WIP Amnesty Day, Part 5

[bktheirregular]

Look Up and See, Part V:

Crichton moaned and tried to sit up; Chiana quickly dashed from her perch to his side, gently laying a hand on his chest. "Don't try to move, Crichton," she whispered soothingly.

"I ... uhh ... I can't. I can't move."

"Shh. Don't try."

Crichton dropped his head back on the stretcher and then picked up his arms. "Still got arms, I guess ... what happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"I dunno ... had a weird dream that we were coming to Earth, then the whole galaxy collapsed in on me and everything went crazy..." His voice trailed off. "I'm tied up. Chiana, what the hell am I doing tied up?"

"Easy, Crichton. We had to-"

"Let me the hell out of these straps, Chiana!"

Chiana hissed in his ear, "Do you *want* to ruin your leg? Because those straps are the only thing keeping you from jerking that leg around and crippling yourself forever. We've got to keep tension on it until the bones knit."

"Pip, how..."

"You broke it."

"Yeah, but how...?"

"Coming out of the wormhole. You scraped Moya against the wormhole wall, and kinda got thrown around."

Crichton moaned. "Wormhole..." Then his eyes shot wide open. "Wormhole? So it wasn't a dream - we were really headed to Earth?"

"We're there," Chiana answered softly. "Well, not actually *there*, we're around a planet Scorpius said your people call Saturn, but we're close enough."

"So close," Crichton whispered. "And I can't get there." His eyes rolled. "Somebody up there hates me."

"Somebody down here likes you," Chiana cooed in his ear. Hezmana, it had been so long since they had played the game...

Crichton put a hand to his forehead and winced as something shifted inside him. "Hey, Pip. Do I look as bad as I feel?"

"I dunno," Chiana said. "You look like a vorlag regretting that last raslak." She grimaced. "Plus the fifteen that came before it."

"Must look pretty bad. 'Cos my leg feels like I got a salami grafted to my hip, and my head feels like I got run over by a Zamboni."

Chiana smiled. "Naah. A zamboni wouldn't run you over," she whispered in his ear. "It'd just snap your head off and clean its teeth with your rib bones." She laughed.

Then Crichton closed his eyes, took a breath, then snapped them open again. "Moya. You said Moya hit the wall. Is she all right?"

"I - I don't know; Pilot didn't say anything-"

"Pilot!" Crichton called out.

"Crichton? It is good to hear your voice again."

"Yeah, nice to be talking again, Pilot. Chiana says Moya got hurt coming out? How bad?"

Pilot's voice died out, and Crichton heard a breath through the comm. "The impact caused some strain in her starburst spines. DRD's are repairing broken fluid lines and reinforcing structural links. It is ... painful, but not debilitating. Moya will not be able to starburst safely until the repairs are complete, of course, but she can otherwise function normally despite the pain."

"Nothing any of us can do to help?" Crichton asked.

"The damaged sections are in vacuum, Commander, and the repairs, while simple, are time-consuming. The DRD's can tend to Moya's injuries; she and I are more concerned with the extent of your own."

"Well ... I'm trussed up like a pork roast, my leg feels like it's got a budong hanging off of it, and my whole body is feeling the aches and pains." He laughed and winced again. "Hey, since we're in the neighborhood, maybe someone can hop in a transport pod, head down to Earth, stick their head in a convenience store, and pick me up a bottle of Advil?" Another laugh. "Okay, maybe a bad idea. Maybe Granny's got something lying around." He paused. "Where is she, anyway? And where's everyone else?"

"Wrinkles went to get some food and fell asleep near the treblin-side cargo passage. You know, about like she usually does," Chiana said with a dry chuckle. "D'Argo and Rygel took Lo'La to scout the edges of the system; he said they wanted to scout the comet cloud, maybe plant a couple of probes, and then head out a little further to see if they could pick up the Nebari force, see how far out they are, how much time until they reach the system."

"D'Argo and Rygel? Talk about the odd couple. Why them?"

Chiana crossed her legs and sat by the head of the stretcher. "There was nobody else D'Argo trusted around Lo'La's controls, except me, and, well..." She cocked her head. "He wanted someone watching over you that he could trust."

"Wait a minute. What about Aeryn? Or Sputnik? Either of them could have done it; hell, Aeryn's the best choice if D'Argo needs a gunner."

"Yeah, well ... everyone else headed down to Earth."

"Except Scorpius, I'll bet. Surprised I haven't seen him around."

Chiana swallowed. "Well, you see ... Scorpius ... he ... kinda flew your module down."

"He did *WHAT*?!" Crichton bellowed, sitting up - or trying to, before being jerked back by the straps holding his body fast to the stretcher. He fell back, dropped his unbound arms back down - and then jerked again as something within him seemed to wake up. He cried out in pain, drew in a shuddering breath past his teeth, and his skin began to turn pale. "God, that hurts - starting to feel that leg again, oh, my *God*," he rasped, took another breath, and whimpered, obviously trying to bite back a scream.

"Noranti!" Chiana called. "Hey, Wrinkles, Crichton's pain powder is kinda wearing out down here! Noranti? Old woman?" She cast about, looking for something Zhaan would have used to drown someone's pain - but all she came up with were the old woman's powders and pastes, and she wouldn't have trusted any of them even if she could tell one from another. And Crichton's moans were getting more anguished.

Okay, Chiana thought. She didn't have the wisdom and insight of Zhaan, or the textchip knowledge Jool had, and she knew even less about medicine than Wrinkles did. John had once told her, though, that when all else fails, go with what you know.

As Crichton opened his mouth to finally cry out again, Chiana clamped her mouth down on his, praying the shock of it would drive the pain out of his mind, if only for a few microts. Before he could respond, she broke contact, listening for the next breath. It came, a painful moan instead of a full-out scream, and she stroked his forehead, running a hand through his hair, cooing gently to him, trying to lull him back to sleep.

Noranti came back in then, clucking angrily. "What are you doing?"

"He kinda jerked a little. Don't yell, Wrinkles; I think he's asleep again."

The Traskan grabbed a fistful of powder and blew it in Crichton's face. "Do you want him crippled?" she hissed to Chiana.

"You've done enough damage to him already this past cycle," Chiana snapped.

"I've been trying to protect him," Noranti countered.

"Yeah? Well, we never asked for your help in the first place, fekkik, and we'd really be better off without-"

Noranti blew another puff of powder, this time into Chiana's face, and then the world spun around her and slowly faded away.

The last thing she heard was Noranti fussing over Crichton, and the last thing she thought was whether they would ever be able to get that crazy old woman out of their lives, once and forever.

* * * * * * *

D.K. was scratching his head when Jack Crichton finally caught up to him with a cup of bad coffee.

"So is it or isn't it?" Jack asked.

"Yes and no," D.K. said, shrugging. "I mean, it's the same ship, but it's not."

Jack frowned, handing D.K. the cup. "You need this more than I do, kid. That made absolutely no sense."

D.K. took a sip of coffee, grimaced, and blinked. "Look, at its core, that thing is Farscape One. I even found the engineers' signatures on the inside of the access plate, you know, where they signed it before the module left the manufacturing facility?"

Jack nodded.

"But it's been modified so much that it's not the same ship any more. The techs in Hangar 2 are scared to go near it. Something in there gave that ship enough power to get from Saturn to Earth in less than eight hours - for Christ's sake, Jack, you can't get *radio* from there to here in much less than an hour and a half! The thing must have been going twenty percent of the speed of light, and you and I both know that the Farscape that we designed with John couldn't even get near that!"

Jack rubbed his eyes. "So what *happened*? We know that John vanished with the Farscape, we know that somehow the module came back, but John didn't." He slumped against a wall. "But whoever those three people are, they know John, and they recognized me. God alone knows how."

D.K. drained the coffee cup and tossed into a trash can. "You have a chance to talk with them yet?"

"No. Ever since they got taken down at the runway, the Marines have been keeping them separate. The redhead and the guy in the flight suit, well, they say they're 'polite but uncooperative'. The brunette's speaking some language nobody can understand, and I think the Marines are scared to go near her."

"I heard. Maybe it's time you took a crack at it?" D.K. asked.

Jack smiled sardonically. "Gee, wish I'd thought of that."

That was when the General walked up. "Colonel, they're insisting on talking to you."

Jack shook his head. "Let me guess. You couldn't convince them you had their best interests at heart?"

"Don't get smart, Colonel. You know we couldn't trust a group of ... aliens who just dropped in out of nowhere without even a how-do-you-do."

Jack snorted. "Okay, a little paranoia is understandable these days, but I thought the whole trust-no-one shtick went out of style when they cancelled 'The X-Files'. Did you maybe consider that this might have been our one shot at a diplomatic start with whoever they are, and you blew it?"

"We were expecting John Crichton, not that leather-faced freak that came out of his ship, Colonel."

"Well, *sir*, we don't know what we're dealing with. You said they wanted to talk to me?"

"Together."

"Okay, then. Let's find a conference room."

The jeep ride from the hangar to the stockade was short, but with the sun blazing down, Jack was wishing they could have picked an actual car, one with air conditioning, and maybe shock absorbers that weren't relics of the Korean war. A small part of him wondered if it wasn't deliberate, the military trying to keep control of the situation.

Even if they had no idea what the situation was.

They got to the stockade, and there they were, under armed guard: sitting at the center of the table was the leather-clad horror-show reject who had called himself Scorpius, and the women who had been in the other ship flanked him.

Scorpius spoke before the General could say a word. "They referred to you as 'Colonel,' sir. That is your proper title?"

"If you like," Jack said, sitting down across from them. "Okay, first things first. What happened to my son?"

"The journey here was quite difficult. Crichton ... your son navigated the passage here, but he was injured in transit."

"How badly?" Jack asked sharply.

"He suffered a broken leg, a fracture of the load-bearing bone in his right leg. He is stable on our ship, recovering, though I imagine not completely comfortable."

"I want to see him."

"I imagine the feeling is mutual, sir. However, there are somewhat urgent matters we need to discuss--"

Jack stood up, planted his fists on the table, and leaned over. "I want ... to see ... my son. Now. Do you understand? We can talk about the urgent matters soon enough, but I want to see with my own eyes that John's okay. Can you understand that?"

Scorpius didn't even flinch. "Yes, of course. You could, of course, fly a transport ship to the sixth planet of this system and rendezvous with our ship."

Jack glared. "Maybe you didn't notice, but we haven't got anything that could get there."

"Not exactly true," Scorpius countered, oozing charm. "There are two spacecraft currently within ten metras of our current location, both of which could reach our ship within the solar day."

The General snorted. "You mean Farscape One? Forget it. We're taking it apart right now to find out how those bolt-on thingies work."

The redhead blinked. "You are dismantling Crichton's module?"

The General nodded. "It doesn't belong to Crichton, anyway. That spacecraft is United States Government property, and if the United States Government wants to take that ship apart down to the bolts, that's what's going to happen."

Red's eyes widened. "In that case, I hope you have someone familiar with a Leviathan hetch drive."

Scorpius turned to her. "Sikozu, nobody on this planet has even seen a Leviathan hetch drive before."

"Then they don't know how dangerous it can be. If they've opened the drive-"

The General laughed derisively. "We have the best technicians in the world working on that module."

The brunette spoke up, saying something in that odd clicking tongue she had used on the runway. Sikozu responded in the same language, with Scorpius chiming in. The argument went on for only a moment before it settled down. Then Sikozu looked hard at the General. "A Leviathan hetch drive will not function properly if isolated from its mother ship for an extended period of time. It is bio-mechanical in nature; it is partly living matter. If Crichton's module is to continue functioning, then it must return to the Leviathan before long."

"Fine. You want it back? You can have it back when we're done with it."

Jack looked from the General to the young woman, wondering who was going to blink first.

Sikozu stared him down. "If you are frelling with a technology you cannot understand, I hope that you don't have much sentimental value attached to this spit of land. Or to the people living on it."

"Don't think you can scare me," the General scoffed.

Sikozu mimicked Jack's move of leaning forward, balanced on her fists. "And if you've exposed the drive's working fluid? Do you have the slightest idea how volatile froonium nitrate can be in those quantities? *Especially* if it oxidizes? In this atmosphere?"

She suddenly stood. "We have to get the module back to Moya. Quickly!"

The General stood. "Now wait a minute-"

Jack stood to meet him. "Dammit, General, you heard the lady. Do you *want* to turn Canaveral into a crater?"

Scorpius smoothly added, "It might be worse than that. I once saw a transport using a Leviathan hetch drive impact the surface of a moon." He paused, closed his eyes, and cocked his head. "The moon's entire surface was ignited on impact."

Sikozu looked at Scorpius with a smile, then turned to Jack. "You are a pilot, I assume?"

"Yeah, but-"

"You worked with your son to build the module?"

"Yeah, but with all the-"

"Then you will fly with me." It wasn't a question. She turned to the General. "Have your technicians leave the module undisturbed in its hangar, and arrange transport for Colonel Crichton and myself. We will launch immediately."

"Hey, listen, lady, I can't authorize that-"

Sikozu locked eyes with the General, and didn't blink. "Your authorization does not matter, little man. I know more about the technology in that module than anyone on your planet, and I am *telling* you what must happen. Will you allow it to happen, or will you refuse and suffer the consequences?"

The General blinked. "Sergeant, get a Hummer and a driver ready. Colonel Crichton and one of the prisoners are to be taken to the hangar immediately."

"Thank you," Sikozu said, gliding past the General, beckoning Jack with a look.

The Hummer was speeding along the tarmac almost before Jack could buckle up; Sikozu didn't bother with restraints, but simply sat calmly as the truck dashed to the hangar. When they got there, the Farscape module was sitting unattended in the center of the hangar, with the evil-looking black ship off to the side. Technicians were looking at the module with fearful eyes.

Sikozu walked up to the module, pressed a control, and the canopy opened. "Colonel, you should probably get in first. The crew compartment is quite small."

"I didn't know two people could fit in here," Jack said, groaning as he clambered in behind the pilot's seat.

"Crichton has taken passengers on occasion in this module. I have had the opportunity to fly it before," she said as she hopped in front gracefully, closed the canopy, and flipped a series of switches.

A hum from the back of the ship began, like nothing the ship had ever produced in its tests. Jack gulped; how much power was packed in there, anyway?

"Brace yourself," Sikozu announced, and pressed gently at a control.

Jack had felt acceleration before, as a pilot and an astronaut; the Apollo-Saturn rockets had hit with four to six G's, and the Titan rockets that had lofted the Gemini two-man capsules had been almost twice as bad. The acceleration Farscape One showed now, though, should have far surpassed any manned rocket ever launched - but even as it sped off the ground and rocketed skyward, Jack only felt the acceleration he would expect from an airliner. "Doesn't feel as bad as it looks," he mused.

Sikozu smiled. "Of course not. It's a hetch drive, not your primitive thrust-reaction engines."

Jack looked out the side, at the rapidly diminishing Earth, and realized they were still accelerating at terrifying speed. "You sure you want to push an unstable engine that hard?"

"Unstable?" She laughed again. "Hetch drives are perfectly stable, Leviathan hetch drives especially so."

"Wait a minute. Back there you were saying that the engine could blow a hole in the world?"

"Unlikely. Probably the worst the technicians could have done would be to break it."

Jack frowned. "So why lie about it? You had us all scared out of our shorts down there."

She turned back to look at him. "You want to see your son, don't you?" She smiled at him brightly.

end part five