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Dreams of Delvia

Disclaimer: neither Neither Farscape characters nor concepts are mine...I'm just genetically splicing the two...I promise I won't mentally damage anyone!

Spoilers: Self-Inflicted Wounds Part II: Wait For The Wheel

Rating: PG-13 due to traumatizing dreamscapes and action

Brief Summary: In a Crichtonized dreamscape the crew (pre-SIW) journeys to Delvia

Acknowledgements: The voices in my head…without them I wouldn’t have thought of this at all.  And of course my wonderful beta reader UNOHOO, who gave me such awesome suggestions to help make this fic as good as it can be :)YAY!!!

And I’m supposed to threaten you with death if you dare try to copy this…I’ll make you listen to Mmm Bop for 5000 hours straight. LOL I got that one from SNL
John’s quarters on Moya were quiet. The only sound came from its lone occupant’s soft snoring.  Inside John’s head, however, was a nightmare of traumatic degree.

“John, wake up.” Zhaan’s voice said.  John’s dream eyes popped open.

“Yes, Zhaan?”

“Please come up to command.” Zhaan’s voice carried an undercurrent of excitement.

John ran into command stopped short.  The sight in front of his eyes had only appeared once before, and then it was so small it could be cupped in one’s hands.

It was Delvia.  The blue planet, in all its glory, was there in front of Moya.  “This isn’t a dream, is it?” John asked while rubbing his eyes.

“No, John.” Zhaan said.  “I’m home.” As she turned to face the view screen again John could see tears of joy leaving moist scars down her face.

“Excuse me Commander, Pa’u,” Pilot’s voice cut in. “but you must remember this is Peacekeeper territory.  We are in danger.”

“Immediate danger, Pilot?” John asked.

“No commander.  But there is no way for me to see when a Peacekeeper ship will orbit around Delvia’s horizon.”

“Hide behind Tuhla, Pilot.” Zhaan said, pointing to the nearest moon.  “Nothing has ever survived upon that planet’s fiery surface, you’ll be safe there.  I’ll be taking a transport pod down to the surface.”

John held up his hands.  “Wait a minute, Zhaan.  Shouldn’t we wait for the others?”

“You mean us?” Aeryn asked.  John turned and saw, framed in the doorway, Aeryn, D’Argo, Chiana, Rygel, and Stark.  With the exception of Stark, all were carrying large pulse weapons.

“I will stay here with Moya and Pilot in case of danger.” Stark said.  “I will help Pilot keep Moya calm.”

“See ya, Pilot.” John said.
The transport pod managed to fly in close to Delvia without any problems.  Zhaan pointed out a small meadow large enough for the pod to land.  “This is near my birth place.”  She explained.

The transport pod landed among the broad, blue leaved plants.  “I don’t know why you brought me down here.” Rygel whined.  “Or why you gave me this weapon.” He stared contemptuously down at the pulse pistol in his hand.  “I’m a Dominar, not a common soldier.”

“Yeah Sparky, but you seem to quite frequently forget that until you reclaim your throne you aren’t a Dominar.” John answered.

“Watch out!” Aeryn yelled.  Coming towards them were two ancient Delvians.

Aeryn raised her pulse rifle to shoot the Delvians.  Zhaan stopped her before she could fire. “Do not shoot the Ancient Ones. They are blind, and are merely planting their seeds.” “

The crew watched as the Ancient Ones, with surprisingly nimble fingers, harvested pollen from a tiny plant with yellow spots and deposited it in another plant with pale blue leaves.  “Conception.” Zhaan explained.  Turning, she pointed. “Oh look, a birth!”

The companions turned slightly to their collective right, and saw what appeared to be a plant convulsing.  Kneeling in front of it was an ancient Delvian, deep in prayer.  As the plant’s convulsions grew stronger and more frequent, three middle-aged Delvians appeared behind the Ancient.  With one final gasp, the Ancient crossed over to the other side, his body metamorphosing into a twisting whirlpool of gold sparks before vanishing.  Convulsing once more, the plant paused, seeming to gather its energy, and finally drooped, releasing a tiny baby Delvian.

“Zhaan, with tears in her eyes, turned away.  “A Delvian’s birth is a time for joy and sorrow, my family.  Each new child is named after its harvester in the hopes that it will raise itself to as high a spiritual level. We must continue our journey now, however, if we wish to strike the Peacekeepers with surprise.”

But even as she spoke she heard the voice of the insane Pa’u Tuzak in her mind.  “When the darkness rises up from inside, that is normal.  It is when you reach down to pull it up that the noxious warnings sound.”

*And I will be using these dark impulses to murder Peacekeepers by the thousand, and teach others to do the same…* Zhaan thought frantically.

Startled by Zhaan’s look of indecision, John stepped forward.  “What’s the matter, Zhaan?”

Zhaan’s reply was cut short by the unmistakable sound of an approaching Marauder.  “Frell.” Aeryn said.  The Delvians harvesting looked up with panicking expressions before running into the deep forest.

The Marauder began shooting an ever-closing circle of pulse blasts, keeping the crew well inside the meadow, until it was just overhead.  Then, as it began to lower, a new weapon turret popped out of the belly of the ship.  This new weapon began shooting pure white light at the crew, causing them all to cover their eyes frantically.

Beside him, John heard Zhaan begin to chant to the Goddess.  *Great.* he thought.  *We’re under attack and Zhaan decides to take another personal moment.*

After what seemed like an eternity the pulses of light stopped.  Looking up, John saw the Marauder heading out of sight.  Checking around to see if everyone was all right John realized Zhaan was missing.  *Frell.* he thought.

John turned his com on.  “Pilot, can you get us that Marauder’s destination?”

“Certainly, Commander.” Pilot’s voice came over the comm.  “Exiting Tuhla’s shadow as we speak.  Yes, the Marauder has just docked with a floating fortress a day’s walk north of you.”

“Thank you, Pilot.” John said.  Turning, he saw Aeryn glaring at him.  “What?”

“You know how Pilot knew how far the fortress was from us?” she asked angrily.  “By locating our position using that.” She pointed at his com.  “Meaning other Peacekeepers could have found our position too.”

“Yeah, Aeryn, except for one small problem.”  John answered.  “The Peacekeepers already know where we are.  They must’ve caught the Transport Pod’s arrival on scanner.”

“Either way, can we get the frell out of here?” Chiana asked.  “This time the Peacekeepers were stupid enough to only take Zhaan but next time we probably won’t be so lucky.”

“For once, I agree with the trelk.” Rygel said.  His thronesled began whirring towards the transport pod.

“Hey, Sparky, where d’ya think you’re going?”  John asked with a smile.

“Back to Moya, yotz for brains.”

“Wrong answer, your royal smallness.  D’Argo and Aeryn are going to move the transport pod and then catch up to us while you, Chiana, and –“ John’s plan was broken off by the entrance of a group of entirely black clad beings, all carrying large weapons, which surprisingly were not pointed at the crew.

The leading being took another step closer before stopping and taking off its hood, revealing a male Delvian.  “We, the Sleber, welcome you to Peacekeeper Delvia.” He smiled coldly.  “We are the few that provide organized resistance against the Peacekeeper tyranny.  We have heard much about the leader Pa’u Zotoh Zhaan.”

John frowned at the term “leader” before remembering back when D’Argo had told him how Zhaan had called herself the leading anarchist on Delvia.  The male continued.  “I, Baatul, welcome you to the revolution.  Our first mission, of course, will be to free Zotoh Zhaan.”

“Well, ah, as leader of our vessel’s crew-“ John paused to glance at D’Argo and Aeryn, who apparently weren’t considering mutiny.  Yet.  “accept your offer.”

“Excellent!” Baatul said.  “Transport to the fortress is this way.” He pointed backwards.  “One shuttle will remain here to assist with the movement of your transport pod.”  Baatul turned and, without looking backwards, walked into the forest.  All except D’Argo, Aeryn, and two Sleber following him.
“After the ruling council at the time made their coup,” Baatul explained.  “The Peacekeepers betrayed them.  Using  a Leviathon, they covered the entire Forest of Elders in radioactive light like that of a sun undergoing solar flares, causing the females to photogasm and the males to be blinded.”

“Interesting.” John said.  Turning to Aeryn, who had just rejoined the group, he asked.  “Those night vision goggles you used to rescue me in the shadow depository, do you still have them?  And can you manipulate them to filter *out* light instead of filtering light *in*?”

“Yes and yes.” Aeryn said, pulling them out of her pack.  “But I don’t see how these can help you-“

John held up a hand to cut her off.  “What we’ll do,” he said. “is have Moya come out from cover and illuminate the fortress where Zhaan’s being held with all the radioactivity she’s got.  We’ll be wearing those goggles set to reverse, so they filter out light instead of filtering it in. This will keep every guard off our back, either by sending them into photogasms or blinding them.”

The transport flew into a meadow.  Pointing up, Baatul said, “There is Zhaan’s prison.”

The crew quickly looked out the window.  Metras above them stood a gigantic floating fortress.  Its metal was dyed the traditional Peacekeeper red and black, but had streaks of blue throughout as if a cyan moss was beginning to cover it.  “For as long as Delvians have lived, we have built our temples as such.  Thousands of years ago, when we had not the technology to raise them off the ground, we made the temples in deserts or on the polar caps, where no plants grew.  When the Peacekeepers came, they took our temples and converted them into garrisons and prisons.”

“How do we get up there?” John asked without taking his eyes off the fortress.

“It will be arranged.” Baatul said.
That night the crew followed Baatul over to the center of the meadow over which Zhaan’s prison hung.  Baatul stepped into a circle of seated Delvians, all chanting in unison, “Kare ne alcoza.  Kare ne alcoza.”

“Where’s our transport, Baatul?” John asked while staring at the living circle.

“You’re looking at it.” Baatul said.

“These Delvians?” D’Argo asked skeptically.  “How will they help us reach Zhaan?”

Baatul smiled.  “Have you ever seen Zhaan in prayer to reach the next level of the Seek?  One necessary step is the practice of levitation.  These Pa’us are all entering the 12th level, and have agreed to pass their levitation needs by lifting us into the temp – fortress.”

With a signal to the seated Pa’us from Baatul, the chanting seemed to increase in level, as though not ten but a thousand voices were all chanting “Kare ne alcoza.”  John felt his feet leave the ground, and for a panicky moment he thought the Pa’us would drop him and the rest of his companions.

But their brief spell of levitation lasted only a moment.  As their feet touched the metallic ground of a Peacekeeper terrace, Aeryn commed Moya.  “Now, Pilot.”

“Yes, Officer Sun.”

The crew and Baatul strapped on their goggles just in time – even through their goggles they saw the shift in light.

Sprinting down the corridors with their adrenaline rushing through their veins, the crew flew through thousands of crisscrossing corridors.  Somehow, Baatul seemed to know every corridor as an individual, although to everyone else they were nondescript.

At the next intersection of corridors John called a halt to the rescuers and asked Baatul, “How can you tell all of these corridors apart? Especially through this light?”
Baatul looked confused. “Why, can’t you see?” He pointed to a marking John recognized from the missionary Delvian’s temple on the New Moon of Delvia.  “Each painting tells the specific location of each corridor, so a Pa’u can always find his or her way around the temple.”

With that the group began sprinting further down the corridors. Baatul held up a hand and they slowed, turning down a corridor John finally recognized as different from the others. Standing halfway down the hallway were two Delvian guards, who apparently were both female as they were both lying on the ground in pleasure, soaking up the sun.  Baatul crept up to one of the guards and, with nimble fingers like those of the Ancients while harvesting pollen, slipped a ring of holo-keys from her belt.

Baatul stepped to the chain linked door guarding the cell level and slipped a holo-key into the lock. The door slid open silently and the group of rescuers hurried into the cell levels.

Surprisingly, Zhaan’s cell was the only one occupied. Baatul looked confused, but after flipping through a few holo-keys he opened the door and D’Argo lifted Zhaan up with ease.

The group of rescuers, having recovered their prize, ran back to the terrace with all haste.  John began to get dizzy at the endless maze of seemingly cloned corridors, and would’ve been lost if he didn’t keep Baatul in view at all times.

When they reached the terrace, however, things began to fall apart.  “Um, Baatul, did you set up a way for the Delvians on the ground to get us back down there?”

Baatul’s expression shifted to one of horror.  “By the Goddess.  I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”

On top of that, Moya’s illumination flickered once and then died down just then.  “Well, that’s our luck.” John muttered.

“Apologies, Commander.  Moya sensed a Peacekeeper ship coming around the horizon and we are now attempting to once again hide behind Tuhla’s shadow before Peacekeeper scans can detect us.  I would suggest you proceed as quickly as possible back to Moya.”

“Pilot’s right.” Zhaan said, as she had revived from her light induced bliss.  “If I’ve already recovered, so have the other Delvians.  We haven’t much time.”

“I know the way to the hangars.” Baatul said and ran to the terrace door.

Just outside the hangar doors stood a contingency of Peacekeeper soldiers.  The crew retreated back around the corner, but Baatul wasn’t quick enough.  Hit by multiple pulse blasts to his torso, he struggled to explain an alternative route.  “Fortress…has spirit doors…down Access Corridor…number 4…only Pa’u can open…direct access to…to hanger…go…now…”

The crew sprinted back down the narrow corridors to Access Corridor 4.  Halfway down it, Zhaan saw the unmistakable sign of the Goddess.  Gathering her composure, she raised her arm and opened the door.

The closest ship was a Marauder.  The crew quickly pried open the doors and entered it.  Aeryn sat down at the controls.  “Excuse me.” Pilot’s voice came over the coms.  “Unfortunately, the Peacekeeper ship Moya sensed was a Command Carrier, which has discovered us.  We are currently maneuvering back to Delvia. Please keep your coms on so we can narrow in on your position. And whoever let Stark stay on Moya will have to answer to me after we have starburst.”  Pilot growled before he stopped talking, apparently to busy at Moya’s controls to talk to the crew.

As Aeryn pulled the Marauder out of the atmosphere, the crew already saw Moya closing with them.  Speeding in on an intercept course was the Command Carriers.  John heard Rygel begin muttering to himself as the Command Carrier’s frag cannons began shooting pulse blasts towards Moya.

Aeryn swung into the hangar just as Pilot turned the Defense Screen on.  The Marauder shuddered as Aeryn swerved it madly to miss both the edge of the outer hangar doors and the Defense Screen.  The Marauder’s landing gear screeched onto Moya’s hangar floor and as Aeryn powered down the ship the entire crew shouted “Starburst, Pilot!”

Added to the lurch of starburst the crew felt Moya rocking from a frag cannon’s pulse blast.  The crew all sank with immense relief when they got into Command and saw the calming, pulsing light of starburst.  Pilot’s face came onto the clam shell. “We are all incredibly lucky. The Command Carrier’s frag cannons just barely missed Moya’s starburst initiators when we were hit – I had to power down the Defense Screen so we could starburst. *He*” he said with a leer towards Stark. “Felt it best to power up the Defense Screen when he did, although I told him it would both probably trap you outside and prevent us from starbursting.”

“The good thing is that we did escape, Pilot.” Zhaan said. She patted Stark’s shoulder, but something about her demeanor struck John as funny.
“Knock knock.” John said at the doorway to Zhaan’s quarters.

“Come in, John.” Zhaan said coldly.  John hesitated, surprised at her tone of voice.  “I expect you want me to thank you.” Zhaan continued with her back turned to him.  “That I should praise the human Crichton for saving me from the Peacekeepers’ clutches.  But I wouldn’t have been in them if it weren’t for you.  At NamTar’s lab you destroyed the map back to my world.  Then, when I finally did return, you killed the leader of the revolution acting in my stead.  And then, you decided to starburst *away* from Delvia.  You have murdered me, John, first physically, in the events leading up to and in the Pathfinder’s wormhole, and now, spiritually.  For that you shall pay.”  Zhaan turned around, and her eyes were the blood red of a deranged Delvian.

John woke in a cold sweat.  Sitting up in his bed, he covered his face in his hands and wept, wondering if he could ever find Zhaan’s forgiveness…or perhaps his own.
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