TVU Challenge 506W: Ten Things That Really Should Have Happened on Farscape, PG-13
Ten minifics written for the ‘Ten Things’ Challenge on TV Universe.
Spoilers throughout Farscape Seasons 1-4 and PKW. The usual sex-and-violence motifs you might see in any ep of the show to warn for.
Total words about 1700, spread across 10 fics.
No beta
Not mine, and no money made
One, Premiere
“Oh please, let it all be a dream. A very bad and twisted dream!” Commander John Crichton scrunched his eyes closed, blotting out the sight of the alien cell he was lying in, but unfortunately not blotting out the weird, alien chirping sounds coming from nearby. Finally, he gave in to reality, opening his eyes and rolling over. “What… um where? Where are my clothes?” He demanded of the strange creature hovering just beyond the cell grate. The only reply he got from the oversized green toad was a disturbingly lascivious grin and a finger directing him to look towards the humanoid looking figure in what looked like an all-black flight suit on the other side of the cell.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you two get acquainted,” Crichton thought he heard the frog-creature chuckle. John watched with some trepidation as the figure in black lifted off their helmet to reveal the face of an attractive young woman. Her grey, stormy eyes widened as they openly appraised the naked man before her. A predatory smile seemed to be spreading out from her eyes towards her mouth.
“Hi, I’m, umm, John,” Crichton nervously held out his right hand towards her, while his left continued the near pointless task of trying to shelter his growing embarrassment.
Two, Rhapsody In Blue
“Hey!” John hailed Aeryn’s back as he entered Moya’s Command.
“Hey,” she gave what appeared to be a nonchalant shrug, but otherwise remained rooted to her post at the central console. John quickly checked around the chamber. They were all alone. He sauntered up behind her, coming to a halt inches behind her right shoulder. She quickly flashed a glance at him, her face betraying nothing. Taking his life in his hands, he reached out and gently began to toy with a few strands of the waterfall of raven hair cascading across her shoulders and down her back. She seemed aware of his actions, but paid no heed, instead redoubling her attentions on the console.
“We need to talk about my underwear,” John intoned in a husky whisper.
“Your underwear? I don’t think so.” Aeryn replied, her tone dismissive, her attitude somehow seeming to portray her near total concentration on Moya’s controls. “Anyway, we’ve already talked about this John.”
“Oh, but I don’t think we have, missy,” John drawled back, casually wrapping a thick, lustrous set of strands around one finger.
“Really?” She flashed him another sideways half glance. This time he could see a slight smile playing around her lips and in her eyes. “But if it worries you that much, then come to my quarters after my shift and I’ll sort you out some of mine.”
“I might just do that!” John replied with a snorted laugh, before, rather daringly, patting her once gently on the butt and strolling away. As he reached the doorway he dared a glance back over his shoulder towards her, just in time to see her return the glance with an enigmatic smile on her face. Yes, he definitely might just do that, he decided, as he walked away from Command, grinning and chuckling to himself as he went.
Three, The Hidden Memory
“You shouldn’t have to do this!” Aeryn insisted, finding herself strangely upset on finding John preparing Gilina’s corpse for disposal. He seemed to be washing the dead tech’s face with a small, moist sponge.
“How do you reckon that?” John sighed, pausing and turning to face Aeryn.
“You are not recovered from the chair.” He looked completely wrecked: for some reason she felt rather protective of him. It was a most un-Peacekeeper-like feeling.
“And you’re not recovered from your injuries,” he insisted, catching her out. She considered how to reply for a few seconds before deciding to slightly change the subject.
“You had… feelings for her.” It wasn't really a question, and they both knew it.
“Not just her.” John paused, looking intently at her in a way that made her feel uneasy, uncertain about what was going on in his head. Suddenly, he seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking. “But yes, that’s one reason why I owe her this.”
“And I… I owe her my life.” Aeryn confessed. “And yours,” she added silently to herself.
“Come on,” John surprised her by gently taking her open hand and pressing the sponge into her palm. “We’ll do it together.”
Four, Look At The Princess Part Three
“HOW BATMAN WAS THAT!” John crowed to D’Argo and Chiana. “You guys okay?” He added, calming down a little as the moment passed.
“We're fine John,” D’Argo panted. “It's good to see you.”
“You too,” John nodded, reaching out to his friends like touchstones. “What about Scorpy. Is he dead?”
“If he isn't, he will be by the time I come out,” D’Argo announced as he gently pushed Chiana and John towards the exit.
Five, Tag to Self Inflicted Wounds Part 2
Jool watched herself in the mirror as she primped up her leather bustier, admiring the way it displayed her loomas to maximum effect. Yep, she was the best looking woman on this stupid ship by a thousand metras. She wondered which would be the first to succumb to her charms and start chasing after her - Crichton or D’Argo?
“Don’t even think it,” the unexpected sound of the Chiana’s voice made Jool jump, almost right out of her outfit.
“What are you doing in my room, you little tralk!?” Jool protested, trying to regain the upper hand as she span on her expensive heel to watch her sulky nemesis detach herself from the shadows and slink towards her.
“Just delivering some sisterly advice.” Chiana stopped a couple of paces away, observing Jool with a lopsided gaze which made the redhead feel like she was being sized-up by a hungry Bantha-cat.
“What the frell….?”
“Neither of them are really looma-guys, anyway, in case you hadn’t noticed,” the little imp had the impertinence to run a finger upwards between Jool’s prized assets before tapping her on the chin and chuckling. “Not that D’Argo’s probably in the mood right now.”
“How dare you!” Jool began to protest.
“And Aeryn’d probably kill you if you made a play for Crichton. So just don’t, OK?” Chiana concluded, before slapping Jool gently twice on the cheek, spinning on her heel and sashaying from the room.
Six, Promises
A thin female in a shiny, black suit staggered slowly across Moya’s docking bay towards the newcomers as they disgorged from Lo’Laan.
John scrunched up his forehead in confusion as he pulled out his gun. There was something familiar, yet not quite right, about the woman. Then, suddenly, he recognised her: “Aeryn? You’ve come back!?” He announced as she tumbled into his arms and he ran his fingers through her close-cropped hair, not daring yet to touch the angry, rough scar tissue covering the whole of the right side of her face.
Seven, Terra Firma
“So, what is this stuff?” Aeryn asked, tapping the edge of her spoon against one of the score of bowls arranged in front of her.
“Rocky Road,” John replied with an indulgent grin. They’d been here, working their way from the small diner’s entire ice cream menu, for more than an hour and it still wasn’t getting old.
“And this?”
“Mint Oreo.”
“And this?” This time she took a spoonful from the bowl and sensuously licked her cutlery clean. An orgasmic groan shook her body, making even the wait staff turn and stare.
“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” John thought he heard the middle-aged head waitress snort.
“Chocolate Cookie Dough.” John chuckled, enjoying both the effect the ice cream was having on her and the jealous looks from everyone else in the diner. “Have you decided on your favourite yet?”
“Hmm…” Aeryn pondered the question, waving her spoon thoughtfully at half a dozen bowls in turn. “Actually, no.” John arched a quizzical eyebrow. “Let’s order again. But this time with sprinkles…”
Eight, Bad Timing
“Even if you could see the bubble, your eye-limb coordination is - lacking,” Pilot broke the bad news to John as gently as he could manage.
“I'm not going to ask you another favour,” John quietly shook his head in resignation at the thought that Earth might be doomed. “So I'm just gonna beg.” Pilot gasped in shock as realisation dawned as to the sacrifice John was asking him to make.
“Commander, I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do,” John Crichton was crestfallen at Pilot’s pronouncement. “But…. but Officer Sun… should be able to… not only is she a far better pilot than you, she has my Pilot genes. She should be able to see the bubble and fly the mission.”
“Why didn’t I think of that!?” John asked rhetorically as his eyes widened with shock at the obvious truth Pilot had just imparted.
Nine, Peacekeeper Wars
“Jool!” Aeryn screamed in anguish as the Scarran bomb exploded and the video feed was cut.
Down on the surface of Arnessk, Jool could hear the distress in her one time antagonist-and-friend’s voice. But the transmission equipment, up on the surface, must have been destroyed in the attack. Deep underground, in the safety of the ancient Eidelon bunkers, she had no choice but to bide her time, let the Scarrans think they were all dead.
There would be time enough to apologise to Aeryn later, when the war was over and the Scarran threat was gone.
Ten, Peacekeeper Wars
D’Argo lurched towards the abandoned transport, leaving the bodies of a dozen dead Scarrans and twice as many Charrids where they had fallen beneath his weapons fire. Twenty macrots had passed since he had acted as rear guard for his friends, and still he was not dead. Obviously the wound was not as bad as he had first thought. All he needed now was for his luck to hold once again and…. Yes! The ship was operational! With a final glance down at the blood, now running clear from his injury, he powered up the engines and prepared to leave the planet’s desolated surface.
Spoilers throughout Farscape Seasons 1-4 and PKW. The usual sex-and-violence motifs you might see in any ep of the show to warn for.
Total words about 1700, spread across 10 fics.
No beta
Not mine, and no money made
One, Premiere
“Oh please, let it all be a dream. A very bad and twisted dream!” Commander John Crichton scrunched his eyes closed, blotting out the sight of the alien cell he was lying in, but unfortunately not blotting out the weird, alien chirping sounds coming from nearby. Finally, he gave in to reality, opening his eyes and rolling over. “What… um where? Where are my clothes?” He demanded of the strange creature hovering just beyond the cell grate. The only reply he got from the oversized green toad was a disturbingly lascivious grin and a finger directing him to look towards the humanoid looking figure in what looked like an all-black flight suit on the other side of the cell.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you two get acquainted,” Crichton thought he heard the frog-creature chuckle. John watched with some trepidation as the figure in black lifted off their helmet to reveal the face of an attractive young woman. Her grey, stormy eyes widened as they openly appraised the naked man before her. A predatory smile seemed to be spreading out from her eyes towards her mouth.
“Hi, I’m, umm, John,” Crichton nervously held out his right hand towards her, while his left continued the near pointless task of trying to shelter his growing embarrassment.
Two, Rhapsody In Blue
“Hey!” John hailed Aeryn’s back as he entered Moya’s Command.
“Hey,” she gave what appeared to be a nonchalant shrug, but otherwise remained rooted to her post at the central console. John quickly checked around the chamber. They were all alone. He sauntered up behind her, coming to a halt inches behind her right shoulder. She quickly flashed a glance at him, her face betraying nothing. Taking his life in his hands, he reached out and gently began to toy with a few strands of the waterfall of raven hair cascading across her shoulders and down her back. She seemed aware of his actions, but paid no heed, instead redoubling her attentions on the console.
“We need to talk about my underwear,” John intoned in a husky whisper.
“Your underwear? I don’t think so.” Aeryn replied, her tone dismissive, her attitude somehow seeming to portray her near total concentration on Moya’s controls. “Anyway, we’ve already talked about this John.”
“Oh, but I don’t think we have, missy,” John drawled back, casually wrapping a thick, lustrous set of strands around one finger.
“Really?” She flashed him another sideways half glance. This time he could see a slight smile playing around her lips and in her eyes. “But if it worries you that much, then come to my quarters after my shift and I’ll sort you out some of mine.”
“I might just do that!” John replied with a snorted laugh, before, rather daringly, patting her once gently on the butt and strolling away. As he reached the doorway he dared a glance back over his shoulder towards her, just in time to see her return the glance with an enigmatic smile on her face. Yes, he definitely might just do that, he decided, as he walked away from Command, grinning and chuckling to himself as he went.
Three, The Hidden Memory
“You shouldn’t have to do this!” Aeryn insisted, finding herself strangely upset on finding John preparing Gilina’s corpse for disposal. He seemed to be washing the dead tech’s face with a small, moist sponge.
“How do you reckon that?” John sighed, pausing and turning to face Aeryn.
“You are not recovered from the chair.” He looked completely wrecked: for some reason she felt rather protective of him. It was a most un-Peacekeeper-like feeling.
“And you’re not recovered from your injuries,” he insisted, catching her out. She considered how to reply for a few seconds before deciding to slightly change the subject.
“You had… feelings for her.” It wasn't really a question, and they both knew it.
“Not just her.” John paused, looking intently at her in a way that made her feel uneasy, uncertain about what was going on in his head. Suddenly, he seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking. “But yes, that’s one reason why I owe her this.”
“And I… I owe her my life.” Aeryn confessed. “And yours,” she added silently to herself.
“Come on,” John surprised her by gently taking her open hand and pressing the sponge into her palm. “We’ll do it together.”
Four, Look At The Princess Part Three
“HOW BATMAN WAS THAT!” John crowed to D’Argo and Chiana. “You guys okay?” He added, calming down a little as the moment passed.
“We're fine John,” D’Argo panted. “It's good to see you.”
“You too,” John nodded, reaching out to his friends like touchstones. “What about Scorpy. Is he dead?”
“If he isn't, he will be by the time I come out,” D’Argo announced as he gently pushed Chiana and John towards the exit.
Five, Tag to Self Inflicted Wounds Part 2
Jool watched herself in the mirror as she primped up her leather bustier, admiring the way it displayed her loomas to maximum effect. Yep, she was the best looking woman on this stupid ship by a thousand metras. She wondered which would be the first to succumb to her charms and start chasing after her - Crichton or D’Argo?
“Don’t even think it,” the unexpected sound of the Chiana’s voice made Jool jump, almost right out of her outfit.
“What are you doing in my room, you little tralk!?” Jool protested, trying to regain the upper hand as she span on her expensive heel to watch her sulky nemesis detach herself from the shadows and slink towards her.
“Just delivering some sisterly advice.” Chiana stopped a couple of paces away, observing Jool with a lopsided gaze which made the redhead feel like she was being sized-up by a hungry Bantha-cat.
“What the frell….?”
“Neither of them are really looma-guys, anyway, in case you hadn’t noticed,” the little imp had the impertinence to run a finger upwards between Jool’s prized assets before tapping her on the chin and chuckling. “Not that D’Argo’s probably in the mood right now.”
“How dare you!” Jool began to protest.
“And Aeryn’d probably kill you if you made a play for Crichton. So just don’t, OK?” Chiana concluded, before slapping Jool gently twice on the cheek, spinning on her heel and sashaying from the room.
Six, Promises
A thin female in a shiny, black suit staggered slowly across Moya’s docking bay towards the newcomers as they disgorged from Lo’Laan.
John scrunched up his forehead in confusion as he pulled out his gun. There was something familiar, yet not quite right, about the woman. Then, suddenly, he recognised her: “Aeryn? You’ve come back!?” He announced as she tumbled into his arms and he ran his fingers through her close-cropped hair, not daring yet to touch the angry, rough scar tissue covering the whole of the right side of her face.
Seven, Terra Firma
“So, what is this stuff?” Aeryn asked, tapping the edge of her spoon against one of the score of bowls arranged in front of her.
“Rocky Road,” John replied with an indulgent grin. They’d been here, working their way from the small diner’s entire ice cream menu, for more than an hour and it still wasn’t getting old.
“And this?”
“Mint Oreo.”
“And this?” This time she took a spoonful from the bowl and sensuously licked her cutlery clean. An orgasmic groan shook her body, making even the wait staff turn and stare.
“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” John thought he heard the middle-aged head waitress snort.
“Chocolate Cookie Dough.” John chuckled, enjoying both the effect the ice cream was having on her and the jealous looks from everyone else in the diner. “Have you decided on your favourite yet?”
“Hmm…” Aeryn pondered the question, waving her spoon thoughtfully at half a dozen bowls in turn. “Actually, no.” John arched a quizzical eyebrow. “Let’s order again. But this time with sprinkles…”
Eight, Bad Timing
“Even if you could see the bubble, your eye-limb coordination is - lacking,” Pilot broke the bad news to John as gently as he could manage.
“I'm not going to ask you another favour,” John quietly shook his head in resignation at the thought that Earth might be doomed. “So I'm just gonna beg.” Pilot gasped in shock as realisation dawned as to the sacrifice John was asking him to make.
“Commander, I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do,” John Crichton was crestfallen at Pilot’s pronouncement. “But…. but Officer Sun… should be able to… not only is she a far better pilot than you, she has my Pilot genes. She should be able to see the bubble and fly the mission.”
“Why didn’t I think of that!?” John asked rhetorically as his eyes widened with shock at the obvious truth Pilot had just imparted.
Nine, Peacekeeper Wars
“Jool!” Aeryn screamed in anguish as the Scarran bomb exploded and the video feed was cut.
Down on the surface of Arnessk, Jool could hear the distress in her one time antagonist-and-friend’s voice. But the transmission equipment, up on the surface, must have been destroyed in the attack. Deep underground, in the safety of the ancient Eidelon bunkers, she had no choice but to bide her time, let the Scarrans think they were all dead.
There would be time enough to apologise to Aeryn later, when the war was over and the Scarran threat was gone.
Ten, Peacekeeper Wars
D’Argo lurched towards the abandoned transport, leaving the bodies of a dozen dead Scarrans and twice as many Charrids where they had fallen beneath his weapons fire. Twenty macrots had passed since he had acted as rear guard for his friends, and still he was not dead. Obviously the wound was not as bad as he had first thought. All he needed now was for his luck to hold once again and…. Yes! The ship was operational! With a final glance down at the blood, now running clear from his injury, he powered up the engines and prepared to leave the planet’s desolated surface.