While You Were Gone, Part III
(See Part I for Disclaimer and Notes)
Part Three
Aeryn awoke to the sound of Chiana talking rapidly in her ear, shaking her roughly. She sat up suddenly, quickly hiding the embarrassment of being discovered in Crichton’s quarters by standing up.
“You missed first meal again…not that there is much to eat, except food cubes,” Chiana chattered away. “So I nabbed you some before Rygel ate the rest.” Chiana tossed a small packet of cubes at her before bounced down on the bed in front of her.
“Thank you.” Aeryn said as she started for the door. Chiana hopped off the bed and followed her into the corridor.
“So, Pilot found a Commerce Station just within transport pod range. I’m heading out in an arn, along with Rygel and Noranti. Wanna come?”
“No.” Aeryn said as she continued to walk towards her quarters, intending to shower and eat as many of the food cubes as she could stomach before going to Pilot’s den.
“I…I really think you should come. The wormhole isn’t going anywhere. Pilot and D’Argo can monitor it while we’re gone. Besides, you need a break. You look like dren.”
Aeryn ignored Chiana’s comments and walked across the threshold of her cell. She turned around abruptly, blocking Chiana’s entrance. “I thank you for your concern. Now go away.”
“You know, you are two of a kind-you and Crichton.” Chiana said, shaking her head as she spoke. “Both times you were gone and…and Crichton nearly starved himself and about drove us all mad.” Aeryn looked down at the reference to John and Chiana took the opportunity to slip past her into her quarters. She flounced down Aeryn’s bed and continued. “But…but at least Crichton went down to an occasional Commerce Planet.”
Aeryn was getting annoyed. She did not have the patience or the energy to argue right now and from the look on Chiana’s face, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Fine. I’ll go. Now please leave.”
“Sure,” Chiana said, a look of triumph on her face as she left.
Aeryn stripped and showered in her usual way, dressed in the black top, pants and long red lined leather jacket that had become her uniform. She then sat on the edge of her bed and ate four food cubes, drank one cup of water, and inspected her pulse pistol and spare cartridges-an outward anchor that belied how adrift she felt inside. ‘What difference does it make if I go to the Commerce Station or stay aboard Moya?’
She picked up the small chest that sat alone on the lower shelf and opened it. She hefted a small pouch of currency that lay on top. Below it were the few personal items she allowed herself-a jeweled hair comb, a small jar of perfumed oil Zhaan had given her, and a few data chips. She hesitated for a moment before retrieving one of the data chips that she’d marked in red, slipping it into her coin pouch and tucking it away.
Rygel, Chiana, and Noranti had already boarded by the time she reached the transport hangar. Aeryn entered the cockpit without comment and sat in the pilot’s seat. Chiana sat across the center console in the co-pilot position. Rygel hovered behind them while Noranti sat on the back bench.
Her preflight check completed, Aeryn opened up the comms. “Pilot, we are ready to depart. Please open the outer hangar doors.”
“They are opening now. When can Moya and I expect your return?”
“In approximately ten arns.”
“That assumes,” Rygel interjected, “that we are able to locate adequate supplies quickly.”
“Besides,” Chiana added. “Who knows what sorts of fun we might find. So, don’t expect us for a least a solar day.”
Aeryn engaged the transport engines indifferent to the bickering between Chiana and Rygel over how long this trip would take, and flew the pod out of the open hangar doors and into swirling clouds of gas and dust that made up the Nebula. Once clear of Moya she turned the pod toward the Commerce Station’s coordinates and brought their speed up to maximum. Four arns later, they reached the outskirts of the Kuerden system, where the Commerce Station orbited an inhabited moon of a gas giant. The red and white swirls of super-heated hydrogen and helium gas were not unlike the nebula where Moya hid, except this planet wasn’t the birthplace of stars, it was a failed one. Despite that, or in spite of that, the massive planet was beautiful.
The increased traffic surrounding the Commerce Station brought Aeryn’s focus back to flying. Choosing the most direct path to their assigned docking port, she wove in and out of the streams of spacecraft, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she pushed the limits of the pod’s maneuverability. And she felt a part of herself relax-the part of her that was born and bred to fly, that loved the feeling of competence it gave her. Aeryn rolled the pod sharply to the left, just missing a larger transport pod that crossed a microt a head of them, tossing Chiana and Noranti off their seats and causing Rygel to bang his thronesled against the bulkhead.
“Are you trying to kill us?!” Rygel complained.
“Hold on,” Aeryn said as she spied an opening in the flow of small craft that circled the docking ring and dove across the heavy traffic, before bringing the pod to an abrupt stop.
“Showoff,” Chiana accused while Aeryn eased the pod into the docking port, a hint of a smile on the outer corners of her lips. She shut the pod down and entered the commands to seal the outer hatch to the docking portal. By the time she finished and moved to the rear of the pod, Chiana had the transport hatch open, revealing the Station’s docking port. Aeryn moved to the control panel and entered their authorization code. The door opened with a soft hiss. Beyond the port was a long, dimly lit corridor that led towards the center of the Station.
This Commerce Station, unlike the last one she’d ventured on in search of a sensor distorter, was not built on the corpse of a Leviathan. From its outer appearance, it looked like it had been salvaged from an amalgamation of other orbital structures, parts of it looking much like a deep space mining ship. Despite the obvious poor condition of the Station, from the rusting metal girders that spanned the ceiling and the crumbling cement floor, the place was crowded. They soon entered the main commerce area, a large semi-circled chamber that was filled with shops and stalls. The din from bartering in a hundred tongues sounding over the background hum of the station’s power and atmosphere generators that she could feel pulsing through the concrete. As they walked through the throng, Aeryn stayed alert for signs of recognition or wanted beacons.
After a while walking through the stalls, Noranti stopped in front of a food vendor. “I believe this establishment will have what we need. It should take no more than a few arns.”
“That’s great, Wrinkles. Meet us in the Refreshment House over there when you’re done.” Chiana pointed to the back wall of the chamber then grabbed Aeryn’s arm and pulling her in that direction.
“It figures Chiana would gravitate to the shadier side of the station the microt she got here,” Rygel said disdainfully.
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to have all the fun, now would I?” Chiana answered over her shoulder as she continued pulling Aeryn through the crowd. “But you’d better hurry getting your marjoules, or there won’t be any frellniks left for you to cheat.”
“Humph.” Rygel sped off down the crowded market and Chiana turned back to Aeryn.
“We’ve got to see this place, Aeryn,” Chiana said as she tugged on her arm, again. “I heard it’s the draddest. They have dancing…and a gaming section, and-”
Aeryn freed her arm from Chiana’s grip. “I didn’t come here to watch you get drunk and cheat complete strangers out of their currency.”
“Then why did you come?”
‘Because I had nothing better to do than stare out the view portal,’ Aeryn said to herself, leaving Chiana unanswered.
“Just come in a have a drink, for frell’s sake,” Chiana said with frustration. “You really could use one, don’t cha think?”
Chiana maneuvered her towards the entrance and, for the second time in one day, Aeryn gave in. The Refreshment House, when they reached it, was nothing out of the ordinary-the dim lighting and pulsating music practically indistinguishable from the countless places like this that she’d been in before. There was a long straight bar against the far wall lined with customers. At the end it, another doorway opened into a large room filled with gaming tables. To her left was a small dance floor. Chiana spotted an empty booth along the right wall and started weaving her way through the tables. Aeryn followed and sat down, her back against the wall.
Chiana plopped down opposite her. “This place looks like fun. So what’cha want? I’m buying.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, make up your mind, ‘cause here comes the server.”
A tall, thin alien with skin so white it was practically transparent stood before their table and made a short bow. “How may I serve you?”
“I’ll have a carafe of Raslak, and make it hot.” Chiana said, drawing out the last word out. The server merely nodded and turned to Aeryn.
“What’s the strongest drink you serve here?”
“That would be T’aranda Fire Water.” the server answered.
“That would be fine, and leave the bottle.” The server bowed again and scurried away.
“Going for dren-faced?” Chiana laughed. “I can appreciate that.”
The server returning shortly with two glasses, a steaming pot of raslak and a tall glass bottle filled with a red liquid. He filled the glasses, and waited for payment. Chiana tossed him a few coins and he left.
Chiana raised her glass in salute, “A toast-to getting dren-faced.”
Aeryn raised her glass in response. Chiana swallowed the contents of her glass in one swallow and slammed her glass onto the table. Aeryn considered the glass for a moment, and then downed it in like manner. The server had not lied. The liquor burned its way down her esophagus.
Chiana filled her own glass again and emptied it. “Now I’m ready to have some fun.”
Aeryn watched as Chiana got to her feet and made her way to the gaming room, drawing the eyes of nearly every male and most of the females with the way she walked-at once seductive and carefree. Though she could never use her sexuality the way Chiana did, Aeryn admired Chiana. She was who she was, no apologies, no regrets, or so it seemed. She was fiercely loyal to her friends and less prone to judge them harshly for their failures. She’d been the only one who sympathized with Aeryn’s struggle to regain John’s confidence since her return, and the only one who cared enough since John’s disappearance to try and distract her from the despair that had sunk over her with each passing day.
In typical fashion, Chiana wasted no time picking a target. She sidled up next to a Tarkan, distinguished by his green carapace with clearly marked Captain’s rank etched in the hard shell. At an opportune moment, Chiana bumped awkwardly into him then started what appeared to be an apology, tilting her head and smiling at his reply.
Aeryn turned her attention back to her empty glass and her bottle of Fire Water. As she poured herself a second drink, Rygel entered the establishment and hovered towards her table.
“I see Chiana is already at it.” Rygel said as he settled his thronesled on the seat opposite. Aeryn looked back into the gaming room. Chiana now sat on the Tarkan’s lap at the gaming table.
Aeryn nodded wordlessly; she hadn’t spoken to Rygel since he’d suggested leaving John behind and wasn’t about to start. ‘Chiana was right. I do need a drink.’ Aeryn emptied her glass and filled it again.
Thankfully, Rygel wasn’t in a talkative mood either and while Rygel busied himself with ordering, and eating, Aeryn concentrated on emptying her bottle. By the time Rygel slurped the last marjoule down, Aeryn had finished over half of the Fire Water.
It took a lot of alcohol to overload a Peacekeeper’s genetically altered constitution. Aeryn had drunk John under the table on many occasions to prove it, but the Fire Water certainly had some kick. Though not impaired to the point of slowed reaction time, she felt the tight restraint she kept over her emotions loosen slightly and an intense feeling of frustration fill her mind. The past weekens had been tortuous. To have finally reached some sort of understanding with John, to believe he might love her again, had been well worth the sting she’d felt over his rejection. Then to have it snatched away, for John to disappear down a wormhole once again with the added uncertainty of his condition and her aching need to know if he was alive; it was almost more than she could take. Aeryn grabbed the bottle and filled her glass again-though it loosened her control it also numbed the pain.
“You will not find the answer you seek in that bottle,” Noranti said, sliding into the recently vacated seat opposite her.
Aeryn drained her glass and set it down on the table. “And where will I find it, Old Woman? Let me guess, you’ll suggest that I ‘surmount my feelings and forget’ by sniffing some concoction of yours.” Aeryn grabbed the bottle and filled her glass again. “I prefer my method.” She raised her glass and drained it again.
Noranti simply smiled back at her. “You don’t need to forget. You need to choose.”
Aeryn laughed at the absurdity, “Choose what?”
“Choose who you are.” Noranti grabbed Chiana’s glass and poured herself a glass of Fire Water. She sniffed it carefully then set it down. “Suppose Crichton does not return-”
Aeryn stiffened in her seat, glaring at the Noranti.
“-not that I believe for a microt that to be the case,” Noranti added quickly, before continuing. “What I mean is, independent of Crichton, what path will you take?”
Aeryn didn’t respond. To do so would require thinking of life without John. She couldn’t do that and maintain her composure.
“I haven’t heard this song in ages,” Noranti said suddenly as a new song started playing that was indistinguishable from the throbbing music of the previous song as far as Aeryn could tell. Noranti drained her glass of Fire Water. “It takes me back to my days on Sulxaz where I danced with Healer Rywr at the annual harvest festival.”
Aeryn eyed the remaining Fire Water, hoping her clear disdain would prevent Noranti from sharing further. Fortunately, Noranti did not continue, but rose and inexplicably began dancing, spinning and twisting in a near trance, making her way haphazardly through the tables to the dance floor. She soon clearing a spot with her strong odor and penchant for stomping on people’s feet.
Aeryn returned her gaze to her glass, but before she finished pouring herself another drink, four Charrid soldiers entered the bar.
The one she supposed to be their officer clapped another Charrid loudly on the back. “It’s time to celebrate. Drink your fill. With victory come the spoils.”
Though the music played as loudly as ever, all conversation ceased. The Charrid officer scanned the room and quickly spotted Aeryn. He walked towards her, the rest of his squad following. The customer at table nearest Aeryn’s booth left quickly as the Charrids stood glowering down at him. The Charrid officer sat down in the newly vacated seat directly across from her.
“Best not get too close, boys,” the officer said loud enough for Aeryn to hear. “Else that Peacekeeper over there will run away-just like they did at Altez nine.” The rest of his squad laughed as he continued. “But no matter, we’ll rid the galaxy of their arrogant flesh soon enough.”
Unexpectedly, Rygel moved back into the bar area and hovered over to her table.
“Looks like dinner’s here,” the one of the Charrid soldiers said, earning him a burst of laughter and back slaps.
Rygel eyed the Charrids dismissively before saying loudly, “I understood this establishment served all sorts of lowlifes, but I thought they knew better than to serve frelling hapooda like you.”
One of the Charrids leapt to his feet, bristling at the insult and Aeryn slid her hand slowly down to her pulse pistol while his leader restrained him. Aeryn inclined her head in Rygel’s direction; thanking him for coming up with the perfect distraction. She kept her eyes on the Charrid leader while she released the safety, readying it for quick release.
Once he’d gotten his underling settled down, the Charrid leader turned to face their table. “You know, you look familiar, Peacekeeper.”
“You must be mistaken,” Aeryn replied evenly.
“No, I’ve seen you somewhere,” he said, looking at her with a puzzled expression.
Chiana, who had worked her way through the onlookers who’d formed a rough semi-circle around the Charrids by that time, answered. “I seriously doubt that. Don’t you know all Peacekeepers look alike?”
The Charrid officer looked at Chiana, then back at Aeryn, then at Rygel before focusing on Aeryn again, recognition dawning in his eyes.
‘Frell,’ Aeryn thought as she drew her pulse pistol a moment before the Charrid drew his, shooting him squarely in his chest. The force of the blast knocked him out of his chair and he crashed on top of a nearby table. She couldn’t spare a microt to check if she’d pierced his armor, as she flipped her table off its feet and dove for cover, the pulse blasts from the three remaining Charrids spraying glass and debris across the room amid the stampeding crowd.
Aeryn spied Chiana hidden behind another table, her small white pistol drawn. Aeryn caught her eyes and signaled her to provide cover, hoping Chiana understood her direction. Chiana nodded; a microt later she jumped up and ran to her left, firing wildly while yelling at the top of her lungs. Aeryn moved right simultaneously, rolling forward to flank the closest Charrid. One shot later, and the Charrid lay dead. Aeryn dove back under cover, the Charrid return fire nearly missing her.
“Is that the best you can do?” she heard Rygel taunt the Charrids from somewhere near the front of the room. “I’ve seen blind Hodian maggots with better aim. No wonder the Scarrans have hired you for cannon fodder. It’s all you’re good for.”
“Come out from your hiding place, Hynerian, and I’ll show you how good an aim I am.” One of the Charrids answered. Aeryn seized the moment and moved to her left, firing repeatedly in the Charrid’s direction, clipping him in his shoulder before she had to find cover again.
Chiana crawled up to her where Aeryn hid behind another overturned table. “Want me to do that again?”
The last Charrid was positioned by the bar, near the doors to the kitchen. Aeryn was about to nod yes and give Chiana some quick instructions, but before she could, the kitchen doors opened and Noranti appeared, swinging a large cooking pot at the back of the last Charrid’s head. The Charrid collapsed forward onto the floor unconscious.
Chiana stood up cautiously and looked around the bar, broken tables and glass scattered across the floor. “See, I told you we’d have some fun.”
“I don’t call this fun, Chiana.” Except for the adrenaline that was pumping through her system and the feeling of euphoria that came with it. “We’d better get out of here. Who knows who else might recognize us?”
Aeryn started across the still smoking ruins of the Refreshment House, following Chiana. She saw the movement out of the corner of her right eye a moment too late.
“Get down!” she screamed.
Everything happened in slow motion as she dove for the floor: the flash of the Charrid Officer’s pulse pistol, the energy pulse passing over her shoulder so close that she could feel the heat through her leather jacket, the whirl of grey and black as Chiana ran for cover, the white-orange impact of the pulse blast scoring into Chiana’s, the acrid smell of burning flesh, the soft whimper escaping Chiana’s mouth before she fell to the floor in a heap, and the sound of an answering pulse blast somewhere behind her.
“He’s dead now,” Rygel informed her as she scrambled across the debris to Chiana’s side.
Chiana lay face down on the floor, blue blood leaked out of a large wound in her upper back, but she was still breathing. Noranti ran over and placed a bandage over the gaping wound.
“This will slow the bleeding but we need to get her to a surgeon immediately.”
Noranti was right. Aeryn had seen enough pulse wounds in her life to know that Chiana’s was life threatening. She picked Chiana up, holding the field dressing firmly over the wound and ran out of the bar towards their transport pod.
“Peacekeeper.” The Tarkan she’d seen in the refreshment house, the one Chiana had been plying earlier, beckoned her to follow. “Come with me if you mean to save your friend. Our ship has a surgeon.”
Aeryn decided in an instant. She’d just have to trust the Tarkan at his word, Chiana didn’t have time for indecision, not while her blood seeped through the bandage, wetting Aeryn’s hand and spilling onto the floor. Without waiting for Rygel and Noranti she followed the Tarkan through a series of passageways that led to the outer docking port. The Tarkan entered his docking code into the control panel and large metal door of the inner airlock split open.
“Follow me.” The Tarkan walked quickly through the airlock onto his ship. Aeryn matched his pace despite her burden.
“Hang in there Chiana. We’ve found help,” Aeryn said, despite the fact that the Nebari wasn’t conscious. It’s something John would do.
The Tarkan led her through a long straight corridor. At the end he opened a door into a large room that obviously served as their medical bay. Aeryn placed Chiana gently down on the exam bed in the middle of the room and laid her on her stomach, maintaining pressure on the wound as best she could. Another Tarkan entered the room from a rear of the room.
“Show me the wound,” the newly arrived Tarkan ordered.
Aeryn lifted the gauze-like wad. The surgeon began cutting the remnants of Chiana’s clothing off her back then took a small devise off the shelf. Aeryn recognized it as a field cauterizer, something field med techs used to stem bleeding in critical cases. The blood flow lessened dramatically.
“I’ll need to repair the underlying muscle and seal the wound, but she is out of danger.”
Aeryn let out the breath she had been holding, relief flooding her. “Thank you,” Aeryn said to the surgeon and the Tarkan Captain who remained in the room. “Without your aid, my friend may have died.”
“There is no need to thank us,” the Tarkan with the Captain marking replied. “Those who fight the Charrids and their masters are friends, to whom we are duty bound to aid.”
“I am…”
“Aeryn Sun. Yes, I know,” the Tarkan replied. “And I am Rou’Binn. Our surgeon will need some time to repair the damaged tissue. May I interest you in a tour of our ship in the meantime?”
“No, thank you. I prefer to remain here.”
“As you like,” the Captain said, raising one arm across his chest in what Aeryn guessed was some form of salute before turning and leaving the room.
Aeryn stood silent at the foot of the exam bed while the surgeon worked on Chiana’s back. It was clear that Chiana was in skilled hands. With expert care, he debrided the wound and began regenerating the lost muscle and tissue. Chiana was lucky she’d been hit in the back. The same wound in her chest would have killed her instantly.
Before long, the surgeon began applying the derma patch and bandaging the wound.
“I assume you know how to care for this?”
“I’ve had experience with pulse weapon injuries.”
“Of course. And despite the best efforts of those who seek peace, it is often the ability to spill blood that brings about the desired results. Not many tyrants will give up power without a struggle.”
“True,” Aeryn agreed. “But it is often the poor and weak who pay the price, rather than those who seek to topple the tyrant, at least in my experience.”
The surgeon considered her response for a moment. “That is quite an ironic statement to hear from a Peacekeeper.”
“I am no longer a Peacekeeper.”
“Then what do you suggest, former Peacekeeper. How should tyrannical regimes be opposed?”
“In every way possible,” Aeryn replied. “With blood if necessary, but I’ve learned that it is not the only way.”
“Ah, then we agree,” the surgeon said as he handed Aeryn a packet of medicine. “I’ve given your friend a pain suppressant and sedative. She’ll remain unconscious for the next solar day and should be moved with care.”
Aeryn nodded. Her thoughts turned to another subject, one she’d hoped she could find an answer to at the Commerce Station. “You have a well equipped medical bay,” Aeryn said as she fingered the currency pouch in her left hand pocket.
“Part of our work is to provide medical assistance to those we help free from oppression,” the surgeon said with unmistakable pride.
“Are you familiar with Sebacean physiology?” Aeryn asked, skirting her immediate question. “And Peacekeeper genetic modifications-stasis pregnancies?”
“Yes. You are not the first ex-Peacekeeper I have met who left the confines imposed by High Command. How may I assist you?”
Aeryn withdrew the pouch and took out the data chip she had placed there earlier, the chip that contained a copy of John’s DNA. She may not be certain who she would be without John, she did not know what she wanted to do with her life if that life must be lived alone. It would be easy to fall back into familiar patterns, to live as pilot and soldier. But she had to know first.
“I’m pregnant. The fetus is in stasis. I need you to tell me if the fetus’ paternal DNA matches the DNA pattern on this data chip.” Aeryn placed the data chip in the chitinous hand of the Tarkan surgeon.
“Certainly,” he said as he took the chip and placed it into a data slot on the main medical console.
A double helix pattern that contained John’s unique genetic code appeared as a three dimensional hologram in the air above the console, the twisting blue strands holding a strange, mysterious beauty.
~ * ~ * ~
Part Three
Aeryn awoke to the sound of Chiana talking rapidly in her ear, shaking her roughly. She sat up suddenly, quickly hiding the embarrassment of being discovered in Crichton’s quarters by standing up.
“You missed first meal again…not that there is much to eat, except food cubes,” Chiana chattered away. “So I nabbed you some before Rygel ate the rest.” Chiana tossed a small packet of cubes at her before bounced down on the bed in front of her.
“Thank you.” Aeryn said as she started for the door. Chiana hopped off the bed and followed her into the corridor.
“So, Pilot found a Commerce Station just within transport pod range. I’m heading out in an arn, along with Rygel and Noranti. Wanna come?”
“No.” Aeryn said as she continued to walk towards her quarters, intending to shower and eat as many of the food cubes as she could stomach before going to Pilot’s den.
“I…I really think you should come. The wormhole isn’t going anywhere. Pilot and D’Argo can monitor it while we’re gone. Besides, you need a break. You look like dren.”
Aeryn ignored Chiana’s comments and walked across the threshold of her cell. She turned around abruptly, blocking Chiana’s entrance. “I thank you for your concern. Now go away.”
“You know, you are two of a kind-you and Crichton.” Chiana said, shaking her head as she spoke. “Both times you were gone and…and Crichton nearly starved himself and about drove us all mad.” Aeryn looked down at the reference to John and Chiana took the opportunity to slip past her into her quarters. She flounced down Aeryn’s bed and continued. “But…but at least Crichton went down to an occasional Commerce Planet.”
Aeryn was getting annoyed. She did not have the patience or the energy to argue right now and from the look on Chiana’s face, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Fine. I’ll go. Now please leave.”
“Sure,” Chiana said, a look of triumph on her face as she left.
Aeryn stripped and showered in her usual way, dressed in the black top, pants and long red lined leather jacket that had become her uniform. She then sat on the edge of her bed and ate four food cubes, drank one cup of water, and inspected her pulse pistol and spare cartridges-an outward anchor that belied how adrift she felt inside. ‘What difference does it make if I go to the Commerce Station or stay aboard Moya?’
She picked up the small chest that sat alone on the lower shelf and opened it. She hefted a small pouch of currency that lay on top. Below it were the few personal items she allowed herself-a jeweled hair comb, a small jar of perfumed oil Zhaan had given her, and a few data chips. She hesitated for a moment before retrieving one of the data chips that she’d marked in red, slipping it into her coin pouch and tucking it away.
Rygel, Chiana, and Noranti had already boarded by the time she reached the transport hangar. Aeryn entered the cockpit without comment and sat in the pilot’s seat. Chiana sat across the center console in the co-pilot position. Rygel hovered behind them while Noranti sat on the back bench.
Her preflight check completed, Aeryn opened up the comms. “Pilot, we are ready to depart. Please open the outer hangar doors.”
“They are opening now. When can Moya and I expect your return?”
“In approximately ten arns.”
“That assumes,” Rygel interjected, “that we are able to locate adequate supplies quickly.”
“Besides,” Chiana added. “Who knows what sorts of fun we might find. So, don’t expect us for a least a solar day.”
Aeryn engaged the transport engines indifferent to the bickering between Chiana and Rygel over how long this trip would take, and flew the pod out of the open hangar doors and into swirling clouds of gas and dust that made up the Nebula. Once clear of Moya she turned the pod toward the Commerce Station’s coordinates and brought their speed up to maximum. Four arns later, they reached the outskirts of the Kuerden system, where the Commerce Station orbited an inhabited moon of a gas giant. The red and white swirls of super-heated hydrogen and helium gas were not unlike the nebula where Moya hid, except this planet wasn’t the birthplace of stars, it was a failed one. Despite that, or in spite of that, the massive planet was beautiful.
The increased traffic surrounding the Commerce Station brought Aeryn’s focus back to flying. Choosing the most direct path to their assigned docking port, she wove in and out of the streams of spacecraft, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she pushed the limits of the pod’s maneuverability. And she felt a part of herself relax-the part of her that was born and bred to fly, that loved the feeling of competence it gave her. Aeryn rolled the pod sharply to the left, just missing a larger transport pod that crossed a microt a head of them, tossing Chiana and Noranti off their seats and causing Rygel to bang his thronesled against the bulkhead.
“Are you trying to kill us?!” Rygel complained.
“Hold on,” Aeryn said as she spied an opening in the flow of small craft that circled the docking ring and dove across the heavy traffic, before bringing the pod to an abrupt stop.
“Showoff,” Chiana accused while Aeryn eased the pod into the docking port, a hint of a smile on the outer corners of her lips. She shut the pod down and entered the commands to seal the outer hatch to the docking portal. By the time she finished and moved to the rear of the pod, Chiana had the transport hatch open, revealing the Station’s docking port. Aeryn moved to the control panel and entered their authorization code. The door opened with a soft hiss. Beyond the port was a long, dimly lit corridor that led towards the center of the Station.
This Commerce Station, unlike the last one she’d ventured on in search of a sensor distorter, was not built on the corpse of a Leviathan. From its outer appearance, it looked like it had been salvaged from an amalgamation of other orbital structures, parts of it looking much like a deep space mining ship. Despite the obvious poor condition of the Station, from the rusting metal girders that spanned the ceiling and the crumbling cement floor, the place was crowded. They soon entered the main commerce area, a large semi-circled chamber that was filled with shops and stalls. The din from bartering in a hundred tongues sounding over the background hum of the station’s power and atmosphere generators that she could feel pulsing through the concrete. As they walked through the throng, Aeryn stayed alert for signs of recognition or wanted beacons.
After a while walking through the stalls, Noranti stopped in front of a food vendor. “I believe this establishment will have what we need. It should take no more than a few arns.”
“That’s great, Wrinkles. Meet us in the Refreshment House over there when you’re done.” Chiana pointed to the back wall of the chamber then grabbed Aeryn’s arm and pulling her in that direction.
“It figures Chiana would gravitate to the shadier side of the station the microt she got here,” Rygel said disdainfully.
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to have all the fun, now would I?” Chiana answered over her shoulder as she continued pulling Aeryn through the crowd. “But you’d better hurry getting your marjoules, or there won’t be any frellniks left for you to cheat.”
“Humph.” Rygel sped off down the crowded market and Chiana turned back to Aeryn.
“We’ve got to see this place, Aeryn,” Chiana said as she tugged on her arm, again. “I heard it’s the draddest. They have dancing…and a gaming section, and-”
Aeryn freed her arm from Chiana’s grip. “I didn’t come here to watch you get drunk and cheat complete strangers out of their currency.”
“Then why did you come?”
‘Because I had nothing better to do than stare out the view portal,’ Aeryn said to herself, leaving Chiana unanswered.
“Just come in a have a drink, for frell’s sake,” Chiana said with frustration. “You really could use one, don’t cha think?”
Chiana maneuvered her towards the entrance and, for the second time in one day, Aeryn gave in. The Refreshment House, when they reached it, was nothing out of the ordinary-the dim lighting and pulsating music practically indistinguishable from the countless places like this that she’d been in before. There was a long straight bar against the far wall lined with customers. At the end it, another doorway opened into a large room filled with gaming tables. To her left was a small dance floor. Chiana spotted an empty booth along the right wall and started weaving her way through the tables. Aeryn followed and sat down, her back against the wall.
Chiana plopped down opposite her. “This place looks like fun. So what’cha want? I’m buying.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, make up your mind, ‘cause here comes the server.”
A tall, thin alien with skin so white it was practically transparent stood before their table and made a short bow. “How may I serve you?”
“I’ll have a carafe of Raslak, and make it hot.” Chiana said, drawing out the last word out. The server merely nodded and turned to Aeryn.
“What’s the strongest drink you serve here?”
“That would be T’aranda Fire Water.” the server answered.
“That would be fine, and leave the bottle.” The server bowed again and scurried away.
“Going for dren-faced?” Chiana laughed. “I can appreciate that.”
The server returning shortly with two glasses, a steaming pot of raslak and a tall glass bottle filled with a red liquid. He filled the glasses, and waited for payment. Chiana tossed him a few coins and he left.
Chiana raised her glass in salute, “A toast-to getting dren-faced.”
Aeryn raised her glass in response. Chiana swallowed the contents of her glass in one swallow and slammed her glass onto the table. Aeryn considered the glass for a moment, and then downed it in like manner. The server had not lied. The liquor burned its way down her esophagus.
Chiana filled her own glass again and emptied it. “Now I’m ready to have some fun.”
Aeryn watched as Chiana got to her feet and made her way to the gaming room, drawing the eyes of nearly every male and most of the females with the way she walked-at once seductive and carefree. Though she could never use her sexuality the way Chiana did, Aeryn admired Chiana. She was who she was, no apologies, no regrets, or so it seemed. She was fiercely loyal to her friends and less prone to judge them harshly for their failures. She’d been the only one who sympathized with Aeryn’s struggle to regain John’s confidence since her return, and the only one who cared enough since John’s disappearance to try and distract her from the despair that had sunk over her with each passing day.
In typical fashion, Chiana wasted no time picking a target. She sidled up next to a Tarkan, distinguished by his green carapace with clearly marked Captain’s rank etched in the hard shell. At an opportune moment, Chiana bumped awkwardly into him then started what appeared to be an apology, tilting her head and smiling at his reply.
Aeryn turned her attention back to her empty glass and her bottle of Fire Water. As she poured herself a second drink, Rygel entered the establishment and hovered towards her table.
“I see Chiana is already at it.” Rygel said as he settled his thronesled on the seat opposite. Aeryn looked back into the gaming room. Chiana now sat on the Tarkan’s lap at the gaming table.
Aeryn nodded wordlessly; she hadn’t spoken to Rygel since he’d suggested leaving John behind and wasn’t about to start. ‘Chiana was right. I do need a drink.’ Aeryn emptied her glass and filled it again.
Thankfully, Rygel wasn’t in a talkative mood either and while Rygel busied himself with ordering, and eating, Aeryn concentrated on emptying her bottle. By the time Rygel slurped the last marjoule down, Aeryn had finished over half of the Fire Water.
It took a lot of alcohol to overload a Peacekeeper’s genetically altered constitution. Aeryn had drunk John under the table on many occasions to prove it, but the Fire Water certainly had some kick. Though not impaired to the point of slowed reaction time, she felt the tight restraint she kept over her emotions loosen slightly and an intense feeling of frustration fill her mind. The past weekens had been tortuous. To have finally reached some sort of understanding with John, to believe he might love her again, had been well worth the sting she’d felt over his rejection. Then to have it snatched away, for John to disappear down a wormhole once again with the added uncertainty of his condition and her aching need to know if he was alive; it was almost more than she could take. Aeryn grabbed the bottle and filled her glass again-though it loosened her control it also numbed the pain.
“You will not find the answer you seek in that bottle,” Noranti said, sliding into the recently vacated seat opposite her.
Aeryn drained her glass and set it down on the table. “And where will I find it, Old Woman? Let me guess, you’ll suggest that I ‘surmount my feelings and forget’ by sniffing some concoction of yours.” Aeryn grabbed the bottle and filled her glass again. “I prefer my method.” She raised her glass and drained it again.
Noranti simply smiled back at her. “You don’t need to forget. You need to choose.”
Aeryn laughed at the absurdity, “Choose what?”
“Choose who you are.” Noranti grabbed Chiana’s glass and poured herself a glass of Fire Water. She sniffed it carefully then set it down. “Suppose Crichton does not return-”
Aeryn stiffened in her seat, glaring at the Noranti.
“-not that I believe for a microt that to be the case,” Noranti added quickly, before continuing. “What I mean is, independent of Crichton, what path will you take?”
Aeryn didn’t respond. To do so would require thinking of life without John. She couldn’t do that and maintain her composure.
“I haven’t heard this song in ages,” Noranti said suddenly as a new song started playing that was indistinguishable from the throbbing music of the previous song as far as Aeryn could tell. Noranti drained her glass of Fire Water. “It takes me back to my days on Sulxaz where I danced with Healer Rywr at the annual harvest festival.”
Aeryn eyed the remaining Fire Water, hoping her clear disdain would prevent Noranti from sharing further. Fortunately, Noranti did not continue, but rose and inexplicably began dancing, spinning and twisting in a near trance, making her way haphazardly through the tables to the dance floor. She soon clearing a spot with her strong odor and penchant for stomping on people’s feet.
Aeryn returned her gaze to her glass, but before she finished pouring herself another drink, four Charrid soldiers entered the bar.
The one she supposed to be their officer clapped another Charrid loudly on the back. “It’s time to celebrate. Drink your fill. With victory come the spoils.”
Though the music played as loudly as ever, all conversation ceased. The Charrid officer scanned the room and quickly spotted Aeryn. He walked towards her, the rest of his squad following. The customer at table nearest Aeryn’s booth left quickly as the Charrids stood glowering down at him. The Charrid officer sat down in the newly vacated seat directly across from her.
“Best not get too close, boys,” the officer said loud enough for Aeryn to hear. “Else that Peacekeeper over there will run away-just like they did at Altez nine.” The rest of his squad laughed as he continued. “But no matter, we’ll rid the galaxy of their arrogant flesh soon enough.”
Unexpectedly, Rygel moved back into the bar area and hovered over to her table.
“Looks like dinner’s here,” the one of the Charrid soldiers said, earning him a burst of laughter and back slaps.
Rygel eyed the Charrids dismissively before saying loudly, “I understood this establishment served all sorts of lowlifes, but I thought they knew better than to serve frelling hapooda like you.”
One of the Charrids leapt to his feet, bristling at the insult and Aeryn slid her hand slowly down to her pulse pistol while his leader restrained him. Aeryn inclined her head in Rygel’s direction; thanking him for coming up with the perfect distraction. She kept her eyes on the Charrid leader while she released the safety, readying it for quick release.
Once he’d gotten his underling settled down, the Charrid leader turned to face their table. “You know, you look familiar, Peacekeeper.”
“You must be mistaken,” Aeryn replied evenly.
“No, I’ve seen you somewhere,” he said, looking at her with a puzzled expression.
Chiana, who had worked her way through the onlookers who’d formed a rough semi-circle around the Charrids by that time, answered. “I seriously doubt that. Don’t you know all Peacekeepers look alike?”
The Charrid officer looked at Chiana, then back at Aeryn, then at Rygel before focusing on Aeryn again, recognition dawning in his eyes.
‘Frell,’ Aeryn thought as she drew her pulse pistol a moment before the Charrid drew his, shooting him squarely in his chest. The force of the blast knocked him out of his chair and he crashed on top of a nearby table. She couldn’t spare a microt to check if she’d pierced his armor, as she flipped her table off its feet and dove for cover, the pulse blasts from the three remaining Charrids spraying glass and debris across the room amid the stampeding crowd.
Aeryn spied Chiana hidden behind another table, her small white pistol drawn. Aeryn caught her eyes and signaled her to provide cover, hoping Chiana understood her direction. Chiana nodded; a microt later she jumped up and ran to her left, firing wildly while yelling at the top of her lungs. Aeryn moved right simultaneously, rolling forward to flank the closest Charrid. One shot later, and the Charrid lay dead. Aeryn dove back under cover, the Charrid return fire nearly missing her.
“Is that the best you can do?” she heard Rygel taunt the Charrids from somewhere near the front of the room. “I’ve seen blind Hodian maggots with better aim. No wonder the Scarrans have hired you for cannon fodder. It’s all you’re good for.”
“Come out from your hiding place, Hynerian, and I’ll show you how good an aim I am.” One of the Charrids answered. Aeryn seized the moment and moved to her left, firing repeatedly in the Charrid’s direction, clipping him in his shoulder before she had to find cover again.
Chiana crawled up to her where Aeryn hid behind another overturned table. “Want me to do that again?”
The last Charrid was positioned by the bar, near the doors to the kitchen. Aeryn was about to nod yes and give Chiana some quick instructions, but before she could, the kitchen doors opened and Noranti appeared, swinging a large cooking pot at the back of the last Charrid’s head. The Charrid collapsed forward onto the floor unconscious.
Chiana stood up cautiously and looked around the bar, broken tables and glass scattered across the floor. “See, I told you we’d have some fun.”
“I don’t call this fun, Chiana.” Except for the adrenaline that was pumping through her system and the feeling of euphoria that came with it. “We’d better get out of here. Who knows who else might recognize us?”
Aeryn started across the still smoking ruins of the Refreshment House, following Chiana. She saw the movement out of the corner of her right eye a moment too late.
“Get down!” she screamed.
Everything happened in slow motion as she dove for the floor: the flash of the Charrid Officer’s pulse pistol, the energy pulse passing over her shoulder so close that she could feel the heat through her leather jacket, the whirl of grey and black as Chiana ran for cover, the white-orange impact of the pulse blast scoring into Chiana’s, the acrid smell of burning flesh, the soft whimper escaping Chiana’s mouth before she fell to the floor in a heap, and the sound of an answering pulse blast somewhere behind her.
“He’s dead now,” Rygel informed her as she scrambled across the debris to Chiana’s side.
Chiana lay face down on the floor, blue blood leaked out of a large wound in her upper back, but she was still breathing. Noranti ran over and placed a bandage over the gaping wound.
“This will slow the bleeding but we need to get her to a surgeon immediately.”
Noranti was right. Aeryn had seen enough pulse wounds in her life to know that Chiana’s was life threatening. She picked Chiana up, holding the field dressing firmly over the wound and ran out of the bar towards their transport pod.
“Peacekeeper.” The Tarkan she’d seen in the refreshment house, the one Chiana had been plying earlier, beckoned her to follow. “Come with me if you mean to save your friend. Our ship has a surgeon.”
Aeryn decided in an instant. She’d just have to trust the Tarkan at his word, Chiana didn’t have time for indecision, not while her blood seeped through the bandage, wetting Aeryn’s hand and spilling onto the floor. Without waiting for Rygel and Noranti she followed the Tarkan through a series of passageways that led to the outer docking port. The Tarkan entered his docking code into the control panel and large metal door of the inner airlock split open.
“Follow me.” The Tarkan walked quickly through the airlock onto his ship. Aeryn matched his pace despite her burden.
“Hang in there Chiana. We’ve found help,” Aeryn said, despite the fact that the Nebari wasn’t conscious. It’s something John would do.
The Tarkan led her through a long straight corridor. At the end he opened a door into a large room that obviously served as their medical bay. Aeryn placed Chiana gently down on the exam bed in the middle of the room and laid her on her stomach, maintaining pressure on the wound as best she could. Another Tarkan entered the room from a rear of the room.
“Show me the wound,” the newly arrived Tarkan ordered.
Aeryn lifted the gauze-like wad. The surgeon began cutting the remnants of Chiana’s clothing off her back then took a small devise off the shelf. Aeryn recognized it as a field cauterizer, something field med techs used to stem bleeding in critical cases. The blood flow lessened dramatically.
“I’ll need to repair the underlying muscle and seal the wound, but she is out of danger.”
Aeryn let out the breath she had been holding, relief flooding her. “Thank you,” Aeryn said to the surgeon and the Tarkan Captain who remained in the room. “Without your aid, my friend may have died.”
“There is no need to thank us,” the Tarkan with the Captain marking replied. “Those who fight the Charrids and their masters are friends, to whom we are duty bound to aid.”
“I am…”
“Aeryn Sun. Yes, I know,” the Tarkan replied. “And I am Rou’Binn. Our surgeon will need some time to repair the damaged tissue. May I interest you in a tour of our ship in the meantime?”
“No, thank you. I prefer to remain here.”
“As you like,” the Captain said, raising one arm across his chest in what Aeryn guessed was some form of salute before turning and leaving the room.
Aeryn stood silent at the foot of the exam bed while the surgeon worked on Chiana’s back. It was clear that Chiana was in skilled hands. With expert care, he debrided the wound and began regenerating the lost muscle and tissue. Chiana was lucky she’d been hit in the back. The same wound in her chest would have killed her instantly.
Before long, the surgeon began applying the derma patch and bandaging the wound.
“I assume you know how to care for this?”
“I’ve had experience with pulse weapon injuries.”
“Of course. And despite the best efforts of those who seek peace, it is often the ability to spill blood that brings about the desired results. Not many tyrants will give up power without a struggle.”
“True,” Aeryn agreed. “But it is often the poor and weak who pay the price, rather than those who seek to topple the tyrant, at least in my experience.”
The surgeon considered her response for a moment. “That is quite an ironic statement to hear from a Peacekeeper.”
“I am no longer a Peacekeeper.”
“Then what do you suggest, former Peacekeeper. How should tyrannical regimes be opposed?”
“In every way possible,” Aeryn replied. “With blood if necessary, but I’ve learned that it is not the only way.”
“Ah, then we agree,” the surgeon said as he handed Aeryn a packet of medicine. “I’ve given your friend a pain suppressant and sedative. She’ll remain unconscious for the next solar day and should be moved with care.”
Aeryn nodded. Her thoughts turned to another subject, one she’d hoped she could find an answer to at the Commerce Station. “You have a well equipped medical bay,” Aeryn said as she fingered the currency pouch in her left hand pocket.
“Part of our work is to provide medical assistance to those we help free from oppression,” the surgeon said with unmistakable pride.
“Are you familiar with Sebacean physiology?” Aeryn asked, skirting her immediate question. “And Peacekeeper genetic modifications-stasis pregnancies?”
“Yes. You are not the first ex-Peacekeeper I have met who left the confines imposed by High Command. How may I assist you?”
Aeryn withdrew the pouch and took out the data chip she had placed there earlier, the chip that contained a copy of John’s DNA. She may not be certain who she would be without John, she did not know what she wanted to do with her life if that life must be lived alone. It would be easy to fall back into familiar patterns, to live as pilot and soldier. But she had to know first.
“I’m pregnant. The fetus is in stasis. I need you to tell me if the fetus’ paternal DNA matches the DNA pattern on this data chip.” Aeryn placed the data chip in the chitinous hand of the Tarkan surgeon.
“Certainly,” he said as he took the chip and placed it into a data slot on the main medical console.
A double helix pattern that contained John’s unique genetic code appeared as a three dimensional hologram in the air above the console, the twisting blue strands holding a strange, mysterious beauty.
~ * ~ * ~