Fic: SF 111: Time Travel, Genetic Experiments, and the Family Unit in Deep Space, Chapter 5
Title: SF 111: Time Travel, Genetic Experiments, and the Family Unit in Deep Space
Chapter Title: Friends with Kids
Author: katiemariie
Artist & Beta: subluxate
Fandom: Farscape
Word Count: 3392
Rating: R
Warnings: Strong language, references to past non-con, violence
“So, what's their problem then?”
“Fear. Abject fear.”
“Of what?”
“Their fear extends to the point of not talking about their fear.”
-Chiana, Stark, and Noranti, The Peacekeeper Wars
-
Once Moya and Triskel were safely three starbursts away from the base, Pilot came over the clamshell to sate his curiosity. “What happened down there?”
Crichton responded, “Braca had a Vietnam flashback of working under Grayza, he stole her baby-which it turns out is his baby-and Stark has more superpowers. Did I miss anything?” he asked the rest of command.
“I think that's it,” Stark said.
Across the room, Aeryn laid a hand on Braca's shoulder. “Do you want me to take her?”
Braca stared at her, bewildered. “Take who?” His eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the baby in his arms. “Oh...” Braca managed to hand over the baby before he votched-on the same spot the DRDs spent arns disinfecting after Braca's last appearance in command.
Aeryn liked to think she was good with children; she was certainly good with her own, but Braca's offspring reacted to her embrace like it was a sulfuric acid bath. D reacted sympathetically, deciding to wail his head off in a misplaced show of solidarity.
“Frelling tralkbag trasnik dren hez!” Staanz shouted doubled over in pain. The mass on her back pulsated violently, shining through her shirt and jacket. “I think I'm having the baby... Or I'm dying. Either way. Help.”
Stark reacted just as well as anyone could have expected, hopping from foot to foot, yelling, “What do I do? What do I do?”
John had apparently hit his threshold for weird alien dren and was now speaking entirely in Earth popular culture references. “Shazbot!”
Scorpius was... nowhere to be found.
Braca, however, once his stomach calmed, reacted to chaos as well as any Peacekeeper and became Aeryn's port in this storm.
“Braca,” Aeryn said, “take the baby. Make her stop crying.”
“How?” he asked, taking the baby.
“Rock her and sing.”
“Acknowledged.” Braca moved the baby about awkwardly while quietly singing, “You say, I only hear what I want to...”
“John.” Aeryn gripped his face in her hands. “Take care of D'Argo.”
“Kay-o.”
At last, Aeryn went to Staanz and took her hand. “What do you need?”
“I-I don't know. None of my people have ever mated with a Banik before. The fetus shouldn't be glowing like that... I don't think I can do this.”
Aeryn squeezed her hand. “You can do this. We'll do it together. Let's get your tops off.” She grabbed Stark by the leg. “Help your wife. Can you do that?”
“I can try.”
“Good. Braca.”
“Yes'm.”
“Go to the nursery and get me some blankets. There's a bag next to the crib. Bring that, too.”
“I'm on it.”
Stark had all of Staanz' shirts off by then. Her back was flashing like a strobe-light. “Stark, do you have any idea what the light means?”
“It's the baby's form in the Banik realm,” Stark stammered. “The energy sustains the fetus.”
“And what happens to it when the baby is born?”
“Um, it-it shines brightly and then-”
Suddenly, navigation was enveloped in a remarkably brilliant light for half a microt-like the flash of an Earth camera.
“And then that happens,” Stark finished, staring down at the newborn baby resting comfortably on Staanz' now flat back.
“What?” Staanz asked. “What happened?”
“You just had a baby,” Aeryn answered.
-
Braca was certain there was a way to parent a child without cooing desperately over it and endlessly remarking on its “ten teeny-tiny fingers, ten teeny-tiny toes, and two big, beautiful eyes” like the Banik and his female. As another former Peacekeeper, Aeryn Sun was the logical place to go for parenting advice. Or, at the very least, advice on how to keep a baby alive.
Aeryn was willing to provide lessons free of charge because it was-to use her own words-“the right thing to do.” As always, Braca was motivated to impress his teacher with the rapid acquisition of skills. He didn't disappoint Aeryn or himself, quickly picking up how to change a diaper, properly hold the baby, induce eructation, and various things to trick the baby into sleeping. No matter how much he had learned, he couldn't seem to make the baby stop crying.
“Calm yourself, soldier,” Braca murmured, rocking the baby back and forth.
“I think she might be hungry,” Aeryn said.
“Do you have any...” To be quite honest, Braca wasn't sure what babies ate. “...baby food in the kitchen?”
“Not in the kitchen, no.” She held out her arms. “Here. I can...”
“What?”
“I can feed her.”
Braca was struck with the image of Aeryn Sun chewing up and regurgitating food into the baby's mouth like a trelkez. (The image was fresh in his mind because, as it turned out, that was how Yenen fed their young. Disgusting fringe species.) Then he realized what she was suggesting. “You mean...?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn't want to impose on... your breasts.”
“You wouldn't be.”
“Are you sure you won't... run out?”
Aeryn smiled. “I'm sure. My body produces as much milk as the baby needs and with as many babies as there have been crying today, I think my body believes I have twins, if not triplets.”
“Oh. All right.” Braca passed the crying child over to Aeryn, who quite shockingly unzipped her shirt right there. He imagined she might have a special room for this. One without windows. Out of politeness and carefully indoctrinated Peacekeeper shame, Braca turned away.
Aeryn snickered. “You've probably changed Scorpius' cooling rods a hundred times, but this makes you turn in fear.”
Braca looked back at Aeryn. He could recognize a challenge when issued.
“That's better.” She looked down at the baby. “I think she's figuring it out... There. She's latched.”
“Good.” Braca had no idea what Sun was talking about.
“Have you thought of any names?”
“No. I thought I'd wait until she started talking.” Honestly, he hadn't thought of anything for his... daughter except making ensuring that her immediate needs were met in the present moment and the thirty microts following it.
“And then you'd tell her her name?”
“Yes. That's what the Peacekeepers do. You don't remember getting your name?”
“Of course. The naming ceremony is one of my favorite memories from my childhood.”
(As a genetic experiment raised in seclusion, Braca didn't get a naming ceremony. Or favorite childhood memories.) “Then why would you deny your child that?”
“My child isn't a Peacekeeper and neither is yours.”
Braca knew that quite intimately. A Peacekeeper was one thing she could never be, especially now that Grayza was dead. Even if certain high command decisions were reversed, Braca doubted the Peacekeepers would waive blood purity requirements for her, or anyone else, for that matter. He would never be a Peacekeeper again and neither would his daughter; there was little use pretending otherwise. “Mirwa.” He swallowed. “I think I'll call her that.”
“Mirwa. Does it mean anything?”
Aeryn wasn't Scorpius, so he could lie. “No.”
“It's a good name. A strong name.” She looked down fondly at the suckling infant. “Mirwa Braca.” (Braca hadn't considered changing her last name, but now that he heard how that sounded he liked the idea.) “Do you like that, Mirwa?”
Half-expecting her to answer, Braca looked down at Mirwa. He didn't anticipate getting distracted by Aeryn's chest. Specifically the bead of sweat sliding down her cleavage.
Was it getting hot in here?
-
When Pilot said he couldn't detect Scorpius on board and that he hadn't left, John was fairly certain where Scorpius had squirreled himself away. John had to admit he was a little peeved that his Lex Luthor had camped out in his Fortress of Solitude, turning it into his own personal Batcave. (That was the problem with villains; they all thought they were antiheroes.) After setting up Stark, Staanz, and the wee half-breed with a room for the night, John hurried to the starburst chamber before Scorpy started redecorating.
Inside, Scorpius was sitting in a corner looking very much like an adolescent Charlie Brown after a disappointing S&M encounter. “Are you moping?”
Scorpius gave a withering glare. “Why are you here, Crichton?”
“It's been two arns since anyone's seen you. Pilot couldn't locate you, you weren't answering comms, you obviously aren't taking any of Braca's telepathic phone calls-”
“Braca hasn't contacted me through the neural chips.”
Crichton grabbed at his heart. “Ouch.” He sat down next to Scorpius. “Seriously, though. It's been a while since you got a fresh cooling rod. If we didn't find you soon, I was afraid we'd spend the next cycle searching for your body like a rotten Easter egg.” He grinned. “And I know how you feel about Easter.”
“Easter?”
“Right. That wasn't you.” He sighed. “You know, sometimes I wish you died instead of him. Of course, I wish you died instead of a lot of people. D'Argo, Zhaan, Jool, Spock at the end of Wrath of Khan.”
“Thank you, Crichton.”
“Do you need me to...?” He tapped the side of Scorpius' head.
“No. I had a DRD change it earlier.”
“A DRD? How'd you do that without Pilot knowing where you are?”
“While I was aboard Moya, I trained a DRD to follow my commands alone.”
“And he does your bidding?” John asked, threatening to break into giggles.
“Yes. She does.”
“Oh, she. I'm sorry. Does she have a name?”
“I trained her to answer to...” Scorpius made a horrendous noise with the back of his throat. “It's Scarran for 'wormhole.'”
With that, John launched into a full-fledged giggle fit. The kind that made tears streak down his cheeks. The kind that made his abs get a full workout. That kind that he hadn't experienced since D'Argo died.
“I'm glad you find this so amusing. I was hoping you would allow me to bring her back to Triskel when this is all over.”
“Of course,” he said, wiping his tears away. “You know I'd never want to get in the way of what is obviously a loving relationship.”
“Thank you.”
“Y'know, it is downright frightening how similar we are sometimes.”
“I've said the same myself.”
“That proves it then. We're practically the same person. Except I'm better looking and not terrified of babies.”
“I am not terrified of babies.”
“You ran and hid as soon as they started crying.”
“I left when the Zanetan went into labor. I trust you understand why I would be reticent to attend a childbirth given what occurred the last time I was an active participant.”
There wasn't anything John could say to that (sorry you killed your mom?), so he said what had been at the back of his mind. “I saw Braca's genetic profile today down in the vault. I know.”
“Do you understand what that means?”
“Do you? Out of all the lies, out all the things you've kept from me over the years, out of all the times you've tricked me, somehow this is the worst. Because it's about family. You've threatened my friends, you've threatened my planet, you've threatened the woman I love, but you have never gone after my family like this.”
“If you understood the danger, I thought-”
“The danger? There was no danger except to your precious frelling revenge plot!”
“Crichton, there was no way I could be-” Scorpius paused, standing suddenly. “I have to go. Braca needs me.”
John rolled his eyes. “Look, the Scorp signal.”
-
Braca was sitting with his head between with his knees when John and Scorpius arrived in the nursery. Scorpius took one look at Braca and turned to Aeryn. “Is the coolant room still active?”
“As far I know,” Aeryn said, “yes.”
“Good.” Scorpius walked over to Braca and grabbed him by the back of his neck.
“I'm fine,” Braca said, rather unconvincingly.
“You're lying.” Scorpius wrenched Braca out of the chair, pushing him out the room.
John watched them recede down the corridor. “What happened?”
“I don't know,” Aeryn answered. “We were talking and suddenly he just doubled over.”
“You were talking like that?”
Aeryn zipped up her shirt. “You know how hot I get nursing.”
Oh. John closed his eyes. “Were you sweating?”
“Probably. Why?”
He sighed. “That's what she used to...”
Aeryn covered her mouth. “I didn't think of that.”
-
Scorpius had just gone to the kitchen to fetch him some water when Sun came into the coolant room carrying the ba-Mirwa.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I wanted to apologize for imposing on you... with my breasts.”
“You were hardly imposing; it's not your fault I'm apparently defective.”
She smiled, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. “You didn't get to be a Peacekeeper captain by being defective.”
“No, according to you, I got to be a Peacekeeper captain on my knees.”
Aeryn looked at him sharply. “I'm trying to be nice to you, which is very difficult given everything you've put me through over the cycles. I'd like to think you'd afford me with the same respect and not throw things I've said back in my face.”
Cowed, Braca let his head rest against the wall. “I never recreated with a commanding officer before Scorpius.” He didn't know why it was suddenly so important for her to know that.
“I know.”
“It was a foolish unit rumor. I don't know how it got started.”
“Well, maybe,” Aeryn said delicately, “someone heard that the fatality drive was disengaged when you flew your final simulation and thought that was the most likely explanation.”
Braca gawped at her. “The fatality drive was disengaged because if I failed the science corps was going to vivisect me.”
“Then I imagine that whoever made up that rumor would feel rather apologetic about it.”
He smiled over at her. “Thank you for today.”
“I did what I could live with.”
He looked down at Mirwa still in Aeryn's arms. “Do you think she's safe in here?”
“She should be; she's Sebacean.”
“That's the problem,” Braca said, taking Mirwa from Aeryn and wrapping her in his jacket on the floor. “She's not. Not entirely.” He lowered the blankets around her ears. “You see that mark? Vestigial external eustachia. Found only in the boars from which heppel glands are extracted. Grayza covered hers with make-up.”
“The gland infects genetic material.”
Braca nodded. “It also accelerates cellular degeneration.” He ran a finger down Mirwa's cheek. “She'll have maybe eighty cycles.”
“It doesn't have to be that way.” She grabbed his hand. “Four cycles ago, I was infected with Pilot DNA. I started to turn into a Pilot, but we were able to reverse it. There are treatments, gene therapy...”
“And the gland-do you think it can be removed?”
“I don't know... but since I left the Peacekeepers, I've seen things I never thought possible.”
-
When Scorpius returned with Braca's water, Crichton was waiting in the corridor outside the coolant room. “Aeryn and Braca are having a sisterly chat.”
“Despite what your preconceived Human notions may have you believe, Braca is no one's sister.”
“Fine, a siblingly chat.”
“Siblingly?”
“I know it's not a real word, but you seem to have moral objections to the other ones I know.”
“You could have said 'friendly,'” Scorpius said out of a sincere enjoyment of Human-bating.
“Aeryn and Braca aren't friends,” Crichton sputtered. “They might be if it weren't for that little secret you've been keeping for god knows how long.”
“While I'm certain that Officer Sun would be sympathetic to Braca, I doubt that the revelation of the conditions of Braca's discharge would inspire a friendship between the two of them.”
“The condition of Braca's... what does that have to with anything?”
Scorpius was beginning to suspect that he and Crichton were holding two completely different secrets. “John,” he said silkily, “what exactly did you read in Braca's file?”
Crichton smirked, coming to the same realization as Scorpius had microts before. That neural clone was again proving more beneficial to Crichton than Scorpius. “Nothing I'm gonna tell you. Now, if you're willing to trade...”
“A trade is out of the-”
The door to the coolant room slid open and out came Aeryn and Braca carrying the infant (who somehow, in the middle of a Peacekeeper hallway, transformed into their infant, hence the running and hiding in Moya's starburst chamber).
“We have a problem,” Aeryn said. (“Just one?” Crichton muttered.) “Babies need to eat.”
“Quite frequently, apparently,” Braca said.
Crichton commented thoughtlessly, “Too bad she's not half-Kalish.”
If the awkwardness of the silence that ensued could be harnessed as a power source, the cesium industry would go out of business.
Aeryn coughed. “Sebacean infant formula can be purchased, but the nearest vendor could be days away. Seeing as we're unwilling to let a baby starve, even if it is the offspring of our enemies...”
“You're stuck wet nursing for them until they can find formula.” Crichton sounded about as enthused about sharing his female's loomas with another as anyone could have expected.
“I have some expressed milk frozen in the refrigeration unit that you can use for tonight,” she said to Braca, “but tomorrow you'll need to come back over here.”
“Does the milk need to be refrigerated?” Braca asked.
“Yes.”
“That,” Scorpius said, “may pose a problem. Our refrigeration unit is... occupied.”
“Your whole fridge,” Crichton said incredulously. “What? You got a body in there?”
Scorpius found this was one of those times when silence would do less harm than an explanation.
Crichton sighed. “Of course you have a dead body in your fridge. Of course you do. You're lucky we're not UT CPS, we'd take your kid away for that.”
Before Crichton finished his sentence, Braca had a pulse pistol pointed at his head. In rapid succession, Aeryn took aim at Braca and Scorpius, Scorpius at Aeryn and Crichton, and Crichton at Braca and Scorpius.
“Is there a commode on th-” the Yenen said, coming down the corridor. “The frell? You've got to be kidding me. There are babies on board!” She pointed at Braca. “He's holding a baby!”
“He pulled on a gun on me!” Crichton explained.
“You threatened to take her away,” Braca said.
“I did not!”
“You said, 'You're lucky we're not yuti cepice, we'd take your kid away for that.' I don't know what uti cepice-”
“U-T C-P-S! It's an acronym. Uncharted Territories Child Protective Services-a completely made-up thing I said as a joke. A joke!”
“If I can intervene here for a microt,” Staanz said, “maybe we can all agree not to joke about various groups, whether they be real or not, taking our children from us? Especially around Stark. He's very sensitive about this sort of thing.”
“Stark.” Aeryn blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Is sensitive about everything.”
“Yeah, but you don't see him out in the middle of the night pointing guns at people, do you? We are adults, not children having dustups on the holopark.” Staanz edged closer to them with her hands in the air. “Now, let's look each other in the eye and agree that this was a misunderstanding caused by fatigue, quick tempers, and Crichton being stupid and not funny. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
John shot Aeryn a betrayed scowl. “Agreed, but I will have you know I'm very smart and very funny.”
“Alright,” Staanz started, “now let's just lower all our weapons. Very good. Put them back in their holsters. Great. Now let's bring it in for a group hug. No. That's fine. Didn't think you were going to go for that anyway.” Staanz clapped Scorpius and Aeryn on the shoulder. “And that is what we call 'conflict mediation.' I took a seminar on it,” she said with a streak of pride. She turned to Aeryn. “Where's the nearest bathroom?”
“Tier nine.”
“Thank you.” She gave Scorpius and Aeryn's shoulders a squeeze before heading down the hall toward tier nine.
“That was,” Scorpius said, “interesting to say the least.”
John scratched the back of his head. “Listen, me and Aeryn, we don't want to steal your evil baby. We'll make sure it doesn't starve and your weird little family unit can stay here tonight and use our fridge, but we don't want your demon spawn.”
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Chapter Title: Friends with Kids
Author: katiemariie
Artist & Beta: subluxate
Fandom: Farscape
Word Count: 3392
Rating: R
Warnings: Strong language, references to past non-con, violence
“So, what's their problem then?”
“Fear. Abject fear.”
“Of what?”
“Their fear extends to the point of not talking about their fear.”
-Chiana, Stark, and Noranti, The Peacekeeper Wars
-
Once Moya and Triskel were safely three starbursts away from the base, Pilot came over the clamshell to sate his curiosity. “What happened down there?”
Crichton responded, “Braca had a Vietnam flashback of working under Grayza, he stole her baby-which it turns out is his baby-and Stark has more superpowers. Did I miss anything?” he asked the rest of command.
“I think that's it,” Stark said.
Across the room, Aeryn laid a hand on Braca's shoulder. “Do you want me to take her?”
Braca stared at her, bewildered. “Take who?” His eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the baby in his arms. “Oh...” Braca managed to hand over the baby before he votched-on the same spot the DRDs spent arns disinfecting after Braca's last appearance in command.
Aeryn liked to think she was good with children; she was certainly good with her own, but Braca's offspring reacted to her embrace like it was a sulfuric acid bath. D reacted sympathetically, deciding to wail his head off in a misplaced show of solidarity.
“Frelling tralkbag trasnik dren hez!” Staanz shouted doubled over in pain. The mass on her back pulsated violently, shining through her shirt and jacket. “I think I'm having the baby... Or I'm dying. Either way. Help.”
Stark reacted just as well as anyone could have expected, hopping from foot to foot, yelling, “What do I do? What do I do?”
John had apparently hit his threshold for weird alien dren and was now speaking entirely in Earth popular culture references. “Shazbot!”
Scorpius was... nowhere to be found.
Braca, however, once his stomach calmed, reacted to chaos as well as any Peacekeeper and became Aeryn's port in this storm.
“Braca,” Aeryn said, “take the baby. Make her stop crying.”
“How?” he asked, taking the baby.
“Rock her and sing.”
“Acknowledged.” Braca moved the baby about awkwardly while quietly singing, “You say, I only hear what I want to...”
“John.” Aeryn gripped his face in her hands. “Take care of D'Argo.”
“Kay-o.”
At last, Aeryn went to Staanz and took her hand. “What do you need?”
“I-I don't know. None of my people have ever mated with a Banik before. The fetus shouldn't be glowing like that... I don't think I can do this.”
Aeryn squeezed her hand. “You can do this. We'll do it together. Let's get your tops off.” She grabbed Stark by the leg. “Help your wife. Can you do that?”
“I can try.”
“Good. Braca.”
“Yes'm.”
“Go to the nursery and get me some blankets. There's a bag next to the crib. Bring that, too.”
“I'm on it.”
Stark had all of Staanz' shirts off by then. Her back was flashing like a strobe-light. “Stark, do you have any idea what the light means?”
“It's the baby's form in the Banik realm,” Stark stammered. “The energy sustains the fetus.”
“And what happens to it when the baby is born?”
“Um, it-it shines brightly and then-”
Suddenly, navigation was enveloped in a remarkably brilliant light for half a microt-like the flash of an Earth camera.
“And then that happens,” Stark finished, staring down at the newborn baby resting comfortably on Staanz' now flat back.
“What?” Staanz asked. “What happened?”
“You just had a baby,” Aeryn answered.
-
Braca was certain there was a way to parent a child without cooing desperately over it and endlessly remarking on its “ten teeny-tiny fingers, ten teeny-tiny toes, and two big, beautiful eyes” like the Banik and his female. As another former Peacekeeper, Aeryn Sun was the logical place to go for parenting advice. Or, at the very least, advice on how to keep a baby alive.
Aeryn was willing to provide lessons free of charge because it was-to use her own words-“the right thing to do.” As always, Braca was motivated to impress his teacher with the rapid acquisition of skills. He didn't disappoint Aeryn or himself, quickly picking up how to change a diaper, properly hold the baby, induce eructation, and various things to trick the baby into sleeping. No matter how much he had learned, he couldn't seem to make the baby stop crying.
“Calm yourself, soldier,” Braca murmured, rocking the baby back and forth.
“I think she might be hungry,” Aeryn said.
“Do you have any...” To be quite honest, Braca wasn't sure what babies ate. “...baby food in the kitchen?”
“Not in the kitchen, no.” She held out her arms. “Here. I can...”
“What?”
“I can feed her.”
Braca was struck with the image of Aeryn Sun chewing up and regurgitating food into the baby's mouth like a trelkez. (The image was fresh in his mind because, as it turned out, that was how Yenen fed their young. Disgusting fringe species.) Then he realized what she was suggesting. “You mean...?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn't want to impose on... your breasts.”
“You wouldn't be.”
“Are you sure you won't... run out?”
Aeryn smiled. “I'm sure. My body produces as much milk as the baby needs and with as many babies as there have been crying today, I think my body believes I have twins, if not triplets.”
“Oh. All right.” Braca passed the crying child over to Aeryn, who quite shockingly unzipped her shirt right there. He imagined she might have a special room for this. One without windows. Out of politeness and carefully indoctrinated Peacekeeper shame, Braca turned away.
Aeryn snickered. “You've probably changed Scorpius' cooling rods a hundred times, but this makes you turn in fear.”
Braca looked back at Aeryn. He could recognize a challenge when issued.
“That's better.” She looked down at the baby. “I think she's figuring it out... There. She's latched.”
“Good.” Braca had no idea what Sun was talking about.
“Have you thought of any names?”
“No. I thought I'd wait until she started talking.” Honestly, he hadn't thought of anything for his... daughter except making ensuring that her immediate needs were met in the present moment and the thirty microts following it.
“And then you'd tell her her name?”
“Yes. That's what the Peacekeepers do. You don't remember getting your name?”
“Of course. The naming ceremony is one of my favorite memories from my childhood.”
(As a genetic experiment raised in seclusion, Braca didn't get a naming ceremony. Or favorite childhood memories.) “Then why would you deny your child that?”
“My child isn't a Peacekeeper and neither is yours.”
Braca knew that quite intimately. A Peacekeeper was one thing she could never be, especially now that Grayza was dead. Even if certain high command decisions were reversed, Braca doubted the Peacekeepers would waive blood purity requirements for her, or anyone else, for that matter. He would never be a Peacekeeper again and neither would his daughter; there was little use pretending otherwise. “Mirwa.” He swallowed. “I think I'll call her that.”
“Mirwa. Does it mean anything?”
Aeryn wasn't Scorpius, so he could lie. “No.”
“It's a good name. A strong name.” She looked down fondly at the suckling infant. “Mirwa Braca.” (Braca hadn't considered changing her last name, but now that he heard how that sounded he liked the idea.) “Do you like that, Mirwa?”
Half-expecting her to answer, Braca looked down at Mirwa. He didn't anticipate getting distracted by Aeryn's chest. Specifically the bead of sweat sliding down her cleavage.
Was it getting hot in here?
-
When Pilot said he couldn't detect Scorpius on board and that he hadn't left, John was fairly certain where Scorpius had squirreled himself away. John had to admit he was a little peeved that his Lex Luthor had camped out in his Fortress of Solitude, turning it into his own personal Batcave. (That was the problem with villains; they all thought they were antiheroes.) After setting up Stark, Staanz, and the wee half-breed with a room for the night, John hurried to the starburst chamber before Scorpy started redecorating.
Inside, Scorpius was sitting in a corner looking very much like an adolescent Charlie Brown after a disappointing S&M encounter. “Are you moping?”
Scorpius gave a withering glare. “Why are you here, Crichton?”
“It's been two arns since anyone's seen you. Pilot couldn't locate you, you weren't answering comms, you obviously aren't taking any of Braca's telepathic phone calls-”
“Braca hasn't contacted me through the neural chips.”
Crichton grabbed at his heart. “Ouch.” He sat down next to Scorpius. “Seriously, though. It's been a while since you got a fresh cooling rod. If we didn't find you soon, I was afraid we'd spend the next cycle searching for your body like a rotten Easter egg.” He grinned. “And I know how you feel about Easter.”
“Easter?”
“Right. That wasn't you.” He sighed. “You know, sometimes I wish you died instead of him. Of course, I wish you died instead of a lot of people. D'Argo, Zhaan, Jool, Spock at the end of Wrath of Khan.”
“Thank you, Crichton.”
“Do you need me to...?” He tapped the side of Scorpius' head.
“No. I had a DRD change it earlier.”
“A DRD? How'd you do that without Pilot knowing where you are?”
“While I was aboard Moya, I trained a DRD to follow my commands alone.”
“And he does your bidding?” John asked, threatening to break into giggles.
“Yes. She does.”
“Oh, she. I'm sorry. Does she have a name?”
“I trained her to answer to...” Scorpius made a horrendous noise with the back of his throat. “It's Scarran for 'wormhole.'”
With that, John launched into a full-fledged giggle fit. The kind that made tears streak down his cheeks. The kind that made his abs get a full workout. That kind that he hadn't experienced since D'Argo died.
“I'm glad you find this so amusing. I was hoping you would allow me to bring her back to Triskel when this is all over.”
“Of course,” he said, wiping his tears away. “You know I'd never want to get in the way of what is obviously a loving relationship.”
“Thank you.”
“Y'know, it is downright frightening how similar we are sometimes.”
“I've said the same myself.”
“That proves it then. We're practically the same person. Except I'm better looking and not terrified of babies.”
“I am not terrified of babies.”
“You ran and hid as soon as they started crying.”
“I left when the Zanetan went into labor. I trust you understand why I would be reticent to attend a childbirth given what occurred the last time I was an active participant.”
There wasn't anything John could say to that (sorry you killed your mom?), so he said what had been at the back of his mind. “I saw Braca's genetic profile today down in the vault. I know.”
“Do you understand what that means?”
“Do you? Out of all the lies, out all the things you've kept from me over the years, out of all the times you've tricked me, somehow this is the worst. Because it's about family. You've threatened my friends, you've threatened my planet, you've threatened the woman I love, but you have never gone after my family like this.”
“If you understood the danger, I thought-”
“The danger? There was no danger except to your precious frelling revenge plot!”
“Crichton, there was no way I could be-” Scorpius paused, standing suddenly. “I have to go. Braca needs me.”
John rolled his eyes. “Look, the Scorp signal.”
-
Braca was sitting with his head between with his knees when John and Scorpius arrived in the nursery. Scorpius took one look at Braca and turned to Aeryn. “Is the coolant room still active?”
“As far I know,” Aeryn said, “yes.”
“Good.” Scorpius walked over to Braca and grabbed him by the back of his neck.
“I'm fine,” Braca said, rather unconvincingly.
“You're lying.” Scorpius wrenched Braca out of the chair, pushing him out the room.
John watched them recede down the corridor. “What happened?”
“I don't know,” Aeryn answered. “We were talking and suddenly he just doubled over.”
“You were talking like that?”
Aeryn zipped up her shirt. “You know how hot I get nursing.”
Oh. John closed his eyes. “Were you sweating?”
“Probably. Why?”
He sighed. “That's what she used to...”
Aeryn covered her mouth. “I didn't think of that.”
-
Scorpius had just gone to the kitchen to fetch him some water when Sun came into the coolant room carrying the ba-Mirwa.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I wanted to apologize for imposing on you... with my breasts.”
“You were hardly imposing; it's not your fault I'm apparently defective.”
She smiled, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. “You didn't get to be a Peacekeeper captain by being defective.”
“No, according to you, I got to be a Peacekeeper captain on my knees.”
Aeryn looked at him sharply. “I'm trying to be nice to you, which is very difficult given everything you've put me through over the cycles. I'd like to think you'd afford me with the same respect and not throw things I've said back in my face.”
Cowed, Braca let his head rest against the wall. “I never recreated with a commanding officer before Scorpius.” He didn't know why it was suddenly so important for her to know that.
“I know.”
“It was a foolish unit rumor. I don't know how it got started.”
“Well, maybe,” Aeryn said delicately, “someone heard that the fatality drive was disengaged when you flew your final simulation and thought that was the most likely explanation.”
Braca gawped at her. “The fatality drive was disengaged because if I failed the science corps was going to vivisect me.”
“Then I imagine that whoever made up that rumor would feel rather apologetic about it.”
He smiled over at her. “Thank you for today.”
“I did what I could live with.”
He looked down at Mirwa still in Aeryn's arms. “Do you think she's safe in here?”
“She should be; she's Sebacean.”
“That's the problem,” Braca said, taking Mirwa from Aeryn and wrapping her in his jacket on the floor. “She's not. Not entirely.” He lowered the blankets around her ears. “You see that mark? Vestigial external eustachia. Found only in the boars from which heppel glands are extracted. Grayza covered hers with make-up.”
“The gland infects genetic material.”
Braca nodded. “It also accelerates cellular degeneration.” He ran a finger down Mirwa's cheek. “She'll have maybe eighty cycles.”
“It doesn't have to be that way.” She grabbed his hand. “Four cycles ago, I was infected with Pilot DNA. I started to turn into a Pilot, but we were able to reverse it. There are treatments, gene therapy...”
“And the gland-do you think it can be removed?”
“I don't know... but since I left the Peacekeepers, I've seen things I never thought possible.”
-
When Scorpius returned with Braca's water, Crichton was waiting in the corridor outside the coolant room. “Aeryn and Braca are having a sisterly chat.”
“Despite what your preconceived Human notions may have you believe, Braca is no one's sister.”
“Fine, a siblingly chat.”
“Siblingly?”
“I know it's not a real word, but you seem to have moral objections to the other ones I know.”
“You could have said 'friendly,'” Scorpius said out of a sincere enjoyment of Human-bating.
“Aeryn and Braca aren't friends,” Crichton sputtered. “They might be if it weren't for that little secret you've been keeping for god knows how long.”
“While I'm certain that Officer Sun would be sympathetic to Braca, I doubt that the revelation of the conditions of Braca's discharge would inspire a friendship between the two of them.”
“The condition of Braca's... what does that have to with anything?”
Scorpius was beginning to suspect that he and Crichton were holding two completely different secrets. “John,” he said silkily, “what exactly did you read in Braca's file?”
Crichton smirked, coming to the same realization as Scorpius had microts before. That neural clone was again proving more beneficial to Crichton than Scorpius. “Nothing I'm gonna tell you. Now, if you're willing to trade...”
“A trade is out of the-”
The door to the coolant room slid open and out came Aeryn and Braca carrying the infant (who somehow, in the middle of a Peacekeeper hallway, transformed into their infant, hence the running and hiding in Moya's starburst chamber).
“We have a problem,” Aeryn said. (“Just one?” Crichton muttered.) “Babies need to eat.”
“Quite frequently, apparently,” Braca said.
Crichton commented thoughtlessly, “Too bad she's not half-Kalish.”
If the awkwardness of the silence that ensued could be harnessed as a power source, the cesium industry would go out of business.
Aeryn coughed. “Sebacean infant formula can be purchased, but the nearest vendor could be days away. Seeing as we're unwilling to let a baby starve, even if it is the offspring of our enemies...”
“You're stuck wet nursing for them until they can find formula.” Crichton sounded about as enthused about sharing his female's loomas with another as anyone could have expected.
“I have some expressed milk frozen in the refrigeration unit that you can use for tonight,” she said to Braca, “but tomorrow you'll need to come back over here.”
“Does the milk need to be refrigerated?” Braca asked.
“Yes.”
“That,” Scorpius said, “may pose a problem. Our refrigeration unit is... occupied.”
“Your whole fridge,” Crichton said incredulously. “What? You got a body in there?”
Scorpius found this was one of those times when silence would do less harm than an explanation.
Crichton sighed. “Of course you have a dead body in your fridge. Of course you do. You're lucky we're not UT CPS, we'd take your kid away for that.”
Before Crichton finished his sentence, Braca had a pulse pistol pointed at his head. In rapid succession, Aeryn took aim at Braca and Scorpius, Scorpius at Aeryn and Crichton, and Crichton at Braca and Scorpius.
“Is there a commode on th-” the Yenen said, coming down the corridor. “The frell? You've got to be kidding me. There are babies on board!” She pointed at Braca. “He's holding a baby!”
“He pulled on a gun on me!” Crichton explained.
“You threatened to take her away,” Braca said.
“I did not!”
“You said, 'You're lucky we're not yuti cepice, we'd take your kid away for that.' I don't know what uti cepice-”
“U-T C-P-S! It's an acronym. Uncharted Territories Child Protective Services-a completely made-up thing I said as a joke. A joke!”
“If I can intervene here for a microt,” Staanz said, “maybe we can all agree not to joke about various groups, whether they be real or not, taking our children from us? Especially around Stark. He's very sensitive about this sort of thing.”
“Stark.” Aeryn blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Is sensitive about everything.”
“Yeah, but you don't see him out in the middle of the night pointing guns at people, do you? We are adults, not children having dustups on the holopark.” Staanz edged closer to them with her hands in the air. “Now, let's look each other in the eye and agree that this was a misunderstanding caused by fatigue, quick tempers, and Crichton being stupid and not funny. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
John shot Aeryn a betrayed scowl. “Agreed, but I will have you know I'm very smart and very funny.”
“Alright,” Staanz started, “now let's just lower all our weapons. Very good. Put them back in their holsters. Great. Now let's bring it in for a group hug. No. That's fine. Didn't think you were going to go for that anyway.” Staanz clapped Scorpius and Aeryn on the shoulder. “And that is what we call 'conflict mediation.' I took a seminar on it,” she said with a streak of pride. She turned to Aeryn. “Where's the nearest bathroom?”
“Tier nine.”
“Thank you.” She gave Scorpius and Aeryn's shoulders a squeeze before heading down the hall toward tier nine.
“That was,” Scorpius said, “interesting to say the least.”
John scratched the back of his head. “Listen, me and Aeryn, we don't want to steal your evil baby. We'll make sure it doesn't starve and your weird little family unit can stay here tonight and use our fridge, but we don't want your demon spawn.”
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