Title: There's No Place Like Home

Author: David Falkayn email: David Falkayn

Archiving: email me first

Rating: PG--PG-13

Category: Action/Adventure; Crossover--Farscape/Dominic Flandry

Warnings: Some sexual situations, but no graphic sex. Minor subplot involving female/female relationship--again, no graphic sex.

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

Part 1

Notes and Disclaimer: This is the first Farscape fanfic I have attempted and the first crossover, and it is the first part of a rather long story that I have already posted on the SciFi Farscape Bulletin Board. It is a crossover between the Farscape Universe and Poul Anderson's Universe of the Terran Empire and Dominic Flandry. The version posted here has been revised-new scenes have been added and inconsistencies and typos have been cleaned up. Once the entire series has been revised, I will be submitting it to various archives. Anyone who wishes to archive it is welcome to do so-all I ask is that you let me know and provide a link to your site as my wife and I would enjoy reading the other stories you have archived. And now, for the standard legal stuff: The characters that belong to Farscape are the property of Rockne, DK, Henson, et al; and Dominic Flandry, Chunderban Desai, Aycharaych, and the universe of the Terran Empire all belong to Poul Anderson. No money is being made on this story-it's purely for amusement, so please don't sue-all we have are student loans anyway. I'm rating this story as PG to PG-13. Feedback, as always, is most appreciated and craved.

***************************************

"The first thing…and I mean the very first thing…I'm gonna do after we get liberty and I'm on the ground at Cynosure is check into the BOQ and take a long hot shower! I've had it with sodding vibroshowers!" Ensign Esteban De Cruz, the helm officer of His Majesty's Imperial Terran Navy Light Cruiser, Athena, exclaimed as he stretched his legs.

"I hear you man!" The navigations and communications officer, Ensign Richard Blankenship agreed as he cracked his knuckles. The Athena had been on patrol on this isolated border of Imperial space for nearly six months now, and they were due soon to be rotated out. "But we're still planning on hitting Aphrodite's-right?"

"Of course!" De Cruz leered as his fellow officer mentioned the name of the luxurious-and expensive brothel that was one of the most popular attractions in the sector capital. "I've been counting down the days. I was planning on taking that red-head, Felicia-you know what she can do-and the new girl, Marianne."

"Oh, yeah! I remember…" Blankenship grinned back. "Elisa had just bought her before we left."

"Yup." De Cruz sat back smugly in his chair. "I figure by now she oughta be ready. What about you?"

"I was thinking about Fatima…" Blankenship licked his lips as he contemplated the sultry raven-haired beauty from Arakeen.

"Hmmm…not bad…Rich…" De Cruz grinned. "Looks like we're gonna have ourselves one helluva a Birthday blowout!"

******************************

Captain Mikhail Gorshkov, as the lift neared the bridge of the light cruiser under his command, adjusting his white pants and straightening out at his dark blue jacket, allowed himself a brief smile as he imagined the conversations that were now taking place on the bridge. He had often heard from his mistress, Petty Officer Nina Rasmussen, senior sensor tech, about De Cruz and Blankenship's plans for shore leave and the Emperor's Birthday. The entire evening those two junior officer had planned, Gorshkov mused, would probably cost them-when you include the seven course dinner, wines and brandies, and cigars-their entire pay that they've saved while they've been out on patrol. But that's ensigns for you; Gorshkov chuckled, only to quickly wipe the smirk off his face as the doors to the lift slid open. Images must be maintained and all that. The sandy haired captain said to himself as the Marine corporal standing guard spotted him out of the corner of his eye.

"Captain on the bridge!" The young Marine barked out, snapping to attention.

"As you were." The captain commanded as his crew returned to their duties. Gorshkov, while a genial man off duty, was a firm believer in maintaining a tight ship. 'It's only the Navy that is holding off the Long Night-certainly not that clown currently sitting on the throne.' The Athena's commanding officer sighed inwardly, as he addressed the lovely petty officer that was also his mistress off duty. "Sensor report?"

"All quiet, sir. No anomalies or disturbances. Just empty space…" Petty Officer Nina Rasmussen answered in a crisp voice, her Swedish accent turning a simple report into music.

"No news is good news-right?" Injecting a note of humor as he smiled, Gorshkov regarded his crew, "A few more days on patrol, then we turn this desert over to the Renown and we can return to Cynosure and its flesh pots." Seeing the chuckles come from his crew, the captain nodded his head approvingly as he sat in his chair and read the latest status reports.

*****************************

"Evasive action, Pilot-NOW!" Crichton barked out as Moya lurched to avoid a burst from the frag cannons of the command carrier in pursuit of the band of outlaws.

"Moya is trying her best, Commander, but she is tiring. The pursuing prowlers are beginning to damage her." Pilot responded as he pushed down a blue pylon with one claw while simultaneously pushing red and yellow ones with two of his other limbs.

"John…" The brown haired human turned at the lyrical voice of the tall leather clad woman standing next to him at the other control panel. "I still think I should take my prowler out and engage that attacking squadron."

"Don't be crazy, Aeryn!" Crichton called back, a note of worry creeping into his voice. "There's at least five of them out there and only one of you-they'll chew you up and spit you out!"

Shaking her head at yet another one of Crichton's peculiar expressions, Aeryn took a deep breath, but before she could speak, she heard the deep voice of D'Argo, the tentacled Luxan who had, in the period of two cycles, gone from being a despised enemy into a trusted friend. "John is right, Aeryn. There are just too many of them."

As Moya shuddered from the impact of yet another attack run, D'Argo quickly rushed to catch his young Nebari lover, Chiana, before she could fall while John instinctively rushed to Aeryn's side, performing a similar service for the former Peacekeeper, now fellow renegade. Zhaan, clutching tightly to an instrument panel, spoke out to no one in particular, "If we don't do something soon, we will have to surrender-it's that, or they will kill Moya, and I will not permit that to happen."

"I will not be taken as a prisoner again!" D'Argo growled as he hefted his qualta blade.

"No one's gonna be taken prisoner, and we're not gonna let Moya get hurt." John said in a consoling voice, then, a smirk crossed his face as inspiration struck. "'Cause I've got a plan…"

Seeing the doubtful looks his compatriots were giving him, an irritated expression crossed the human astronaut's face. "Ok…if any of you guys have any bright ideas, now would be a good time to say something…" As no one uttered a sound, Crichton nodded his head. "All right then…this is what we're going to do…" Turning towards the image of Pilot in the clamshell, John asked, "When can Moya give us starburst?"

"Not for another 120 microts, Commander." The youthful Pilot answered as he once again corrected the Leviathan's course to avoid another burst from the dangerous frag cannons of the rapidly closing command carrier.

"Ok, Pilot. I want you to steer us into the upper atmosphere of that gas giant…"

"I will not!" The outraged pilot retorted. "I will not put Moya in such danger-the gravitational forces will destroy her."

"We won't be there long enough, Pilot. Tell Moya to starburst the moment she's able to."

"Have you gone completely fahrbot, Crichton?!" Rygel XVI, the dispossessed Dominar of the Hynerian Empire shouted, the shocked look on his face mirroring that of his companions'.

"Maybe I have, Sparky…" Crichton muttered as the voice in his head urged him to abandon this scheme of his, "But I don't see as how we have many choices." Shuddering once again under the impact of the energy blasts from the attacking prowlers, John spoke gently as he tried to keep down the rattlers building up in his stomach. "Pilot, I know it's dangerous, but we're running out of options. Moya should be able to starburst and ride out the impact wave from the explosion-it'll be like surfing at Daytona before a hurricane." Crichton forced a smile as he remembered the last time he had tried a fool stunt like that.

"Very well, Commander Crichton…" The crustacean-like Pilot said, his voice still filled with doubt, "Changing course towards the gas giant."

"What in hezmana is he doing?" Lieutenant Braca, standing on the bridge of the Peacekeeper command carrier currently in hot pursuit of the Leviathan and its fugitive crew, suppressed a shudder as he remembered his last encounter with the magra-fahrbot Crichton. It had resulted in the Peacekeeper fleeing for his life in space before the insane human could take him with him on his self-destructive rampage. Fortunately, the Marauder that was supposed to dock and pick up both him and his prisoner had found the luckless Braca floating in space and had retrieved him. And-thankfully-for some unexplained reason, his superior, the half-Sebacean, half-Scarran, Scorpius, now standing next to him, was in a forgiving mood at the time.

Chuckling to himself, Scorpius smiled benignly at his underling. "Something only Crichton would do. Admire him his ingenuity, Braca."

"You don't seem terribly worried that he might die or get away, sir-if I might say so."

"Oh…Crichton will come to me, Braca-when the time is right." Scorpius flashed an evil grin as he saw the Leviathan dip into the clouds of the gas giant beneath them. "Tell the prowlers to break off pursuit-there's no need losing them."

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant snapped to attention as he turned towards his panel and issued the recall.

"Starburst!" Crichton shouted as he braced himself for what he knew was going to be a rough ride. Looking at the woman standing next to him, John repressed a grin as he saw Aeryn's taut muscles gripping her console. Behind him, the rest of Moya's family did the same as a great explosion soon accompanied the familiar sights and sounds of starburst. Everyone lurched forward as Moya caught the shockwave. Just as Crichton had anticipated, Moya rode the shock wave just as a surfer back home would ride a wave coming into shore. Straining under the tremendous forces, Rygel lost his grip on the panel his fingers were clutching for dear life and flew, along with his hoverchair, across the command deck, only stopping when he crashed into the far wall.

"What a ride!" Crichton shouted out in glee, adrenaline coursing through his system. "Just like Waikiki Beach!" Aeryn shook her head indulgently as she flashed a small, hidden smile while D'Argo rushed to check on Zhaan, who, with a delicate hand to the wrist and a warm smile, indicated to her companion that she was ok. Chiana, with a crooked grin, went over to where the fallen Dominar lay in a heap, and laughing, helped the diminutive figure back on to his throne.

"When will Moya's systems be back online?" Zhaan asked as she did a quick survey of the command area for damage.

"Not for at least two arns." Pilot replied as he went about his business of directing the DRD's in their efforts at damage control.

"Well…I don't know about the rest of you…" Crichton grimaced as he sniffed his shirt, "But I'm taking a shower and changing. I'll be back in an arn."

"I think, for once, Crichton is actually making sense." Aeryn grinned as John threw her a mock glare.

******

"Captain!?" Rasmussen looked up from her sensor station, giving her report upon seeing her commanding officer's nod. "Sensors have picked up a hyperspatial disturbance coming from subsector Lambda 3 Victor.

"There are no habitable planets there that I'm aware of, and nothing of any strategic importance." Gorshkov said as he stroked his chin. 'It's probably nothing. Under normal circumstances, I'd just log it and maybe the University back on Cynosure might send a survey vessel, but it would do the crew some good to have a combat drill-it'd shake them out of their boredom.' Straightening up in his chair, the native of the colony world of Novaya Rossiya barked out his orders. "Helm-alter course to subsector lambda 3 victor; Number One, bring the ship to yellow alert.

"Aye, Sir." Commander St. Simon responded, his cultured accent showing him to be a member of the Terran aristocracy. "Weapons Officer-bring all weapons and defense screens online. Marines to boarding pods. Pursuit craft prepare for immediate launch."

"Time to anomaly?" Gorshkov demanded as he inwardly smiled at how crisply his crew reacted. Even De Cruz, upset over having his liberty plans temporarily derailed, moved to his task of laying in a course swiftly and smoothly.

"Approximately one hour, sir."

"Very well, engage hyperspace drives. Let's see what's come into our backyard, shall we ladies and gentlemen."

 "Entering lambda 3 victor." Ensign De Cruz reported as he placed the tactical display on the main viewscreen.

"Sir." Rasmussen interjected. "Sensors are reporting a single vessel in normal space currently maintaining position."

"Thank you, Petty Officer." Captain Gorshkov acknowledged as he permitted himself a quick glance at the attractive Swede before turning his attention to his executive officer. "Maintain a ten thousand klick range between us and the alien vessel. Lock weapons and initiate scans upon entry into normal space and launch the alert fighters-but under no conditions fire without my express orders." The careful captain added for the benefit of the ship's log.

"Aye, sir." The Executive Officer of the Athena replied in his usual silky smooth voice before relaying his captain's orders to the rest of the crew of the light cruiser that had been patrolling this frontier of the Terran Empire for the past six months.

"Prepare for entry into normal space in three minutes." Gorshkov commanded, his voice thick with the thick accent of his Russian forebears, barely concealing the excitement that was beginning to mount inside him as he anticipated the coming encounter.

*********************************

After a welcome quick shower and change of clothes, John practically bounced out of his quarters-his mood was so good. In truth, the castaway astronaut was feeling rather pleased with himself. Yet another one of his 'magra-fahrbot' plans had worked, and he, along with the other six life forms that now made up his family in his home away from home had survived yet another day in the Uncharted Territories. As he glanced down the corridor, he spied the beautiful figure of Aeryn Sun, the woman who, much to his surprise, had come to mean a lot to the lonely human during his two years on the run. "Hey, Aeryn!" Crichton called out joyfully as he walked quickly towards her holding his right hand up high. "Who Da Man!" John laughed as he lifted Aeryn's hand and slapped her palm with his.

Exhibiting great patience, the longsuffering former Peacekeeper shook her head with amusement as she regarded the man standing before her. Unbelievably, he had stirred something deep within her that day when she, him, and D'Argo were escaping from Crais. He had uttered those words-the same words that her old lover, Velorek, the man she had betrayed for the sake of flying a prowler, had once told her-'You can be more.' After he had said those special words, her life had changed forever. Now, after two cycles with this mercurial, at times amusing, at other times irritating, specimen from a primitive planet, the Sebacean beauty admitted to herself, as she permitted a small amused grin to cross her face, that she couldn't envision life without him. 'If I could only bring myself to tell him that.' Aeryn thought glumly, her smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

'What did I do now?' Crichton thought bitterly as he saw the dark cloud cross his companion's face. 'What do I have to do to break through that damned wall of hers? Sometimes I feel like just giving the frell up!' John thought ruefully as he remembered his tryst with Jenavia. But as he gazed into her lovely eyes, the lonely human shook off his doubts and forced a smile as he took his companion's hand in his. "Hey, Sunshine…we're alive! Like my grandma used to tell us-everyday above ground is a good day!"

Looking back at the man who had come to mean so much to her, Aeryn smiled. "Crichton…we're in space-we spend every day above ground."

"That's why every day's a good day!" John laughed, releasing her hand as they approached the door to the command section.

"Mmmmm…" Chiana purred as she nuzzled the neck of her current lover, the Luxan, Ka' D'Argo, grasping one of his tentacles with her hand and gently stroking it. "Why don't we go to our quarters, D'Argo? Zhaan's almost done with the sensors…" The young Nebari glanced at the station where the Delvian priest was busy working. "And Crichton and Aeryn will be back any microt now…"

"Not now, Chiana…" D'Argo, taking his young lover's hands, gently pulled them off him as he valiantly fought the urge to take her right then and there on the command deck. "When John and Aeryn get here, we'll go."

"Will the two of you find a room?!" Rygel harrumphed as he flew by the couple in his hoverchair, his disgust for the pair written on his face.

"Shut up, Toad." The young Nebari fired back as she held up her middle finger in a gesture that Crichton had taught her, and then, ignoring the Hynerian royal, turned her attentions back to her lover. "Why wait?" Chiana teased as she playfully bit the Luxan warrior's ear, and whispered. "The Terrace is closer and no one's there now."

Just then, Crichton and Aeryn entered the Command Deck the human grinning broadly, "Hey, gang! How's it hangin'?" Crichton laughed, his good mood restored, as Aeryn turned up her eyes at his utterance of yet another one of his indecipherable human expressions.

D'Argo, not sure of how he should reply to his friend's greeting, settled for a non-committal grunt while Zhaan smiled forbearingly. Chiana, though, flashed a sly grin as she glanced down at the large Luxan. "Not bad, John. You should be so lucky."

"Oh but I am, darlin'" Crichton grinned back as he picked up on Chiana's innuendo. "I'm a size 11." John smirked as he lifted his shoe triumphantly.

"Sensors are back online." Zhaan quickly interjected, a frown quickly crossing her face. "There's a disturbance in local space about 10,000 metras off our bow.

"What kind of disturbance?" Aeryn asked as she quickly rushed towards her station.

"That kind…" John's voice trailed off as he pointed at the sleek figure of the large vessel filling their screen. "What the hell is that?" He asked, the curious scientist that still existed deep within him warring with the hardened survivor that he had been forced to become.

"Whatever it is…" D'Argo growled, "…it's locked weapons on us and has launched fighters." As the Luxan finished his statement, four sleek and deadly craft emerged from launch bays on either side of the menacing warship, immediately moving to take station around the Leviathan, encircling it.

"Pilot! Send 'em the 'we're a bunch of pathetic geeks, please don't blow us clear cross the universe' message-NOW!" Crichton yelled as he gazed at the alien ship through the viewscreen.

"Sending message, Commander Crichton." Pilot responded in his usual calm and collected voice.

"Sir, We're receiving a transmission from the alien vessel." Ensign Blankenship reported from his station. "Patching it through the translation computer."

"Very good, Mr. Blankenship." Gorshkov nodded his head, and then turned towards his sensor tech. "Sensor. Any signs of weapons lock or fighter launch."

"Negative, sir." Nina Rasmussen answered in an even, professional voice. "No sign of weapons mounts at all, and their launch bay is showing no activity."

"Life scans." The captain ordered, allowing himself a brief grin at how successfully the encounter was going so far. "No weapons-looks like we've tumbled on to a merchant or exploration vehicle-so far, so good."

"Scanning, sir. The efficient sensor tech replied as she bent over her station. "Seven life signs-including the ship."

"It's organic?" Gorshkov exclaimed, both pleased and surprised. While organic ships were not unknown to the Empire, they were rare. The young, but experienced, captain of the Athena knew of none that were as large or as apparently sophisticated as this one-bringing this vessel in would indeed be a major coup for him.

"Aye, sir." His mistress replied, maintaining, as always, her professional demeanor while on duty, carefully hiding her pleased reaction at her lover's excitement at their discovery. "Besides the ship, I count 5 alien life signs, one near-human, and one human."

"Human?" Gorshkov's brow furrowed as he thought. 'The human could be a renegade…' The captain then looked at the alien vessel with disgust, '…providing weapons and expertise to lower tech barbarians in exchange for a share of the plunder. If that's the case, I'll take great pleasure in personally spacing the bastard. As for the near-human-maybe descended from colonists who settled here during the Outbreak-there's been enough time for at least a little genetic drift-especially if there was an evolutionary bottleneck.' The Russian mused as he remembered his Academy biology courses.

"Captain?" The communications officer broke his CO's reverie. "The computer's finished its analysis of the speech patterns of the alien. Then, after looking at the readout, Blankenship looked up, surprise and disbelief on his face. "Sir-the language is English-circa late 20th-early 21st centuries.

"What?" Gorshkov exclaimed. "That's impossible. The Commonwealth didn't begin the Grand Survey until about 2075, old calendar, and the earliest colony ships didn't leave the Solar System earlier than 2090. Are you sure about that analysis, ensign?"

"Yes, sir." The young ensign replied as he carefully rechecked the computer report displayed on his screen. "He's definitely speaking English. I can understand some of the words-my homeworld of Providence was originally settled by Americans shortly after the Outbreak, and we still speak English as a second language in addition to Anglic."

"Curiouser and curiouser…" The captain mused as he remembered the line from 'Alice in Wonderland.' "Mr. Blankenship? Open a communications channel with the alien."

"Aye, sir."

************************

John stood quietly at his station, head bowed, wishing the alien warship and its fighters away. Looking up, the lost astronaut saw that, as he expected, his wish wasn't granted. 'Didn't work.' Crichton thought as he saw that the ship was still there, as were its weapons. Then, looking back at D'Argo, he sighed. "We're in deeeeep dren, Big Guy."

"Very deep dren." The Luxan agreed as he gazed at the sleek killer on the screen.

"I hate this waiting!" Aeryn slammed her fists angrily on her console as she snarled at the image in front of her. "I should take my prowler out-at least I'll die doing something!"

"Aeryn has a point." D'Argo growled, agreeing with his fellow warrior. "Like you always say, Crichton, it's time to ship or cut fate."

"Uh…D'Argo?" Crichton interjected, a faint grin on his face. "You're mixing your sayings-that's sh…" The human then shook his head resignedly as he saw death staring at all of them. "Oh…forget it! It doesn't matter now, Big Guy."

"Hey…" Chiana exclaimed to the little group that had adopted her. "In case it's skipped all of your attention, they haven't fired at us yet, and we're still in one piece. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Yes it does." The Hynerian Dominar chimed in. "It means they're arguing about whether to hit us with one of their missiles and be done with it, or whether they're going to let their fighters play with us instead."

"Thank you, Little Mary Sunshine." Crichton groused back sarcastically. "Got any other words of wisdom, Buckwheat?"

Before the outraged Rygel could protest this latest affront to his honor, Pilot broke in. "We are receiving a message from the alien vessel."

As the outlaw crew of Moya let out a collective sigh of relief, Crichton spoke first, happy that for once they had met someone who was willing to talk first instead of shoot. "Well, put 'em on, Pilot-let's see who's on the other end of the phone."

They all caught their breath as the image of the warship gave way to what appeared to be a Sebacean male, but instead of wearing the standard Peacekeeper's red and black, he was attired in a dark blue tunic with a single large diamond on either collar, and white pants. John's first reaction on seeing him was of a naval officer. "Aeryn…" Crichton whispered as he looked at the image standing before him. "Do you know of any Sebacean colonies out here?"

Shaking her head, Aeryn looked at the other figures moving across the screen, all dressed in roughly the same manner, but with minor differences.

"Alien vessel…" Crichton immediately jerked his head as he picked up on the Russian accent coming from the figure on the screen. "This is Captain Mikhail Gorshkov of the INS Athena. You have encroached upon the territory of the Terran Empire. State the name of your ship, your purpose, and your point of origin."

"What the frell is a 'Terran Empire'?" Rygel blurted out. "It must not be a major power-I've never heard of it."

"Could it be a neutral Sebacean state-like the Royal planet?" D'Argo asked as he tried to make out details of the Terran ship.

"Uh…guys…" Crichton stammered in disbelief. "I don't know how to tell you this, but they're human."

"That's impossible!" Aeryn snorted. "From what you've told us of your people, and from what we've seen of you and that bucket of dren of yours, you humans don't have near the capability to build a ship like that."

"Look, Sunshine…" John snapped, irritated at yet another of the former Peacekeeper's implications of human inferiority. "Those people on that ship are human. Terra is another name for Earth in one of our ancient languages, and the name of their ship comes from the Greek goddess of war and wisdom and that captain over there with the hair trigger is speaking with a Russian accent. Believe me-I know a Russian accent when I hear one-I spent three frelling months on the space station Freedom with Sergei Rostov playing cards and getting drunk off of contraband vodka when we were off duty. What I want to know is how in hezmana we built a ship like that and what the hell this 'Terran Empire' is and where it came from!"

"John?" Zhaan interrupted, calming the angry astronaut with her gentle words. "I think you better respond to his demand. That captain seems to be growing impatient."

"Right, Zhaan." John smiled at the blue skinned Delvian as he turned towards the screen. "Athena?" This is John Crichton, pilot of Farscape 1. I'm an IASA astronaut from the planet Earth, and this ship is called Moya. My friends and I are just peaceful travelers. Moya is an unarmed vessel. We intend no harm."

'John Crichton…why is that name familiar?' Gorshkov pondered as he regarded the brown haired man dressed in black and maroon leather looking at him. As he took in the view on his screen, his eyes immediately caught sight of the raven-haired woman standing next to Crichton, wearing black leather pants and top. She was a little too athletic and stern in her appearance for Gorshkov-he preferred women who were softer, more graceful, and a little more petite, but she was very attractive. "Mr. Blankenship? Run John Crichton, Farscape 1, and IASA through our computer databanks, if you please."

"Yes sir." The young officer then entered in the query and a few moments later, turned to address his commander. "Sir? We have one entry for a John Crichton and for Farscape 1, and several entries for IASA. Farscape 1 was an experimental probe that was totally destroyed in low earth orbit due to a solar flare in the early 21st century. John Robert Crichton was the pilot of the ship. IASA was the space agency that was created by the merger of the American NASA, the Japanese and Russian space programs, and the European Space Agency in the early 21st century as space exploration proved too expensive for any one power to engage in it alone. It was dissolved after the formation of the Terran Commonwealth and of the Commonwealth Navy in 2052.

Turning back to the man calling himself John Crichton, Gorshkov flashed a sardonic grin in an effort to cover his surprise. "Mr. Crichton? You look remarkably fit for a man who has been dead for nearly a thousand years."

"A thousand…years" Crichton stammered as he caught himself on the instrument panel. "A thousand years? My dad…my sisters…DK…Alex…all gone." John fought the urge to break down into tears as the shock of Gorshkov's revelation hit home.

Then, gathering himself together, John forced himself to speak. "Captain, I know this is hard to believe, but I'm telling you the truth. I am John Crichton. Look…it's hard to explain, but I opened a wormhole and fell through it. I guess when I passed through the wormhole, I traveled in time as well as space-it's theoretically possible." As he saw the look of disbelief on Gorshkov's face, Crichton quickly added. "Captain Gorshkov? Do you have a polygraph or truth serum or some other means of verifying what I'm saying?"

After several moments of thought, the captain of the Athena reached a decision. "We don't have a hypnoprobe nor an officer skilled enough to use one here, but there is a Naval Intelligence office on the sector capital at Cynosure. They can verify the truth of your claims there. For now, stand by for a boarding party. You will, of course, comply with all requests made by the commanding officer."

As Crichton turned to towards his shipmates to gauge their opinions, he saw each of them nod their heads glumly in agreement, D'Argo and Aeryn last of all-surrender did not come easy to either one of these proud people he called friends. "Understood, captain. Send your party whenever you're ready. We'll comply completely with their instructions."

*************************
"Did you get a probable course on the Leviathan?" The half Sebacean, half-Scarran Scorpius asked as the beautiful blonde technician replaced the old cooling rod that kept his body temperature regulated with a new one, then, after she pushed a button, the assembly retracted back into his skull once again, making a grinding sound as it went in and locked itself in place.

"No, sir." Lieutenant Braca stammered as he delivered his bad news. Seeing the malevolent expression on his superior's face, the hapless officer, remembering the fate of the previous tactical officer, barely kept from cringing in fear. "The explosion caused by their starburst within the atmosphere of the gas giant…" The plodding Braca's face showed his astonishment and disbelief at the human's bold and dangerous maneuver, "…interfered with our ability to extrapolate anything near an exact course."

"Well…Braca…do you at least have a rough approximation?" The half-Scarran snapped in an irritated voice.

"A very rough one, sir." The much put upon executive officer sighed in relief as he saw his superior flash a faint smile. "They appear to have starburst towards an area of unexplored space. Because we do not possess starburst capability of our own, it will take us at least three, probably four weekens to get there at maximum hech."

"Then I would suggest we get moving. I do not want Crichton to get too far away from me."

***************************

"Commander St. Simon?" Captain Gorshkov turned towards his executive officer, already knowing what his reaction was going to be to his orders. "Take a boarding party of Marines and techs and secure control of that vessel."

"Aye, aye, sir." St. Simon grinned at the good news. To be the commanding officer of the boarding party that secured possession of this fascinating vessel would make his reputation for sure. His name would be mentioned, along with that of his captain's, to individuals that mattered-men and women who sat in private meeting rooms and in studies and drawing rooms-the sort of people who made or broke lives and careers with a word or a gesture. "Rules of engagement?"

"Minimal force should be sufficient. Secure their sidearms, of course, but otherwise, as long as they behave themselves, allow them their freedom. I'd prefer to secure their willing cooperation as much as possible."

"Aye, sir. Any other orders?"

Quickly remembering that the crew of the Moya did not speak Anglic, Gorshkov added. "Yes. Bring along hypnopaedia equipment. I want all of them fluent in Anglic by the time we reach Cynosure." Inwardly, the Russian captain sighed dejectedly. He would have liked to lead the boarding party personally. His curiosity about the strange ship and crew was on the point of overwhelming him, but he knew that his Number One desperately wanted to lead this mission, and Gorshkov thought sagely, it's never a bad thing to have the future Baron of Great Britain owe you a favor.

"Yes sir." St. Simon, after acknowledging his commanding officer's orders, turned back to the main screen and reopened the communications channel with his prize.

*****************************

After the Athena signed off, silence reigned on the command deck, everyone lost in his or her own thoughts. Aeryn glanced at John, then at the human warship, then back at John again, not willing to believe that the people who had built this sleek killing machine that could probably hold its own against a command carrier could be Crichton's people. 'It's not that I think Crichton is weak or a coward.' Aeryn thought to herself, then shook her head inwardly as her conscience broke in, 'That's a load of dren, and you know it, Sun. When you first met the human, you thought he was nothing more than a primitive savage, or-on one of your good days, maybe a child. And you still don't respect him or trust him-otherwise you'd have told him how you felt about him while you were on the Royal Planet, or in the hanger bay after you kissed him and found out that you were compatible. But what did you do? You turned your back on him-smiled-and walked away. Why? Because you think he's beneath you!'

Continuing her argument with herself, Aeryn then countered, 'No, that's not true. Yes, I didn't respect him at first, and I did think him a child. His constant prattling and nonsensical remarks reminded me of a mental deficient, and his insistence on seeking out peaceful solutions marked him as a coward to my Peacekeeper mind. But he has proven himself time and again, saving me and everyone else on more than one occasion. He's brave, loyal, and something I'll never be-loving, compassionate, and caring. That's why I don't deserve him-it's not John that is deficient…it's me-I'm the weak one-I'm the coward. That's why I can never let him know how I feel about him-it's my punishment for being weak-for being a failure.'

As Aeryn waged her private war, Zhaan looked with compassion at the back of man she had once shared unity with, his head hanging down as he clutched at the instrument panel with both hands. She empathized with him in his time of doubt-feeling more than knowing-the tide of thoughts and emotions flooding his mind. She knew that part of him was happy…ecstatic at being reunited with his fellow humans, but that another part was now feeling deep loss as he all of a sudden found that he was not just cast out alone in space, but also in time-years away from where he had started-everything and everyone that he had held dear now dust-either forgotten or at best curious entries in some computer database somewhere, that all that was his life was now gone-never to be recovered.

D'Argo, as he regarded Crichton, consciously tried to will his strength across the room to the man who had become his best friend. He had faced death and loss with this quixotic, strange, figure on more than one occasion, and had spent many arns talking and laughing with him in the manner of warriors throughout time. 'And make no mistake-Crichton is a warrior.' D'Argo concluded as he squeezed the hand of the young Nebari he had so recently grown fond of.

Chiana, while gazing at the back of the man who, more than anything else had become a surrogate brother to her, wanted more than anything else to rush towards him and hold him in her arms…to comfort him just like she did several weekens ago after what had happened when three versions of him had been cloned. She remembered him kneeling on the floor, clutching his old flight suit like a youngling clinging to a treasured blanket or toy, crying over the innocence that he had lost. But she knew that that wasn't her place-not now. That was the job of the raven-haired woman standing next to him. 'Aeryn had better decide how she feels about Crichton-and soon, or she's going to wake up one morning and find that she's either lost him to another woman-or to himself.' Chiana decided as she glared momentarily at the former Peacekeeper who didn't seem to know how lucky she truly was. 'She deserves to lose Crichton.' The young Nebari shook her head angrily as she turned her attention back to her lover, patting his hand in a reassuring gesture.

Rygel XVI, the dispossessed Dominar of 600 billion subjects grinned in anticipation as he saw the giant warship on the viewscreen. A fleet of ships like that, and he could retake his throne and stick the head of that treacherous cousin of his on a pike before the palace walls as a warning to all who would usurp their rightful ruler. Now all he had to do was convince Crichton's people to help him. 'That should be easy.' The Hynerian thought disdainfully as he regarded the forlorn human standing in front of him, 'A race of Crichtons-give me a monan and I'll be their Dominar.' Rygel smirked as he made his plans for the future.

Pilot's soothing voice then broke through the silence as he signaled the crew, causing everyone to jerk their heads up from their individual reveries. "The human vessel has reopened communications."

"Put 'em on screen, Pilot." Crichton sighed as he looked up into his future-now his present.

"Commander Crichton?" John nodded his head as he heard the faint English accent. "I'm Commander Alistaire St. Simon, the Executive Officer of the Athena. I'll be commanding the boarding party. We will be setting off in our launch in about 1 standard hour."

"We'll be waiting for you, Commander." John replied simply. "Is there anything special you want us to do before you come aboard?"

"Yes there is, Mr. Crichton. Do you have an armory or some storage area that is secure?" Seeing the time-displaced astronaut nod his head, St. Simon smiled, "Good. I would very much appreciate it if you would store all sidearms and edged weapons in your possession there please."

Knowing that he had no choice, and appreciating the fact that the Terran officer had phrased his command as a polite request instead of an order, Crichton nodded his head. "Ok, Commander. We'll do as you've instructed. Anything else?"

"Yes there is." St. Simon smiled patronizingly. "We have you in our translator program, but we don't have the rest of your crew in our database. It would make it much easier if we could all understand each other now, wouldn't it?" The Terran aristocrat looked beatifically down upon his new prizes. "After we're finished, I'll turn you over to Ensign Blankenship. He'll instruct everyone on your crew to say several sentences-enough for the translation program to build a linguistic database. Also, Petty Officer Rasmussen, one of our techs, will be coming aboard with some people. She'll be bringing hypnopaedia gear along with her so that you all will be able to learn Anglic by the time we reach Cynosure-there's going to be a lot of people who are going to want to talk to you."

'So we haven't discovered translator microbes.' Crichton thought dejectedly as first Aeryn, and then the rest of Moya's crew took their turns speaking for the communications officer. 'However, we've apparently invented a sophisticated translation program-not bad…' A small smile crept across the human's face as he looked on with growing pride at what his people had apparently accomplished.

 A sweet feminine voice with a Scandinavian accent then broke the astronaut's reverie, "Commander Crichton?"

His smile grew wider as he regarded the beautiful woman now occupying the viewscreen. Her blonde hair tied in a ponytail like Aeryn's; she also had the loveliest blue eyes he had ever seen. 'Deep blue like the middle of the ocean.' John thought wistfully while the raven-haired woman standing next to him, having witnessed his reaction to the figure now on the screen, felt her blood rushing to her head. Barely containing her rage, the former Peacekeeper grasped the edges of her console so tight that her veins began to stand out-blue streaks running up and down solid muscle as she shifted her gaze from the trelk on the viewscreen who bore a remarkable resemblance to another tech both she and Crichton had known, and then back to Crichton. "What can I do for you, ma'am?" John grinned as, totally drawn in by the lovely vision before him, he totally missed the reaction of his close companion.

"I'm Petty Officer Nina Rasmussen-the tech that Commander St. Simon told you about earlier. I just wanted to touch base with you and let you know what's going on. I'll be bringing enough hypnopaedia kits for all of you-do you know how hypnopaedia operates?" Seeing the confused looks and shaking heads on the other ship, Rasmussen nodded sagely. "That's all right. I'll explain the process when I come aboard. Don't worry-it's a painless procedure that happens while you sleep." Smiling warmly as she regarded the very attractive and rugged looking brown haired man standing before her, the lovely Swede resisted the temptation to sensuously lick her lips, settling instead for a demure smile. "How's your situation as regards food and all?"

Making a face, John chuckled. "We ate the last of the barbequed Keeva three weekens-I mean weeks-ago." 'Got to get used to thinking in human terms again.' John smirked as he regarded the human woman looking at him on the screen. "We're down to food cubes now."

"If food cubes are anything like emergency rations, you have my most sincere sympathies." Nina commiserated. "Ok, real food it is. Won't be much in the range of fresh food, I'm afraid-we've been on patrol for six months. But I recommend the chicken primavera, even though it's freeze-dried, it'll taste better than cold rations."

"We'll be looking forward to it!" John grinned, his mouth already watering at the thought of eating human food-even if freeze-dried, once again. Remembering one last, important detail, Crichton spoke up quickly before the woman on the screen broke their link, "Oh…one other thing."

"Yes?" The young petty officer smiled.

"You wouldn't happen to have any coffee on board that you could spare by any chance-would you?"

Seeing the look of longing on the time-displaced astronaut's face, Nina couldn't help but laugh merrily. "I'll see what I can do. You might have to settle for freeze dried though-is that ok by you?"

"Honey…it's been over two years since I've had a cup o' joe." Crichton laughed, exaggerating his Southern drawl. "Right now I'd even settle for chicory or ground acorns." Crichton finished through his laughter as he reveled in the fact that he was, for the first time in over two years, able to share a light moment with human company-and a beautiful woman at that.

"All right, Commander Crichton-Tell you what I'll do-I'll see about scrounging up some real coffee for you and bring it over. There's some guys on the flight deck that owe me a favor or two."

"Thanks, sweetheart." John beamed back at her, as he licked his lips in anticipation of eating human food and drinking real coffee again. "And call me John-ok?"

"Sure thing, John. And it's Nina over here."

"Ok, Nina. See you in a bit."

******

"I will not surrender my pulse rifle!" Aeryn pronounced, her eyes glaring with fury.

"And I'm not giving up my weapon either, John." D'Argo shouted, his voice ringing throughout the large room.

"Look guys…we don't have a choice here. We can't run. Moya's not going to be able to gen up enough energy for another starburst before they board, and assuming for a moment that we are able to starburst-the moment that ship out there picks up our energy spike-and I'm betting it will-she's gonna fire! She's too close for us to take evasive action, and there's no way that Moya can execute a starburst before we get nailed by every gun and missile on that ship and on those fighters. And if I know human nature-I'm willing to bet good money that those missiles are nukes! Even if we do get out-and that's a big if-Moya would be so injured that I don't know if she could recover."

"Crichton is right." Pilot said, joining the discussion. "Moya says that she cannot starburst. Surrender is the only viable alternative."

"Besides…" Crichton added, "…they're resupplying us. I don't know about you guys, but I'm frelling tired of eating food cubes."

"John, the only reason you're being so agreeable is because these are your people." Zhaan interjected.

"You're absofragginlutely right Zhaan! You're one hundred percent correct! They are my people! And yes-I want to see what the hell the human race has done in a thousand years. Is that really so unusual?"

"No John, it isn't." Zhaan smiled beatifically at her good friend and companion. "It's just that I don't want you to lose your perspective. Don't forget yours and Aeryn's experiences on that false earth."

"I haven't, Zhaan." Crichton smiled genially as he gently stroked the Delvian Pau's arm while Aeryn quickly turned her head to hide her embarrassment. "But Zhaan, you have to understand…when I heard Gorshkov's accent and then heard the name of that ship…yeah, a thousand years is a long time, and it's taking me awhile to get used to it. But they're my people. I'd forgotten how much I'd missed hearing a human name-having someone understand my craving for a hot cup of coffee. Look guys-if they're snakes, we'll deal with it. We'll do what we always do-scratch and claw and find some weird way out of whatever mess we're in. After all, that's what we do best-isn't it?"

Seeing Zhaan's and Chiana's smiles, and Aeryn and D'Argo's reluctant nods, Crichton let out a sigh of relief. "Ok-let's lock everything up and get ready-company's comin' to visit.

********************************

As Nina, carrying her bag with changes of clothes and other essentials-including a container of fresh ground Columbian coffee, was walking down the corridor on her way to the launch bay, she spied the form of her lover, Captain Gorshkov, motioning her into an empty conference room. Checking to make sure no one else was watching, the young Swede quickly ducked into the room. As the door slid shut behind her, she felt the strong arms of her lover encircling her. As she drew closer to him, their lips met for a deep kiss that lasted for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only for a few minutes. Reluctantly breaking from their kiss, Gorshkov smiled down at the lovely form of the Terran petty officer. "Nina, love. I just wanted to tell you something…"

"What, darling?" Nina purred as she stroked his collar.

"I noticed that you and Crichton seemed to have hit it off pretty well…"

"You're not jealous-are you, Mikhail?" Rasmussen teased as her arms encircled the captain's neck.

"Me? Of course not, my love. I just wanted to tell you that if you wanted to have a bit of fun, to go on ahead…I don't mind."

"Oh…" Nina looked down. "I thought you wanted to keep things going until after Birthday?"

"And I still do, Nina." Gorshkov said reassuringly as he stroked his lover's cheek. "I just thought that, since we're going to be apart until we reach Cynosure, you might grow bored, and I wanted to let you know that if you wanted to relieve that boredom while we were apart…well, I wouldn't mind."

'In other words I don't have to worry about my appointment to Officer's Candidate School.' Nina sighed inwardly in relief. In truth, she was happy at her lover's generosity-she did find the rugged Crichton quite appealing, and was hoping to liven up the rest of the cruise with a little diversion. "Thanks, darling…you're sweet." Nina then flashed an evil grin as her hands wandered. "I take it you've found yourself a little something to keep you occupied while I'm away?"

"Of course not." The Athena's captain leered back, "It's bad for morale for the captain to have more than one mistress on a ship at a time. But I would appreciate it if you would…sound out that gray skinned alien with the white hair…she seems…intriguing."

"Of course I will, darling." Nina then pulled her lover to her for another kiss. "Pity we only have 20 minutes, love…if we had more time, I'd say goodbye to you properly."

"Well then, we'll just have to make the most of the time we do have." Gorshkov leered as his hand pulled down the zipper of the coverall of the young Swede, revealing her pale skin and ample cleavage.

*******************************

As the Terran launch set down on the hangar bay deck, the six beings who made up the family that Moya's crew had become stood side by side, John and Aeryn in the center, waiting patiently for the door to open and their new guests to arrive. As the launch's access hatch slid open, eight humans with helmets, wearing gray-green pants and matching gray-green jackets, and carrying what looked like energy rifles, stormed out of the craft and took up positions flanking the crew, but not pointing their weapons directly at them. D'Argo and Aeryn, sighting the swift moving, well disciplined troopers, made as if to attack, but were restrained as John and Chiana both grasped the two fiery warriors firmly by their arms.

"Sunshine…" Crichton whispered as he eyed the Marines' deployment. "You're a professional soldier-what would you say about how those guys moved?"

"They reminded me of my old regiment." Aeryn admitted as she reluctantly maintained her position.

"Ok, just how far do you think the two of you would have gotten before they fried you?"

"Not far." Aeryn muttered, again not wanting to admit the truth.

"All right, then. Let's take this like we talked about earlier-nice and slow."

"Hey, D'Argo…" Chiana purred, as she clung to her lover. "I don't want you to throw your life away now-not when I've just found you and we've got a lead on where your son is." Then, as her lover slowly began to relax his muscles, she relaxed her grip on the Luxan warrior, sighing her relief at avoiding a possible crisis.

After the Terran Marines had deployed, a figure emerged from the craft. Dressed similar to Gorshkov, this man was slender, with dark black hair and a well-manicured mustache. As he drew closer, Crichton and Aeryn both noted the two gold disks on each lapel. "Must be rank symbols." The former Peacekeeper astutely noted as the man approached.

"Mr. Crichton? I'm Commander Alistaire St. Simon, Imperial Terran Navy, at your service." The dapper officer smiled, and then politely extended his hand.

"John Crichton." The astronaut replied as he shook his first human hand in over two years. Then, turning towards the rest of Moya's crew, John introduced everyone beginning with Aeryn and ending with the huffy Dominar.

"Welcome to the Terran Empire." St. Simon flashed his best politician's grin as he took in the crew of the Leviathan that had just fallen into his custody. "I'm sorry about your rather…abrupt…greeting, but you understand how dangerous it is on the frontier." As the Terran officer spoke, other humans came from the craft, carrying boxes and containers that they deposited neatly on the hangar floor. "Those are the supplies that were promised, plus some other equipment. We'd be happy to transport the food to your galley-if someone would be so kind as to provide directions?" The commander, in a genial voice, motioned with his hand towards the food containers.

"I'll be happy to escort your men, Commander." Zhaan replied as she gracefully walked toward the two enlisted ratings.

After the ratings had unloaded their cargo, an attractive blonde haired woman that Crichton immediately recognized as Nina approached St. Simon, handing him a data pad. "All cargo has been offloaded, sir. It shouldn't take us long to get everything set up after we enter hyperspace."

"Very good, Petty Officer Rasmussen. You're dismissed."

"Aye, aye, Sir." The attractive Swede snapped to attention, and then turned to go about her duties, but not before flashing Crichton a subtle wink that earned a glare in return from a certain Sebacean ex-Peacekeeper.

"Commander Crichton?" The worldly aristocrat held back his grin as he noted the wordless exchange between Rasmussen, Crichton, and Aeryn, 'This should prove an amusing week,' he chuckled inwardly as he cleared his throat, "If it wouldn't be a bother, I'd love a tour of this fascinating craft. Beginning, of course…" St. Simon's face then took on a stern expression momentarily, "…with your armory."

"Right this way, sir." Crichton motioned with his hand towards the exit to the hanger bay. Then, with St. Simon on one side of him and Aeryn on the other, the party, including four Marines, walked towards the armory. "We did just like you told us to do-everything's locked up."

"Very good." St. Simon nodded his head approvingly, and then, deciding that he should reward Moya's crew for their cooperation, spoke loud enough so that everyone could hear. "I just want to make clear to everyone here that you are not prisoners. Rather, think of yourselves as guests of the Terran Empire. You will not be restrained in your movements-with the exception of the armory, of course, and I encourage all of you to take the time to get to know the spacers and marines here. I'll also be happy to answer any questions you may have about the Empire-or anything else-subject to security restrictions, naturally. You'll find the Empire a pleasant place to live, and citizenship easily obtainable." Then, deliberately using Crichton's first name, St. Simon continued. "As a matter of fact…John…technically speaking, you're already a citizen of the Empire." Seeing the look of surprise on John's face, St. Simon laughed indulgently. "You see, you were born on Terra-that makes you a citizen by birth-regardless of when you were born. I'm sure the necessary paperwork can be taken care of once we arrive on Cynosure to make it official-so, congratulations Citizen. And as for everyone else…naturalized citizenship is very easy to obtain and is open to all regardless of race-you'll find it's well worth getting."

As he finished his speech, they reached the armory. After a quick inspection, and an explanation of how a pulse rifle worked and of D'Argo's qualta blade, St. Simon posted a pair of guards at the door. "A most interesting weapon, Ka' D'Argo." Is it a standard issue weapon in your military?"

"The qualta blade is more than a mere weapon." D'Argo began, a note of bitterness in his voice. "It represents the soul of the Luxan warrior-his honor-his pride-his family-are all a Luxan has. And they are all symbolized by the qualta."

"And you feel that I have taken that away from you?" Alistaire asked sagely.

"Yes." The Luxan warrior bluntly replied.

"Surely you understand our need for security…" Seeing the blank expression on the warrior's face, the Terran politician thought for several moments as the party moved towards its next destination-Pilot's chamber. "I think I might have a compromise…" D'Argo tried to keep the anticipation from his face as the human made his proposition, "The qualta blade will have to remain secured…" Dejection filled the Luxan's face, but as St. Simon finished, it vanished, replaced by guarded pleasure. "But I can allow you access to your weapon-properly supervised, of course-anytime you wish. Is this acceptable?"

Seeing the Luxan's expression, St. Simon smiled as D'Argo replied, "It will do." Rygel, watching the Terran aristocrat throughout their tour, nodded his head approvingly as it quickly became clear to him that these are people that he could do business with.

"A most fascinating individual, John!" Alistaire beamed as they left Pilot's chamber. "And you say that some of his DNA is in you, Donna Sun?"

Aeryn simply nodded her head as the party made its way to Command. Events had been moving at a feverish pace for the ex-Peacekeeper, and she desperately needed several hours in her makeshift gym to work off her tensions and sort things out. Their sudden encounter with John's fellow humans, and then finding out that they were not just a starfaring people now, but that they held sway over a large empire had shattered all of her preconceived notions about them being primitive savages. Then, the ease in which they were taken had proven to be a bitter draught for the proud Sebacean. She did not like to surrender-especially not without a fight-and yet here they were, disarmed and at the mercy of strangers. The final, and surprisingly most disturbing thing though, was seeing how well John was 'clicking' with that blonde human female with the strange accent. As all these emotions and thoughts tumbled through her head, Aeryn decided that the only thing she wanted right now was to be left alone.

Seeing the look on the raven-haired woman's face and how closely she and John stood together, the Terran aristocrat chuckled inwardly. 'I pity you Crichton…that woman must be a handful. Well, old boy, if you take advantage of Rasmussen's…interest, don't let your lady catch you with her-she does not seem to be…sophisticated…about such matters-I'd hate to have to explain to Captain Gorshkov why you and his current mistress are floating outside in space without vacuum suits.'

"And this is the command section." John explained as they entered, Zhaan and Petty Officer Rasmussen, along with another technician were already there, Zhaan explaining to the techs how Moya's control system worked.

"Hello, John." Nina smiled warmly as Crichton approached, then, as she bent over the console, said in a friendly voice. "I managed to score some fresh coffee-genuine Columbian-why don't you join me in your galley after we get situated in hyperspace?"

"Alright!" John practically cheered, and then, turning towards his close companion, beamed, "How about it Aeryn? Wanna try something really good-genuine, honest to God coffee?"

"No." Aeryn all but spat out, "I have other things to do…you go ahead."

"Alright…" John sighed dejectedly, "If that's the way you want it…"

"Fine." Aeryn answered back as she stared at the viewscreen.

"Fine." John retorted as he turned his head to look at Nina at the other station, while Chiana, observing the whole exchange from where she was standing next to D'Argo, shook her head in disbelief at both Aeryn and John's obtuseness, not able to decide which one was worse.

"Athena, this is Moya. We are ready for hyperdrive on your command." St. Simon reported to the visage of his captain on the Leviathan's viewscreen.

"Well done, Commander. Prepare to match our speed and course. We enter hyperspace in 3 minutes."

"Pilot?" The Terran commander addressed the solitary figure sitting alone in his chamber.

"Yes, Commander."

"Did you get that transmission?"

"Yes, Commander. Moya is ready to travel. She said that she is ready to match the course and speed of the Athena on your command."

"Very good. Have Moya tuck in close and follow Athena when she jumps." Then, turning back to address the assembled gathering, St. Simon grinned. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for us to go home. Birthday's in a couple of weeks-think about how you want to celebrate it."

************************************

"Matching course and speed with Athena; all systems operating normally, Commander." Pilot, maintaining his usual calm manner, and without revealing any emotion whatsoever over Moya's change in status, relayed the information to the new commander of the Leviathan.

Aeryn, upon hearing Pilot's report, turned and stormed out of Command, John, seeing the look on his friend's face, made as if to follow her only to be stopped by a gray hand on his arm. "Let her go, John." Chiana urged. "She's been through a lot-we all have. She just needs some time to herself to figure things out." Then, glancing at the blonde human currently in conference with her superior, Chiana grinned. "Don't forget what I told you that time…go slow with the soul." 'And fast with the body…' The young Nebari didn't add, figuring that John already knew that.

"Thanks, Pip." John said as he turned back to see Nina Rasmussen approach him.

"Sorry, John…but we're gonna have to postpone our coffee date. The boss…" Motioning with her head towards her superior officer, the young petty officer continued, "…wants us to check out those vehicles in the hangar bay." Then, smiling, the Swedish woman gently grazed the back of John's hand with her fingers. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd join us-point out what everything is and what we should and shouldn't touch. Also, I'd love to talk to you about your module. Pre-Technic space exploration is something of a hobby of mine, and we don't have anything in any of our museums that's nearly as well preserved as your ship-I've got a thousand questions I hope you can answer."

After taking one last, longing look at the exit where Aeryn had left just a few minutes earlier, and then at Chiana, who subtly nodded her head, giving her approval, Crichton smiled back. "Sure thing, Nina. Let's go." As they walked down the corridor, John gave the fascinated young technician a quick history of the Farscape Project and of what he was trying to accomplish, with Nina frequently interrupting with interested questions about the personalities of everyone involved as well as the technical specs of the probe itself. As they continued talking, their conversation drifting to other topics, John, enjoying more and more their talk, found that he couldn't help becoming attracted to the young Swede.

*****************************

As John was enjoying his time with the young, lovely Swedish petty officer, Aeryn, trying to sort out her feelings, decided against her first course of action-to go to her gym where she could work herself out to exhaustion, choosing instead to spend some time with Pilot, an activity she had been doing more and more of in the past few monans.

"You seem troubled, Officer Sun." Pilot spoke solicitously from his station as Aeryn entered his chamber.

"What do you think of the Terrans?" The former Peacekeeper asked, curious as to how the being whose DNA she now shared viewed Crichton's people.

"They are both like and unlike Commander Crichton. I will admit to being surprised at their technology, but neither Moya nor I have seen enough of them to make any judgments." Pilot then locked Aeryn's eyes in his gaze. "What do you think of the humans?"

"I don't know…I don't know what to think. So much has happened recently…" Aeryn answered, her emotions a sea of turmoil.

"Maybe you should talk to Commander Crichton." Pilot offered helpfully. "I believe he is in the hangar bay now…and you were on your way down there anyway-if I am not mistaken?"

"Thank you, Pilot." The raven-haired woman sighed. "I'll think about it."

**********************

"Nice lines…" Nina said admiringly as she traced her finger along the fuselage of Aeryn's prowler. "Not as well armed or armored as our pursuit fighters, but it looks like she's a helluva lot faster-at least in short spurts, although I'd go with our Meteors in an endurance contest, and she's maybe a bit more maneuverable than our ships. However, our weapons are definitely more advanced and have greater range-unless we were massively outnumbered, they'd never get the opportunity to close with us for a dogfight to take place-we'd just dance out of their range and pick them off." Looking at the sleek killer, the Terran tech grinned as she took a holo-camera from one of the spacers assisting her. "Wanna give me a boost up, John, and then join me? I need someone who can tell me what the instruments and controls do, and as your friend doesn't seem to be in the mood…"

"Sure thing, Nina." John grinned like a little boy as he helped the attractive Swede up, his heart beat racing as he felt her graze against him and as he smelled the delicate scent of her perfume. Quickly climbing up to join her, the castaway astronaut, remembering the lessons that Aeryn had so recently taught him, gleefully filled the petty officer in on how the Peacekeeper fighter operated.

Her emotions seething within her and knowing that she needed to talk to the human, but not really knowing what to say or how to say it, the troubled Sebacean pressed the door to the hanger bay only to be immediately enraged at the sight that confronted her. John and that blonde human tech were bent down over her precious prowler's cockpit, laughing and joking while Crichton pointed out instruments, explaining their purpose as the tech and her companions took pictures with a holo-camera. "What the FRELL are you doing with my prowler!?" The angered Sebacean then quickly charged towards her prized fighter, her fists clenched, ready to lash out at anything or anyone in her path.

"Oh sh…" John whispered to Nina once he had heard Aeryn's enraged voice. Then, shaking his head, John whispered, "Stay here and keep quiet. I'll take care of it." Quickly leaping to the deck, John almost ran toward the rapidly approaching Aeryn, frantically waving away the two Marines, who, upon seeing her approach, had instinctively taken combat positions. "AERYN!" John shouted as he grabbed both of her wrists in a vice like grip. "Calm down!"

"What the frell do you think you're doing, Crichton? That's my prowler! Why don't you let them take apart that bucket of dren of yours?" Aeryn shouted in a rapid-fire voice as she struggled against John's hold, barely resisting the temptation to trip him and then take off after that blonde trelk.

"They've already been over my module, Aeryn…and they're not messing with anything inside. All they want to do is know where everything is and how it works. They just want to see how it compares with their ships-that's all!" Maintaining his grip on her as she slowly calmed down, John asked, his brilliant blue eyes gazing into hers, "What's wrong, Aeryn? You've been like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs ever since the Athena showed up." Then, a lump catching in his throat, John asked in a gentle, caring voice, hoping against hope that this time the former Peacekeeper would finally let down her guard and tell him what he wanted-what he needed-to hear, "Is there something you want to talk to me about, Aeryn?"

For the briefest of moments, Aeryn wanted to do nothing more than bury herself in Crichton's chest, to finally let loose the torrent of emotions that she had held bottled up inside her for so long, but then she spied the petite Swede approaching. Resuming her Peacekeeper mask, Aeryn stared straight at John, her eyes daggers. "No, Crichton. I don't have anything to say to you." Quickly turning her back on the man that had become so important to her, she stalked out of the room, her head held straight and high.

"What was that all about, John?" Nina asked as she demurely stroked the time-displaced astronaut's arm.

"Nothing, Nina." Crichton sadly shook his head. "Just a miscommunication."

"I see…" The attractive Swede replied in a consoling voice, hiding her pleasure that a major source of competition seemed to have taken herself out of the running. "Well, we're done here…how's 'bout I treat you to that cup of coffee I promised you earlier?"

"Sounds good to me darlin'" John replied as he took the young petty officer's hand, a troubled expression crossing his face as he tried to imagine Aeryn's face.

As the two Marines relaxed following the departure of the tornado that was Aeryn, one turned to the other, "Sean…if that's what it's like being married-then I'm staying single!"

"I know what you mean, Talia." The other Marine replied as he took out a cigarette, offering one to his companion. "After seeing that, I think I'm gonna break it off with my fiancé when we get back home." The young dark skinned Marine laughed as he lit his cigarette.

"So…" Talia flashed an evil grin as she lit her own cigarette into life. "What's your plans for Birthday?"

*********

"You have no idea how good that smells!" John breathed deep, taking in as much as he could of the aroma of the fresh brewed coffee that Nina had just prepared.

"You take it black?" Nina smiled back as she regarded the man sitting at the table near her, her eyes taking in his brown hair, blue eyes, and lean, hard body. 'And it's all natural too…' The Swedish woman licked her lips lasciviously as she continued her appraisal, '…no biosculpt job needed here at all.'

"Black and strong!" Crichton smiled as he took the offered cup, deliberately letting his fingers linger on hers. "Only way to drink coffee my dad used to say. I remember when we went camping up in Maine, first thing in the morning, he'd put on a pot o' coffee for him and mom, and hot chocolate for us kids." Then, a wistful look in his eyes, John smiled sadly, "I wonder what Maine's like now-probably wall to wall people."

"Actually, most of it's a preserve." The young Swede smiled warmly. "It's a public park, but there are some lovely fishing villages-I've never been there, but I've seen pictures."

"Oh? But I thought you were born on Earth." John asked, curious.

"In Uppsala." Nina smiled back, "But my family wasn't what you would call wealthy, so we didn't travel much. Father had a small shop that catered to tourists, and mother worked as a domestic servant for the Count of Ny-Kalmar while he stayed at his summer villa or whenever he had guests stay over. For us, our big excursion was going to Paris for Birthday. The fireworks and the parades, and all the old monuments like the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe…" John smiled warmly as he listed to the young woman he was with reminisce about her childhood, unconsciously placing his hand on hers while she talked.

"Well…it's good to know that not everything's changed in a thousand years." John grinned as he allowed the fragrant aroma of the fresh brewed coffee to caress his nostrils before taking a leisurely sip. "I guess I'm just going to have to get used to the fact that I'm probably gonna be the only human being to ever get to see two millennia come and go." Shaking his head, John laughed, a note of bitterness and irony to his laughter. "You know, Nina…some guys just have all the luck!"

Scrunching in closer to the despondent Crichton, the lovely Swede put her arm around him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "It'll be ok, John…you'll see."

As the young petty officer was consoling her fellow human, Chiana, smelling the strange, yet tantalizing aroma coming from the galley, came in, laughing and talking with one of the Marines. "What is that strange smell?" Chiana asked, sniffing the air about her, much to the amusement of her companion.

"I tried to tell her it was coffee, but she didn't understand what that I was saying, so I figured I'd let her see for herself." The swarthy marine, a native of New Lebanon, said with a chuckle.

 "Well, don't just stand there…go grab yourselves a couple of cups and come over here." Crichton smiled as he motioned towards the coffee pot.

Seeing Rasmussen's subtle nod, the young Marine and his Nebari companion did just that, and sitting down, sipped the warm drink-the Marine with gusto, while Chiana took a careful, little sip to test the brew, and then finding it good, smiled broadly as she drank more. "Is this a human drink?" Chiana asked as she tilted her head.

"Yeah, Chi…" John laughed, his dark mood dispelled by a combination of the smell of fresh coffee, the presence of his good companion who had taken on the role of younger sister, and the feel and smell of the lovely woman sitting next to him. "Bout the only thing that might be better is an ice-cold beer on a hot Florida summer day."

"Damned straight." The Marine, who introduced himself as Samir interjected with a note of laughter. "Although Ansan aurea during the second summer on Beta Durandi is awful good too."

"So…" Crichton asked meaningfully as he noticed how close the young Nebari was sitting next to the well built Marine, "…where's D'Argo?"

 Making a face, Chiana snorted. "He's in the armory with a couple of Marines fondling his qualta blade and swapping war stories with them. I tried to get him to go off with me to the Terrace, but he just said, 'later' and went back to that frelling blade of his. Said something about getting permission to show them how to use it."

"His loss is my gain," Samir smirked as the roguish Chiana playfully stroked his collar.

"So Samir's been telling me all about Cynosure, and Terra, and all the other worlds he's been to, and he's been telling me about Birthday…" John couldn't help but laugh at the look of anticipation on his young friend's face. "I can't wait 'til we get there-non stop parties…" Then, taking note of how well John was getting along with Nina, Chiana asked, a mischievous grin on her face, "So…John…where's Aeryn?"

Brought down from his good mood, Crichton shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "She left the hanger deck in a huff-you know how she is-she's probably beating that practicing dummy of hers to death."

Deciding it was time to give the man who she had begun to look up to as more than a friend some advice, Chiana got up and leaning, whispered so that only he and Nina could hear, "Remember what I told you John, move fast with the body…slow with the soul." Then, giving both him and Nina a playful wink, the young Nebari sat back down in her chair and listened raptly as Samir regaled them all with tales of his last assignment, and then Nina took over, telling them about the time that she was on Avalon on special assignment, her account of the joint human-Ythrian settlement completely capturing the interest of the scientist in John, and then John took over the conversation, telling everyone about the time that he and DK went out on a date with the Wilson twins, creating laughter throughout the table and causing Nina to blush a delicate pink as he finished his tale.

Attracted by the strange smell coming from the galley, Aeryn, unable to work out her confusion and distress, approached the door, curious. Hearing John's voice and the noise coming from the table, the former Peacekeeper stopped at the door, listening for several moments to the jokes and laughter, catching glimpses of him with that woman. Then, her head hanging, she turned away to go to her quarters and the lonely shower that waited for her there.

*********************

"So what's the deal on this 'hypnopaedia'?" John asked, somewhat suspiciously, as Nina came into his quarters with the equipment. All of the other members of Moya's crew were asleep, connected to the intensive learning apparatus. Nina had deliberately left John off for last and had dismissed the ratings who had been helping her. "I've had too many people screwing around in my head recently."

"Like I said, it's an intensive learning method, John. We use it when we have to have a lot of information passed on to someone like, for example, an intelligence agent, very quickly." Nina explained in a soothing voice as she began to set up the equipment. Your brain processes the information while you sleep. It's a hundred percent safe, a hundred percent foolproof, and totally painless-as long as the procedure's not rushed-and we're in no hurry here."

"You sure?" The suspicious Crichton asked as he stripped off his vest.

"Yep. I've done it myself countless times." Nina smiled as she appraised the black t-shirt clad John, a wicked leer crossing her face.

"What are you looking at?" John asked, an amused smile on his face.

"Oh…I'm just admiring the view." The young Swede confessed as she licked her lips and began to approach the time-displaced astronaut.

"Ummm….Nina? I gotta tell you, sweetheart, things are a little tense here…"

"Aeryn." The young, but worldly woman said, immediately seeing the cause of John's reluctance.

"Yeah." John sighed, the frustration evident in his voice.

"Are you two engaged or married?" 'Not that it matters,' Nina smiled inwardly, 'After all, this is the Empire.'

"Ummm…no."

"Involved?"

"Uh….not exactly. Look, it's difficult to explain." John sighed as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to explain his confusing and frustrating relationship with Aeryn.

Figuring out that the man standing before her was in love with the dark haired Sebacean, the human petty officer attempted to ease his concerns with the knowledge that this was going to be a brief, casual affair with no strings attached. "Look John, I'm not looking for a permanent relationship or anything like that. In fact, I'm off to Dennitza for Officer's Candidate School almost immediately after Birthday, so…if that's what you're worried about you can relax-unless you're opposed to casual relationships?"

Remembering his tryst with the Peacekeeper disruptor, Jenavia, Crichton shook his head, smiling. "No darling, not as long as all parties know what they're getting into and what to expect."

Approaching John, Nina stroked his collar, her breath tickling his chest. "Good. I'm glad to hear that. I just want you to know that I think you're attractive, and I'd like to spend some time with you while we're together here. And I'll make sure to keep things discreet-I'm pretty good at that." A note of worry then entered the young Swede's voice as she began to fear that she had misread the signals he was sending. "You do find me attractive-don't you-or have I been misreading you?"

Seeing the distressed look on the young woman's face, John quickly stammered, "No-not at all-I mean I do find you attractive, and no-you haven't been misreading me. It's just…"

"It's been awhile since you…" Nina chuckled gently. "I understand…after all, you've been all alone out in the Wilderness, with no one else you can really relate too…" Then, gently pushing him to the bed, the lovely Swede bent down and kissed him, at first softly, delicately, and then, as he began to respond, with more passion and vigor until they were both locked in an intensive embrace.

Reluctantly breaking from their kiss, Nina pushed John back on the bed and connected him to the hypnopaedia kit. "Just lie back and relax, John…" The lovely woman sighed as she pulled off John's Calvins and then took off her shoes and unzipped her coveralls; "Let me do all the work this time."

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME
Part 2

**************************

As the blue skinned Delvian priestess, Pau Zootah Zhaan stood on the Terrace gazing at the rapidly growing yellow star that was the primary for their destination, the Imperial sector capital at Cynosure, a tear rolled down her cheek. While Zhaan carried the hope deep within her breast that their arrival on this new world would mean an end to their fugitive flight across the Uncharted Territories, she also feared that it would mean the end of the close camaraderie that she had grown accustomed to on Moya. Although, the elegant priestess chuckled, she couldn't, as usual, understand John's human reference when he called the crew of Moya 'A Jerry Springer kind of family', she did understand and agree with his assessment that it was a family-and she wasn't looking forward to it breaking up.

Taking a deep breath, Zhaan paced the floor for several minutes before stopping to once again look at the universe. In many ways, she thought, she was the mother of this little family-looking after and fretting over everyone. D'Argo was often the hotheaded younger son, while Aeryn was the oldest sister-strong and dependable, but also seething with emotions and fears. Chiana was the younger, more impulsive sibling of the family-always getting into trouble, but also always there when she had to be. Pilot…Zhaan had to think for a while to determine his relationship, and then she smiled as she remembered Crichton talking about his aunt Linda-how she was always there to help the family in a pinch, but never expected any thanks for it. Pilot was Moya's Aunt Linda. While Rygel, to use another Crichtonism, was the crusty old uncle that John would talk about-mostly irritating, but also endearing in his own strange way. Moya was the matriarch-the grandmother-of this makeshift clan, sheltering and protecting everyone from harm. And John-the 10th level Pau didn't quite know where or how John fit into this family. Most of the time, he was the father, helping Zhaan deal with the myriad crises and emotions that overtook everyone else. But he was also the older brother-especially to D'Argo and Chiana. With Aeryn, Zhaan felt that he wanted to be husband-but the former Peacekeeper wasn't quite ready for that-and neither really was John, Zhaan thought sadly as she heard the distinctive footsteps of the strange human who had joined two cycles earlier. "Greetings, John."

"Yo, Blue!" Crichton replied, a spring to his step. "How's it shakin'?"

Smiling indulgently at her friend's indecipherable reference, Zhaan turned towards him. "If you're asking how I am doing, then I am doing fine, John."

"You sure, Zhaan?" John asked, as he picked up on his close friend's concerns both through the unity that they had once shared and through her body language.

Chuckling softly, the elegant priest took her friend's hand. "I do admit to some worries, John. What do we do once we get to Cynosure? What will life be like for us? I have to say, my friend, I've heard some things about this Empire that I'm not sure of-like the keeping of slaves…" The former prisoner's disgust was evident as she finished her statement.

"I know, Zhaan." Crichton shifted somewhat nervously, ashamed that an institution he had thought long buried had been resurrected now that his people had reached the stars. "I talked to Nina about it. She told me that slavery was a punishment for serious crimes like murder and treason, and that, given the size of the Empire, there wasn't a whole lot of it -that it was more humane than executing them."

"Do you really believe that, John?" Zhaan asked, gazing deep into the human's eyes.

"No." As he vigorously shook his head, the Delvian priest smiled warmly, her smile growing as John finished his thoughts. "I don't. There has to be a better way. Maybe I can help work towards finding it-I have to at least try."

"How is Aeryn?" Zhaan, taking on the role of mother for what might possibly be the last time, knew that while she might be stirring up troubled waters, John needed to be aware of the effect his actions were having on the tormented Sebacean woman.

"Fine…I guess." John said in an apologetic tone. "We haven't talked much…not since me and Nina started…Ummmm…you know…"

"I understand, John…" Zhaan replied, softly.

"Look, Zhaan…" John began defensively, "It's not like Nina and I are rubbing Aeryn's nose in it or anything. We're trying to be discreet-she's not sharing my quarters, and we keep our distance when there's anyone else around." The wise Pau nodded her head in agreement. Sighing, the time-displaced astronaut looked pleadingly at his cherished friend for understanding. "I think you know how I feel about Aeryn, but I can't go on without some response from her." Shrugging his shoulders resignedly, John continued. "Maybe we need some time apart-we've spent two years in almost constant contact running from one threat or another-maybe a few months or even years away from each other might give us both the time and distance we need to sort out our feelings. If we really love each other-we'll work our way through it" 'I hope.' John didn't say, but he knew that the wise woman he was standing next to knew that that was what he was feeling.

"Perhaps you're right, John." Zhaan said as she placed a caring hand on her friend's arm, and then turned to look at the stars. "I hope so for both of your sakes, my friend."

*****************************

As he heard the door to his office open, Captain Sir Dominic Flandry of His Majesty's Imperial Naval Intelligence Corps looked up from the flimsy he was reading, cursing the lack of an interstellar equivalent to radio. The news from the Athena had just arrived via fast courier, and the Star class light cruiser and her strange prize were due to arrive shortly. He then smiled as his door opened, revealing a beautiful oriental woman wearing a bright, form fitting, rainbow-hued, low cut shimmerlyn gown that accentuated her lovely curves as well as her bronze skin and long jet-black hair "Alana, my dear! It's so good to see you again-when was the last time? Betelgeuse?"

"You know damned well it was at Catawrayannis, on Llynathawr, you rogue-you won ten thousand credits from me at Rudolph's perpetual poker game." The musical voice belonging to the Marquessa of Centaurus, Alana Murakawa brought a smile to the Terran agent's face, as did her appearance as she walked in his office, a delicate hint of jasmine from her perfume accompanying her. The diminutive Marquessa, gracefully sitting down, in one of the comfortable armchairs, her almond shaped eyes sparkling with mischief, curled her legs under her like a cat as she regarded her occasional lover and colleague sitting behind a spartan wooden desk. "I take it that's the info from the courier that just arrived today?" She asked as she fixed a cigarette to the end of an ornate silver gilded ivory cigarette holder.

"Yes. Most interesting reading as well." The Terran officer responded as he gallantly lit his guest's cigarette before lighting his own, and then, walking to the bar that he always kept well stocked with a variety of only the best liquors and liqueurs, poured a scotch for himself and a cognac for his companion. Taking the offered drink, the Marquessa looked her former lover over with an expert's eye. She saw a lean man, about six feet tall, with taut muscles earned from several hours of exhausting calisthenics, with seal-brown hair, a well manicured mustache, piercing gray eyes, and high cheekbones and a straight nose purchased at a biosculpt shop several years ago when it was all the rage. The uniform he was wearing was, as usual, as flamboyant as he could get away with and still remain just within regulations. A peach high collared tunic with dark blue sash, white pants, and black leather half boots completed his ensemble. The dark blue beret with the Imperial Sunburst and the gray riding cloak that accompanied the uniform hung in the corner on the wood coat rack.

"So…" The lovely aristocrat asked, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Do you believe he's who he says he is?"

"I've been told by those who are experts in such matters that it's theoretically possible." Flandry answered as he took a sip of his single-malt scotch, permitting its smoky taste to linger on his tongue. "Unfortunately, we don't have any pictures, but we do know that there was a Farscape mission and that a John Robert Crichton commanded it and that no wreckage of the crash was ever recovered-unusual in itself-even the most catastrophic failure normally leaves something behind." Stopping to catch his breath, Flandry drank deeply of the nicotine from his cigarette before continuing. "It's a one in a million shot though…"

"So…" Alana asked with a faint shudder, "Are you going to 'probe him?"

"I'd prefer not to…" The Terran captain shook his head as he relaxed in his chair. "If the mediscans show that he's not immune to a narco-quiz, I'll go with that. No need putting him through a 'probe if we don't have to." Putting out his cigarette, Flandry steepled his fingers. "If he isn't immune, that would at least give less credence to the possibility of him being a Merseian agent."

"True…and a mediscan that doesn't show the usual immunizations and gene work against AIDS and cancer and so on would give added weight to his story." The Marquessa added as she picked up the flimsy Flandry had just finished reading, taking a few moments to enjoy the holopicture of Crichton that she called up. "Not bad…" She flashed a quick leer as she admired the time-displaced astronauts features. "What about the others?"

"An interesting assortment…" Dominic laughed as he lit another cigarette. "One is a sentient plant, the other a species called the Nebari that have an ugly little method of punishment called mind cleansing…" Flandry shuddered at that, "Then there's this guy…" The Terran intelligence officer replaced the rotating image of Crichton with that of the Hynerian, laughing as his partner pouted, "Calls himself Rygel XVI, the ruler of someplace called the 'Hynerian Empire'. Your typical deposed despot-they're a millo-credit a dozen. You know the type-hanging out at court hoping that the Emperor will see fit to help them get back on their thrones so that they can stick it to the people who overthrew them. And in exchange they'll pledge to be our gallant allies and clients-right up until they decide to stab us in the back." Flandry sneered as he downed his scotch. "What most of those idiots fail to understand is that the Empire could care less about what happens beyond its borders-so long as whatever hell's brewing doesn't spill over."

"Which it almost always does sooner or later." The Marquessa finished as she sipped her brandy, knowing that Flandry kept his inner office continually swept against all forms of eavesdropping.

"Finally…" The womanizing Terran grinned as he replaced Rygel's image with that of a strikingly beautiful tall athletic dark haired woman wearing black leather pants and top. "We have Aeryn Sun. Looks human, but isn't." Seeing his associate raise her eyebrows in inquiry, Flandry chuckled. "From a race that call themselves 'Sebaceans.' And if she's typical of her species…" Flandry leered as he rotated the image, "…then I would say that it's our duty to make contact with them as quickly as possible."

"Of course you would…" Alana laughed back and then inhaled deeply from her cigarette, "So…when do our guests arrive?"

"Very soon. Athena is in system now."

"You want to handle the interrogations while I soften 'em up?" The Marquessa asked, and then flashed a wicked grin as Flandry nodded his head. "You know, Nick…I'm looking forward to meeting this Crichton." The Marquessa licked her lips as she called up the image of John once again.

"You never change, do you, 'Lana?" Flandry laughed as he assisted his former lover from her chair, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Neither do you, Nick." The Terran aristocrat chuckled as she returned her colleague's kiss and then switched the holo-image to that of Aeryn's. "I noticed how you looked at her. Good luck-looks like you're going to have your hands full with her."

"Ah…Alana…it's the chase that makes it worthwhile." Flandry laughed as he escorted the Marquessa out of his office and then, returning, turned the background music to a Mozart concerto as he settled down to once again read the report.

*********************************

"Commander St. Simon?" Pilot's voice resounded through the command section where everyone was gathered, looking at the growing form of Cynosure with its twin moons.

"Yes, Pilot?" The Terran officer replied, maintaining an outward appearance of calm, hiding the growing excitement as they neared the end of their mission.

"We are receiving transmissions from the Naval Base directing us to proceed on a heading towards what they say will be our berth."

"Comply with the instructions, Pilot."

"Yes sir."

John and D'Argo stood watching the many ships as they passed them by, Nina and Chiana, who had stricken up a fast friendship on the cruise as well, standing by their men. "That's a lotta ships, D'Argo."

"Uh Huh." The Luxan replied, taken aback, along with the rest of Moya's crew, by the large number and varied classes of ships.

"The Sector Fleet." St. Simon said proudly, "Commanded by Fleet Admiral Dame Allison Mackenzie-Faulkes-hero of the Ramnu incursion." Then, grinning widely, St. Simon pointed. "If you'll look over there, you'll see the Victory, the Supernova class battleship where she has her flag.

As the giant ship literally blocked out the viewscreen, the crew of Moya, including Aeryn, gasped in astonishment. The former Peacekeeper, quiet for most of the voyage, lost in the turmoil of her emotions, said in a low voice, "That ship is bigger than three command carriers."

"She's the pride of the Sector Fleet." The Terran commander preened as launches and Meteor class fighters darted in and out of the great vessel's launch bays.

As Rygel took in the sight of the battlewagon he allowed himself a sly grin. He had spent the majority of the voyage talking with St. Simon, asking shrewd questions about the politics and society of the Empire. To his astonishment, and later that of everyone else once he had told them, Crichton's people had conquered an Empire that was a sphere 400 light years across containing over four million star systems. But it was now well within a period of decadence-giving great opportunities to anyone bold enough and crafty enough to successfully navigate the rocks and shoals of Imperial politics-and the cunning Dominar knew that he was precisely that type of being.

*****************************

"I will not allow another medtech to touch me!" The very irritated D'Argo declared with a menacing growl as he joined the rest of Moya's crew in an ornately furnished antechamber. Sniffing the delicate odor of fresh wildflowers that the air recyclers pumped into the room, he made a moue of disgust, a reaction shared by his companion, the former Peacekeeper Aeryn Sun, who snorted her contempt at the extravagant display of opulence and luxury that she encountered upon entering the room. She saw a plush sofa and armchairs, all carved with intricate patterns along their bases, arranged around a coffee table that looked to her like it was carved from some exotic wood. Along one wall was a well stocked bar, also with ornate carvings. "I cannot believe that these are the same people who conquered an Empire as big as they say they did. How did they ever spare the time from all their pleasure seeking?" She sniffed, looking pointedly at John who had just walked into the room.

Rygel, looking up at the large idealized portrait of a young man sitting on a throne with crown, orb and scepter, said knowingly, "That was their ancestors, Aeryn. The humans have now grown contented." 'Like my people.' The Hynerian didn't bother to add. Pointing towards the portrait, Rygel cupped his chin with his hand as he spoke. "That must be their Emperor."

Aeryn, looking at the figure, shook her head. "If that's what he truly looks like then I'm a Hynerian's ema."

The Hynerian royal then turned his hoverchair quickly to stare at the angry woman. "Listen Peacekeeper…" He growled in a serious tone that immediately caught Aeryn and everyone else's attention. "Be careful what you say about him-especially in public. These people might not like you insulting their Emperor."

"The little guy's right." A clear, commanding voice with just a hint of a drawl came from the opposite side of the room where a door had just opened. "I and my companion don't mind, but there are those who take a dim view of lese majeste. I would suggest discretion until you get a feel of who you can and can't talk to freely around here."

Turning their heads toward the voice, they saw Dominic Flandry, still wearing his peach tunic with blue sash, white trousers, and black leather half boots, along with a gray cloak and blue beret with sunburst of Empire, worn at a rakish angle. Next to him stood the Marquessa, her smile and appearance almost literally brightening the room. "Allow us to introduce ourselves-the lovely lady beside me is Alana Murakawa, Marquessa Centaurus, and I'm Captain Dominic Flandry, Naval Intelligence. If anyone wants anything to drink, help yourselves, the bar's well stocked-I'm for scotch, myself…" As they were in the presence of strangers, Flandry used Alana's title, "Your usual, Marquessa?"

"Thank you, Sir Dominic." The lovely oriental woman smiled as she sat down in one of the armchairs, curling her legs as before, and fixing a cigarette taken from her silver case on to her cigarette holder.

"Right now, I could go for a cold beer." Crichton laughed uneasily as he sat down on the couch between Chiana and Zhaan, seeing that Aeryn was still upset at him. D'Argo, muttering curses under his breath as the acrid smoke from the cigarette lit by the Marquessa reached his sensitive nostrils, took his place on the couch next to Chiana, while Aeryn, frowning at the sight of yet another Terran trelk, sat on one of the two empty chairs.

Laughing, Flandry reached into a refrigeration unit and pulled out a bottle. Then, after pouring a cognac for the Marquessa, he returned with the drinks. Sitting down in his chair between Aeryn and Alana, he stretched his legs as he took a cigarette out of a cigarette case that matched that of the Marquessa's. "There's cigarettes and cigars on the table…help yourselves." The Terran officer pointed towards a large cigarette case and a wooden humidor sitting on the coffee table.

Although not a frequent smoker, Crichton couldn't help himself as he opened the humidor and saw the cigars-Churchills, they all had smooth dark brown wrappers and, as the smell of cured tobacco wafted towards his nostrils, he couldn't resist the temptation as he reached in and took one, remembering the victory cigars he, his father, and DK had after they had gotten word of approval for the Farscape Project. Grinning, Flandry presented him with a gold cutter and lighter. Cutting the end off, Crichton made a production of lighting the cigar, and then, taking in the smoke, allowed it to linger on his palate before exhaling towards the ceiling, making every effort to avoid blowing smoke into the faces of either of the women sitting next to him. "Cuban?" He asked, as he took a grateful swallow of his beer.

"No." Flandry grinned ruefully. "Cubans are strictly the property of the Imperial family-as is Jamaican Blue Mountain and Hawaiian Kona coffee. But the tobacco is Cuban seed-grown on Nuevo Mexico. The soil there comes very close to the best in Cuba."

"So…" Crichton frowned as he looked at both of his fellow humans suspiciously. "What's next? You people have already poked and prodded every inch of us."

Chuckling, Flandry took a sip of his scotch, permitting its gentle warmth to go down his body before responding. "This is just a friendly chat. We'd like to get to know everyone briefly before commencing individual interviews. You must understand we have a million and one questions. Such as how did you create your wormhole, what are the major powers out in what you call the Uncharted Territories-ship classes-all that rot."

"Plus…" The Marquessa added with a winsome grin as she gave Crichton the once over, "…we'd like to understand aspects of the social structure out there-commercial and economic relationships-who hates who-levels of technology-you understand."

"Also, Mr. Crichton, there's a lot you can tell us about late 20th-early 21st century life that we just don't know." Flandry took over without missing a beat as his companion, swirling her cognac, examined John's face through the snifter.

"We shall, of course, cooperate with you in every way we can, Captain…" Zhaan smiled a knowing grin as she regarded the two Terrans. 'Neither of these people are as soft or decadent as they would have us believe.' The wise 800-year-old Pau remarked to herself as she saw their alert eyes-even as the Marquessa was flirting with John, Zhaan noted, she was also paying attention to what everyone else was doing, as was her companion.

"Well…" Chiana grinned as she checked out the male Terran's features; "…I'd like to know what happens to us after you're done?"

"If everything checks out, you all will be free to go wherever you want-the Empire's a big place." Flandry smiled reassuringly; taking the opportunity to check out the Nebari's charms in the same manner she was appraising him, much to the irritation of her Luxan lover.

"What about Pilot and Moya?" Zhaan asked, her concern obvious in her voice. Aeryn also turned her head towards the Terran Captain, fixing him in her gaze as he answered the Delvian's question.

"They'll stay here for now. We have lots of questions and tests to run on both of them."

"Would it be possible for me to stay with them?" Zhaan asked.

"Probably not-but I'll see what I can do." Flandry shook his head. "In any event, you're welcome to stay on planet for as long as you like, and I and the Marquessa will keep you updated on how they're doing."

Looking into the gray eyes of the Terran officer, Zhaan saw that, while he was a skilled and well-trained liar, in this instance he was telling the truth. Seeing that that was the best she could hope for, at least for now, she reluctantly nodded her head. "Thank you…Sir Dominic."

The next several minutes were spent in idle chit chat as Flandry and the Marquessa did their best to ease Moya's crew until Aeryn, impatient at the delay, and wanting to get the interrogation over with, said in a sharp voice as she stared at the two Terrans, her disdain for them obvious in her facial expression, "When do we start these…interviews?"
Showing no reaction to Aeryn's expression or tone, Flandry replied with a crooked grin, "Now's as good a time as any." Then, motioning towards the door to his office, the Terran officer bowed. "Would you care to be the first, Donna Sun?"

With a sharp jerk of her head, Aeryn got up and strode towards the office, Flandry following, taking full advantage of his position to leer at the ex-Peacekeeper's hips in her tight leather pants as she walked. Entering the office and expecting a similar display of luxury here as in the antechamber, Aeryn was surprised by the sight of a plain wooden desk with various papers and flimsies and a small computer screen on it, a simple swivel chair behind it, and two armchairs, comfortable, but not nearly as ornate as the ones in the antechamber in front of the desk. Taking off his beret and cloak and placing them on the wooden rack by the door, Flandry walked towards a smaller version of the bar in the other room and motioned towards one of the chairs. "Please, Donna Sun…or may I call you Aeryn?" Taking her slight jerk of the head as assent, Flandry allowed himself a slight grin. "…have a seat." As Aeryn sat down, he then refilled his glass and filled another one with what looked like water. "Don't worry…" The Terran laughed as he saw the doubtful look on his Sebacean guest's face. "It's pure water. As I said…this is an interview, not an interrogation."

"Then let's get on with this interview." Aeryn said challengingly as she locked gazes with the intelligence officer now sitting opposite her.

 "All right, Aeryn. Let's start with the usual…what was your final rank, unit, branch, and commanding officer before you left the Peacekeepers?"

"My former rank was Officer. I was a prowler pilot, Ikarian Company, Pleisar Regiment. Commanding officer, Captain Bialar Crais." Aeryn Sun spouted out the information as if she were on a parade ground.

"At ease, Officer Sun." Flandry smiled as he sipped his scotch. "How did you come across your shipmates and Commander Crichton?"

Aeryn then told the Terran officer the story about how she had been one of the prowler pilots who had been strafing Moya, but got caught in her starburst and then taken prisoner. She then recounted her first meeting with Crichton, to howls of laughter from her interrogator when she got to the part where she had thrown the human on the ground, and then again as she described their respective positions on the deck of their cell. Hearing Flandry's good-natured laughter and taking evil pleasure in recollecting her humiliation of Crichton that time, Aeryn let slip a slight grin.

"Well I'll be the Emperor's chamber pot dumper…" Flandry continued laughing as he refilled her water glass. "You can smile! That wasn't so hard now-was it?" Then, quickly getting back to business, Flandry asked his next question, "Why did you hand in your resignation to your former bosses?"

The Terran officer then listened sympathetically as Aeryn recounted her tale of how she and Crichton had escaped Moya only to be recaptured later with D'Argo. She then told of how Crais had had her declared 'irreversibly contaminated', stopping to explain what that meant after Flandry had asked her for clarification.

"Nothing like the good old racial superiority complex." Dominic sneered as he lit another cigarette. "Do the Peacekeepers carry out active campaigns of extermination of other races?" Flandry asked, a note of growing anger in his voice. While the Empire was often slow to react to threats, the possible existence of a xenophobic race that practiced genocide near its borders might be enough to persuade the sector governor-who surprisingly was actually quite competent-to turn Mackenzie-Faulkes and the sector fleet loose on them.

"No…" Aeryn replied slowly, surprised at the tone in the voice of the man that until now she had regarded as a decadent fop. "Not that I know of…" She clarified. "I didn't participate in any mass extermination operations."

"We'll get back to that later." Flandry replied in a grim tone. "But for now, go on with your account."

As Aeryn told her story, Flandry's eyebrows went up at the part where Crichton told her that she could 'be more.'

"And after he said that you left with him?"

"Yes." Aeryn said softly. "His words…they affected me in a way I cannot easily describe."

"I understand." Flandry said softly as he got up and, standing beside her, placed a surprisingly strong hand on Aeryn's shoulder. Releasing his hand, the Terran officer then spent several minutes grilling her about her superior officers, most notably Crais and Scorpius, grunting at her accounts of Scorpius' Aurora Chair. "And you say Crichton survived that encounter more or less intact?" As Aeryn nodded her head, Flandry raised his eyebrows knowingly-he had seen that faint sparkle of pride in her eyes. "One more question, Aeryn…and this one might not be an easy one. I need for you to recount for me all-and I do mean all-of your military operations and assignments beginning with your first and ending with your encounter with Moya. He sat and listened while the computer recorded Aeryn's history as a peacekeeper, including the time she was on Moya three cycles earlier.

After what seemed like hours later, the former Peacekeeper finally finished with a dejected sigh. Dominic, seeing the forlorn look on her face, grinned encouragingly to her. "Listen, Aeryn. As a skilled liar, assassin, user, and thief in the employ of the Emperor, I feel I have the right to say this to you. You have to learn how to put all this behind you. You were given orders and had no choice but to carry them out." Seeing the tormented woman about to protest, Flandry held up his hand. "Right, Aeryn. Answer this question. What would have happened to you if you had disobeyed Crais' orders?"

"If he were merciful-torture and probable reassignment to a penal unit." Aeryn replied in a monotone.

"And if he wasn't?"

"The Living Death." Aeryn replied in soft voice.

Having read the physician's report in which he described the living death, Flandry winced. "You see, Aeryn-you had no choice. If you hadn't have followed orders, you'd have faced a fate worse than death and that other pilot would still have been dead. Sometimes, Officer Sun…" Flandry said, deliberately stressing Aeryn's old rank, "We don't have any other choice but to stick out a bad situation because the mess we'll get into if we don't is worse." 'Sort of like why I, Alana, and a few others fight so hard to keep this ramshackle Empire intact.' Flandry mused as he took a drag on his cigarette, then exhaled and took a drink from his glass. 'Because what would come with the Long Night would be worse than what we have now.'

After several moments of silence, Flandry walked to the bar and poured an extra glass of scotch. "Here…drink this. Don't worry-our tests indicate that alcohol seems to have the same effects on Sebaceans as it does humans-sip it though, it's got a kick."

Gratefully taking the glass, Aeryn did as the Terran officer told her to, listening at first with half her mind, but later with increasing interest, to his stories about the different races that dwelt within and without the Empire. By the time she had finished her drink, she found herself beginning to grin at some of his accounts, particularly the story of his encounter with the Scothani and how he had single-handedly played off several factions against each other, leaving them wide open to a sudden attack by the Terran fleet that he had somehow managed to get word to.

"Thank you, Aeryn. That'll be all." Flandry smiled as he motioned towards the door. "You want to send in the next lucky winner?"

Unable to help herself, Aeryn flashed a slight grin. "Who do you want?"

"Doesn't matter." Flandry grinned ruefully as he swallowed a stim pill. "All of you are going to get the same treatment."

As Aeryn and Flandry were engaged in their contest, the Marquessa was busy gradually breaking down the resistance of the others through conversation-and in Crichton's case, through subtle flirtation. By answering their own questions about the Empire and its many worlds, as well as reciting the occasional humorous tale, she managed to slowly get them to open up to her about themselves and their experiences together. Raising an eyebrow, she noticed one commonality-that while they were all as much family as crew, often it was John who was the one who provided the solution during a crisis. 'Must be because he was the outsider…' Alana thought, her respect for Crichton growing as well as her appreciation for his physical charms. 'Points towards an ability to think outside the box-that could come in handy later.' She found her respect for the time-displaced astronaut growing even more as he constantly tried to shift the credit to someone else. "True modesty is a rarity in the Empire these days, John." The jaded Marquessa smiled after he had tried to credit D'Argo for his role in the assault on the Gammak Base. "Whatever happens, don't you dare lose it."

The interviews and conversation continued well into the night until Rygel, the last of the ones to be questioned, had finally left Flandry's office, subtly shaking his head in admiration at how efficiently the sophisticated human had conducted his interrogation. The wily Hynerian was frankly surprised at how the Terran agent had extracted small bits of information the several hundred cycles old Dominar had thought he had forgotten. "That human is good." The crafty old Hynerian royal said in admiration after they had been escorted to the suite of rooms that they had been assigned. "He was able to take the little bits I fed him and draw a very complete picture." Then, looking pointedly at Aeryn and D'Argo, Rygel lectured. "Don't make the mistake of underestimating these people. Decadence does not always mean stupidity."

"Yeah." Chiana grinned as she remembered how the Terran officer had flirted outrageously with her while he was pumping her for information about the Nebari mind cleansing technique as well as about all aspects of Nebari society. "He kept me in there until he had wrung me dry. Not that I minded it that much…He's got a nice ema." Chiana flashed a wicked grin as D'Argo growled. The young Nebari then recounted for almost everyone's amusement a particularly off color story Flandry had told her about a pair of exotic dancers that he had met once, an over aged and overweight Terran aristocrat, and a substance called 'lime jello'. 'The more I see of this Empire…' Chiana grinned inwardly, '…the more I like it. Plenty of opportunities to score big here.'

"He wasn't too rough with me…" Crichton shook his head as he remembered his times in the Aurora chair and while a prisoner of that Scarran. "He wanted what information I have on wormhole tech, but didn't make any threats about sticking me under that hypnoprobe device of theirs." Crichton sighed with relief as he recalled Flandry assuring him that he wouldn't 'probe him, but that he might want to give him a 'narco-quiz' later. "I don't like the idea of being put under some kinda truth drug…" John made a face as he shook his head violently, "But it sure beats being put under that hypnoprobe-whatever it is."

D'Argo then broke in. "When I asked him about it, he said it was a direct electronic attack on the brain, and that depending on the force used, it could wipe out someone's memories-even destroy their mind."

Forcing down the nausea that began to rise, John plopped down on the sofa that provided part of the furniture of the common living room that they shared and tried to force a smile as he tried to shift the subject off the topic of hypnoprobes. "Mostly though, he wanted to know about my experiences with you guys and about what was happening before I had taken off-who was President, what kind of music I listened to, what movies were playing-stuff like that. I think he's an amateur historian or something like that.

"He does have good taste in poetry and music." Zhaan added. "He recited a lovely poem by a woman named Shelley and then played a recording of something called 'The Pastoral Symphony' by a human composer called Beethoven. I never knew your culture could produce such emotional work, John."

"Thanks, Zhaan." John replied in a tired, but proud voice.

Seeing her good friend's wan features and hearing the strain in his voice, the wise Delvian barely repressed a yawn herself. "I think we are all growing tired now. Maybe it's a good idea for us all to rest for a while."

"Good idea, Blue." John said as he got up and stretched. "I'll see ya'll in the morning."

**********

"Well…what do you think?" Flandry asked as he handed his colleague a steaming hot cup of coffee before sitting down on the sofa next to her.

Good coffee, Nick." Alana grinned as her taste buds reveled over the winy taste. "Ethiopian?" Seeing her partner's smug nod, the Marquessa laughed, until she returned to the topic on hand. "These translator microbes are interesting. They should prove quite useful in our line of work."

"Oh, definitely." Flandry agreed. In fact, it would probably be a good idea for both of us to get injected."

"Why? What are you planning?" The petite Asian woman asked, curious.

"A little fishing expedition-I'll talk to you about it in a bit-wheels are still spinning right now." The ace intelligence officer flashed a crooked grin as he stretched his legs out.

"I'm curious about that microchip the mediscans showed in Crichton's cerebral cortex. What do you think it's there for?" Alana asked, worry lines on her face as she lit her cigarette.

"Tracking device…programmed instructions…probably both." Flandry mused as he sipped his coffee and lit a cigarette of his own. "It's a sophisticated little bugger-the sawbones told me that there'd be about an 80% probability of him not surviving if they try to take it out-that's discounting the probability that it doesn't try to kill him at the first instance of tampering."

"So…how do you want to handle it? We tell him?"

"No…not yet. That might set off the program, and we might not want to do that yet. It also might set off any self-destruct protocols. Besides…" Flandry added with a frown. "We might be able to use it."

"Oh?" The Marquessa interjected hiding her concern about the time-displaced astronaut with an amused chuckle. "And what are you cooking up in that scheming little head of yours Dominic Flandry?"

"Just a little mousetrap." Flandry grinned. "But first, I think it'd be a good idea to get a layout of what's out there-if you know what I mean."

"So you're going to take that miniature souped up warship of yours that you call a yacht out there and see what sort of crap you can stir up, huh?" Alana chuckled, a twinkle in her eye.

"Something like that." Flandry admitted with a laugh. "I need a guide though…someone who knows the territory and would blend in well-that could handle herself in a fight…"

"And that's pleasing to the eye…" The lovely oriental woman smirked as she put out her cigarette.

Shrugging his shoulders at being read as easily as he was, Flandry chuckled as he refilled both their cups. "The problem is…" The Terran officer grinned ruefully, "Her and Crichton seem to be a package deal."

"Maybe not…" The Marquessa flashed a wicked grin as she let her thought trail off.

"Now who's being devious?" Dominic smirked as he regarded his companion.

Laughing in turn, Alana lit another cigarette as she outlined her plan. "Did you read the report about our astronaut's fling with that petty officer?" Seeing her companion chuckle and nod his head, the scheming aristocrat sipped her coffee and continued. "Did you also read the reports of how our dear Donna Sun reacted? Dominic-that woman was full scale, 100 % green-eyed monster jealous! We can use that."

"How?" The Terran officer asked, curious as to what sort of plan his old lover had cooked up.

"Birthday's in a couple of days. I think I can talk dear Uncle Rupert into sending invitations to his party to all of them-the Governor's bash-they'd have to come. Hell, I can think of at least three of them-Chiana, Rygel, and Crichton-who'd want to come-out of curiosity if nothing else. Before the party, I was planning on throwing my usual dinner party-I think I'll invite Chunderban as well. You are coming-right?" The Marquessa laughed as she shot him a mock glare.

"I'd better-'less I want a dagger in my back the next time I'm in flagrante delicto with some winsome bit." Flandry laughed.

"Anyway…" The Marquessa laughed, "I'll lay the groundwork at dinner, and then make my move sometime during the party. If Aeryn reacts the way I think she will, you then get to come in as her knight in shining armor, rescuing her from the evil-what's the word they use-trelk? Yeah-that's it-trelk."

"Could get ugly, you know." Flandry said thoughtfully. "From what I've gathered from the interviews today, she tends to react impulsively and physically."

"That works even more to my advantage." Alana said as she drew from her cigarette. "If that happens, I'll, of course, magnanimously forgive her and insist on her being released without any charges or repercussions. John-if I read him right-will react very negatively towards her actions and positively towards mine. Once again-you come to Aeryn's rescue as her white knight and shepherd her away from the whole ugly scene while John sticks around to comfort me." She finished, a smug look on her face.

"You are the devious one!" Flandry said in admiration as he returned from the bar with two small goblets containing amaretto. "To dangerous liaisons!" Flandry chuckled as he proposed his toast.

Her laughter sounding like music, Alana raised her glass as she responded to her colleague's toast. "To dangerous liaisons it is!"

"So…what do you plan to do with Crichton-other than the obvious?" The intelligence officer leered as he regarded the attractive woman sitting next to him, taking in the delicate jasmine scent from her perfume.

"I know he wants to see Terra, so I was thinking about taking him, Moya, and the rest of the crew there-let get a good dose of life on good ol' Earth. After a few days in that circus, he and the others-except probably for Chiana and Rygel-will probably want to go somewhere-anywhere else. I figure then that we can meet up with you and Aeryn and you can fill me in on this little plan you're cooking up." 'I also have another service I hope Crichton will be willing to do for me, Dominic…' The Marquessa said inwardly, '…but I don't think I want to tell you that yet-you're too good a friend and I don't want to hurt you-even though I know you'd understand.'

"Sounds good to me, love." Flandry grinned as he placed an arm around his companion's shoulders. "We'll set up a series of rendezvous windows and meeting coordinates before we split up-all right?"

"That'll work." Alana agreed as she finished her drink and putting out her cigarette, leaned into Flandry's side.

"So…" The roguish intelligence agent leered. "Any ideas on what to do for the rest of the night?"

"A few…" Alana leered back as she ran her hands through Flandry's seal brown hair and then kissed him. "Actually-more than a few. Want me to share them with you?"

************************

The chime at the door aroused John from his fitful sleep. He had dozed off after spending several hours reading about the history of the human race after he had passed through the wormhole. And a rich history it was too. The discovery of interstellar flight and the Breakup that accompanied it as humans colonized every available earthlike planet they could reach, then the formation of the Solar Commonwealth and the Polesotechnic League-a mutual aid society of merchant princes that bore a remarkable resemblance to the Hanseatic League, and then the simultaneous collapse of both it and the Commonwealth. After that came the Troubles-a dark period where even Earth was sacked, its people taken for slaves-until one slave led a successful revolt on one ship. That man, Manuel Argos, became the first Terran Emperor. From there the human race went on to conquer its empire. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, the rugged astronaut answered the door.

"Greetings, Master Crichton…" The person on the other side of the door was a young boy, about fourteen years old, wearing a light blue blouse with white trousers. "I was sent by His Excellency, Governor Rupert d'Hauteville, Count Syrtis. You are all cordially invited to the Birthday festivities at the Governor's Palace tonight."

"Thank you." John said sleepily as he took the six envelopes from the boy. Then, speaking into the intercom, he awakened his friends. "Hey, everybody…rise and shine…mail call!"

Aeryn, Rygel, and Zhaan stumbled into the central living suite wearing robes, while a few minutes later, after a second summons from Crichton, D'Argo and Chiana finally made their appearance, wrapped in bed sheets, Chiana's hair tousled and her pupils dilated, while D'Argo's face appeared flushed-making it obvious to everyone present what they had been doing. "What the frell is so important that you had to wake all of us up?" Rygel harrumphed as he climbed into his hoverchair.

"We're all invited to a party!" John smiled as he handed out the envelopes. Rygel, caressing the gold engraving and script on the fine paper, smiled knowingly-he'd finally gotten what he'd hoped for-a chance to meet those in power, and maybe gain support for his cause. Chiana's face erupted into a big smile as she began to envision the opportunities such a gathering could present for her while a dark cloud seemed to cross D'Argo's face, his insecurities about his relationship with Chiana growing in the past few weekens, he dreaded what tonight could bring. Zhaan, exhibiting her usual placid calm, showed no reaction one way or another to the news, although she was hoping that she might be able to influence someone in authority to allow her to return to Moya as she was growing more concerned as each solar day passed about the Leviathan and her pilot.

As for Aeryn-she didn't even open her invitation-her Peacekeeper's mask hiding her fear at being dragged into a social function in which she had no training in how to behave and at being forced to be polite while witnessing the decadent antics of Crichton's people. But something else-something that she couldn't put into words-was also telling her not to go tonight-that if she did, her world would change abruptly and possibly forever.

"This is good news!" Rygel grinned broadly as he stuffed a handful of Terran fruits that Crichton called 'grapes' into his mouth.

"You all can go…" Aeryn said in a petulant tone, "I'm staying here. I have no desire to go to this…party."

"You are going to this gathering." Rygel answered back in an imperious tone. "And you are going to act like you are enjoying yourself." Then, shifting to a tone a father uses when l