WIP Amnesty Day, Part 3
Feb. 6th, 2004 05:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bktheirregularLook Up and See, Part III
Chiana stalked around Nerri as he trudged down Moya's hallway. "That's it? You come here to warn us that the Establishment's going to invade Crichton's home, and now you're just leaving?"
"Chi, I've got to. There's too much I still have to do with the Resistance."
"So you can drop everything to pop into my life again, but you can't stay away long enough to do anything about it?"
"Hey, don't you think I'd help more if I could? We haven't got the resources, and even if we had two dominator flotillas fully crewed and armed and ready to blast, there's frell-all we can do about it right now! It'll take sixty cycles to get there, and by then it'll be over. Whatever they're planning to do, by the time we can get there, it'll be *done*."
"So why tell us? Why come all this way just to tell us we're too late to do anything about it?"
"I said *I* can't do anything to help. Doesn't mean that Crichton can't get there."
"Yeah, in a budong's age, maybe, Nerri," Chiana hissed. "Sixty cycles is gonna tear up the rest of his life. He'll be an old man when he gets there, and he won't be able to do a thing."
"Not if he can summon wormholes," Nerri whispered.
"Frell, you *know* about that?"
"He can, can't he?"
"Well, if he tries to travel through a wormhole, he could cause ten times as much damage," Chiana sighed. "There's this whole thing about time and space and paradox that I still don't understand."
Nerri put his hands on her shoulders. "Chi, all I can do here is get the information to someone who has a chance of doing something about it." He walked through the hatchway to the hangar, where Crichton and the others were waiting besides the sleek courier; then he turned back to her again. "Whatever he does, promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Promise you won't follow him."
Chiana blinked, and her lips peeled back from her teeth in rage. "How can you ask me that? You cut me off to protect me from *you*, now you expect me to leave behind the only other person who means-" she seethed, then cut herself off, blinking back tears. "You don't know what you're asking. You just don't, Nerri."
"Frell," Nerri moaned. "You ... you really love him, don't you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Chiana sniffed. "John and Aeryn ... there's just so much there..."
"Chiana," he scolded.
"Yeah," she whispered. "I love him. And if I can't have him ... then maybe I can save him."
Crichton walked up to them. "They're waiting for you, kid," he said to Nerri. "Look, I ... I appreciate this."
"Wish I could do more," Nerri said.
John rubbed his lip. "There is one more thing." He took a breath. "If you find out that they took Earth, I want you to go back to Arnessk. Find Jool and tell her everything. Where Earth is, what they've done. She'll know what to do ... whatever that happens to be."
"You can't tell her?"
John put a hand on Nerri's shoulder. "My people have a saying: over my dead body. It means that if the Nebari conquer Earth, I won't be around to do anything about it, because that'll mean I died trying to stop them. You see what I mean?"
Nerri nodded. "I'll tell her. If it comes to that. I promise."
* * * * * * *
"You need to calm yourself," Noranti soothed into John's ear. "If you make your decisions while you're agitated, then disaster beckons. I see it, you know."
"I'm busy, Grandma. Leave me alone, okay?"
Noranti turned his head roughly to face her, staring into his two eyes with her three. "It won't matter, you know. It'll all be over before you set foot on your planet."
John closed the access panel on the side of his module, grabbed her hands and pulled them away from his face. "My people are in trouble. They're in danger. Comprende usted deep dren?"
"There's more at stake," the old woman said, her voice clearer, as she raised an open hand to her mouth. "So much more you can't comprehend-"
*crack!*
She flinched, turned, then slackened; her hand dropped, scattering its powder, and she collapsed.
D'Argo growled from behind the module's wing. "I thought we agreed you were going to be *careful* around her."
"Yeah, D, but she snuck up on me. I wasn't exactly looking to start up on the happy juice again."
The Luxan picked up the old woman from the floor and threw her over his shoulder. "This time I'm locking her in the pressure tanks. I am sick and *tired* of her frelling around with you."
John leaned back. "Thanks for watching my back, D'Argo."
D'Argo smiled. "That's what a captain's supposed to do, right? Look out for his people."
"Yes, sir, your Worshipfulness. Couldn't help but notice you not trying to talk me out of this."
"Why should I talk you out of anything?"
"Because it's insane. Because the only way in hell I can get to Earth before the Nebari is to ride a wormhole there, and everyone on Moya knows it. Because the last time we encountered a wormhole, we nearly paradoxed the Universe clean out of existence, and there's no guarantee that won't happen again."
"You're right, John," D'Argo said gently. "It is totally insane. And if you let that stop you, I would lose all respect for you." He looked his friend right in the eyes. "Maybe you don't belong there anymore, maybe you can never truly return home ... but that doesn't make it any less important. It doesn't make it any easier to think of what's going to happen to them. If it were my home, my people ... I'd do anything to save them. No matter what I had to sacrifice." He moved off with his burden.
"D'Argo," John called after him.
"Yeah?"
"Don't wait for me to come back. I'm gonna try and make it back, but I got no way in hell of knowing how long it'll take, or even if I'll make it back at all."
"Don't worry." D'Argo smiled grimly. "None of us are planning to sit around and wait."
* * * * * * *
"I cannot allow it," Scorpius snapped in the galley.
"This isn't a debate, Scorpy, and you don't get a vote here, okay? The Nebari are planning to turn Earth into their version of Happy Fun Land. I do *not* intend to stand by and watch that happen. I'm not asking anyone to come with me, but I ... *have* ... to do this."
"I forbid it!" Scorpius shouted, his voice hardening into a Scarran growl before he collected himself. "You are far too valuable to risk on a fool's errand such as this. Even if you reach Earth again, even in the proper time, not in our past but before the Nebari reach Earth, what can you do on your own?"
"I don't know, Leatherface. But I'm going to do *something*."
"You'll doom more than your own people if you do this, John. You will be imprinting the death order of the Peacekeepers. The Sebaceans. Aeryn Sun's entire race will be wiped out. Did you think of that?"
Crichton's hand snapped to his thigh, and his pulse pistol was out of its holster before Sikozu yelled "Wait!"
"You got something to add, Sputnik?" John hissed dangerously.
The Kalish nodded and turned to Scorpius. "You want Crichton to help save your people, your entire race. How can you ask him *anything* if you deny him the right to do the same for his own people?" She took a breath. "Your people are so important to you. Why should Crichton's blood kin be any less important to him?"
Scorpius took a hissing breath. "You're right, of course." He turned to Crichton. "Do you know where we will depart for Earth?"
"*We*?"
"If you're going to attempt to blunt a Nebari offensive, then you will need help. And it's in my best interest to make sure you succeed ... *and* survive."
"You honestly think anyone on Earth is going to listen to you, Scorpy? They won't trust a word you say. They've never seen an alien before."
"That's not ... precisely true."
"We covered our tracks," Crichton said decisively. "Nobody knew we were there, so effectively, this is gonna be The Big One. First Contact, Scorpy, and if you show up, I bet they open you up to see what makes you tick."
Sikozu gasped. "They wouldn't dare!"
"Hate to shatter your illusions, kid," Crichton drawled, "but the TV networks were trying to make money broadcasting alien autopsies even when there weren't aliens to autopsy. Imagine what they'd do to the real thing."
"But that's ... barbaric!"
Scorpius smiled slightly. "Perhaps you underestimate your own kindred, John. After all, you wouldn't stoop to such a barbarity without reason."
"Talking to the wrong guy, Scorpy. I got reason, remember? Hell, to see you opened up, I'd buy popcorn." His gaze hardened. "But it'd be a distraction. And if the Nebari are knocking on the door, I don't want a scuffle in the living room distracting Earth. You get my meaning?"
Scorpius bristled. "Do you honestly believe that you can overcome a Nebari offensive by yourself? Without all the resources at your disposal?"
John locked his gaze on Scorpius. "Read my lips. I'm going. You're not. End. Of. Discussion." He turned and stalked out. "I'll be in Command. It's wormhole season."
* * * * * * *
"It feels ... too easy."
"What, that we found a wormhole this fast? Or that it feels this right? Aeryn, it's a part of me now, remember?"
Aeryn took a deep breath. "I know, John. I didn't mean the wormhole. I meant this. You are leaving, maybe forever, and ... you're not hesitating."
John put his hands on her shoulders. "Look, Aeryn ... I'm coming back. If you can believe anything, believe I'm coming back."
"And what if the Nebari overcome you? Or what if your people won't let you go?"
John set his jaw. "Not going to happen, Aeryn. I won't let it happen."
Aeryn closed her eyes tightly for a moment. "You know it won't be that simple. You know this is something you can't do alone."
"I can't do it at all if I'm worried about protecting everyone else," John countered.
"I can take care of myself," Aeryn said. "I'll fly the Prowler. I'll guard your wing."
John's head snapped up. "Are you *nuts*, Aeryn? Anyone who ever took a Prowler into a wormhole came back out as soup! You really want to take that kind of chance?"
"Then I'll ride with you in the module," Aeryn answered. "I promised you I'd-" Her voice tailed off.
"You never promised me anything like that," John said. Then he blinked. "You promised *him*, didn't you?"
"I made a promise. To John Crichton."
"The other John Crichton, you mean," John said through set teeth.
Aeryn's response was a pantak jab that sent John sprawling on the hangar deck. "You still don't understand, do you?" she screamed. "You, him, your side, his side, your world, his world, it's the *same*! You're the *same*, don't you see, you ... you ..." She spun on a heel. "*Frell*!" she spat and stormed out.
"Aeryn, wait! Aeryn!" He started to run after her, but a small hand restrained him.
"Let her go, Crichton."
"I don't remember asking for your input, Buckwheat," John snapped, whirling to face Rygel.
"All the more sign that you need it," Rygel harrumphed. "Crichton, she's still not over what happened. She's only now beginning to grasp a fundamental truth."
"What would that be?"
"That the man she loves is still alive."
"Ryg, you don't know what you're talking about," John rasped.
"Listen to me, Crichton. I was there; I saw what happened. And I've had time to consider things."
"Doesn't change what happened, Rygel."
"No, it doesn't. Nothing can change what happened," Rygel said with authority. "What you don't seem to realize is that even if you'd been on Talyn and he'd been left behind, nothing would have changed."
"Yeah, right," John snapped derisively.
"If you'd been the one to flee with Aeryn, do you know what would have happened?"
"No, I don't. Nobody can know what would have happened if things had been different."
"You and Aeryn would have finally acted on that love you have for each other. You would have faced the Scarrans at Dam-Da-Ba, and you would have sacrificed your life to stop them. Aeryn would have mourned your loss, and the other one would have felt that loss, and the whole situation would have gone to yotz, and I would now be having this same conversation with the other John Crichton, word for word." He floated down and poked John in the heart, right where Aeryn's jab had landed; John winced. "Inside there, you know nothing would have changed. Because as much as he was John Crichton, so are you."
Crichton stared at him, dumbfounded. "When the hell did you get so damn perceptive?"
Rygel chuckled. "At my coronation, they dubbed me Rygel the Wise."
"You're joking, right?"
Rygel only laughed as he steered his throne sled out of the hangar bay. "Get that module ready, Crichton. I'll talk to Aeryn."
"Rygel, wait ... Rygel!" But the Hynerian was gone.
*I don't want her coming,* he thought. *The baby. His, mine, whoever's, it's her child and I don't want her risking it for me.*
"She takes time," his double had said. Time for what? Time to grieve? Time to understand? Time to ... to realize ... what?
Then the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and suddenly he was *out* of time.
He knew it before Pilot called into the empty hangar bay: "Commander, there is a wormhole open directly ahead of us!"
"I know, Pilot. This is it." He jumped into the module, pulled the hatch closed, and took a deep breath. "Can you give me a shipwide channel?"
"Done."
"Everyone ... this is it. I can't ask you to throw everything away to help me out on this, and there's no time to argue. I..." He took a breath. "I'm never going to forget you. Any of you, for better or for worse. And once I'm done ... I'm gonna come back. Or die trying.
"Until then ... take care of each other. Pilot, can I have a word with just you?"
"Of course," Pilot answered, and John heard the echo of the voice cut out.
"If I don't make it back ... I want to thank you and Moya. For everything. I wouldn't have made it without you guys."
"I understand, Commander. So does Moya."
"Take care of them, Pilot."
"I will," Pilot responded.
And now ... it was truly time. "Okay, Pilot. Open the hangar doors, please."
No response. The doors didn't move.
"Come on, Pilot. I said please," John said petulantly. After a few seconds of silence, his voice grew harsh again. "Pilot, the wormhole is *open*. Open the hangar door."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Commander."
Crichton slammed his fist on the canopy. "Pilot, we are *not* going to do the HAL 9000 routine here. If the door doesn't open, I can't get to Earth. If I can't warn Earth, then Earth is gone. I am trying to save my entire goddamned planet here, Pilot, and I can't do that sitting here tapping my toes!"
"I know, Commander. But ... Moya won't let me. She doesn't want you to leave."
"What?!"
He heard Pilot sigh. "Commander, Moya wants you in Command. I don't know what for."
"What, now Moya's keeping things from you, Pilot?" Crichton growled as he opened the canopy and climbed out of the module.
"I don't know why, Commander. I've ... never seen her like this before."
* * * * * * *
Crichton reached Command to find everyone there, even Scorpius and Noranti. He strode up to the clamshell communicator. "Okay, Pilot, here I am. Now *why* isn't Moya opening the door for me?"
"Commander..." Pilot visibly swallowed. "Moya wants to accompany you to Earth this time."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Pilot. I'm the only one with enough knowledge to actually navigate the wormhole network with half a chance of getting to Earth. And even so, you and Moya could be killed in the process, remember?"
"Moya trusts you, Commander. And frankly ... so do I," Pilot answered. As if to punctuate his point, a panel in the back of Command opened with a hiss. Crichton turned behind him to see a piece of equipment that he'd never seen before -- wait, actually that wasn't true. It was just that the last time he'd seen it, he thought, had been his first day aboard Moya.
It was Moya's manual control column.
"You and Moya want me to pilot her through the wormhole?"
"We trust you," Pilot repeated.
Crichton turned to face the others. "You knew?"
Negative shakes and murmured "no"s all around, except for Scorpius, who stood stock still and said nothing.
"Guys ... I thought we went through this. I can't ask you to do this. Any of you. Not even Moya - hell, especially not Moya. It's too dangerous."
"Like our lives are so safe already?" Chiana laughed. "We're with you, John. We just figured on taking D'Argo's ship and maybe the Prowler and following you in."
"One man trying to save a world," Noranti said, blinking all three eyes in an odd pattern. "Think how much better it will be with his friends."
"John, I can't just stand by and watch as you try to save your world. My instincts are telling me I have to be a part of it," D'Argo announced. "Besides, you might need firepower."
"There might be something to this Earth of yours," Sikozu chimed in. "And you'll probably need all the intelligent people you can muster."
Rygel snorted. "I'm just betting that if we can save your planet, they might be grateful enough to loan some troops to assist in the re-establishment of the House of Rygel on Hyneria."
Aeryn gave Rygel a look, a mixture of annoyance and affection. *I guess Guido really did manage to talk to her.* "We're going to do this, John," she said, her voice wavering only a bit. "We're going to save your world. All of us. And then..."
"And then we'll see," John finished, breathing a little easier. "Who dares wins, huh?"
A ghost of a smile touched Aeryn's face through the aftermath of tears. "The motto of the Drakkar regiment."
"What was your motto?" John asked.
The smile broadened. "Pleisar regiment? You don't want to know."
John chuckled, almost began to laugh, but then the tingly sensation at the back of his neck got more intense. "We're out of time. We've got to go *now*.
"Everyone get to a place where you can brace yourselves," he shouted as he moved to the control column. "This is *not* gonna be a pleasant ride."
He closed his eyes. Concentrate. Concentrate. Remember about time.
Scorpius' voice penetrated his thoughts. "It appears I accompany you after all."
"Don't disturb the driver, Scorpy," John hissed. "Passengers stay behind the white line. And thank you for traveling with Greyhound."
He heard an intake of breath, then a sigh as Scorpius apparently thought better of his response, and then a clacking of boots on the deck, fading.
Concentrate.
*Concentrate*.
"Okay, Moya," he said out loud. "Let's rock and roll."
The Leviathan gathered herself and surged forward, charging into the wormhole. John twisted the controller subtly, twitching along three axes, searching out the right path and *willing* the great living ship down it.
Time was key.
He had to arrive after the launch of Farscape One; to do otherwise was to run the awful risk of unrealized realities. He'd learned that lesson; God, he'd learned it. The future was safe; the past was deadly risk.
But he couldn't fall *too* far into the future. Not with the Nebari so close. To come all this way to find an Earth whose back was broken by a hundred years of conquest? And no chance to change it, either. By arriving and seeing it, he'd make it real ... and to see it, then go back and change it? No, Einstein had been crystal clear on that point...
Concentrate.
Concentrate.
Path to Scarra; no way in hell. Turn and twist, twist and turn. Concentrate. Don't want to end up in the Renaissance. Heh - the menu said breakfast any time, so I ordered French toast during the Renaissance --
CONCENTRATE!
Here. Now. The world you left. Cold War over. Space program starting to gain steam again. Plans for Mars. Space station. Probes here and there, Sun to Saturn, hell to breakfast. French toast?
Focus on the *now*! Right turn there; follow; turn and twist, twist and turn.
He twitched on the controller, felt the paths beginning to collapse, narrowing, choices becoming clearer.
And slowly, he could feel Moya through the controller. Feel the fear, the exhiliration, the burning that felt like nothing so much as a marathoner's cramps.
The path twisted once more, and suddenly he *knew*. "Everybody brace yourselves, we're almost there!"
He twisted once, twice, three times. His mind's eye reached out and he could *see*. At the end ... Earth. Scattered satellites in orbit, and was that an actual space station?
He was close, really close. Maybe he'd even managed to get the time right.
Moya bucked once, then leveled out, streaking for the exit, and Crichton willed his mind to hold the time right. Unfortunately, he was so worried about the time that for a split microt, he forgot about *space*. He saw Moya drifting to the wormhole wall, yanked the controller, and leveled the Leviathan off almost in time.
Almost.
Moya grazed the wormhole wall as she neared the exit; she lurched wildly, moaned in pain, Pilot let out an anguished scream, and John felt the shock and agony racing up his arm, through his body, knocking him backwards like he'd been hit by a freight train.
He saw a glimpse of a probe around Saturn that hadn't been halfway there when the Farscape had launched. *Cassini*, he thought. *If Cassini's there, then this isn't the past, and it can't be too far in the future, maybe we're in time, maybe-*
He landed hard, badly, wrong, crashing into the back wall of Command; he heard a splintering *crack* like a rotten branch breaking off a tree, felt something moving in the wrong direction in his upper leg, and every nerve in his body lit on fire ... then the universe went black.
Crichton was the only one aboard Moya who didn't hear the scream.
end part three
Chiana stalked around Nerri as he trudged down Moya's hallway. "That's it? You come here to warn us that the Establishment's going to invade Crichton's home, and now you're just leaving?"
"Chi, I've got to. There's too much I still have to do with the Resistance."
"So you can drop everything to pop into my life again, but you can't stay away long enough to do anything about it?"
"Hey, don't you think I'd help more if I could? We haven't got the resources, and even if we had two dominator flotillas fully crewed and armed and ready to blast, there's frell-all we can do about it right now! It'll take sixty cycles to get there, and by then it'll be over. Whatever they're planning to do, by the time we can get there, it'll be *done*."
"So why tell us? Why come all this way just to tell us we're too late to do anything about it?"
"I said *I* can't do anything to help. Doesn't mean that Crichton can't get there."
"Yeah, in a budong's age, maybe, Nerri," Chiana hissed. "Sixty cycles is gonna tear up the rest of his life. He'll be an old man when he gets there, and he won't be able to do a thing."
"Not if he can summon wormholes," Nerri whispered.
"Frell, you *know* about that?"
"He can, can't he?"
"Well, if he tries to travel through a wormhole, he could cause ten times as much damage," Chiana sighed. "There's this whole thing about time and space and paradox that I still don't understand."
Nerri put his hands on her shoulders. "Chi, all I can do here is get the information to someone who has a chance of doing something about it." He walked through the hatchway to the hangar, where Crichton and the others were waiting besides the sleek courier; then he turned back to her again. "Whatever he does, promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Promise you won't follow him."
Chiana blinked, and her lips peeled back from her teeth in rage. "How can you ask me that? You cut me off to protect me from *you*, now you expect me to leave behind the only other person who means-" she seethed, then cut herself off, blinking back tears. "You don't know what you're asking. You just don't, Nerri."
"Frell," Nerri moaned. "You ... you really love him, don't you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Chiana sniffed. "John and Aeryn ... there's just so much there..."
"Chiana," he scolded.
"Yeah," she whispered. "I love him. And if I can't have him ... then maybe I can save him."
Crichton walked up to them. "They're waiting for you, kid," he said to Nerri. "Look, I ... I appreciate this."
"Wish I could do more," Nerri said.
John rubbed his lip. "There is one more thing." He took a breath. "If you find out that they took Earth, I want you to go back to Arnessk. Find Jool and tell her everything. Where Earth is, what they've done. She'll know what to do ... whatever that happens to be."
"You can't tell her?"
John put a hand on Nerri's shoulder. "My people have a saying: over my dead body. It means that if the Nebari conquer Earth, I won't be around to do anything about it, because that'll mean I died trying to stop them. You see what I mean?"
Nerri nodded. "I'll tell her. If it comes to that. I promise."
* * * * * * *
"You need to calm yourself," Noranti soothed into John's ear. "If you make your decisions while you're agitated, then disaster beckons. I see it, you know."
"I'm busy, Grandma. Leave me alone, okay?"
Noranti turned his head roughly to face her, staring into his two eyes with her three. "It won't matter, you know. It'll all be over before you set foot on your planet."
John closed the access panel on the side of his module, grabbed her hands and pulled them away from his face. "My people are in trouble. They're in danger. Comprende usted deep dren?"
"There's more at stake," the old woman said, her voice clearer, as she raised an open hand to her mouth. "So much more you can't comprehend-"
*crack!*
She flinched, turned, then slackened; her hand dropped, scattering its powder, and she collapsed.
D'Argo growled from behind the module's wing. "I thought we agreed you were going to be *careful* around her."
"Yeah, D, but she snuck up on me. I wasn't exactly looking to start up on the happy juice again."
The Luxan picked up the old woman from the floor and threw her over his shoulder. "This time I'm locking her in the pressure tanks. I am sick and *tired* of her frelling around with you."
John leaned back. "Thanks for watching my back, D'Argo."
D'Argo smiled. "That's what a captain's supposed to do, right? Look out for his people."
"Yes, sir, your Worshipfulness. Couldn't help but notice you not trying to talk me out of this."
"Why should I talk you out of anything?"
"Because it's insane. Because the only way in hell I can get to Earth before the Nebari is to ride a wormhole there, and everyone on Moya knows it. Because the last time we encountered a wormhole, we nearly paradoxed the Universe clean out of existence, and there's no guarantee that won't happen again."
"You're right, John," D'Argo said gently. "It is totally insane. And if you let that stop you, I would lose all respect for you." He looked his friend right in the eyes. "Maybe you don't belong there anymore, maybe you can never truly return home ... but that doesn't make it any less important. It doesn't make it any easier to think of what's going to happen to them. If it were my home, my people ... I'd do anything to save them. No matter what I had to sacrifice." He moved off with his burden.
"D'Argo," John called after him.
"Yeah?"
"Don't wait for me to come back. I'm gonna try and make it back, but I got no way in hell of knowing how long it'll take, or even if I'll make it back at all."
"Don't worry." D'Argo smiled grimly. "None of us are planning to sit around and wait."
* * * * * * *
"I cannot allow it," Scorpius snapped in the galley.
"This isn't a debate, Scorpy, and you don't get a vote here, okay? The Nebari are planning to turn Earth into their version of Happy Fun Land. I do *not* intend to stand by and watch that happen. I'm not asking anyone to come with me, but I ... *have* ... to do this."
"I forbid it!" Scorpius shouted, his voice hardening into a Scarran growl before he collected himself. "You are far too valuable to risk on a fool's errand such as this. Even if you reach Earth again, even in the proper time, not in our past but before the Nebari reach Earth, what can you do on your own?"
"I don't know, Leatherface. But I'm going to do *something*."
"You'll doom more than your own people if you do this, John. You will be imprinting the death order of the Peacekeepers. The Sebaceans. Aeryn Sun's entire race will be wiped out. Did you think of that?"
Crichton's hand snapped to his thigh, and his pulse pistol was out of its holster before Sikozu yelled "Wait!"
"You got something to add, Sputnik?" John hissed dangerously.
The Kalish nodded and turned to Scorpius. "You want Crichton to help save your people, your entire race. How can you ask him *anything* if you deny him the right to do the same for his own people?" She took a breath. "Your people are so important to you. Why should Crichton's blood kin be any less important to him?"
Scorpius took a hissing breath. "You're right, of course." He turned to Crichton. "Do you know where we will depart for Earth?"
"*We*?"
"If you're going to attempt to blunt a Nebari offensive, then you will need help. And it's in my best interest to make sure you succeed ... *and* survive."
"You honestly think anyone on Earth is going to listen to you, Scorpy? They won't trust a word you say. They've never seen an alien before."
"That's not ... precisely true."
"We covered our tracks," Crichton said decisively. "Nobody knew we were there, so effectively, this is gonna be The Big One. First Contact, Scorpy, and if you show up, I bet they open you up to see what makes you tick."
Sikozu gasped. "They wouldn't dare!"
"Hate to shatter your illusions, kid," Crichton drawled, "but the TV networks were trying to make money broadcasting alien autopsies even when there weren't aliens to autopsy. Imagine what they'd do to the real thing."
"But that's ... barbaric!"
Scorpius smiled slightly. "Perhaps you underestimate your own kindred, John. After all, you wouldn't stoop to such a barbarity without reason."
"Talking to the wrong guy, Scorpy. I got reason, remember? Hell, to see you opened up, I'd buy popcorn." His gaze hardened. "But it'd be a distraction. And if the Nebari are knocking on the door, I don't want a scuffle in the living room distracting Earth. You get my meaning?"
Scorpius bristled. "Do you honestly believe that you can overcome a Nebari offensive by yourself? Without all the resources at your disposal?"
John locked his gaze on Scorpius. "Read my lips. I'm going. You're not. End. Of. Discussion." He turned and stalked out. "I'll be in Command. It's wormhole season."
* * * * * * *
"It feels ... too easy."
"What, that we found a wormhole this fast? Or that it feels this right? Aeryn, it's a part of me now, remember?"
Aeryn took a deep breath. "I know, John. I didn't mean the wormhole. I meant this. You are leaving, maybe forever, and ... you're not hesitating."
John put his hands on her shoulders. "Look, Aeryn ... I'm coming back. If you can believe anything, believe I'm coming back."
"And what if the Nebari overcome you? Or what if your people won't let you go?"
John set his jaw. "Not going to happen, Aeryn. I won't let it happen."
Aeryn closed her eyes tightly for a moment. "You know it won't be that simple. You know this is something you can't do alone."
"I can't do it at all if I'm worried about protecting everyone else," John countered.
"I can take care of myself," Aeryn said. "I'll fly the Prowler. I'll guard your wing."
John's head snapped up. "Are you *nuts*, Aeryn? Anyone who ever took a Prowler into a wormhole came back out as soup! You really want to take that kind of chance?"
"Then I'll ride with you in the module," Aeryn answered. "I promised you I'd-" Her voice tailed off.
"You never promised me anything like that," John said. Then he blinked. "You promised *him*, didn't you?"
"I made a promise. To John Crichton."
"The other John Crichton, you mean," John said through set teeth.
Aeryn's response was a pantak jab that sent John sprawling on the hangar deck. "You still don't understand, do you?" she screamed. "You, him, your side, his side, your world, his world, it's the *same*! You're the *same*, don't you see, you ... you ..." She spun on a heel. "*Frell*!" she spat and stormed out.
"Aeryn, wait! Aeryn!" He started to run after her, but a small hand restrained him.
"Let her go, Crichton."
"I don't remember asking for your input, Buckwheat," John snapped, whirling to face Rygel.
"All the more sign that you need it," Rygel harrumphed. "Crichton, she's still not over what happened. She's only now beginning to grasp a fundamental truth."
"What would that be?"
"That the man she loves is still alive."
"Ryg, you don't know what you're talking about," John rasped.
"Listen to me, Crichton. I was there; I saw what happened. And I've had time to consider things."
"Doesn't change what happened, Rygel."
"No, it doesn't. Nothing can change what happened," Rygel said with authority. "What you don't seem to realize is that even if you'd been on Talyn and he'd been left behind, nothing would have changed."
"Yeah, right," John snapped derisively.
"If you'd been the one to flee with Aeryn, do you know what would have happened?"
"No, I don't. Nobody can know what would have happened if things had been different."
"You and Aeryn would have finally acted on that love you have for each other. You would have faced the Scarrans at Dam-Da-Ba, and you would have sacrificed your life to stop them. Aeryn would have mourned your loss, and the other one would have felt that loss, and the whole situation would have gone to yotz, and I would now be having this same conversation with the other John Crichton, word for word." He floated down and poked John in the heart, right where Aeryn's jab had landed; John winced. "Inside there, you know nothing would have changed. Because as much as he was John Crichton, so are you."
Crichton stared at him, dumbfounded. "When the hell did you get so damn perceptive?"
Rygel chuckled. "At my coronation, they dubbed me Rygel the Wise."
"You're joking, right?"
Rygel only laughed as he steered his throne sled out of the hangar bay. "Get that module ready, Crichton. I'll talk to Aeryn."
"Rygel, wait ... Rygel!" But the Hynerian was gone.
*I don't want her coming,* he thought. *The baby. His, mine, whoever's, it's her child and I don't want her risking it for me.*
"She takes time," his double had said. Time for what? Time to grieve? Time to understand? Time to ... to realize ... what?
Then the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and suddenly he was *out* of time.
He knew it before Pilot called into the empty hangar bay: "Commander, there is a wormhole open directly ahead of us!"
"I know, Pilot. This is it." He jumped into the module, pulled the hatch closed, and took a deep breath. "Can you give me a shipwide channel?"
"Done."
"Everyone ... this is it. I can't ask you to throw everything away to help me out on this, and there's no time to argue. I..." He took a breath. "I'm never going to forget you. Any of you, for better or for worse. And once I'm done ... I'm gonna come back. Or die trying.
"Until then ... take care of each other. Pilot, can I have a word with just you?"
"Of course," Pilot answered, and John heard the echo of the voice cut out.
"If I don't make it back ... I want to thank you and Moya. For everything. I wouldn't have made it without you guys."
"I understand, Commander. So does Moya."
"Take care of them, Pilot."
"I will," Pilot responded.
And now ... it was truly time. "Okay, Pilot. Open the hangar doors, please."
No response. The doors didn't move.
"Come on, Pilot. I said please," John said petulantly. After a few seconds of silence, his voice grew harsh again. "Pilot, the wormhole is *open*. Open the hangar door."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Commander."
Crichton slammed his fist on the canopy. "Pilot, we are *not* going to do the HAL 9000 routine here. If the door doesn't open, I can't get to Earth. If I can't warn Earth, then Earth is gone. I am trying to save my entire goddamned planet here, Pilot, and I can't do that sitting here tapping my toes!"
"I know, Commander. But ... Moya won't let me. She doesn't want you to leave."
"What?!"
He heard Pilot sigh. "Commander, Moya wants you in Command. I don't know what for."
"What, now Moya's keeping things from you, Pilot?" Crichton growled as he opened the canopy and climbed out of the module.
"I don't know why, Commander. I've ... never seen her like this before."
* * * * * * *
Crichton reached Command to find everyone there, even Scorpius and Noranti. He strode up to the clamshell communicator. "Okay, Pilot, here I am. Now *why* isn't Moya opening the door for me?"
"Commander..." Pilot visibly swallowed. "Moya wants to accompany you to Earth this time."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Pilot. I'm the only one with enough knowledge to actually navigate the wormhole network with half a chance of getting to Earth. And even so, you and Moya could be killed in the process, remember?"
"Moya trusts you, Commander. And frankly ... so do I," Pilot answered. As if to punctuate his point, a panel in the back of Command opened with a hiss. Crichton turned behind him to see a piece of equipment that he'd never seen before -- wait, actually that wasn't true. It was just that the last time he'd seen it, he thought, had been his first day aboard Moya.
It was Moya's manual control column.
"You and Moya want me to pilot her through the wormhole?"
"We trust you," Pilot repeated.
Crichton turned to face the others. "You knew?"
Negative shakes and murmured "no"s all around, except for Scorpius, who stood stock still and said nothing.
"Guys ... I thought we went through this. I can't ask you to do this. Any of you. Not even Moya - hell, especially not Moya. It's too dangerous."
"Like our lives are so safe already?" Chiana laughed. "We're with you, John. We just figured on taking D'Argo's ship and maybe the Prowler and following you in."
"One man trying to save a world," Noranti said, blinking all three eyes in an odd pattern. "Think how much better it will be with his friends."
"John, I can't just stand by and watch as you try to save your world. My instincts are telling me I have to be a part of it," D'Argo announced. "Besides, you might need firepower."
"There might be something to this Earth of yours," Sikozu chimed in. "And you'll probably need all the intelligent people you can muster."
Rygel snorted. "I'm just betting that if we can save your planet, they might be grateful enough to loan some troops to assist in the re-establishment of the House of Rygel on Hyneria."
Aeryn gave Rygel a look, a mixture of annoyance and affection. *I guess Guido really did manage to talk to her.* "We're going to do this, John," she said, her voice wavering only a bit. "We're going to save your world. All of us. And then..."
"And then we'll see," John finished, breathing a little easier. "Who dares wins, huh?"
A ghost of a smile touched Aeryn's face through the aftermath of tears. "The motto of the Drakkar regiment."
"What was your motto?" John asked.
The smile broadened. "Pleisar regiment? You don't want to know."
John chuckled, almost began to laugh, but then the tingly sensation at the back of his neck got more intense. "We're out of time. We've got to go *now*.
"Everyone get to a place where you can brace yourselves," he shouted as he moved to the control column. "This is *not* gonna be a pleasant ride."
He closed his eyes. Concentrate. Concentrate. Remember about time.
Scorpius' voice penetrated his thoughts. "It appears I accompany you after all."
"Don't disturb the driver, Scorpy," John hissed. "Passengers stay behind the white line. And thank you for traveling with Greyhound."
He heard an intake of breath, then a sigh as Scorpius apparently thought better of his response, and then a clacking of boots on the deck, fading.
Concentrate.
*Concentrate*.
"Okay, Moya," he said out loud. "Let's rock and roll."
The Leviathan gathered herself and surged forward, charging into the wormhole. John twisted the controller subtly, twitching along three axes, searching out the right path and *willing* the great living ship down it.
Time was key.
He had to arrive after the launch of Farscape One; to do otherwise was to run the awful risk of unrealized realities. He'd learned that lesson; God, he'd learned it. The future was safe; the past was deadly risk.
But he couldn't fall *too* far into the future. Not with the Nebari so close. To come all this way to find an Earth whose back was broken by a hundred years of conquest? And no chance to change it, either. By arriving and seeing it, he'd make it real ... and to see it, then go back and change it? No, Einstein had been crystal clear on that point...
Concentrate.
Concentrate.
Path to Scarra; no way in hell. Turn and twist, twist and turn. Concentrate. Don't want to end up in the Renaissance. Heh - the menu said breakfast any time, so I ordered French toast during the Renaissance --
CONCENTRATE!
Here. Now. The world you left. Cold War over. Space program starting to gain steam again. Plans for Mars. Space station. Probes here and there, Sun to Saturn, hell to breakfast. French toast?
Focus on the *now*! Right turn there; follow; turn and twist, twist and turn.
He twitched on the controller, felt the paths beginning to collapse, narrowing, choices becoming clearer.
And slowly, he could feel Moya through the controller. Feel the fear, the exhiliration, the burning that felt like nothing so much as a marathoner's cramps.
The path twisted once more, and suddenly he *knew*. "Everybody brace yourselves, we're almost there!"
He twisted once, twice, three times. His mind's eye reached out and he could *see*. At the end ... Earth. Scattered satellites in orbit, and was that an actual space station?
He was close, really close. Maybe he'd even managed to get the time right.
Moya bucked once, then leveled out, streaking for the exit, and Crichton willed his mind to hold the time right. Unfortunately, he was so worried about the time that for a split microt, he forgot about *space*. He saw Moya drifting to the wormhole wall, yanked the controller, and leveled the Leviathan off almost in time.
Almost.
Moya grazed the wormhole wall as she neared the exit; she lurched wildly, moaned in pain, Pilot let out an anguished scream, and John felt the shock and agony racing up his arm, through his body, knocking him backwards like he'd been hit by a freight train.
He saw a glimpse of a probe around Saturn that hadn't been halfway there when the Farscape had launched. *Cassini*, he thought. *If Cassini's there, then this isn't the past, and it can't be too far in the future, maybe we're in time, maybe-*
He landed hard, badly, wrong, crashing into the back wall of Command; he heard a splintering *crack* like a rotten branch breaking off a tree, felt something moving in the wrong direction in his upper leg, and every nerve in his body lit on fire ... then the universe went black.
Crichton was the only one aboard Moya who didn't hear the scream.
end part three