Farscape fic: Left Behind, chapter 18 (pg-13)
Left Behind
Timeline placement: earlyish season 3, spoilers for “Eat Me”
Rating: PG-13
Words: 3,994
Disclaimer: The Farscape universe, and all that is in it, is not mine, but rather belongs to the Jim Henson Company. This is a work of fiction based in that universe. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has been or will be collected. No betas were harmed in the writing of this fic. Previous chapter links at the end of the post.
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Chapter Eighteen
John Crichton watched as the red ball bounced twice - once off the bulkhead and again off the deck - before heading back directly to his hand as if irresistibly drawn there by the force of gravity. He had found the ball on Kala, probably left behind by one of her passengers/crew decades ago, given the layer of dust that surrounded and covered it. Couldn’t resist taking it back to Rohvu with him, though. He had been playing catch by himself for about twenty minutes, deliberately trying to make his mind a blank, but having little success. Thoughts chased round and round in his head like a German Shepard after a squirrel.
Furlow. Chiana. Aeryn. Moya. Furlow. Chiana. Aeryn. Moya.
As a nod to why he was here on Command with so little to distract him, John glanced at the failsafe indicator on the main console. The light was still green and steady. Just as the lights that now shone overhead were steady, if not green.
Rohvu had been gaining strength little by little for two solar days now, ever since the transfusion had begun. While he was still nowhere near full strength - that would take a couple of weeks yet, although he wouldn’t be hooked up to Kala for much longer - he was strong enough that they no longer had to fumble around in the dark or worry about areas being closed off because of a lack of atmosphere. With the help of the DRDs salvaged from the two dead Leviathans and those donated to them by Kala and her Pilot, quite a few repairs and clean-up projects were well under way.
Which brought him to Moya. Ever since the rooms had been cleaned up and now that the lights had been restored, Rohvu reminded him more and more, at least physically, of Moya and of how much he missed her and the rest of his friends. Even Rohvu’s little burbling sounds were similar in tone, if not regularity, to Moya’s.
Thinking about Moya made him think about Aeryn. Not that he ever really stopped thinking about her, it just brought her to the forefront of his mind. It had been weeks since he had last seen her, heard her voice, smelled the unique scent that was Aeryn Sun. Weeks since he had met frelling Kaarvok and had, probably, been twinned. Was Aeryn even now with his twin, unaware that he - that John Crichton was also on another Leviathan light years away?
And that brought him to Chiana, also twinned. Also aboard Moya even as she was here aboard Rohvu. He thanked Zhaan’s goddess that Chiana was here with him as he really didn’t want to start over again from scratch learning how to make friends and influence people in the Uncharted Territories.
He still hadn’t talked to her about that kiss. Maybe Harvey was right… Maybe he was a coward. And maybe he was magnifying the whole thing way out of proportion. Pip wasn’t treating him any differently now than she had when they were on Moya. She always had been and always would be a flirt.
Then there was Furlow. How did Furlow fit into all this? She didn’t. She just didn’t fit in this little soap opera that he called his life and the fact that she didn’t fit made him think that she was going to bail soon and that somehow, someway, she was going to screw them all in the name of a healthy profit. He just couldn’t see how, yet.
Bulkhead. Deck. Hand. Furlow. Chiana. Aeryn. Bulkhead. Deck. Hand. Moya. Furlow. Chiana. Bulkhead. Deck. Hand. Aeryn. Moya.
Harvey.
***
“Is this right, Tokar?” Belima handed a driver to the tall Sebacean, who was reaching up into the inner workings of the transport pod from directly beneath the hammond-side landing gear.
Brown eyes turned from the task at hand to look down at her. “Yeah, Belima,” Tokar said as he reached down for the driver. “That’s exactly the one I need.”
They had been here on Kala for several arns, working at repairing the second transport pod that Kala and her Pilot had offered to them, having come here from Rohvu on the first, which had already been in a usable condition. Belima was pleased that Tokar had accepted her offer of help, which made her feel useful for the first time since- Her mind shied away from completing the thought as a shiver ran down her spine.
She looked up again to see Tokar’s hand reaching down from the dark space above her head, holding out the driver she had just given him. “Spanner, please, Bel.”
Belima took the driver from him and carefully returned it to its proper place in the tool kit, but the spanner he wanted wasn’t where it should be. Before she had a chance to panic, though, something bumped her foot. The DRD that John called Thor held the missing spanner in one of its “hands” and she remembered that she had not been paying attention when she’d bent to put it away earlier; the tool had fallen to the floor and rolled away. Thor seemed to have rescued it for her.
There was what seemed to her a small army of DRDs in the hangar with them, although in truth there were only six of the little mechanoids. Thor was the only one helping them directly with fetching and carrying. The others swarmed over the transport pod, inside and out, performing the more routine repairs and maintenance that didn’t require the imagination or intuition of Sebacean input.
Belima had a vague image from Before of a hangar that contained dozens of transport pods. This one only held the one they had arrived in and the one they were working on, but there was space for many more. Several of those spaces - Tokar had called them “berths” - held what looked like pieces of other pods, but nothing that could be used as anything other than spare parts.
Tokar withdrew from the area in which he worked and took a step back from the pod, wiping sweat from his brow and leaving behind a streak of grease. She thought there must be grease on his black shirt, as well, but couldn’t tell for sure because of the color. “Well, Bel, I think that does it for the landing gear. We ought to be able to land without fear for our lives now.” He grinned at her as he handed her the spanner.
She accepted the tool from him, replacing it in the kit. “Tokar? Why are there only two pods on Kala?” When she spoke slowly, as she did now, she was able to remember more words. “That is… too few.”
“Kala is old and has been here waiting to die for monens. There wasn’t any need for other pods. These last two were simply slower to decay than the others.”
“The other pods died?”
“Not died, exactly. They were never really alive, not like Rohvu or Kala, here.”
Belima looked down at Thor and then over at the other DRDs, still working busily away at their tasks. The transport pods were mostly machines with living parts, like their skin, but the DRDs were purely machines… “Why are there not more DRDs? They do not… dee-kay.”
“No, they don’t. I suppose Kala’s crew probably transferred the DRDs to other ships. I’m guessing they had no use for a fleet of transport pods, though, so those were left here to rot.” He shrugged and took the tool kit from her. “Pilot, Belima and are going to head back over to Rohvu.”
“Would you like the DRDs to continue repairs, Officer Rhee?”
“That’d be great, Pilot. Thanks.” He turned to Belima and gestured for her to precede him up the steps into the original transport pod. “Let’s go home, Bel.”
***
“Harvey, buddy, front and center!” John called, still bouncing the ball, his thoughts no longer chasing their own tails. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the neural clone, leaning against a wall, arms and ankles crossed.
“I’m not your servant, John, to be summoned at your whim.” Harvey sounded a little irritated, but John noted that he had come when he was called, even so. He threw the ball at him.
“I need your help, Harv.”
It was a bit disconcerting to watch Scorpius catch a child’s toy and throw it back at him, initiating a game of catch. “Oh? You need my assistance?” Harvey’s blue eyes widened in a caricature of astonishment.
“Your whole reason for existence is to ferret stuff outta my head, right?”
Harvey’s expression faded to thoughtful. “I suppose you could say that, yes.” He caught the ball again as John threw it at him. “What did you have in mind?”
“Furlow.”
“What about her?”
“What’s she up to? You told me once not to trust her. Why? What set up the red flags?” Harvey had been playing to his own tune at the time, but there still must have been something that made him want to use caution where Furlow was concerned, given that he must have known already that John didn’t trust the woman. The neural clone seemed to be able to access parts of his subconscious that John himself couldn’t access… He threw up a hand to catch the ball Harvey tossed back to him.
“She’s up to no good, I can tell you that.”
“That’s a given. Got any specifics?”
“Well, John, perhaps we should start with this: I think it was awfully convenient that she injured her hand just in time to be alone aboard this Leviathan.” Harvey snagged the ball and reached around to toss it back at John in a classic Harlem Globetrotters, under the leg move. Pretty impressive, given the hindrance of the leather coat-tails…
John nodded as he reached to catch the ball, a little left of center. Harv’s aim was askew thanks to the fancy moves. He tossed it back and said, “You think she may have sabotaged something? Pilot might not’ve noticed, given his lack of mobile eyes at the time.” Now he had DRDs that could be set to monitoring Furlow’s movements, but John felt that might be a case of closing the barn door after the horse had escaped.
“I think that’s a good possibility, John.” Rather than throwing the ball back to John, Harvey began to juggle, using two more identical balls that appeared from nowhere. His tongue protruded a bit between blackish lips as he concentrated on keeping the balls in the air.
John dropped into a chair and leaned back, lifting his legs up to prop his booted feet on the main console, keeping the green telltale in sight. While sabotage was a possibility, he thought theft was more likely, given Furlow’s entrepreneurial nature. As Harvey juggled, now walking slowly around Command as he did so, John hit his comms.
“Pilot, would you please run a diagnostic on Rohvu’s navigational and life support systems?” He’d have Pip check out the food, fuel, and other supplies with him when his watch was over.
“Is there anything wrong, John?”
“Nothing’s wrong, as far as I know, Pilot, I just want to be safe.” He frowned as an amber light began to flash on the console next to the telltale. An incoming transmission, but who knew they were here? He supposed it might be Kala’s Pilot, but he had been communicating with them through their own Pilot, rather than directly, at least when they were aboard Rohvu. Dropping his feet to the floor, John reached over to stab at a button, allowing the transmission to come through.
“Attention, Leviathan Rohvu. I must speak with Tokar Rhee as soon as possible.” The image of a Sebacean male solidified in the forward viewscreen, replacing Kala and her background of stars. The man was older, about John’s father’s age in appearance, with dark skin, peppered gray and black hair, and dark brown eyes.
Feeling vaguely like a receptionist, John replied, “Mr. Rhee isn’t available right now. Can I take a message?”
“Who are you?”
John raised an eyebrow and said, “Who wants to know?”
The man nodded as if to say, Fair enough. “I am Donatri Rashov.”
That last name was familiar - Tokar and Reyna had both mentioned him in connection with their “unit.” “Tokar ought to be back in an arn or so. Leave me a number and I’ll have him call you.”
Rashov looked confused momentarily by the response, but, to give him credit, he said, “The frequency is being transmitted to your ship’s computer. Your Pilot should be able to retrieve it. The matter is urgent.”
“I’ll make sure he knows.”
Without another word, Rashov ended the transmission and the view returned to Kala and glittering, diamond-studded space. Harvey was nowhere to be found, but the red ball sat on the control console, kept from rolling to the floor by a pair of switches that, toggled as they were, held it in place.
“You know anything about this, Pilot?”
“Yes, John. I apologize. In all the activity of these past solar days, I had no chance to tell you that we intercepted a transmission that mentioned Reyna and Tokar while you were…exploring the first ship we found. With Furlow’s and Kala’s help, Rohvu and I were able to enhance the signal and send them our current location. Apparently, that signal reached its intended recipient.”
“Apparently.” John leaned back in the chair again, unconsciously bringing a thumb up to his lips. After a moment, he said, “Tokar? You read me?”
“Yes, John?”
“Just got a call for you from a guy name of Donatello Rashov.”
“Donatri?”
“He needs to talk to you as soon as you’re back. Says it’s urgent.”
“Thanks, John. We’re on our way back now; be there in... about 200 microts. Are you in Command?”
“Yeah, Command.” How the hell was this going to play into whatever plans Furlow was making, since it seemed she had known about this transmission stuff from the start?
***
As advertised, a few minutes later, Tokar entered Command, preceded by the sound of confident footsteps and creaking leather. By way of greeting, he said, “Did Rashov leave a comms frequency, Crichton?”
“Good to see you, too, man.” The ex-Peacekeeper acknowledged the admonitory welcome with a wave and a lopsided grin as he pulled a chair over toward the main console. “Yeah, Pilot can retrieve it for you,” John answered the initial question, reaching over to retrieve his ball.
“Pilot, would you please raise Donatri Rashov at the frequency he provided?” Tokar requested.
“Certainly, Tokar.”
John threw a sharp look at the Sebacean. “This guy’s in command of the unit you’re trying to get back to,” he stated. “Don’t you want to talk to him in private?”
“Not necessary, Crichton. Besides, Reyna and I thought you two should be introduced.”
“Tokar, I don’t-” Pilot’s voice cut him off.
“I have Donatri Rashov, Tokar Rhee.”
“Put him up on the clamshell, please, Pilot.”
The same grizzled, no-nonsense image came to flickering life, this time on the clamshell, as requested. Rashov looked surprised to see John there with Tokar. He frowned.
Tokar laughed in response. “Don’t worry about John, Donatri. He’s a friend.” He turned to John. “John Crichton...” Gesturing toward the clamshell, he continued, "...meet Donatri Rashov, ex-Peacekeeper, Special Ops Division.”
“Did you say John Crichton?”
“That’s me,” John responded, wondering if this was going to be another of those “infamous John Crichton, master-mind of crime” reactions that he had started getting more and more in recent months. He returned the steely gaze of the ex-PK commando cautiously.
“That’s not possible.” The man’s tone was flat with skepticism.
“Oh? Well, hell, Sheriff, I’ve got my driver’s license right here, somewhere…” He made an exaggerated show of searching for a wallet. “…says John Robert Crichton…”
Tokar shook his head and said, “What’ve you heard, Donatri?” He exchanged a look with John that said, Humor him, for now.
“John Crichton was reported less than a weeken ago on the other side of the galaxy from where you are now, accompanied by Captain Bialar Crais and Officer Aeryn Sun.”
John felt Tokar’s eyes on him and wondered what, if anything, Reyna had told him even as he felt the blood drain from his head. “You must be mistaken, Donatri. I can assure you this is John Crichton,” Tokar replied. The subject of the discussion barely heard him through the sudden ringing in his ears.
Rashov studied John through the medium of the clamshell. “Perhaps my intel was off,” he conceded. “Renick was lucky enough to intercept a transmission from a retrieval squad that was sent to track down Crais and the gunship he stole from the Peacekeepers. It said that Crais was accompanied by the renegade Aeryn Sun and the Human John Crichton, as well as a Bannik and a Hynerian, otherwise unidentified.”
“Stark and Rygel, no doubt,” John said quietly. He closed his eyes, shutting off the sight of the flickering clamshell image and the thoughtful look on Rhee’s face. Dammit. What the hell was happening with Moya and Talyn? A retrieval squad? That couldn’t be good. And where were D’Argo and Jool in all this? And the other Chiana?
He opened his eyes. “What do you care about Crais and Talyn?”
“Talyn?”
“The gunship. His name is Talyn. He was named for Aeryn’s father. Why are you interested in them?” He sounded hostile, even to himself.
Before answering, Rashov looked over to Tokar, who said nothing, but shrugged, neither encouraging nor discouraging an answer on the older man’s part. “Crais and his gunship have earned quite a reputation in the Uncharted Territories over the past few monens.” He paused and apparently came to a decision about John before continuing. “We were trying to locate them to recruit them. That hasn’t worked out, yet, because of the little matter of that retrieval squad.”
“What are you guys? Mercenaries?”
“Not exactly, John,” Tokar answered the question. “We’re ex-Peacekeepers who are trying to be what the Peacekeepers should be.”
John turned to him. “You mean they’re not supposed to be a buncha fascists with a God complex?” He knew he sounded harsh, but fuck! It had just been confirmed for him, out of the blue, that not only had he definitely been twinned, but his frelling twin was with Aeryn. Not to mention allied with Crais…
He abruptly stood. “Tokar, man, you two go ahead and make whatever plans you wanna make. I have to take a walk.” If Rhee was going to be here in Command anyway, he could just finish out John’s watch. He slammed blindly out of Command, bitter and angry at the hand Fate had dealt him.
***
Crichton’s abrupt departure startled Tokar. The man was obviously upset and it seemed to have something to do with the mention of Crais and Sun…
“What the frell was that about?”
“He’s not usually like that, Donatri.”
“You obviously wanted me to talk to him, Tokar. Why?”
Tokar turned his attention back to the clamshell from the open doorway through which Crichton had just disappeared. “Because I think he might be able to help us out, down the line.”
“That man has never been a Peacekeeper.”
“Well, no, he’s not even Sebacean.” He looked more sharply at his superior and friend. “When did you become an elitist?”
Rashov snorted. “You know better than that, Rhee. He doesn’t have Peacekeeper training. If you want to recruit someone, better to find Crais or Officer Sun. Less work on our part to make them a functional part of the group.”
“That’s not necessarily true, but even if it were, Crichton can handle himself in a fire fight and he’s pretty smart. So’s his friend Chiana, but I suppose that’s not important right now, though, is it?”
“No, it isn’t.” Returning to the original topic of conversation, or what would’ve been, had Tokar not involved Crichton, Rashov said, “We need you and Reyna back here, right away.”
“You know that’s not possible. We’re too far away.”
“Granted, you’ve got a good distance to travel, but if you can make it to Jindar, we can rendezvous with you there. That should be only a couple of solar days’ hard travel from your current location.”
“I don’t think this Leviathan is well enough to travel that far.”
“Then find another mode of transportation.”
“Well, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, that’s right.” He smacked himself on the forehead. “Because we’re on a sick Leviathan that doesn’t have any transport pods or Prowlers available.”
“Lose the sarcasm, Rhee.”
Tokar dropped his eyes for a microt. “Sorry.” Then it hit him that he had been wrong - Rohvu did have two transport pods, one in good condition, the other usable. He looked back up at Rashov. “Maybe I can find another mode of transportation, after all.”
***
Chiana woke feeling refreshed, for a change. She had slept well, having decided a nap was in order after a long day of DRD and pod repair, and now she was hungry. “Lights.” At the sound of her voice, still a little gruff with sleep, the lights in her quarters came up to reveal a small chamber very much like her quarters on Moya, only not so cluttered. She hadn’t had enough time or opportunity to accumulate much stuff.
Throwing the blankets off, she sprang from her bed and began to dress, intending to head to the center chamber and prepare last meal.
“Hey, Crichton? You hungry?” she commed, but got no response. She knew she had slept for a few arns, but she thought that it must still be his watch. “Crichton?”
“John has turned off his comms, Chiana,” Pilot informed her apologetically.
“Why? Isn’t he still on watch?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed to pull on her boots.
“Tokar Rhee is currently on watch.”
“Did I… did I sleep that long, Pilot?”
“No, Chiana, Tokar has taken the last arn of John’s watch. I’m afraid I don’t know why.”
“Do you know where Crichton is?”
“I do not.”
A little worried now, Chiana lost some of her enthusiasm. It wasn’t like Crichton to just disappear when he had responsibilities. Think. If you were Crichton, where would you go? Normally, if something was bothering him, he’d take his module out for a run, even if there was nowhere to run to. With no module available, he might have taken the transport pod over to Kala, since it seemed that Tokar was back…
She stood. “Pilot? Did he…did Crichton take the transport pod anywhere?”
“No, Chiana. The pod is in the hangar. John has not left Rohvu.”
“Thanks.” If he didn’t take the pod anywhere…
***
Less than two hundred microts later, Chiana found Crichton on Rohvu’s observation deck. He sat huddled in on himself in the center of the huge room, his back to the doorway. The lights were down so that the beauty of the starfield that more or less surrounded him remained undiluted. The pale skin of his arms and the back of his neck were the easiest parts of him to spot in the darkness of the room. He looked… vulnerable, arms wrapped around his knees, head resting on them.
“Crichton?” She didn’t speak loudly, reluctant to disturb him, not knowing what had happened, but understanding that something had.
“Go ‘way, Pip.” He didn’t move to look at her or even shift his position by so much as a dench.
“You okay, Old Man?”
“I don’t want to talk right now, Pip…” There was a warning in his tone, which she, of course, chose to ignore.
Without another word, Chiana walked over and sat down next to him, mirroring his position, careful not to touch him. He didn’t say anything and neither did she, they simply looked at each other as the stars swirled around them.
Left Behind, chapter 17
Left Behind, chapter 19
Timeline placement: earlyish season 3, spoilers for “Eat Me”
Rating: PG-13
Words: 3,994
Disclaimer: The Farscape universe, and all that is in it, is not mine, but rather belongs to the Jim Henson Company. This is a work of fiction based in that universe. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has been or will be collected. No betas were harmed in the writing of this fic. Previous chapter links at the end of the post.
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Chapter Eighteen
John Crichton watched as the red ball bounced twice - once off the bulkhead and again off the deck - before heading back directly to his hand as if irresistibly drawn there by the force of gravity. He had found the ball on Kala, probably left behind by one of her passengers/crew decades ago, given the layer of dust that surrounded and covered it. Couldn’t resist taking it back to Rohvu with him, though. He had been playing catch by himself for about twenty minutes, deliberately trying to make his mind a blank, but having little success. Thoughts chased round and round in his head like a German Shepard after a squirrel.
Furlow. Chiana. Aeryn. Moya. Furlow. Chiana. Aeryn. Moya.
As a nod to why he was here on Command with so little to distract him, John glanced at the failsafe indicator on the main console. The light was still green and steady. Just as the lights that now shone overhead were steady, if not green.
Rohvu had been gaining strength little by little for two solar days now, ever since the transfusion had begun. While he was still nowhere near full strength - that would take a couple of weeks yet, although he wouldn’t be hooked up to Kala for much longer - he was strong enough that they no longer had to fumble around in the dark or worry about areas being closed off because of a lack of atmosphere. With the help of the DRDs salvaged from the two dead Leviathans and those donated to them by Kala and her Pilot, quite a few repairs and clean-up projects were well under way.
Which brought him to Moya. Ever since the rooms had been cleaned up and now that the lights had been restored, Rohvu reminded him more and more, at least physically, of Moya and of how much he missed her and the rest of his friends. Even Rohvu’s little burbling sounds were similar in tone, if not regularity, to Moya’s.
Thinking about Moya made him think about Aeryn. Not that he ever really stopped thinking about her, it just brought her to the forefront of his mind. It had been weeks since he had last seen her, heard her voice, smelled the unique scent that was Aeryn Sun. Weeks since he had met frelling Kaarvok and had, probably, been twinned. Was Aeryn even now with his twin, unaware that he - that John Crichton was also on another Leviathan light years away?
And that brought him to Chiana, also twinned. Also aboard Moya even as she was here aboard Rohvu. He thanked Zhaan’s goddess that Chiana was here with him as he really didn’t want to start over again from scratch learning how to make friends and influence people in the Uncharted Territories.
He still hadn’t talked to her about that kiss. Maybe Harvey was right… Maybe he was a coward. And maybe he was magnifying the whole thing way out of proportion. Pip wasn’t treating him any differently now than she had when they were on Moya. She always had been and always would be a flirt.
Then there was Furlow. How did Furlow fit into all this? She didn’t. She just didn’t fit in this little soap opera that he called his life and the fact that she didn’t fit made him think that she was going to bail soon and that somehow, someway, she was going to screw them all in the name of a healthy profit. He just couldn’t see how, yet.
Bulkhead. Deck. Hand. Furlow. Chiana. Aeryn. Bulkhead. Deck. Hand. Moya. Furlow. Chiana. Bulkhead. Deck. Hand. Aeryn. Moya.
Harvey.
***
“Is this right, Tokar?” Belima handed a driver to the tall Sebacean, who was reaching up into the inner workings of the transport pod from directly beneath the hammond-side landing gear.
Brown eyes turned from the task at hand to look down at her. “Yeah, Belima,” Tokar said as he reached down for the driver. “That’s exactly the one I need.”
They had been here on Kala for several arns, working at repairing the second transport pod that Kala and her Pilot had offered to them, having come here from Rohvu on the first, which had already been in a usable condition. Belima was pleased that Tokar had accepted her offer of help, which made her feel useful for the first time since- Her mind shied away from completing the thought as a shiver ran down her spine.
She looked up again to see Tokar’s hand reaching down from the dark space above her head, holding out the driver she had just given him. “Spanner, please, Bel.”
Belima took the driver from him and carefully returned it to its proper place in the tool kit, but the spanner he wanted wasn’t where it should be. Before she had a chance to panic, though, something bumped her foot. The DRD that John called Thor held the missing spanner in one of its “hands” and she remembered that she had not been paying attention when she’d bent to put it away earlier; the tool had fallen to the floor and rolled away. Thor seemed to have rescued it for her.
There was what seemed to her a small army of DRDs in the hangar with them, although in truth there were only six of the little mechanoids. Thor was the only one helping them directly with fetching and carrying. The others swarmed over the transport pod, inside and out, performing the more routine repairs and maintenance that didn’t require the imagination or intuition of Sebacean input.
Belima had a vague image from Before of a hangar that contained dozens of transport pods. This one only held the one they had arrived in and the one they were working on, but there was space for many more. Several of those spaces - Tokar had called them “berths” - held what looked like pieces of other pods, but nothing that could be used as anything other than spare parts.
Tokar withdrew from the area in which he worked and took a step back from the pod, wiping sweat from his brow and leaving behind a streak of grease. She thought there must be grease on his black shirt, as well, but couldn’t tell for sure because of the color. “Well, Bel, I think that does it for the landing gear. We ought to be able to land without fear for our lives now.” He grinned at her as he handed her the spanner.
She accepted the tool from him, replacing it in the kit. “Tokar? Why are there only two pods on Kala?” When she spoke slowly, as she did now, she was able to remember more words. “That is… too few.”
“Kala is old and has been here waiting to die for monens. There wasn’t any need for other pods. These last two were simply slower to decay than the others.”
“The other pods died?”
“Not died, exactly. They were never really alive, not like Rohvu or Kala, here.”
Belima looked down at Thor and then over at the other DRDs, still working busily away at their tasks. The transport pods were mostly machines with living parts, like their skin, but the DRDs were purely machines… “Why are there not more DRDs? They do not… dee-kay.”
“No, they don’t. I suppose Kala’s crew probably transferred the DRDs to other ships. I’m guessing they had no use for a fleet of transport pods, though, so those were left here to rot.” He shrugged and took the tool kit from her. “Pilot, Belima and are going to head back over to Rohvu.”
“Would you like the DRDs to continue repairs, Officer Rhee?”
“That’d be great, Pilot. Thanks.” He turned to Belima and gestured for her to precede him up the steps into the original transport pod. “Let’s go home, Bel.”
***
“Harvey, buddy, front and center!” John called, still bouncing the ball, his thoughts no longer chasing their own tails. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the neural clone, leaning against a wall, arms and ankles crossed.
“I’m not your servant, John, to be summoned at your whim.” Harvey sounded a little irritated, but John noted that he had come when he was called, even so. He threw the ball at him.
“I need your help, Harv.”
It was a bit disconcerting to watch Scorpius catch a child’s toy and throw it back at him, initiating a game of catch. “Oh? You need my assistance?” Harvey’s blue eyes widened in a caricature of astonishment.
“Your whole reason for existence is to ferret stuff outta my head, right?”
Harvey’s expression faded to thoughtful. “I suppose you could say that, yes.” He caught the ball again as John threw it at him. “What did you have in mind?”
“Furlow.”
“What about her?”
“What’s she up to? You told me once not to trust her. Why? What set up the red flags?” Harvey had been playing to his own tune at the time, but there still must have been something that made him want to use caution where Furlow was concerned, given that he must have known already that John didn’t trust the woman. The neural clone seemed to be able to access parts of his subconscious that John himself couldn’t access… He threw up a hand to catch the ball Harvey tossed back to him.
“She’s up to no good, I can tell you that.”
“That’s a given. Got any specifics?”
“Well, John, perhaps we should start with this: I think it was awfully convenient that she injured her hand just in time to be alone aboard this Leviathan.” Harvey snagged the ball and reached around to toss it back at John in a classic Harlem Globetrotters, under the leg move. Pretty impressive, given the hindrance of the leather coat-tails…
John nodded as he reached to catch the ball, a little left of center. Harv’s aim was askew thanks to the fancy moves. He tossed it back and said, “You think she may have sabotaged something? Pilot might not’ve noticed, given his lack of mobile eyes at the time.” Now he had DRDs that could be set to monitoring Furlow’s movements, but John felt that might be a case of closing the barn door after the horse had escaped.
“I think that’s a good possibility, John.” Rather than throwing the ball back to John, Harvey began to juggle, using two more identical balls that appeared from nowhere. His tongue protruded a bit between blackish lips as he concentrated on keeping the balls in the air.
John dropped into a chair and leaned back, lifting his legs up to prop his booted feet on the main console, keeping the green telltale in sight. While sabotage was a possibility, he thought theft was more likely, given Furlow’s entrepreneurial nature. As Harvey juggled, now walking slowly around Command as he did so, John hit his comms.
“Pilot, would you please run a diagnostic on Rohvu’s navigational and life support systems?” He’d have Pip check out the food, fuel, and other supplies with him when his watch was over.
“Is there anything wrong, John?”
“Nothing’s wrong, as far as I know, Pilot, I just want to be safe.” He frowned as an amber light began to flash on the console next to the telltale. An incoming transmission, but who knew they were here? He supposed it might be Kala’s Pilot, but he had been communicating with them through their own Pilot, rather than directly, at least when they were aboard Rohvu. Dropping his feet to the floor, John reached over to stab at a button, allowing the transmission to come through.
“Attention, Leviathan Rohvu. I must speak with Tokar Rhee as soon as possible.” The image of a Sebacean male solidified in the forward viewscreen, replacing Kala and her background of stars. The man was older, about John’s father’s age in appearance, with dark skin, peppered gray and black hair, and dark brown eyes.
Feeling vaguely like a receptionist, John replied, “Mr. Rhee isn’t available right now. Can I take a message?”
“Who are you?”
John raised an eyebrow and said, “Who wants to know?”
The man nodded as if to say, Fair enough. “I am Donatri Rashov.”
That last name was familiar - Tokar and Reyna had both mentioned him in connection with their “unit.” “Tokar ought to be back in an arn or so. Leave me a number and I’ll have him call you.”
Rashov looked confused momentarily by the response, but, to give him credit, he said, “The frequency is being transmitted to your ship’s computer. Your Pilot should be able to retrieve it. The matter is urgent.”
“I’ll make sure he knows.”
Without another word, Rashov ended the transmission and the view returned to Kala and glittering, diamond-studded space. Harvey was nowhere to be found, but the red ball sat on the control console, kept from rolling to the floor by a pair of switches that, toggled as they were, held it in place.
“You know anything about this, Pilot?”
“Yes, John. I apologize. In all the activity of these past solar days, I had no chance to tell you that we intercepted a transmission that mentioned Reyna and Tokar while you were…exploring the first ship we found. With Furlow’s and Kala’s help, Rohvu and I were able to enhance the signal and send them our current location. Apparently, that signal reached its intended recipient.”
“Apparently.” John leaned back in the chair again, unconsciously bringing a thumb up to his lips. After a moment, he said, “Tokar? You read me?”
“Yes, John?”
“Just got a call for you from a guy name of Donatello Rashov.”
“Donatri?”
“He needs to talk to you as soon as you’re back. Says it’s urgent.”
“Thanks, John. We’re on our way back now; be there in... about 200 microts. Are you in Command?”
“Yeah, Command.” How the hell was this going to play into whatever plans Furlow was making, since it seemed she had known about this transmission stuff from the start?
***
As advertised, a few minutes later, Tokar entered Command, preceded by the sound of confident footsteps and creaking leather. By way of greeting, he said, “Did Rashov leave a comms frequency, Crichton?”
“Good to see you, too, man.” The ex-Peacekeeper acknowledged the admonitory welcome with a wave and a lopsided grin as he pulled a chair over toward the main console. “Yeah, Pilot can retrieve it for you,” John answered the initial question, reaching over to retrieve his ball.
“Pilot, would you please raise Donatri Rashov at the frequency he provided?” Tokar requested.
“Certainly, Tokar.”
John threw a sharp look at the Sebacean. “This guy’s in command of the unit you’re trying to get back to,” he stated. “Don’t you want to talk to him in private?”
“Not necessary, Crichton. Besides, Reyna and I thought you two should be introduced.”
“Tokar, I don’t-” Pilot’s voice cut him off.
“I have Donatri Rashov, Tokar Rhee.”
“Put him up on the clamshell, please, Pilot.”
The same grizzled, no-nonsense image came to flickering life, this time on the clamshell, as requested. Rashov looked surprised to see John there with Tokar. He frowned.
Tokar laughed in response. “Don’t worry about John, Donatri. He’s a friend.” He turned to John. “John Crichton...” Gesturing toward the clamshell, he continued, "...meet Donatri Rashov, ex-Peacekeeper, Special Ops Division.”
“Did you say John Crichton?”
“That’s me,” John responded, wondering if this was going to be another of those “infamous John Crichton, master-mind of crime” reactions that he had started getting more and more in recent months. He returned the steely gaze of the ex-PK commando cautiously.
“That’s not possible.” The man’s tone was flat with skepticism.
“Oh? Well, hell, Sheriff, I’ve got my driver’s license right here, somewhere…” He made an exaggerated show of searching for a wallet. “…says John Robert Crichton…”
Tokar shook his head and said, “What’ve you heard, Donatri?” He exchanged a look with John that said, Humor him, for now.
“John Crichton was reported less than a weeken ago on the other side of the galaxy from where you are now, accompanied by Captain Bialar Crais and Officer Aeryn Sun.”
John felt Tokar’s eyes on him and wondered what, if anything, Reyna had told him even as he felt the blood drain from his head. “You must be mistaken, Donatri. I can assure you this is John Crichton,” Tokar replied. The subject of the discussion barely heard him through the sudden ringing in his ears.
Rashov studied John through the medium of the clamshell. “Perhaps my intel was off,” he conceded. “Renick was lucky enough to intercept a transmission from a retrieval squad that was sent to track down Crais and the gunship he stole from the Peacekeepers. It said that Crais was accompanied by the renegade Aeryn Sun and the Human John Crichton, as well as a Bannik and a Hynerian, otherwise unidentified.”
“Stark and Rygel, no doubt,” John said quietly. He closed his eyes, shutting off the sight of the flickering clamshell image and the thoughtful look on Rhee’s face. Dammit. What the hell was happening with Moya and Talyn? A retrieval squad? That couldn’t be good. And where were D’Argo and Jool in all this? And the other Chiana?
He opened his eyes. “What do you care about Crais and Talyn?”
“Talyn?”
“The gunship. His name is Talyn. He was named for Aeryn’s father. Why are you interested in them?” He sounded hostile, even to himself.
Before answering, Rashov looked over to Tokar, who said nothing, but shrugged, neither encouraging nor discouraging an answer on the older man’s part. “Crais and his gunship have earned quite a reputation in the Uncharted Territories over the past few monens.” He paused and apparently came to a decision about John before continuing. “We were trying to locate them to recruit them. That hasn’t worked out, yet, because of the little matter of that retrieval squad.”
“What are you guys? Mercenaries?”
“Not exactly, John,” Tokar answered the question. “We’re ex-Peacekeepers who are trying to be what the Peacekeepers should be.”
John turned to him. “You mean they’re not supposed to be a buncha fascists with a God complex?” He knew he sounded harsh, but fuck! It had just been confirmed for him, out of the blue, that not only had he definitely been twinned, but his frelling twin was with Aeryn. Not to mention allied with Crais…
He abruptly stood. “Tokar, man, you two go ahead and make whatever plans you wanna make. I have to take a walk.” If Rhee was going to be here in Command anyway, he could just finish out John’s watch. He slammed blindly out of Command, bitter and angry at the hand Fate had dealt him.
***
Crichton’s abrupt departure startled Tokar. The man was obviously upset and it seemed to have something to do with the mention of Crais and Sun…
“What the frell was that about?”
“He’s not usually like that, Donatri.”
“You obviously wanted me to talk to him, Tokar. Why?”
Tokar turned his attention back to the clamshell from the open doorway through which Crichton had just disappeared. “Because I think he might be able to help us out, down the line.”
“That man has never been a Peacekeeper.”
“Well, no, he’s not even Sebacean.” He looked more sharply at his superior and friend. “When did you become an elitist?”
Rashov snorted. “You know better than that, Rhee. He doesn’t have Peacekeeper training. If you want to recruit someone, better to find Crais or Officer Sun. Less work on our part to make them a functional part of the group.”
“That’s not necessarily true, but even if it were, Crichton can handle himself in a fire fight and he’s pretty smart. So’s his friend Chiana, but I suppose that’s not important right now, though, is it?”
“No, it isn’t.” Returning to the original topic of conversation, or what would’ve been, had Tokar not involved Crichton, Rashov said, “We need you and Reyna back here, right away.”
“You know that’s not possible. We’re too far away.”
“Granted, you’ve got a good distance to travel, but if you can make it to Jindar, we can rendezvous with you there. That should be only a couple of solar days’ hard travel from your current location.”
“I don’t think this Leviathan is well enough to travel that far.”
“Then find another mode of transportation.”
“Well, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, that’s right.” He smacked himself on the forehead. “Because we’re on a sick Leviathan that doesn’t have any transport pods or Prowlers available.”
“Lose the sarcasm, Rhee.”
Tokar dropped his eyes for a microt. “Sorry.” Then it hit him that he had been wrong - Rohvu did have two transport pods, one in good condition, the other usable. He looked back up at Rashov. “Maybe I can find another mode of transportation, after all.”
***
Chiana woke feeling refreshed, for a change. She had slept well, having decided a nap was in order after a long day of DRD and pod repair, and now she was hungry. “Lights.” At the sound of her voice, still a little gruff with sleep, the lights in her quarters came up to reveal a small chamber very much like her quarters on Moya, only not so cluttered. She hadn’t had enough time or opportunity to accumulate much stuff.
Throwing the blankets off, she sprang from her bed and began to dress, intending to head to the center chamber and prepare last meal.
“Hey, Crichton? You hungry?” she commed, but got no response. She knew she had slept for a few arns, but she thought that it must still be his watch. “Crichton?”
“John has turned off his comms, Chiana,” Pilot informed her apologetically.
“Why? Isn’t he still on watch?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed to pull on her boots.
“Tokar Rhee is currently on watch.”
“Did I… did I sleep that long, Pilot?”
“No, Chiana, Tokar has taken the last arn of John’s watch. I’m afraid I don’t know why.”
“Do you know where Crichton is?”
“I do not.”
A little worried now, Chiana lost some of her enthusiasm. It wasn’t like Crichton to just disappear when he had responsibilities. Think. If you were Crichton, where would you go? Normally, if something was bothering him, he’d take his module out for a run, even if there was nowhere to run to. With no module available, he might have taken the transport pod over to Kala, since it seemed that Tokar was back…
She stood. “Pilot? Did he…did Crichton take the transport pod anywhere?”
“No, Chiana. The pod is in the hangar. John has not left Rohvu.”
“Thanks.” If he didn’t take the pod anywhere…
***
Less than two hundred microts later, Chiana found Crichton on Rohvu’s observation deck. He sat huddled in on himself in the center of the huge room, his back to the doorway. The lights were down so that the beauty of the starfield that more or less surrounded him remained undiluted. The pale skin of his arms and the back of his neck were the easiest parts of him to spot in the darkness of the room. He looked… vulnerable, arms wrapped around his knees, head resting on them.
“Crichton?” She didn’t speak loudly, reluctant to disturb him, not knowing what had happened, but understanding that something had.
“Go ‘way, Pip.” He didn’t move to look at her or even shift his position by so much as a dench.
“You okay, Old Man?”
“I don’t want to talk right now, Pip…” There was a warning in his tone, which she, of course, chose to ignore.
Without another word, Chiana walked over and sat down next to him, mirroring his position, careful not to touch him. He didn’t say anything and neither did she, they simply looked at each other as the stars swirled around them.
Left Behind, chapter 17
Left Behind, chapter 19