Sun died attempting to protect the Sebacean people, not trying to buy the freedom of a few worthless slaves.”

“I don’t believe you,” Crichton said dully.  “I don’t think she’s dead.”

“Then you’re a fool,” Kune sneered.

“I know very little of the Oltai, but everything I do know points to a nearly fanatical devotion to loyalty and justice,” Zhaan said, shaking her head.  “I sincerely doubt they would have killed Aeryn without an interrogation to determine who had sent her.”

“You-you must have thought that, too, or else you wouldn’t have gone with her,” Chiana told the captain.  “That’s why you went, right?  To negotiate for her release when the new faction took power.”

Kune sighed.  “Yes, but–”

“No ‘but’s,” Crichton said.  “We are going back to that planet to see if Aeryn is still alive, and you,  Captain Crunch, are going to help us.”

“She’s dead, Crichton,” Kune growled quietly, “and even if by some miracle she weren’t, they’d still never hand her over to you.”

Crichton smiled without humor.  “They would if we had something more valuable to trade – say, a Special Ops captain who ordered the murder of their leader.”

Kune gave the human a measuring glance.  “You wouldn’t dare.  If the Oltai discovered the Peacekeepers were behind the assassination, they would certainly sign a treaty with the Scarrens.  Officer Sun’s death would have been in vain, and all of this would have been for nothing.”

“Then you had better come up with a different plan,” Stark told the captain.

*

“I am Dominar Rygel XVI of the Hynerian Empire,” Rygel droned to the image on Command’s forward viewport.  “I have come on a matter of great urgency.  I must speak with you Justice Leader.”

The purple skinned Oltai male shook his head gravely.  “Recent events have detained the Justice Leader, Dominar,” he said in a low voice.  “I must ask that you turn your Leviathan around and immediately depart Oltai space.”

“Unacceptable!” Chiana shrieked, stomping her foot angrily against Moya’s deck.  “I have not come all this way in search of the traitor only to be dismissed!  Do you have any idea who I am?  I’ll tell you who I am – I’m Electorate Chiana of Nabari Prime, and I absolutely demand to talk to somebody in authority!”     

“You are,” assured the amethyst haired man, then added, “Nabari. . .we are not familiar with your race.”

“A fierce-tempered species, honorable leader,” Zhaan said soothingly, “although they are just as fierce in their devotion to justice – as are my people.  I am Pa’u Zotah Zhaan, representative of the Delvian League.  Dominar Rygel has not overstated our mission, honorable leader – we must speak with your Justice Leader.”

“And I have not deceived you,” the Oltai answered.  “The Justice Leader is unavailable. . but since your mission is so urgent. . .”  The image dimmed and muted as the male turned to address someone off-scene.

“This is never going to work,” Kune grumbled.

“It will work, it must work, it will work,” Stark chanted in return.

“Oh, shut up,” Rygel snapped.

“Stop, children,” Zhaan admonished.  “We must all work together on this, for Aeryn’s sake.”

Another man appeared on the viewscreen, a male with eyes such a dark shade of purple that they almost looked black.  “I am War Leader Papher.  My people are in the midst of a crisis; we are in no mood to host a delegation of foreign dignitaries.”

“And we are in no mood to play the role of guests,” Crichton said slowly.  He wore the Peacekeeper captain’s uniform that he had once donned to fool a marauder team, and spoke with the cool drawl Aeryn had taught him to mimic a Peacekeeper.  “We are searching for an escaped prisoner, an assassin who has committed murders in each of our territories.  We have reason to believe she is on your central planet.”

“Peacekeeper,” the Oltai growled.  “What makes you think your assassin is here?”

“Your First Leader has been murdered, yes?” Kune put in smoothly.  “We don’t want her, I assure you. . we simply desire to see her remains.”

The war Leader frowned at the group silently for a few microts.  “You will be permitted two arns to orbit our central planet, visit the surface, and leave.  You will come unarmed.  You will submit to searches when you arrive.  And you will be destroyed by our military if you remain one microt beyond two arns.  These are the terms – no negotiations.”

“We accept,” Rygel said, half bowing from his thronesled.

“Thank you, honorable leader,” Zhaan added.

The male casually flickered a hand and cut the connection.

“Two arns,” Crichton repeated.  He glanced at Kune.  “I hope you know your way around down there.”

*

A small squad of Oltai soldiers escorted them into the War Leader’s audience hall.  Like the guards who had restrained Aeryn, these Oltai wore purple armor that carefully covered all but a few strips of their external nerves, and their heads were shaved to the skin; it was nearly impossible to distinguish males from females.  Despite their armor, the soldiers moved almost noiselessly through the dimly-lit corridors leading from the landing pad to the audience hall.

“Frell this darkness – don’t they have lights here?” Rygel snapped after nearly running his thronesled into a wall for the third time.

“Be quiet – they can hear you,” Zhaan warned, pinching his earbrow to accentuate her words.

The dark-eyes War Leader stood behind a round control center awaiting their arrival.  His amethyst hair was skinned tightly back across his skull and bound un a thick braid; he wore the armor of a soldier, not the ribbons of a politician.  “I assume you know by now that both the First Leader and First Wife are dead at your assassin’s hands, Peacekeeper,” the male said to Crichton.  “How very pleased your High Command must be.”

“High Command does not interfere with internal matters of state,” Kune said for Crichton.  “We regret your loss.”

War Leader Papher smiled thinly, exposing sharp teeth.  “You need not pacify me with platitudes, peacekeeper.  I know High Command must have been furious that we were about to sign a treaty with the Scarrens, and while I do not believe they had a hand in these events, I do believe they rejoice over them.”  He shook his head.  “A pity that their joy is premature.  The Heir of the First Leader intends to sign the pact, just as the First Leader would have done.  I will ensure that this comes to pass – I am the Heir’s Regent Protector now.”

“Your affairs are your own,” Rygel said shortly.  “We just want to know about the assassin so we can go home.  Each of our respective governments will be pleased to learn of her death.”

“We have not yet finished questioning her,” the War Leader said.  He tapped something on his console, making a small image appear above the desk.  In the dim light Crichton could only make out a bruised and bleeding figure slumped in a large chair to which she was bound.  A figure loomed over her, an Oltai soldier with a long silver knife in his hand; he touched the knife to the metal strip on the woman’s neck, and she jerked violently.

The woman was not Aeryn.  She looked remarkably similar, but there was a roundness to her face and a slant to her eyes that Aeryn did not possess, even disguised as an Oltai.

“That’s the assassin,” D’Argo said slowly.

The War Leader took his words as a statement, not a question.  “Yes.  There were a hundred witnesses.”

“Barbaric torture,” Zhaan commented, watching the image.  “Delvians do not treat even assassins in this manner.”

“Justice demands that we know who hired her,” the war Leader said, killing the image.  “You have the evidence you need that she has been apprehended.  Do not ask for her: she has already been sentenced to death, execution to follow interrogation.  You may return to your ship.”  He turned away from them.

They exchanged glances among themselves, then turned to follow the Oltai soldier who waited behind them.

“We are not barbarians,” Papher said.  “Like you, Peacekeepers, we are practical; like you, Luxan, we know honor.”

D’Argo turned back to him and replied, “There is no honor in torture, War Leader.”

The male waived for them to return.  “Let me show you something.”  He again tapped on his console.  Another image appeared, a view of a lush garden illuminated with pale light.  Two Oltai women stood among the knee-high pastel flowers; one carried a young child on her hip, and the other one was Aeryn.

“This is from ten cycles ago,” the War Leader said.  “When the assassin first came to us, she said she was seeking haven from the Peacekeepers; although she had been among them for many cycles, they had decided she no longer served a purpose.  Halfbreeds have never concerned us – we are just arrogant enough to believe that a little of our blood improves everyone.”

A man entered the garden, approached the two women with a smile on his face.  The women stretched their hands out to him, and he held them to his chest. 

“She found favor with the First Leader, who was only the Foreign Ministry Leader then.  These are his wife and child.”

The male in the image took the child from his wife and playfully tweaked her nose.  The child laughed and said something that made the two women laugh.

Aeryn had white flowers braided into her hair.

“When the last First Leader died, it was rumored that he was murdered,” the War Leader said.  “Many assumed that this assassin had done it.  She disappeared shortly thereafter, and we never thought to see her again.  Then, a few solar days ago, she returned.  The First Leader was delighted.  He welcomed her into his hall, his home, and even his bed, some say – although I doubt it.  The First Wife treated her like a sister.”

In the image, the child reached for Aeryn, and Aeryn swung the girl up onto her shoulders.  The girl clapped her hands with joy, making the pale light glint off the metal strips on her arms.

“Your people value honor, Luxan,” the War Leader said grimly.  “Mine value justice.  It is our deity and our life, the thing we serve and strive towards.  Justice demands that we not only punish the assassin, but know why she betrayed us.”  He killed the image above the console, slanting Crichton a neutral look.  “You Peacekeepers have no notion of justice.  We use the same word but with different meanings.  For you, justice is winning, but for us, it is doing what is right.  You say it is unjust for us to ally with the Scarrens, but we find justice is best served by saving the innocent.  Do you think we cannot see the coming war between the Peacekeepers and Scarrens?”  He shook his head.  “We are not barbarians.  Go, use the remainder of your time to talk with my people.  Speak to anyone you wish, anyone at all – justice is not served through a silent tongue.  Take what you learn back to your homeworlds – and your High Command, Peacekeeper.”

“I will make a full report,” Kune said stiffly, and turned away.

*

The Oltai soldiers had melted into the shadows, leaving the corridor empty.  Zhaan cornered Kune the moment she was certain they were alone.

“You,” she snarled at the captain.  “You filthy Peacekeeper – you corrupt everything you touch.  These people, Aeryn. . .Stark was right: you made her sell her soul for this deal.”

“You can’t sell what you don’t have, Delvian,” Kune replied, shoving her away.  “Officer Sun saw the larger picture, and she made her own choice.  A choice that benefits you, if you recall.”

“And what choice do you think Aeryn will make when she learns you abandoned her, captain?” D’Argo asked.  “That isn’t her they have strapped to an interrogation chair.’

For a moment Kune looked shaken.  “I know.  I’m not certain how –”

“I know how,” Crichton interrupted.  “You thought the game was up, so you tucked tail and ran like a whooped dog.  Now you’re gonna fix things.  We’re going to split up and look for Aeryn, and when we find her, we’re gonna get the hell outa here.  So you have between now and then to think of a way to get us all clear.”

“Good plan,” Rygel said sarcastically.  “Let’s trust our lives to the Peacekeeper coward.  Good idea.”

“Not now, Buckwheat,” Crichton said.  “Captain Crunch is about to tell us where to find Aeryn.”

*

Kune with D’Argo, Rygel with Zhaan. . .Crichton almost wished Chiana or Stark had come down to the planet, but someone had to stay on Moya with Pilot.  He could have gone with the others, but time was limited, so he went alone.  The dimly lit corridors were mostly empty; glancing through open doors brought him images of large halls filled with ribbon-clad Oltai politicals, or rooms of purple-armored soldiers.  There was a quietness to the place that made him uneasy.  The soft sound of his boots on the floor seemed abnormally loud.

Walking down an empty corridor, he glanced through another open door; before his eyes registered the sight, a hand clapped over his mouth and he was yanked backwards, into another room.  The door slid shut, locking him away from the corridor, and he was released.

He spun to face his captor.  “Aeryn –”

“What the frell are you doing here?” Aeryn demanded.  She lifted a hand to throw back the hood of her purple robe.  “Waiting on Moya is one thing, but you –”

“Wait,” he said, holding up his hands.  “There’s no time to explain.  We have to get out of here–”     

“You have to get out of here,” she corrected.  “The Heir is going to be here any microt.  I’m almost finished.  She turned so that the pale light from a window overhead fell on her face.  Her left eye was swollen shut, her right cheek sported a dark bruise, and her lower lip was split in two places.

“God, Aeryn, look at you,” he said, reaching out to touch her face.  “We thought you were dead.  Kune came back and said you were dead.”

Aeryn flinched away from his hand before he touched her.  “I saw Kune not a solar day ago.  We had a plan –”

“–Which he blew,” Crichton interrupted.  “He left you, Aeryn.  He came back in your prowler with a vid chip showing your so-called death after killing the Oltai leader.”

“No,” she denied, shaking her head.  “We had a plan.  I tried to tell him that I felt reasonably certain I could convince the First Leader to abandon a treaty with the Scarrens, but he. . .”  She shook her head again.  “We argued, but eventually came to terms.  He wouldn’t have left me.”

“He did,” Crichton assured her.  “And about those terms – you should have told us.  Not fair, Aeryn.”

“Nothing’s fair, Crichton – haven’t you learned that yet?”  She snorted.  “I’m going to gut that slug.  I told him not to say anything.”

“Why the secrecy?  Unless you were so ashamed of what you were about to do that you didn’t want us to know.”

“Ashamed of what?  This was a good deal, Crichton, until you came along and frelled it up.  You’re good at frelling things up.  Now get out – go back to Moya and wait for me.”  She pulled the hood of her robe back up.

“No way.  You’re coming back with me, and we’re leaving right now.”  He caught her arm and yanked her towards the door.

Her fist caught him squarely in the stomach, doubling him over and leaving him gasping for breath.

“Frell you, I just got the bleeding to stop,” she ground out.  Flinging back the robe, she examined the exposed muscular strip down the length of her arm; it was rapidly bleeding from the place his hand had seized.  “Now look what you’ve done.”

“It happened – you did murder the First Leader after he yanked that metal out of your arm,” Crichton said, slowly straightening.  “Is the rest true, too?  Were you a friend of the family – is that why they trusted you?”

“You were right there on Command with the others when I explained what I was going to do,” Aeryn returned to his sharp questions.  She tried to wrap the reopened wound with a torn strip from the hem of the robe.  “I made a deal to get the others free, Crichton.  Do you believe you’re the only one who can make sacrifices?  Why aren’t you pleased that I finally bought into one of your sub-educated morales about helping others?”

“Because you lied,” he returned, cautiously approaching her.  “Because you didn’t tell us, and now you’ve convicted us all of assassination.  You committed the act, but we provided the motive.”

“Can you say ‘frelled’?” she snapped.  “Kune shows up out of nowhere with a deal.  If I turn him down, I’m frelled – he instantly betrays us to High Command.  If I take the offer, I’m frelled – I betray people who trust me.  If I succeed, I’m frelled; if I fail, I’m frelled.  Are you seeing the pattern?  I couldn’t win this one, so I choose the best defeat available.”

“They trusted you, Aeryn,” Crichton said, wrapping the cloth around her arm.  “We all did.  And the worst part is, I believe you when you say you did your best.  Kune brought out the Peacekeeper in you, the part that never asks for help.”

His eyes locked with hers, and she said nothing.

Abruptly the door slid open, admitting a small host of people: two soldiers, a young Oltai girl, the War Leader, D’Argo and Kune.  Aeryn moved before anyone else, rushing forward to smash the heel of her hand against one of the soldier’s exposed nerves on its neck; the soldier dropped without a sound.  D’Argo went against the other soldier, but the War Leader leveled a precise kick to the Luxan’s unguarded back, making him stumble and lose his balance.  The Peacekeeper captain attacked the War Leader, and Crichton launched himself into the fray to help.

The first low wail that split the air made everyone freeze. 

Aeryn had taken one of the soldier’s weapons and held it trained steadily on the young girl, who stood wailing and hoarsely yelling at her.

“You killed my parents,” the girl said, her purple skin splotted with white patches.  “Oathbreaker!  You promised long ago to protect us!  Justice will see your head on my wall!”

“Do it quickly, Officer Sun,” Kune urged.  “They’ve already sent for reenforcements.”

“This is the Heir?” D’Argo asked in surprise.  He wrestled to hold the Oltai soldier in his grasp.  “This child is the Heir?”

“You saw the vid chip,” the War Leader answered, warily eyeing the pulse pistol in Kune’s hand.  “This is the First Leader’s only child, his daughter and Heir.”

Crichton remembered the child in the clip, the smiling girl that Aeryn had lifted onto her shoulders.  “Aeryn, don’t do this,” he said.  “You’ll never be able to live with yourself if you do it.”

“Is that your real name, oathbreaker?” the girl hissed.  “No doubt you have a thousand names, and you have lied under them all.  You swore an oath to my family!”

Aeryn said nothing, and no emotion showed on her face.

“You swore a blood oath to the Peacekeepers, officer Sun,” Kune said grimly.  “This is a direct order: eliminate the threat to Sebacean freedom.”

“That threat is a child,” D’Argo protested.  “Aeryn, don’t be stupid.  You’re not a Peacekeeper anymore.”

“Oathbreaker!” the girl wailed.  “Assassin!  Murderer!”

“Child, Aeryn.  Not a threat,” Crichton pleaded.  “Put the gun down.”

“I’ll hunt you to the end of Justice’s realm,” the girl promised.  “I’ll send my soldiers to hunt you forever, and all you value will be destroyed!”

“Officer Sun – Aeryn,” Kune said quickly.  “Crichton – he’s yours.  His life is yours, if you fulfill your mission.”

“No!” Crichton denied.  “Aeryn, it’s not worth it –”

D’Argo added, “He’s lying, the frelling Peacekeeper –”

“Justice will be on your head, assassin,” the War Leader promised.

“You swore an oath to save us,” the girl said again.  

“Frell,” Aeryn said softly.  For a microt she closed her eyes, weighing her choices, listening to the voices in her ears and the ones in her heart.  Then she opened her eyes and chose a form of defeat.

*

Chiana had Pilot break orbit and starburst as soon as the transport pod was aboard, just as Zhaan asked her to do.  But she was in the docking bay the moment the transport hatch opened; she watched Rygel zip out on his thronesled first, followed by Zhaan.  The Delvian went to Stark and embraced him; the Banik held her tightly, and let her lean on him when they silently turned to walk away.  D’Argo came next, and Chiana knew by the dark expression on his face that something was not right.

“What-what happened?” she asked.  “Is Aeryn –?”

D’Argo shook his head.  “She’s alive.”  Briefly he laid a hand on her cheek, then turned and walked away, his shoulders unusually slumped, his stride unusually slow.

“What’s wrong with them?” she asked the Hynerian hovering next to her.

Crichton emerged next, carrying Aeryn’s small bag.  “Hey, Pip.” he greeted her, smiling wanly.  “Did you get Pilot to move Moya?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s done,” Chiana answered.  “Crichton, what –?”

“Not now,” he said, shaking his head.

“Nothing happened, Chiana,” Rygel said, watching Crichton walk away.  “Aeryn did what she agreed to do, and now we’re all free from the Peacekeepers.”

“Well, why doesn’t everyone look happier, then?” the Nabari asked.  “We should be celebrating.”

“You certainly should,” Kune said, stepping down from the transport. “And you should all be pleased with Officer Sun – she has shown herself to be a person of courage and honor, never flinching from her duty.”

Aeryn came last.  She moved slowly, taking each step as if uncertain of finding solid ground.  The purple robe she wore was half soaked with blood, and her face was a broken mess.  She stared straight ahead without expression, and when her gaze flickered across Chiana, the Nabari felt as if she had been reviewed and dismissed in a microt.

Chiana took a half step back.  Never before had Aeryn looked at her as a lesser species; never before had she looked at Aeryn as a Peacekeeper.  Even when watching the vid chip of the old Pilot’s execution, she had seen the difference between the Aeryn in the firing squad and the Aeryn who lived on Moya.  Now she could not tell the difference, and it made her a little afraid.

“Aeryn?” she said, calling for the woman she’d almost come to love.

Aeryn swayed in place, closing her eyes.

Kune tried to steady her.  “Easy, Officer Sun –”

The heel of her hand caught him under the jaw and snapped his head back, sending him spinning away from her.  “Don’t touch me,” she said in a low voice, almost a growl.

The captain rubbed the back of his neck and eyes her warily.  “You’ll need me to remove the implants.  Don’t disgrace yourself now with emotion, Officer Sun.”  He stepped towards her, and Aeryn stepped back, raising her hands in a defensive stance.

“Kune, for the love of god, leave her alone,” Crichton said, returning to the bay.  Without hesitation he went to Aeryn, put an arm about her waist, and turned her away.  Aeryn went willingly, even leaning on him for a few steps.

“Weakness, Aeryn Sun,” Kune said to her retreating form.  “Pain makes you strong.”

For a microt Aeryn stopped.  “There are other ways to be strong, Rorhen,” she said quietly.

Crichton glared at Kune, then lead Aeryn away.

“How did you get away?” Chiana asked the frowning captain.  “The Oltai must have been pretty angry. . .”

The Peacekeeper shrugged.  “The leader of the faction to assume power was also the person responsible for protecting the Heir of the First Leader,” Kune said.  He smiled humorlessly.  “Betrayal is a universal phenomenon, Nabari.  Never forget that.”

*

“And how will we know when passage to our home worlds has been arranged?” Rygel asked the Peacekeeper captain.

Kune turned his gaze from the forward portal and glanced around Command before answering.  “I will leave a message for Officer Sun in an undisclosed location.  She will inform you when you are safe to go.”

D’Argo growled, “Not a very precise plan, Peacekeeper.”

The captain laughed.  “Don’t worry, Luxan.  Officer Sun’s kept her end of the bargain, and I’ll keep mine.”

“You’ll pardon our doubts, I’m sure,” Zhaan said cooly.

Kune began to reply, stopped when he saw Aeryn and Crichton entering Command.  He scowled at the human for a microt, but when his gaze turned to Aeryn the frown eased, was replaced by something akin to concern.

“It’s not too late, Officer Sun,” Kune told her.  “High Command doesn’t want you dead – they want to rehabilitate you, bring you back into the fraternity of soldiers to which you belong.”

Aeryn lifted her chin.  The metal strips were gone from her skin, and the bruises were quickly receding, but her eyes were still a deep purple.  “The fraternity threw me out, Kune, and you abandoned me.”

“That’s standard operating procedure,” the captain replied.  “Know when to cut your losses.”

“I’m not talking about just this time,” Aeryn said.  “Almost two cycles, Rorhen, and you never came, not until you wanted me to help you.  Do you know, at first I thought you would come.  Now I’m glad that you didn’t.”

Kune walked towards her, ignoring Crichton’s warning glare.  “They are never going to accept you here, Aeryn.  If they knew half the things you’ve done, if they even had a small look at your service record –”

“They’ll never read my service record,” Aeryn said sharply, “and I’m going to forget it, myself, as quickly as possible.”

“What a waste,” Kune said softly.  He laid a hand on her shoulder.  “All for a group of escaped prisoners, and a half-mad human without a home.”

“A hundred times better than I ever had before,” she replied quietly.

Kune shook his head.  He pulled something from his jacket pocket, pressed it into her hand before anyone could see what it was.  “Take it,” he told her sternly.  “It might help you when you need it, but no promises.”  He stepped back from her, snapped smartly to attention.  “Good fortune to you, Officer Sun.  Commendations on a job well done.”

Crichton watched the captain walk towards the exit.

“Rorhen,” Aeryn said sharply, turning to face his retreating form.  “I did everything you ordered, everything you asked.  Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” D’Argo asked suspiciously.

At the threshold Kune turned back to face her.  “The First Leader’s heir was right, Aeryn – you are an oathbreaker.  A traitor, a deserter, and an oathbreaker; your contamination is complete.  And you are the only woman who ever made me wish I had a heart.”  He shook his head.  “I’m sorry things had to be this way between us.”

“Rorhen,” Aeryn said as he began to turn away.  “You are as much an oathbreaker as I am.”

“What’s going on?” Chiana said, glancing nervously between the two Sebaceans.  “Is he trying to frell us?”

“You know me too well, Officer Sun.”  Kune smiled, then turned and walked away.

“What was that about?” Crichton quietly asked her.

Aeryn half turned away from him.  “You have to understand, John – he is what he was born to be, just as I am.  It’s not an excuse, but Peacekeepers start their training early.  He participated in his first interrogation at eight cycles, made his first kill at nine.  He could never be anything other than what he is.”

“I thought you believed people could change,” Crichton said, watching her closely.  She turned her head, and the small movement reminded him of the vid chip the War Leader had shown him of an Aeryn ten cycles past, a disguised Peacekeeper with flowers in her hair and a child on her shoulders.  Now that child was dead, and the woman in the image who held her was, too, at least to the Oltai.  The Peacekeeper who had been the Oltai halfbreed – had she harbored any feelings at all for the First Leader, his wife and child?  Crichton didn’t know, and he doubted Aeryn would ever tell him.  Perhaps even she didn’t know.

“Officer Sun, Captain Kune has departed in your prowler,” Pilot announced.  His image appeared on the clamshell.  “I do apologize – both Moya and I assumed he was only inspecting it.”

“That’s right, Kune, take everything you can,” Aeryn muttered.  In a louder voice she said, “That’s all right, Pilot.  I suspected he might do as much.  Please let me know when he is forty metras from Moya.”

“You still consider yourself a Peacekeeper, don’t you,” D’Argo said, looking at Aeryn.  “Is that how you’re rationalizing the murder of that girl – just following orders?”

“It got us our freedom, didn’t it?” Rygel snapped.  “Who cares about one female, anyway.”

“Captain Kune is at thirty-eight metras, Officer Sun,” Pilot reported.

“Thank you, Pilot,” Aeryn said calmly.  She took a small device from a pack attached to her belt and entered a series of codes.

Through the forward portal, Crichton and the others watched a distant star flare and die.

“What was that?” Chiana demanded.  “Did you do that?”

“Officer Sun’s prowler is gone,” Pilot confirmed.  “Scans show that the propulsion system ignited, destroying it almost instantaneously.”

“He was planning to betray us,” Aeryn said simply.

Rygel zoomed his thronesled over to her.  “You stupid Peacekeeper bitch!  You just destroyed our one chance at freedom.”

“Aeryn, what have you done?” Zhaan cried.  “He had done us no harm.”

Stark began a low chant.

“Don’t waste your time,” Aeryn told the Banik.  “Peacekeepers believe that when you die, you simply cease to exist.”

“You go nowhere, you see nothing,” Crichton said slowly, remembering the words she’d once said.

Aeryn nodded.  She turned away from them all, setting what Kune had given her on the main console as she passed by.

Zhaan asked tightly, “And what becomes of former Peacekeepers when they die?”

Aeryn stared at Moya’s golden walls.  “I’m actually looking forward to oblivion.”  She walked away without another word, unsteady on her feet but sure on her path.

“Let me send you there, then,” Rygel growled, going after her.  Crichton caught him by the back of his robe, holding him in place.

“Not now, Sparky,” the human said sternly.

“She just destroyed our one chance to get free!” the Hynerian said, his voice nearly a wail.

D’Argo walked over to the console while Rygel threw his tantrum, picked up the object Aeryn had discarded.  “I know what this is,” he said, scrutinizing the thing carefully.  “It’s a passcode, a symbol to other peacekeepers.  Macton made Lolan keep one.  The words on this – I can’t read most of them, but I recognize ‘immunity’ and ‘special orders’.”

“Ka D’Argo, that device is emitting a very strong signal,” Pilot said urgently.  “Scans show that it is broadcasting its location for thousands of metras!”

D’Argo hissed, dropped the object, and ground it beneath his heel.  “Prepare for starburst!”

“A homing device,” Zhaan said.  “Aeryn knew.”

“Starburst in eight microts,” Pilot announced.

“If she’d known, she never would have let the captain leave,” Rygel denied.  “She didn’t know.”

“I think she did,” Stark said loyally, then returned to his chant.

“You can stop praying for that frelling Peacekeeper,” Chiana told him sourly.  “Even if he had a soul, he isn’t worth the effort.”

Stark paused long enough to say, “I’m not praying for the Peacekeeper.  I’m praying for Aeryn.”  He returned to his chanting once more.

And Crichton thought of the girl who had made a deal to keep her place as a prowler pilot, and the one who had made a deal to keep her friends free.  “Amen,” he said softly.
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The End