FIC: Farscape, Disruption 3
After the fourth time in two days that I broke out of my locked cell, the crew gave up and left the door open, assigning two DRDs to follow me. D'Argo protested, of course, but Crichton, openly amused at my plaintive protestations of boredom, pointed out that "Jena Bond," whatever that meant, wasn't going to stay put unless they tied me down, and probably not even then. He was right. I did have fun with the proposal of him tying me down, much to his embarrassment and the consternation of the others.
His amusement was a good thing. With the limited time I had, my approach was simple. Consolidate our connection. Be non threatening. Appealing. Easy to be with, to talk to. I took my cues from those Crichton spent the most time with, those he seemed most at ease with. The friendship between him and the non-Sebaceans, especially Chiana, was relaxed, obvious, and the laughter, teasing, and playfulness all came naturally to me. I needed to be a different kind of Peacekeeper than they'd known, and that was easy. Aeryn's stern reserve, Crais' fierce command - that had never been my way, though of course I could adopt those manners when necessary. In my days on Moya, I found I was enjoying myself, enjoying the unfamiliar pleasure of the demands of my job harmonizing, for once, with my natural instincts.
I knew I was making progress on the evening that I contributed my own story to the conversation over the evening meal, telling them about the time I'd infiltrated the harem of the orange-skinned Denarran prelate, only to find that my masterful disguise had been foiled by a midnight swim in the prelate's private baths and the body paint that I hadn't known was water-soluble. Most of them laughed out loud at the image of a naked, pink Sebacean spy floating in a pool of suddenly orange water; the only one who didn't at least smile was Aeryn Sun.
As the company started to break up, I placed a hand on Crichton's arm. He looked at me quizzically, somewhat warily.
"Are you all right, John?"
"Me?" He seemed surprised. "Why?"
"You just seem... tired. A bit... worn down."
He shrugged quickly. "No worries," he said lightly, dismissively. "Life's just peachy. I've never felt better." Across the room, there was the sound of dishes breaking. We both turned, just in time to see Aeryn Sun's back disappearing through the door, a tray full of shattered crockery left behind on the floor.
Chiana and Jool exchanged an uncomfortable look. Rygel muttered something inaudible, shaking his head and turning back to his plate. Crais frowned, said nothing. D'Argo sighed heavily, crouched to start cleaning up the mess. He glanced up at Crichton. "Don't ask me," he said bluntly. "I have no idea."
Crichton rubbed a hand over his face. "Man, it's like walkin' through a minefield around here. Without a map." He glanced down at the mess on the floor. "Or a mop."
"I didn't mean-" I began, sounding contrite.
He shook his head. "No, it wasn't your fault." He sounded tired. Beyond tired. He turned back to give me a soft smile. "Jena? Thanks for asking."
As he left the chamber, I didn't miss the looks from the others. Bemused, suspicious, unhappy. As if they no longer knew what to make of me.
That was good.
But I couldn't relax too much. And eventually I needed to talk to Crichton alone, something that was difficult to arrange, given the small crew manning the huge Leviathan. There was a constant stream of repairs and adjustments to be made to the ship's equipment, repairs that would have been handled by a corps of techs had this been a Peacekeeper ship. As it was, Crichton seemed to be the tech of choice on Moya, to the point that I wondered if any of the others even knew how to hold a wrench.
Finally, however, I was informed by the Pilot that Crichton was alone on command. A perfect opportunity to speak with him, and no need to invent an excuse. After all, I had agreed to give him Scorpius' whereabouts, and I needed to satisfy my part of the bargain before we arrived at the commerce planet some time in the next solar day.
I arranged my face into a pleasant smile and stepped through the door.
"This is your fault, Crichton, and therefore you should put it right." The strident voice of Dominar Rygel XVI met my ears, and I could feel the effort to maintain the smile tug at my temples. Crais was there as well, and he looked over at my entrance, smiling in rueful amusement -apparently at the Dominar's show of temper.
"C'mon, Sparky," Crichton protested. "I've been on my feet for three days straight. Can't you get someone else-?"
"Someone else did not get me in the middle of a pitched battle with a bunch of planet-bound ruffians," Rygel countered. "My thronesled has not been working properly since we returned to Moya, and I demand you fix it."
"Okay. My shift is over in a couple of arns, and-"
"Crichton, I refuse to walk around Moya another microt. Either you help me now, or I will simply wait here and keep you company until you're ready to do so."
Crichton threw up his hands in surrender. "Oh, God. Anything but that. Okay, Speed, you got me. Where's the Mach 5?"
Crais cleared his throat. "We left it down in the maintenance bay. I... carried Dominar Rygel up here. I'm afraid you'll have to carry him back."
Crichton rubbed a hand over his face, then looked up, taking notice of my presence with a smile. "Hey, Jena."
"John." I smiled back. "Is this a bad time? I thought perhaps we could access your star charts..."
He hesitated, uncertain, then cast a glance at Crais, who nodded. "I can take care of it. Will you rejoin us when you have finished with Rygel?"
Crichton sighed. "Sure, Crais. Sounds good. You know navigation better than I do, anyway. C'mon, Sparky." He lifted Rygel to his shoulders, gave me a helpless shrug, and was gone.
The timing of it all seemed just too convenient. If I didn't know that Pilots were simply mindless servicers, I would have thought he'd sent them here to prevent our meeting alone. I turned back to Crais to find him watching me with that same careful, speculative expression.
"Yes?"
He smiled, a gracious, dignified smile that made my skin itch. I had to give him credit, from one who had affected more than her share of guises and facades in her life: he was hard to read. "Pilot, please prepare star charts for Disruptor Chatto's perusal."
I moved forward, watching him carefully. "Please, call me Jenavian. After all, there's no reason to call you Captain anymore, and we might as well be on equal terms."
His mouth quirked downward. That had stung. But he didn't take issue with it. "Your assignment on Tendaris... was interrupted?"
"Yes." I knew that wasn't what he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask what my assignment was. "Unfortunately, running into old friends can sometimes be an inconvenience in my line of work."
"Forgive me, Jenavian. But they do not seem to regard you as a friend. With the exception, of course, of Crichton."
"Yes." My smile, I knew, was self-satisfied, enigmatic. "John."
Crais' eyes narrowed. "Your interest in Crichton-"
"Is my own affair." At his frown, I smiled. "Forgive me, Crais, but I find it strange that you, of all people, would be so protective of him."
"The universe is a strange place," he answered smoothly. "I have been charged to... look after these people." His lips quirked into a smile, amused at some private joke. "It is even stranger than you realize that the request that I do so encompasses Crichton as well."
"Do you find it difficult to believe that my motives are just what they appear to be? That a woman could find him attractive?" A quick frown. He didn't like that. I wondered - but that would wait. I needed to be careful here.
"I find it difficult to believe that someone in your position would risk everything for the sake of one rather unorthodox individual."
"Careers have been lost over John Crichton before this."
Was that a flicker of anger? "I do not believe that you are the type to sacrifice your duty in an act of passion."
"So you are not a romantic?"
"I was a Peacekeeper Captain. Whatever else I am, I am not stupid." He moved closer, evaluating. "Your interest in Crichton is beyond personal."
He wasn't going to let it drop. So... fall back, shift ground. I shrugged. "So you're not stupid."
He raised his chin. "You thought that Crichton might know what happened at DamDaBa. Which means that this is, of course, about wormholes."
"Of course."
Crais smiled, obviously satisfied at my apparent concession. "You must know that Crichton will never help the Peacekeepers."
"And whose fault is that, Captain Crais?" I snapped, showing quick anger, shifting the grounds of the discussion, taking him by surprise. "With your insane vendetta, you made John into our enemy. He was mishandled from the microt you had him in your custody, when it would have taken so little to have won him to our side. We would have wormhole technology by now, and the Scarrans would never be able to threaten us or our kind again. Think of that before you start casting aspersions my way."
Crais had recovered himself, was again regarding me with calm appraisal. "You obviously are not as well informed as you believe regarding Crichton's personal history." That stung, and I cast about for my mistake. What had I missed? But he'd already moved to the attack. "So, you lied when you said your research was for personal reasons."
"I didn't lie. I find Crichton very intriguing, and extremely attractive." I twisted that knife a little further. I knew it bothered him to hear it, and if he thought of me as a weak female influenced unduly by her hormones, well, that was all to my advantage.
"And yet you seem well informed as to his value to Command."
I regarded him. I knew that Command had their own source of information regarding the Leviathan's movements, just as they had their own source of information as to what Scorpius was up to. Unfortunately, they hadn't seen fit to share the identity of that source with me. Crais was a good candidate - his departure from the Peacekeepers had been swift and unprecedented; I was unsure how much he had been working against Scorpius at the time of his defection, and how much had been staged. And as hard as it was for him to believe that a Disruptor would risk losing her position for the sake of one lone human, how much greater was the loss to the Captain of a Command Carrier? And yet... the man was an enigma.
Not sure of where he stood, and very sure that my words were being recorded by the ship's pilot, there was only one way to play this. "Yes, I am very well aware of John's importance. I wonder if you are? For all the latitude that Scorpius has been given, John Crichton is still the primary source of data regarding wormholes." I took a step closer, lowering my voice to urgency. "War is coming, Crais, sooner that you might imagine. If the half-breed fails, we will need Crichton's aid."
"And you believe that he might choose to help us?"
Us. Interesting. A slip, or a feint? "We can offer him sanctuary, we can offer him security. There are benefits to his aiding us - for him and his companions."
"He will never trust Scorpius," he said. I felt a surge of annoyance at his patronizing tone. As if I would imagine that Crichton ever would.
"No. John would probably allow himself to be destroyed before making a choice between the Scarrans and Scorpius. But if the choice is between-"
"The Scarrans and you?" He seemed amused.
I laid a hand on his arm, urging his understanding. "I'm not trying to hurt him, Crais. I value John, more than I can tell you. If my orders called for me to harm him in any way, I... I don't know if I would be able to carry them out. But fortunately, what's right for John is right for me. Is right for the Peacekeepers. I'm only trying to save my people - our people. The alternative is to let the Scarrans destroy us. What if..." I let my voice falter in apparent fear, then pressed on, "what if that dreadnaught that disappeared was part of a wormhole experiment? What if the Scarrans are that close to mastering a wormhole weapon? You don't really think that they'd stop with the Uncharted Territories, do you?"
Crais' face was thoughtful. "If the stakes are that high, why not turn Crichton over to Scorpius now?"
"Because Crichton would destroy himself before he surrendered to Scorpius, and the information would be lost forever. And do you really think that every last drop of information we have about wormholes belongs in the hands of one individual - whose motives are questionable?"
"Scorpius is not trusted?" The expression in Crais' eyes was easy to read, for once. Satisfaction.
"Scorpius is half-Scarran. That makes him, by definition, suspect. And for all the opportunities he's been given, he has failed, while the Scarrans move ahead in their research. Do you really think that we should assume that it simply a coincidence? But Scorpius has too many connections within High Command, too many people who are too afraid of him. And-"
"Special Directorate is circumventing Command," he said, with a quiet wonder in his voice. "Or is it just you?"
I raised my chin. "Scorpius is the traitor here, Crais. But while Special Directorate has latitude, we can't move against him until he fails, or we can prove his treachery beyond question, so that his sponsors in the high levels of command see the truth. And until Scorpius falls, Crichton is vulnerable."
Crais was silent, considering my words. What I said made sense.
The door to command swung open, and I took a quick step back, away from Crais, as Crichton entered. "Turns out wasn't much of a problem after all. Sparky was exaggerating, as usual. How we comin' on those star charts?"
Crais turned back to the console, and said nothing.
It would soon be over, I told myself as the transport pod set down on solid ground. Here was where we would part company. For the time being, anyway. They were here for supplies; I was here to stay.
"Do you know this planet?" D'Argo asked.
Chilbrea, my mind supplied. A trading outpost, not as sophisticated as the usual commerce planet. Most of the merchants here were farmers, and didn't have many dealings with the outer systems.
"Never seen it before," I answered mildly. "Doesn't look like much, does it?"
Of course it didn't - that was the idea. Chilbrea was part of the underground, a stop on the drug route. Of course, who knew the status of that at the moment? F'Tor's operation had been systems away, but the whole network was hopelessly intertwined. I'd been in the midst of preparations for that assignment when I received word that my services would not be required, and I was reassigned to Tendaris. The crew of Moya had done me a favor - the man had been odious, and I hadn't been looking forward to that particular job - but Command was incensed. A power struggle among the drug lords, causing more uncertainty and undeclared loyalties, was the last thing they needed right now.
And there were Peacekeepers here. Not a full-fledged base - it was too remote for that, but a small outpost. Once Moya's crew had departed, I would present myself to the officer in charge and contact my superiors. File my report and wait for further orders. With my luck, they'd tell me to stay right where I was and sort out the mess with the drug lords.
When we reached the center of the town, we split, according to plan. Crais and Aeryn headed off... somewhere. Wherever it was, I wasn't privy to their plans. Not surprising. Crichton sent them on their way with words of caution. "Hey, guys, keep your heads down and your eyes open," he advised. "Be careful."
Aeryn merely nodded; Crais gave him a tight smile. "We will, Crichton." Then he glanced my way. "You should be careful, as well."
I was curious, of course. But there was no way to follow them, not when I needed to stick close to Crichton until he was safely on his way off planet. Whatever happened to the rest of them, it was too soon for Crichton to be taken into custody. If he were taken now, he'd be turned over to Scorpius, which would benefit no one - no one except Scorpius.
So, I let them go, and remained close to Crichton. There were certainly worse assignments. I knew - I'd had them. Clavor, J'atris, the narrowly avoided F'Tor... all things considered, an afternoon stroll with a man that I actually found attractive was something to enjoy while it lasted.
We had stopped in front of a shop selling intoxicants, and Crichton and D'Argo were arguing good-naturedly about how much and what kind they needed - Crichton seemed less than enamored of D'Argo's choice, calling it a cross between Yoo Hoo and Tang, whatever that meant - when Chiana swayed, gripped Crichton's arm. "Frell!"
Both men immediately fell silent. "Chiana?" D'Argo ventured. "What is it?"
She looked up at him, her eyes frightened. "Pulse blasts. Did you hear it?" The men exchanged a look.
I shook my head. "I didn't hear anything."
They ignored me. D'Argo's hand was immediately on his blade; Crichton grasped Chiana's arms gently but firmly. "Was it us, Pip?"
What in hezmana?
"No. In the square."
That was enough. Crichton and D'Argo were moving, Chiana right behind them. I stood for a moment, thoroughly confused. I had heard nothing.
But I set off after them. After all, I couldn't let Crichton wander into a pitched battle, even an imaginary one.
I couldn't believe I'd just thought that. I'd definitely been on Moya too long.