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Summary: If there was any time for a holy intervention, now was it.
a moon, and then the night sky
around the moon, a violet-blue
made whole by phases
as the moon tries to submerge itself and
fails. Why do you pretend to go,
then surge back a slice at a time, just when
I’ve given you up? Sometimes fog washes in
from the strait and you are entirely gone. What is it like to be
so gone? Do you feel my moth-mind fumbling
you up there in the dark?
I’m like the schoolgirl at the back of the class
who can’t help raising her hand toward the ceiling
even when she can’t answer
the question, lifting herself
by desire alone.
From You Are Like That,
Published in Dear Ghosts, Tess Gallagher © 2006
Warm. So warm. Too warm.
"You’d hate Florida in the summer, Aeryn. Hell, it would probably be dangerous for you."
Aeryn leaned back against the wall of her cage, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. The dark, tiny box and dank humidity sent her sensitive Sebacean senses reeling. By now she’d realized that despite the inner strength and the anti-Scarran training she’d had as a Peacekeeper soldier, the probability was great that she would join those who had died before her in this unholy prison cell.
If fate really did mean for her and John to be together, then fate was a cruel and tormenting God. What God would test his subjects so?
Until she’d woken as a Scarran captive, she’d never given thought to fate as a God. But she was coming to see him as a mischievous, corruptive deity who would just as soon reward his followers as crush the devoted under his Scarran-style high-heeled boot. Matters of the heart were a game to the God of Fate and he was happy to slaughter all in his path - just because he could. Putting love and life into the hands of fate, she had learned, was a stupid idea. If she had to do it again, she never would have left Moya after the coin toss. Fate be damned, she never would have left.
“Don’t go, Aeryn. I don’t care what the coin toss gave us, don’t go.”
Fate was a Devil. Fate interfered in happiness and joy. Leaving things to fate was a deadly idea. Because of fate, she’d lost everything and she didn’t know just how much more John would be able to take. What if he never found her? Would he be able to return back to Earth and find his life again? Would he settle down with Caroline or convince himself that the past four years had only been a dream?
How long did she wait before she gave up and let herself, and his child, die?
Her head was full of romantic notions of his charging to her rescue. The Peacekeeper soldier scoffed in arrogance at her flighty notions. The woman who was in love with the most wonderful man in the universe reminded the Peacekeeper that were their situations reversed, he would be praying for her to rescue him. It wasn’t about childish, romantic dreams. It was about who, right now, had the bigger guns.
“What is that, John?” She pointed up at the crucifix over the entrance to the kitchen.
“Hm? Oh …” he rose and came over, standing close behind her. “One of the Gods of this planet. Jesus Christ. My family is Catholic … sort of.”
“Ca … Catholic?”
“Yeah. The story goes that in ancient times, the world was a mess. So the One True God looked down at his people and chose a worthy vessel to carry his son. He impregnated the Virgin, Mary, and she raised Jesus and Jesus became a teacher. But, he was crucified… martyred … by the Romans because of the unrest he was causing in his new teachings. What he taught is followed by billions of Christians around the world. Actually, Christmas is the celebration of his birth.” He chuckled. “There’s more to the story than that, but those are the highlights.”
“Do you believe in this god?”
“I don’t know.” He looked at her with a soft smile. “I think it’s an interesting story. And I’ve experienced enough to truly believe there are beings out there that mere mortals would and could consider Gods. But I like Christmas. I like the traditions and the Christmas tree and Livvy’s eggnog. It brings a little bit of light and normalcy into the world and sometimes, that’s more important than believing it’s the birth of a savior.”
Soldier training kept her crouched in one position. Her body screamed for a release from the tension, but she held still, worried that any movements would attract her Scarran captors and the moment they learned she was pregnant, the torture would change. She had to protect John’s child.
She knew it was his. Not that there was a difference in her mind between the two John’s, but this child was not the result of her time on Talyn. No, this child was the conception of a moment before she’d boarded the younger Leviathan, when John had caught her arm and without saying a word, begged her to never forget him.
How could she forget the man she loved? Yes, Talyn gave her freedom and that freedom allowed her to explore her love of John and to open herself to him. But that freedom had come at far too high a price.
Throwing doubt into John’s mind had been her first and biggest mistake. But he’d been so hurt by her love of his duplicate and she so scared to let herself love again. John had died in her arms yet he lived and breathed and walked and laughed and she didn’t know if she could risk her heart again.
Fate, she decided, was full of dren.
“So, what was it like, to be in my pants, hmm?” He laughed and tackled her to her bunk, pressing into her from behind. She gasped, arching against him. What, he wanted to talk at a time like this?
“I don’t know,” she teased even as his hands caught her wrists above her head and pinned her to the mattress. “What was it like to be in mine?”
“You want to find out?”
“Mmm hmmm.”
When the sex had been playful it had been so much easier even though the gentle teasing had given both of them a chance to let their true emotions shine through. But those all too close calls with death – including the last time she’d kissed his duplicate – had changed her and forced her to see the costs of love. Nightmares of losing him always haunted her. And now she was now here, on this Scarran prison, and she knew he was going out of his mind. If she knew anything right now, she knew he was making deals with any devil possible to save her.
Even, most likely, Scorpius.
“He will use you … and the baby…”
Maybe she could make a deal with her own devils first.
No. Scorpius had already saved her life once.
What was next, she wondered. Would the Scarrans rape her to get what they wanted or would they figure their heat torture would be enough? The Sebacean tralk working for them was too smart and Aeryn knew she already suspected the pregnancy and once the Scarrans learned of that, they would use the baby – just as John had feared would happen with Scorpius.
“Can we talk?”
He drew her into his quarters and they remained still until the door had shut behind them. With the door closed, Pilot would cut the comm-links into the room.
“Yeah?”
“While we’re working on us … on figuring things out … do you mind if we don’t talk about the baby right now? It isn’t going anywhere. I just … think … it should be the last thing on our minds.”
He met her gaze, the hurt simmering below the surface but right now he knew she was right. “Okay. Just so long as you don’t make …” he took a breath. “Don’t decide to get rid of it without talking to me first, okay?”
“Okay.”
She’d wanted to keep the baby but now she might not have a choice. The Scarrans would use her, would use the baby. And once she was no longer pregnant, they would have their way before they killed her. She could handle a half-human hybrid, what was to keep them from trying other hybrids on her?
No, Aeryn swore, she’d kill herself first.
The Peacekeeper reminded her that death was the better option. The lover begged her to hold on. John was coming. He had to be coming.
“I never believed in a God. To a Peacekeeper, the only acceptable God is the Power of the regimen. I knew of some who studied old texts and others who even believed, but I swallowed what my commanders sold me - completely.”
Aeryn closed her eyes, and started to pray.
"You’d hate Florida in the summer, Aeryn."
Hell, he hated Florida in the summer.
John clicked off the TV and stared into the sudden darkness of his room. There was a certain hilarity to the fact that Moya had not only been able to adapt power systems to run his TV and that the remote control for it worked, but she was now able to pick up transmissions from Earth. Talk about miraculous. The transmissions were few and far between, but she could do it.
That frelling documentary haunted his nights.
He wanted nothing more than to have Aeryn here, next to him, so he could teach her the rules of football. He knew she’d be able to appreciate the game – all the logical rules and strategy it took to win. They’d put in the tape of the State game and he’d walk her through the meaning of a first down.
And then, he’d go down. He’d feast on every part of her. He’d hook her endlessly long legs over his shoulders, spreading her as far as he could, and he’d work his mouth between her folds. She tasted so damned sweet.
She’d come and he’d move up her body, slowly, before settling between her thighs and sliding into her. In those moments, nothing mattered but them. He’d forget that his planet wasn’t ready to handle extra terrestrial life. He’d forgive her fears. He’d come to terms with the fact that his father would most likely never know his grandchildren.
“You don’t understand, Dad! I have to get back. It’s not just because of the beast that was sent after us! I have to protect Aeryn!”
“Aeryn? Why?”
“Because she’s pregnant, Dad! Okay!” He stopped, cursing himself. Dammit. Dammit! Everything his father heard, the government heard. But it was too late to take it back now. “Because she’s pregnant,” he repeated, softly, “and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the government dissect my baby. There are already people out there who want to do just that and I’m not going to let that happen to Aeryn or the baby. Whatever else is going on between me and Aeryn right now, that’s my baby she’s carrying and we’ll figure the rest out from there."
Aeryn said she didn’t know who the father was, but John did. He’d grabbed her arm in the docking bay before she’d left on Talyn and she’d fallen against him and he’d taken her, hard and fast, right there on the floor. Somehow, he’d known the truth even before she left and Noranti’s confirmation had only made the shadow of a guess real. All the doubt and the smoke screens were their ways of dealing with the pain. He hurt not because she wasn’t sure who the father was but because his duplicate was getting the credit for his own unrealized reality.
In another time and place, Aeryn and the other John were off on Talyn, living the perfect life. And maybe that was the way it was supposed to have been. Maybe he was supposed to get back to Earth and marry Caroline and the other John was meant to go off into the universe with Aeryn. But that was a different reality and in his, his world was falling to pieces.
“So your people worship martyrs?”
“Yeah, actually. A lot of the religions place a big emphasis on it, now that you mention it. But Earth has so many different religions and different stories. And we kill each other over who is right.”
“Every culture has a history of that kind of violence. Most move past it. Some don’t.”
“Now I feel even more primitive.”
“Stop it, John.”
He fingered the plastic rosary he’d earned at his confirmation. The small white beads slipped through his fingers, bringing back barely remembered prayers from a time when he went to church because it was something everyone did. He’d stopped talking to God when his mother died and had really stopped believing a long time before then. Now, prayer was the only thing that got him through the arns.
“Listen to me you asshole,” he said out loud, staring through the portal. “Help me find her. Help me find them. If you had any hand in sending me out here, then you’d better help me now and point me in her direction.”
Moya absorbed the sound of his breathing, her natural warmth kept his breath from fogging up the portals. He stared, imagining that space travel was like warp speed on Star Trek and they could actually see the stars rushing past.
Was that how God saw the stars?
Had it only been a few nights ago she’d told him she wanted to work things out between them before they made any decisions about the baby? Had it only been a few nights ago that she’d curled up against him while they counted stars and discussed the past so they could get to the future? Had it only been a few nights since the last time he’d held her after she’d collapsed on top of him, her body trembling with release?
He loved the way she climaxed.
He had to give it up to Pilot for being in on their conspiracy and helping to eliminate comm traffic in his quarters.
But now, none of it mattered. Now, Aeryn was out there, trapped by the frelling Scarrans and they would use her and the baby and by the time he got her back, she’d be a breath away from death.
Fate. He’d once told her that fate had destined for them to be together. Well, fate was also a nasty sonofabitch who deserved to be taken out into the streets and beaten. Fate, the same fucker who had taken him away from his life only to grant him love had decided to rip his heart out and eat it in front of him.
He clenched the plastic rosary in his hand and suddenly wished for his mother’s skill with tarot cards. At least then he’d have some prediction of the future.
Sighing, he looked out the portal. “Whoever is listening … whoever gives a damn … help me find her. Please.”
She could feel her body starting to break down. It wouldn’t be long before the delirium set in. Her body ached from the position it was tied in but at least it was something she could handle. She’d been trained to resist the heat, but it would be the heat that broke her. Frell. No. No. She could do this.
The gold covered book was smooth in her hands and tied with a ribbon that matched the color of his eyes. “Fa …” she stared at the word, determined to understand it. “Fairy Tales?”
“Yeah, from all over the world. Brother’s Grimm, Andersen, even Tales from the Arabian nights.”
“What is a fairy tale?”
“It’s a story about someone, usually a prince or a princess, who ends up in a dangerous world full of monsters and magical beings.”
“So it’s a story about you, hmm?”
Mind over matter. Her brain flashed back to cages and hot coals, running while being lashed, ducking and weaving through pulse shots. Focus the mind and the energy and you will always succeed. All thoughts directed to one purpose – victory and submission of the enemy.
Pregnant or not, she could do this. If John was going to rescue her, she needed to be strong when he got here. She needed to make the effort worth it. She refused to die in his arms … again.
“What one is your favorite?”
“I like a lot of them. I like Andersen better than the Grimm brothers but the Tales of the Arabian Nights are really cool.”
She snuggled back into his arms, “Then why don’t we begin at the beginning.”
Pregnancy, the Sebacean woman’s weakness. For as strong as their bodies were, for the superiority offered in brain skill and healing ability, the biggest weakness was pregnancy. Even though her body had been altered, allowing for the stasis of an embryo, she still reacted similarly to many women in the early stages of pregnancy and all her immune functions were directed at embryonic protection. It meant less of a resistance to weapons such as Scarran heat.
The tralk was back. Talking to her.
But there was something more. Something.
No.
The tralk knew. Aeryn screamed as the probe invaded her body, sucking the fluid from her. It wouldn’t be long before it was confirmed.
At least her Peacekeeper training had taught her how to lie.
“You look so much like us. Can I ask … what is the difference between Humans and Sebaceans?”
“Well …” she laughed at Oliva’s expression, “we’re much stronger. We heal faster. Our bones aren’t as brittle. And we live a lot longer. We are much more sensitive to taste and smell than humans and we don’t do well in excessive heat.”
“What about…?” Oliva was blushing.
“What about …?” Aeryn laughed, understanding. “Sex organs are very similar.” She let Oliva roll that one around in her mind.
“Do you know this from personal experience or medical scans?”
If Sebaceans blushed, Aeryn knew she would be. Instead, she just tilted her head at John’s sister. Talking to her was almost too easy. “Yes, if you are curious. John and I had a relationship.”
“Had or have?”
“It’s … complicated.”
“You still love him, don’t you?”
“Very, very much.”
The hormonal drive in Sebacean women took over during pregnancy. As a trained soldier, she knew how to keep her emotions in check and let logic overrule the situation. But it didn’t change that these butchers were going to hurt her and her baby and she couldn’t let that happen.
For the first time in her life, she understood the rumors she’d heard about the protectiveness of the mother. Peacekeeper mothers had the instinct beaten out of them but in every colony she visited, she watched mothers fight to the death to protect their children. Now, she knew what they were going through. And, she now knew that it would take both her Sebacean genes and her Peacekeeper training to keep her alive.
The tralk looked at her, knowingly, smirking. Yes, she was superior. She was free. A whore to the Scarrans, but free and when the end came, she would still live. But Aeryn was smart enough to know that a world under Scarran rule was a world worth destroying and she would die before she let her child be born into that kind of life.
And it was quite possible her threat would come true.
If there was any time for a holy intervention, now was it.
Forgive me, John. Forgive me.
When he did sleep, his dreams were a smattering of torturous moments in time. He’d wake, his half-hard cock in his hand, feeling Aeryn’s lips as she kissed her way down his body. Feeling guilty, he’d lose himself in memory, his hand becoming the slick entrance to her body or the moist pressure of her mouth. But the release he found was always less than satisfying and made him feel slightly guilty. Aeryn was in trouble and he was jacking off to her memory. If dreams were all he would have left of Aeryn, he needed to remember more than how she called his name when she came.
But most of the time he woke screaming, reaching for her. Most of the time the images that lingered on the edge of his memory were of her broken body, dead from heat delirium. He dreamed of Scarran butchers cutting the baby from her and eating it. He dreamed of what he knew they could do to her, what they would do to her. Even if she survived, would she let him touch her again?
She was a woman of strength and confidence. Her sexual choices had been her own. Rape was something that happened to other people. What the Scarrans could do to her would crush her.
“Would it be easier if I wasn’t here on Earth with you? Give me an honest yes or no.”
He stepped forward, “No” on his lips. Here, he could tell her. Here he could let her know that he pulled back not because of any heartbreak – no, he’d forgiven her a long time ago – but because of Scorpy. He wanted her here with them tonight. He wanted her upstairs in his bed. He wanted to tell her to keep the baby and to wrap his arms around her and make love to her again. Would it be easier if she wasn’t on Earth? Not for him, not for his heart.
Oliva’s scream ruined his plans.
Fucking fate. Fate had smashed through the door in the form of a mass-altering alien and helped to ruin his childhood home. Fate had kept him from sliding up to Aeryn and putting his arms around her waist and holding her forever. Fate kept her from learning about eggnog and from opening the diamond jewelry set he’d bought for her.
If he ever got her back, he’d never be stupid enough to put their lives into fate’s hands again. When he got her back, he’d get his mother’s ring onto her hand. When he got her back, it didn’t matter where they went; he was never leaving her again.
“You hear me you frelling bastard? Our lives aren’t yours to mess with anymore. Now give her back to me! GIVE HER BACK TO ME!!”
The silence of space was his only response.
It was funny in a way. He was a scientist. He was a man of conviction and adventure. He’d sailed through Chemistry and excelled in Physics. Einstein’s ideas were as natural to him as breathing. He believed in the pliable nature of space and time and loved Star Trek because he knew there was some sense of truth buried in the cheesy scripts. God wasn’t some old, grandfathered man on a throne high above the Earth. No, God was in the star cluster nebulas and the vastness of the dark matter of space. His religion was the Holy Stars and the Divine Planets. His Goddess was a Sebacean woman named Aeryn Sun.
Even her name was holy. Sun. His central point. His focus. His homing beacon.
Forgive me, Aeryn. I’m racing to you as fast as I can.
Deals with the devil were a part of the story – the hero always had to turn to evil in order to overcome it. But this time, he was willing to submit. Would she forgive him for turning to their mortal enemy or was she herself making deals with her devils?
She’d never prayed, not really, she’d told him that once.
“Would it be easier for you if I wasn’t here?”
“No, Aeryn,” he prayed to her memory. “God, no.”
It helped her to know that her instincts were still in tact. Aeryn had known the all-too-helpful woman had been a spy and the corpse at her feet proved it. She didn’t know if the baby the Scarran killed was real or a fear tactic, but either way, the woman was a spy. She wondered what the woman had been promised. Her freedom, most likely. The pills were probably made to enhance their scans of the baby. But they wouldn’t kill her. She spat them across the room and allowed herself a small sense of victory. She was still a warrior at heart and she could smell a spy.
Killing the spy - she couldn’t even remember the woman’s name - only left her empty. All she had done was bring about the woman’s death sooner than planned. The Scarrans would have killed her anyway.
Her eyes turned upward, her anger simmered.
She called out to whoever was listening … she needed help. Prayer was all she had left. Prayer and endurance.
It was her turn to make deals with the devil.
Somewhere out there … beneath the pale moon light …
The old song echoed in his head as he marched down the corridor. He was done with prayer, done with inaction. He hoped Aeryn was praying because one of them needed to.
It was time to turn to his own devil. None of it mattered anymore, not if he didn’t have Aeryn. History was nothing but a series of stories about lives sacrificed in the name of the Gods and the story, it appeared, was repeating itself.
With only a small flicker of hesitation, John marched into Scorpius’ cell.
Fin...