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<-- BROWNFINGER Part 4
S’hangra: Farscape Module
The coat’s ‘Throne Sled’ mode let Crichton down in the wooded area beyond Brownfinger’s complex. The Farscape module was about five hundred metras north of where he landed. John hastily made his way to it and checked the module for damage and possible sabotage. * Hmm, no one has followed me, it looks like Aeryn was convincing. * Crichton thought.
Quickly attaining altitude to return to Moya, Crichton knew he had seen enough of the complex to determine Brownfinger was planning an attack of the Snickers factory. * Heh-heh, Brownfinger is in for a surprise if he thinks it’s in Mars, Pennsylvania. * He thought.
Suddenly the module’s instrumentation started beeping a warning. Crichton saw he had company; it was a squadron of Prowlers. In spite of his evasive maneuvers the prowlers stayed with him. There were too many to fight and they were too distant to blast them with the Sheyang. Seeing that the prowlers grossly outnumbered him, Crichton activated the miniature wormhole. Once inside he set the coordinates for Mars (the planet) to warn them to heighten their already heightened security, confident the prowlers could not follow him into the wormhole. John felt safe.
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S’hangra: Brownfinger’s complex
“Sir, we could not follow Crichton into the miniature wormhole, but we were able to read the coordinates of where he went.” Aeryn Sun reported to Lt. Braca and Scorpius Brownfinger. “He apparently has gone to Mars.”
“Mars, Pennsylvania? Humans are more stupid than I thought. The Snickers plant is completely indefensible there.” Lt. Braca said.
“No, he went to the planet Mars. It will be harder but should not pose any real problems for us.” Aeryn said.
“Let’s get started then. The element of surprise is on our side. My command carrier will create a proper wormhole for your squadron to get through and we will follow. It will be my pleasure to beat John Crichton at his own game and dominate the economy at the same time.” Brownfinger gloated.
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Mars: The Snickers Fort
“Crichton! You idiot! You were supposed to report back to Moya. You weren’t supposed to go to the Snickers Fort.” D’Argo was livid and it came through on the vid-screen. “By going directly there you have given Brownfinger the coordinates. You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble and just written them down for him.”
“Sir! May I remind you, no one followed me through the wormhole.” Crichton put on a show of bravado while he silently admitted a tracer could easily have been put on his person without his being aware of it. “In any case, what’s done is done. We need to beef up security as much as possible.”
“That’s already been taken care of. Crais is bringing an army from the SIA (Sebacean Intelligence Agency) Special Forces. They will be there in eight arns.” D’Argo issued one parting shot before disconnecting. “And Crichton, this time, please obey your orders.”
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Mars: The Snickers Fort four arns later.
“We’re under attack!” The fort commander sent the warning throughout the fort. “This is not a drill. Everyone to your stations.” He didn’t have to say the last. Everyone was doing that anyway. It was a necessary formality. The commander shut the communications off and turned to Crichton. “I hope you have something more up your sleeve than just your arm. Crais won’t be here with reinforcements for another four arns.”
“We can assume he wants to destroy our manufacturing capabilities,” Frowning, Crichton checked Betsy’s Chakan Oil reservoir while he hastily laid out a defense strategy. “Therefore, he is going to try to gain access to the manufacturing facility. Put your heaviest defenses around the factory. I will be inside with four of your hand picked troops.”
“Right.” The commander said.
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Crichton was inside the Snickers factory with four troops the Commander selected. The particular people chosen were all crack fighters and to a person all suffered from anosmia, they could not smell a thing. At that moment, John envied them. The smell of chocolate was driving him crazy. “Hey guys, isn’t it unusual for so many of you to have anosmia?” John was curious. It was not a common condition.
The nearest to him, a very attractive young woman, replied to his question, “It is somewhat rare in the general population as you know. But this is a requirement for this job. I’m completely anosmic, but some just have a poor sense of smell. The don’t want us tempted to eat the cash.” She giggled at the last.
John found her very attractive. Always the optimist, he determined to get to know her very well once this was over. They all knew his name, but he realized he did not know any of theirs. “I’m at a disadvantage and I’ve been rude. What are your names?”
Starting with the very attractive young woman, they called out in turn, “Angie”, “Mike”, “Craig”, and “Sid”.
They felt the attack first. They had waited at their posts for at least an arn with the patience of soldiers when they felt the ground shake, and only then did they hear the bombs and the weapons’ fire. It did not take long for Brownfinger’s forces to penetrate the factory from the initial assault.
The main door through the tunnel burst open and at least two-dozen forces rushed in. John and his little band were well hidden and were able to pick them off. Although they were able to level the playing field some, their positions became known as they fought. Betsy ran out of Chakan Oil just as they whittled Brownfinger’s forces down to eight fighters. * Wynona wouldn’t do that to me. * Crichton thought as he went to hand combat. Everyone was in hand combat mode as every pulse pistol, regardless of design, had run out of fuel. Brownfinger’s forces had the number advantage. The defenders had the advantage of knowing the complete layout of the plant and knew where to hide. They shared their knowledge with Crichton, not wasting any time while waiting for the attack.
Thus the battle seesawed until Furlow entered the fray, unarmed! Or so they thought until she removed her chinstrap from its hook and sent it into Angie’s chest, killing her instantly. Up to that point Crichton was just doing a job; it wasn’t personal. Now he was deprived of ever getting to know Angie in the way he imagined. He became ferocious as did Mike, Craig, and Sid. The situation was very bleak. Brownfinger still had eight forces besides Furlow and they had the superior strength against humans. Furlow singled Crichton out for herself while the remaining eight of Brownfinger’s cornered Mike, Sid, and Craig.
The battle swung further to Brownfinger’s advantage when additional enemy forces entered. It was Aeryn Sun with her prowler pilots, and they were all carrying pulse rifles. But instead of aiming at the Snickers forces, they shot their own people. Furlow and Crichton were locked in combat. Furlow hit Crichton on the side of his head causing him to buckle. She half-dragged and half-carried him to Angie’s body and reached for her chinstrap. Crichton kicked Furlow’s hand and he heard a crack. Furlow rose without the chinstrap and they wrestled their way around a walkway that surrounded one of the chocolate vats that was coming up to temperature. They continued to go back and forth, first John had the advantage, then Furlow. At one point it looked like Furlow would push John into the chocolate vat. He heard Aeryn say, “John! Get out of the way!” only moments before he heard her rifle fire. The little yellow bolt of light (John still loved to call it that) caught Furlow in the shoulder sapping her strength and allowing John to push her into the vat of chocolate. Furlow’s last and only word was “CHOCOLATE!”
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Snickers Fort: The Commander’s Office
“Aeryn, I don’t understand. I thought you worked for Brownfinger.” John gazed deep into her gray-blue eyes.
“Right. I am an undercover agent for SIA. I work for Crais and I infiltrated Brownfinger’s organization. I was able to hire the prowler squad. We all work for the SIA. You look shocked?” Aeryn said.
“Crais! Why didn’t you tell me?” John said.
“I couldn’t risk blowing her cover. We have been watching Brownfinger for three cycles now. It would have been too risky for both you and for Agent Sun. It worked perfectly. We have Brownfinger. His organization is in shambles. And our monetary standard is secure.
“I have many reports to complete. If you will excuse me.” Crais turned and walked out of the Snickers Commander’s office.
“John, Aeryn, I have a treat for you.” The Commander reached down and put a basket full of Snickers bars in John’s hands. “You must eat them. They are perfectly delicious. They just didn’t pass quality control for the currency standard. Every bar has a mark on it so you can’t use it for currency. Split it between the two of you. Do anything you want except put it on the market.”
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Mars: Space Port
“So this is the Farscape Module. I’ve heard a lot about it. But you can’t be serious that you want me to get in it with you. It’s so small.” Aeryn stood next to John looking in disbelief at Farscape.
“It’s a lot bigger inside than its appearance would let you suspect. Besides, I had Kopek de-installed. Couldn’t use him. That gives us a lot more room, between the amount of space he took up and his life support system.” John smiled his most winning smile at Aeryn.
“Who is Kopek?” Aeryn said.
“The Sheyang. He was supposed to be a defense weapon. You know, that fire-breathing thing of his. Problem was you needed to be at too close a range for it to be effective. Rygel is working on a redesign.” John helped Aeryn aboard Farscape.
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Farscape Module: Somewhere in space.
“Here, take another bite of this Snickers bar.” John cooed into Aeryn’s ear.
“Ummm. Oh John.”
THE END
