WIP Amnesty Day, Part 4

[bktheirregular]

Look Up and See, Part IV:

Aeryn felt the entire Leviathan shaking around her; the only time she'd ever felt this much out of control had been that one awful day when she'd had to chase a possessed Crichton down to an ice planet. She could only hope that this time, the end of the ride was better.

The last time, she had died.

"Everybody brace yourselves, we're almost there!" Crichton's voice boomed out over the shipwide channel; Aeryn placed her hands and feet against a rib in the compartment off Command, pushed hard, and braced.

Moya lurched once, then steadied out. *Was that it?* Aeryn wondered.

For another second there was nothing ... then a jolt that felt like the living ship had smashed right into a planet while doing hetch-nineteen. Aeryn lost her grip, tumbled headlong into the hallway ... and then she heard it.

Throughout the ship, there was a moan that could only be Moya in agony. A second, higher cry was Pilot feeling the pain through the link they shared.

And then suddenly another voice joined theirs. One she'd heard before. One she dreaded.

John. Screaming.

Aeryn scrambled to her feet and rushed into Command as the howl died away ... and saw him.

He was crumpled against the back wall of Command, eyes staring up at nothing, breath ragged. His right leg was twisted at a sickening angle.

"John? John, wake up! Wake up, damn you!"

He moaned. "Ohhh ... Aeryn? That you? What happened?"

"You're hurt, John. You must have lost your footing."

"Hurts. God, it hurts." His eyes slowly regained focus. "How bad?"

Aeryn gingerly reached out a hand to the injured leg, brushed a finger against it. Her reward was another anguished cry, cut off as John's eyes rolled up and he lost consciousness again.

D'Argo, Chiana, and Sikozu barreled into Command right at that moment. "What happened?" D'Argo shouted. "How bad?"

Aeryn stood up, her hands shaking. "That last shock must have thrown him. He's hurt. I don't know how badly."

"Aeryn?" John asked weakly.

"We're here, John."

"Where ... where are we? What happened? We get attacked?"

"The wormhole, John," she said, soothingly. "We exited the wormhole roughly, and you got hurt."

"Wormhole? What'd we go through a wormhole for?"

"Earth, John. We were trying to get to Earth."

"Oh, man," John rasped, and his voice faded.

"John, stay with me! Stay with me!" Aeryn shouted.

D'Argo hissed. "Hezmana. Do human legs bend like that normally?"

"I don't think so," Aeryn whispered. "I would have noticed from those times on Talyn when-" she continued, then cut herself off. "Frell," she rasped.

"Hezmana." D'Argo turned to Chiana and Sikozu. "Get the stretcher from Zhaan's lab up here. We've got to get him out of here."

Scorpius passed them as they ran out; he looked over, then rushed to Crichton's side. "Is he hurt badly?"

"We don't know," Aeryn said, her voice breaking. "It looks that way."

"We cannot afford to lose him," Scorpius said. "The cost would be ... unimaginable."

"You want to make yourself useful?" D'Argo shot back. "Find out where we are."

Scorpius looked at the portal, at the gaseous planet in front of them. "I know exactly where we are."

"You do?" Aeryn exclaimed, looking up.

"Observe the planet nearest to us. A gas giant with numerous moons, some large enough to be converted to life-bearing worlds with respectable gravity, and a prominent, distinctive ring system. Farther towards this system's primary star, we will find a larger gas giant with its own prominent moons, the innermost almost volcanic from the effects of gravitational and magnetic forces, and ... ah, yes. A large, sharply defined storm within the clouds of the gas giant itself, large enough to consume a planet."

"Oh, no," Aeryn moaned. "You know this system. We're not in the right place."

"You are partially correct, Officer Sun," Scorpius said with a smile. "I even know the planets' names. The closest one, the ringed planet, is called Saturn. Approaching starward, the next planet is Jupiter. Further in, we will find an extensive asteroid belt, then a small, marginally habitable planet called Mars. And a little closer to the star," Scorpius continued, pausing a moment while he brought up something on the display, "a habitable world known to its natives as ... Earth."

"Earth?" came a moan from the floor.

"Earth, John. We're there."

"Aeryn ... what happened? We get attacked?"

"John, we made it to Earth. We had a rough exit from the wormhole; you were hurt. Do you remember?"

"Wormhole? What were we doing in a wormhole?"

"John, just ... just..." Aeryn stammered, then looked up at the others, her expression bleak. "This is bad."

"Standard reaction to a severe shock," Scorpius answered soothingly. "The mind stops processing for a while. With time and care, perhaps an arn or two, his mind should return to normal functioning."

"Or at least as normal as his mind *can* get, after all the frelling you put it through," Chiana snapped, coming into Command with the stretcher, Sikozu hurrying to catch up, Noranti on her heels.

"Tanzaat, that's not good," Noranti hissed as she rushed over to Crichton. She spat into a crucible and sprinkled powder into it, then reached into another pouch. D'Argo grabbed her hand with a hissing growl.

"Do you want Crichton to recover?" she snapped at him.

D'Argo growled. "No tricks."

The old woman bristled. "Not at a time like this. He's fractured the load-bearing bone. I need him completely relaxed or else we'll never get the krastic thing set properly."

Scorpius growled. "Is he going to die?"

"A Sebacean would, with a break this bad. I did, however, find the most fascinating journal in the apothecary which suggests that Crichton may be able to recover. I didn't know that Delvians knew so much about his species."

Chiana hissed. "You snurched Zhaan's journal?"

"Oh, never mind that. The point is, if we can get the bone placed properly, and apply the right combination of liniments to the leg, then we can not only get the leg back into its proper position, but begin the knitting process at an accelerated pace." She worked the contents of the crucible into a paste, then pointed at D'Argo. "You'll need to cut off the pants."

"Excuse me?"

"The pants. They have to go, and I don't want the leg moved until I've applied the agent."

A DRD scuttled in, laser extended, and began to cut away at the tough leather covering Crichton's injured leg. "Pilot? That's perfect," D'Argo said into the air.

"Thank you, D'Argo," Pilot answered, "but the DRD I was sending isn't there yet."

D'Argo looked down at the DRD as it finished cutting away the material, exposing a mottled, bruised, twisted limb. Even as Noranti began applying the paste across his leg, D'Argo couldn't help but smile. The DRD wasn't one of Moya's little yellow workers, but the crudely-painted blue, white, and red drone that had accompanied John from the derelict Leviathan he'd found a cycle ago.

Chiana noticed the smile. "1812's got a mind of its own, you know that," she said. The DRD beeped in response, singing the ancient human melody Crichton had taught it once upon a time.

Noranti finished applying the ointment and clapped her hands. "D'Argo. Scorpius. You must lift Crichton onto the table and secure his upper body tightly to it."

"Secure him? Why?" Aeryn asked sharply as the Luxan and the hybrid slowly lifted the human onto the stretcher.

Noranti narrowed all three eyes at her. "Because we need to fashion a traction brace for that leg, and if he's sliding all over the table, there won't be any traction."

D'Argo found cables to use as straps, and gently bound Crichton into the stretcher.

"Tighter. You're securing him, not caressing him, you dumb brute."

D'Argo growled. "Do you want to do this yourself?"

She looked to Scorpius. "When I say so, you will pull the leg, applying pressure from the top of the foot, and then when the bones are in line, you will rotate the foot so it points straight up. Once that is done, we will secure the foot to maintain the tension."

D'Argo tightened the last cord. "Done."

"Scorpius. Now."

Scorpius pulled at the leg, twisting it straight. Crichton reacted to that; his face twisted in agony, and he screamed in pain again. Noranti quickly blew a fistful of powder into his face, and the scream faded into a choking sob.

Aeryn forced herself to relax, and was shocked to see that her pulse pistol was out of her holster and in her hand, safety released, finger on the trigger.

* * * * * * *

"Okay, so we don't have Crichton. We'll just have to go through with his plan without him."

Aeryn sighed. "D'Argo, you know Crichton. He probably didn't have a plan beyond actually getting here. After that, he was likely going to make it up."

Scorpius steepled his hands. "Our first and most obvious move is to contact the authorities on Earth."

"That may not be easy," Pilot said from the clamshell communicator. "Moya and I have been monitoring the comms traffic coming from Earth, and there does not seem to be a single unifying authority. We have heard of references to a body called 'the United Nations', but it is spoken of in terms that hardly instill confidence. Another body, referred to as 'the United States', appears to be the closest analogue to an authority, but again, much of the relevant traffic does not inspire confidence."

Aeryn sighed. "We need John awake."

Sikozu shook her head. "Even if he wakes up, he won't be able to move. The old woman says that it'll take days for the bone to set, and then weekens before he'll be able to move on his own assuming everything goes well."

Scorpius stood. "Then it falls to us to contact them. The most effective course would be to return to Crichton's point of origin. I believe I have found the spaceport Canaveral from whence Crichton's module was launched; I will endeavor to fly the module down there and contact the authorities."

"The frell you will," D'Argo hissed. "You're not getting anywhere near the module."

Aeryn nodded. "If anyone flies that ship, it's going to be me. I'll be the one to go down there."

Scorpius took a breath. "And when they come to the module and ask what has happened to John Crichton? What will you say?"

"I'll tell them he wanted to come down, but he's hurt."

Scorpius nodded. "They won't hear that. What they will hear is a language none of them have ever heard before."

Sikozu blinked. "They don't have translator microbes down there?"

"No, Sikozu. Which means that whoever flies the module must know the language."

"Well, then, it's easy. Sikozu can fly the module and I'll accompany her down in my Prowler."

"We will need to quickly impress upon them the danger of their situation," Scorpius countered. "You may be useful, Officer Sun, because you know Crichton the best; however, I believe Sikozu should accompany you, because her language skills are not hampered by translator microbes. Whoever flies the module will be the focus of attention; since I know the most about the threat the Nebari can pose, I believe it should be myself."

Aeryn grimaced and looked at D'Argo. "I hate to say it, but he's got a point," the Luxan said sadly.

"How would you know what language to speak anyway?" Aeryn asked Scorpius sharply.

Scorpius sighed. "Officer Sun, John Crichton's mind is, at this point, the most extensively studied intelligence in the known universe. Based on those studies, Peacekeeper Command has, among other things, a complete breakdown of the language called English. And since Crichton is so essential to the survival of the Sebaceans, I have made it a point to know his language as well as I know my own."

He stalked out towards the hangar bay. D'Argo whispered to Aeryn, "I couldn't help but notice he didn't mention how they got that information out of Crichton's mind."

"Later, D'Argo," Aeryn said. "Now is the wrong time."

* * * * * * *

Scorpius shifted slightly in the seat of Crichton's module as it arrowed down into Earth's atmosphere, burning air flickering along its wings. For all the technology it lacked, the little ship was impressive: lacking advanced heat-dissipators, the entire lower surface was covered in ceramics that bled off heat nearly as efficiently as the best Peacekeeper designs; without impellers that gave Peacekeeper ships the maneuverability they needed in atmosphere, the module instead used its very shape to generate aerodynamic lift. Even without any forward thrust, the ship could maneuver, something that no Prowler could ever manage.

The Prowler kept on his wing, knifing into the atmosphere right behind him; Scorpius glanced back at the instrument panel, admiring Officer Sun's technique. He saw a tell-tale light go on in the cockpit; the hetch drive was beginning to overheat, so he dropped it back into a standby mode.

They dropped lower, finally breaking out of the ionizing layer, and suddenly they were not alone in the sky. On either side, a sleek, powerful-looking interceptor fell into formation with them.

"Pulsars," Sikozu snapped over the comms. "They're flying Hynerian Pulsars."

Scorpius looked closer, and smiled. "Not exactly, though the resemblence is remarkable," he corrected gently. The Hynerian Pulsar, after all, was built to accomodate a pilot only one quarter of the size of a Sebacean; and by looking closely, one could see that the fighters flanking them had neither attitude jets nor gravitational impellers necessary for maneuvering in space. The resemblence was uncanny, though, and understandable considering that a Pulsar was designed for operations in atmosphere as well as space.

It had given Scorpius a bit of a start, and he imagined Officer Sun must have been worried as well; Peacekeeper pride may not have admitted the possibility, but Prowlers were outclassed in every aspect by their Hynerian counterparts. If the Nebari saw a squadron of these craft rising to meet them, that might even give them pause-

"Farscape One, if you can hear me, rock your wings back and forth once."

Scorpius twitched the controls gently; it was a standard procedure, even among the Peacekeepers. If you can't talk, give a sign you can still hear them. And it made sense; Crichton's radio was set to the spaceport frequency, but Scorpius didn't know how to transmit on the crude equipment.

"Farscape One," the voice continued, "you are cleared down to the runway. Welcome home."

Scorpius looked at the instruments, squinted, and spotted the extended strip of pavement, obviously designed for recovering craft with the module's peculiar limitations. He snapped on an ocular to gauge his maneuvering room, pulled it off as they got closer. The powerful interceptors sped away, to be replaced by a pair of smaller, sleeker atmospheric craft.

Aeryn and Sikozu pulled slightly ahead, extending their landing skids; Scorpius hit the control to drop the wheels on the module, banked slightly to turn - atmosphere flying wasn't as intuitive as deep-space, but it was exhilirating while it lasted - and raised the nose to slow the descent. A jolt as the rear wheels touched, then the nose came down, another jolt, and the module was down and rolling.

He stopped at the end of the pavement, the Prowler right by his side, and absently noted the ground vehicles racing to meet them. The Prowler's canopy opened; Scorpius took a moment more to make sure all the systems in the module were safely powered down.

He saw Aeryn and Sikozu come over to the module, just as the first contingent of humans reached them. Through the canopy he heard Aeryn exclaim, "Jack."

Jack. And the person to whom she addressed bore the same face as he had seen in the Aurora Chair's records, of the alien creature which had taken the form of Crichton's father.

"Don't," Aeryn said to Jack, then paused. "Don't ... frell. Sikozu, tell him not to be afraid."

"Don't be afraid," Sikozu echoed in English.

Scorpius hit one more control, and the canopy on the module opened; he hissed with shock as warm moist air rushed in, mixing with the air inside the cockpit to create a cloud of steam. He took a shallow breath, controlled the fear of heat shock, and slowly stepped out.

He set his feet down on the planet Earth and turned to the gray-haired man in front of him. "You must be the father of John Crichton," he said. "My name is Scorpius."

He took another breath of the moist air, hoping that they could move to climate-controlled surroundings before the heat overcame his cooling rod. "We have much to discuss, and, I fear, far too little time for what must be done."

The human gaped a moment, then found his voice. "What have you done with my son?"

"He is safe--"

"*What have you done with my son?!*" Jack Crichton screamed.

Scorpius closed his eyes a moment, hoping his calm would be infectious. "He is aboard the ship that brought us to your system, sir. He is-"

"Down! On your knees, all three of you, now!"

"No!" Jack Crichton shouted, turning in anger at the green-clad troops racing towards them.

Scorpius turned towards them for a moment, realized the hopelessness of the situation, and barked to Aeryn Sun and Sikozu in Sebacean: "Do as they instruct!"

"I said get *down*!" the closest trooper shouted, reversing the rifle in his hands and smashing it into Scorpius' knee. Scorpius staggered and fell; Sikozu immediately dropped to her knees, but Sun whirled to face them. She dropped one with a pantak jab, kicked at a second, but the third lashed out with a rifle butt and knocked her down.

"Take them away," the lead trooper barked. Scorpius looked at him, then at Jack Crichton.

Crichton wore a mask of fury when he stared at Scorpius. Then he looked at the trooper, and if anything, the anger intensified.

end part four

Comments

[lizbetann]

Very, very cool! And damn, it's time to flee from work and I don't have internet set up on my home computer yet!