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Part III Something was wrong. Moya had stopped. The familiar rhythm beneath her bare feet was gone. Ellie pressed her face to the warm floor of the galley. Only the leviathan's pulse remained, a mournful drum against her ear. "Eleanor!" Zhaan was a sudden flurry of blue in the doorway, her face pulled into distressed lines. "Come here! Quickly! We must go to Pilot's den." The small girl was swept up into the Delvian's arms. Winding corridors passed in a frenzied blur until they reached the familiar sanctuary of the navigator's lair. "Pilot, is there any sign of John's transport pod?" "Nothing. Many of Moya's systems were disabled by the pulse weapon, including her communications... starburst as well. But there is worse news, Pa'u Zhann." He answered, head lowered in defeat. "The marauder is now in Moya's bay." "Seal all of the doors between here and the shuttle bay, Pilot." Ellie watched the door swing shut. Frantically, she tugged at the priest's sleeve. "Where's Daddy? How can Daddy get in if the doors are closed?" "Hush, my dear. Your father is very clever. He will find us." She embraced the girl with the soft crush of her robes. "Right now, we must be very quiet and hide until we can get away." "I'm scared." Ellie whispered, emerald eyes huge in the half-light. "I know, my dear. I know." Suddenly, a tremendous explosion shook the floor. The ambient lighting winked uncertainly before returning in a feeble glow. "Pilot!" Zhaan called. "I am... fine, Zhaan. I will not divulge your location. Hurry. There is little time." Ellie was lead along twisting tunnels within Moya's living walls. Finally they rested, in the pitch black. Distant, half-imagined sounds reverberated beyond their hiding place: A raucous shout. Barked commands carried on disciplined, murderous voices. A hammering shudder ravaged the wall. Ellie let out a startled squeal, pushing her face further into the fold of Zhaan's robes. "Why doesn't Daddy come?" "Soon." Zhaan hushed. "We will see him soon." Another angry barrage of thunder. With a trembling moan, the ruined wall gave way to a flood of naked light. There was a sudden crush of hulking dark figures in gleaming black helmets and heavy boots. Ellie felt Zhaan's body convulse in a painful scream against her. Rough hands pried them apart, dragging Ellie into the light. Then nothing. Until. Another room on a different ship. In stark contrast to the gentle warmth of the leviathan. A harsh study in cold metal walls and grating that gnawed at Ellie's bare feet. "You may leave her with me." The voice's owner was hidden in the thick shadows. The monsters cast Ellie to the floor before disappearing into the darkness. She stood, shivering with cold and fear. A waif, dressed in dingy purple, trapped by the harsh overhead light like some exotic insect. "What do they call you, child? Hmm…?" The voice circled just beyond the reach of light. "Answer." But fear claimed her tongue. "No matter. I shall choose a new name for you. Understood?" He prowled ever closer. Soon the dark would give him up. "I want my daddy!" Ellie forced her panic-stricken lungs to work. Circling, closer still. Reflections played with the perfect black sheen of his form. She tensed, her tiny fists like stones at her sides. "What makes you think he wants you?" The voice taunted. "After all, your father left you to die on the Leviathan." Fear pooled in her center at the callous accusation. "You're a big liar! I want my daddy." Another step closer. The light carved out the arch of a waxy, translucent cheekbone. The eyes were hidden beneath the headpiece of taut black skin. Panic bloomed anew in her chest. She backed away from this pale shade of a creature. "I need not lie. I can prove it." He said. The grainy image flickered from the darkness beyond: John Crichton was dying. Dark shadows defined his red-rimmed eyes. A fresh bruise was a garish purple along his temple. Her father's tortured voice droned on in a ragged hitch. "... don't know what the hell you're talking about. There's...n-n-no rendezvous. Nothing, nobody on Moya worth the risk. No reason for me to go back there." Ellie buried her tear-stained face in her hands. Crushing betrayal and disbelief tore at her heart. "Now do you believe me, child? Your father will not return." He glided closer; slim gloved hands outstretched with sinister grace. "But you are fortunate. I want you, my dear. As my right of victory, I have claimed you. "I shall be your father. Your master. In time, you will understand how fortunate you are." "But, I forget myself." A smile split his cracked black lips to expose the teeth of a carnivore. It did not touch the rheumy glow of his reptile eyes. "I am Scorpius." John sat up in his bed with an abrupt gasp. "Just a dream." He said to his empty quarters. But he knew better. More than a dream, the images from Unity with Zhaan had wormed their way into his sleep. They were the fractured memories of the strange young woman who now resided in the containment tier. L'Tan, his daughter. "Shit." He pushed a shaky hand through his hair. "Get a grip, Crichton." Sleep would not return. It was written in the certainty of his racing pulse. John dressed without looking at the chronometer. He knew what it would say. Damned late or damned early. The only things prowling Moya's corridors would be DRDs and ghosts. And of the latter, he had plenty. He wandered the empty hallways, without direction until he found himself outside of command. A pool of light spilled into the darkened corridor. Within he glimpsed the movement of a slender shadow: Aeryn. "Can't sleep?" He said from the doorway. It sounded more like a self-incrimination than a question. If he had startled her, he could not tell. She regarded him with a quick nod before turning back to the nav console. "I thought it best to do a systems check while Moya was in sleep cycle." Her voice was cool. "What do you want, John?" "Is this how it's gonna be from now on?" John moved to her side. "We just coordinate our schedules so we never see each other again?" Her hands paused over the panel. "I have no answers for you." "I'm not asking you to solve the mysteries of the universe, Aeryn. I don't know what we're supposed to do now. I just need to know that you're on my team." She turned to face him. Her voice softened. "I never left your team, John." "Aeryn, I-" The alien memory rammed this his tired
brain, full-tilt: John shook his head. "Whoa." "Crichton?" She grabbed his shoulder to steady him. "It's okay." He said with a meager grin. "Delvian mind-meld hiccup-" He stopped. Revelation flooded over him. "I need your help." He tugged Aeryn toward the door. "What can you tell me about the weapons on a command carrier?" #
"Why should that matter to you?" L'Tan answered in a brassy whisper. She was a coil against the wall, her knees tucked beneath her chin. At his approach, her shoulders drew into a rigid line. Cool green eyes studied his every move. "Because it does." John answered. She seemed smaller, almost delicate, like a polished stone. This was not the same frenzied creature that had attacked him. Her wild mop of dark hair was smoothed into a smooth plait. Her bulky flight suit gone, shed in favor of the sleek clothes beneath. Pale, slender arms, marked with scars, wound around her legs. "Return me to my ship." She hissed. It was part order, part plea. "Where would you go?" "I don't belong here." Her eyes narrowed. The sleek control on her temper was failing. "And you belong with him? With Scorpius?" John did not fight the incredulity in his tone. At the mention of her master's name he could see her flinch, a dagger of guilt and devotion twisting in her side. "He is more to me than you ever were." She rose, poised with a graceful tension. The anger was building somewhere beneath her glassy surface. She stepped closer, head lowered. "You never answered my question, Commander. Do you know what they do to hybrids? The Peacekeepers?" His jaw tightened. "I've got an idea." "I was fortunate. I was not fitted with a control device, to be some mindless attendant. To live my life in a drugged stupor. My s'duhar saw no sport in that." L'Tan turned and paced, impassioned with her sermon. "He taught me well. I learned of your cowardice. You left me to die. You left. He came. And I was liberated. My master showed me the truth!" As she spoke, the small hairs on the back of his neck stood up en masse. Whatever vulnerability he had imagined in her had dissolved. L'Tan's mannerisms, the pattern of her speech were nearly identical with those of Scorpius. "Are you done, Princess?" John asked with callous finality. "Now, let me tell you what I know. "I've seen your memories... through Zhaan. I'm not certain what that bastard showed you, but I know me. I wouldn't abandon Moya like that. What I saw was a dying man who lied to save the life of his daughter." Unconvinced, a reproachful sneer twisted her mouth. He cycled the lock, opening the gate. "Come on. Field trip. I'm gonna show you the truth, since you're so into it." # Jocosta. L'Tan allowed herself the small wave of relief as she stood before the prowler once more. She fought the urge to run a hand along the brushed alloy of a sloped wing. Her soul was restored knowing her ship remained in one piece. "We're gonna play a game. It's called truth or consequences." Crichton said, slapping her back. With an irritated growl, she turned on him. A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. She looked up. It was attached to the Luxon, she noted with naked disdain. "L'Tan, this is D'Argo. I believe you've met... sort of." She watched as Crichton ran a thick finger along the wing, eliciting a screech of skin on metal that made her flinch. "Anything wrong with your pretty little hotrod you want to tell me about, L'Tan?" "No." She answered, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. "Perfect?" He rapped a fist over the fuselage. She took a protective step forward. The Luxan's hand clamped down more firmly on her shoulder. "Yes." Crichton bounded onto the wing like a graceless primate. The landing struts uttered a small protest. The "rules" of his game, although they had not been explained, were quickly becoming apparent. Each time she gave an answer he did not like, her prowler was victimized. "Your perfect little ship made a frelled up wormhole?" He challenged with a snide grin as he leaned into the cockpit, rummaging for something. "It was fine until I approached the event horizon." The words jumped from her mouth. Anything to get him off the Jocosta. "Then what happened to bring you here?" Crichton hopped back to the floor, transparency in hand. "Took a wrong turn in Albuquerque?" L'Tan swallowed. Her eyes darted between him and the ship. The slow tide of her anger was ebbing, challenged by a blacker thoughts. He did not wait for her answer. "Before it decided to shut me out, I managed to crack open the flight data recorder. It's all here." He fluttered the transparency in her face then yanked it away with a flourish. "Point A to point B. Fifty thousand metras. A short jaunt, right? But guess what? Something you didn't count on. "There was a really large energy burst. Large enough to alter the temporal signature on that wormhole. To screw up your little test flight and bring you here. Any guesses where that energy surge came from, Princess?" "None." She clenched her fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. "Wrong answer." The page fluttered to the bay floor.
With a firm hand, he led her by the elbow along the side of the ship. "See that mark?" Her tormentor rapped an impatient knuckle on the hull. L'Tan pulled away, but he fished a hand through her collar. She followed him, grudgingly. His finger ran along the black scar. "What do you think that is?" He demanded. "It's a burn." She hissed through clenched teeth. "Give the kid a cigar!" He shook her shoulder with feigned enthusiasm. "In fact, it's from a near miss with a frag cannon. The kind they have on big old Peacekeeper command carriers." Crichton released her shirt. She backed into the Luxan's thick chest. "They fired on you. Your big hero, Scorpius, tried to kill you. How's that for the truth?" "Lies!" She spat the word. "This means noth-" "Focus!" He commanded, snapping his fingers in her face. "What'd you do to piss him off? Come on. Make me proud." "Nothing." The air was leaden in her lungs. There was no room to breathe. "You stole the ship." Crichton stepped closer. "I did not steal it!" L'Tan felt an indignant flush, enraged tears blurring her vision. "He would not listen. He tried to-" "He tried to kill you." He said in an insolent whisper. "You could not possibly understand!" #
But she could still hear him. Still feel him. Her master. I am greatly disappointed, young Sun. Pacing, hands clasped behind his back,
hovering over her stooped shoulders. He would not look upon her. Somehow, that
was worse. He makes you doubt me. He seeks to turn you against me. And you turn. What does that say of your loyalty to me? She answered, her hushed voice anxious and reverent. "I did not turn. I would not be here, if you would have only listened-" He turned on her, his eyes black pools in the half-light. You presume to blame me? You exist only because I wish it! "Forgive me, s'duhar. Please." She cringed closer to the wall, head bowed in penance. Her throat became a painful knot. "I only wished to restore myself to your favor." You live for me. "Yes." She nodded vehemently, with the ardor of a child. And you would die for me? L'Tan opened her eyes. The answer died in her throat. Yes. Yet. You breathe still. The clawed panic in her chest was stilled, replaced by a cold surety. With numb fingers, she pulled at the hidden pocket within her jacket. Even the crafty Nebari had failed to find the tiny vial of liquid concealed there. She folded this tiny capsule of death in her fist. Here was escape. "All will be forgiven?" She asked, looking up. But there was no answer. Her master was gone. L'Tan swiped impatiently at her tear streaked face then gingerly removed the vial's seal. The glass ticked against her teeth as her nervous fingers quivered. The xiocine was overpoweringly acrid, her tongue recoiling with the taste of the first droplets. "What the hell are you doing?" Crichton's voice suddenly erupted as he darted through the gate to her. Quickly she turned away, seeking to drink the remainder. But his brute hands slapped the vial away. It was dashed to the floor. "What is that crap?" Crichton demanded, admonishing. His rage was betrayed by the fear in his eyes. L'Tan tried to back away, but her legs did not heed her command. Her mouth. Her lungs had become lazy beasts. A mist flooded the edges of her vision. The few drops had been enough. Enough to bring the black swirling tide around her feet. It rose eagerly up her legs, dissolving her knees. She crumpled to the floor, gladly succumbing. "L'Tan?" A rough hand shook her. But she watched more than felt. Come on. Wake up! The commanding voice was tinny, disconnected. The black filled her mouth, her nose. Covered her eyes. To the last, her ears were still buffeted by the unimportant sounds. wakeup... zhaan... getthehelldownhere....
Surveying the terraced landscape, John swatted distractedly at the tiny swarm of insects hovering near his ear. The sky was a brilliant, almost painful yellow. Two suns blazed overhead. A failing red dwarf and its bloated partner. There was no breeze, leaving the air heavy and stale over his skin. "How long has it been?" He turned to Zhaan before casting an anxious glance at the curtained doorway. Beyond it, somewhere in the peculiar shadows of the apothecary's lab was his daughter, possibly dead. She ended her hushed chant before answering. "Nearly two arns." "This guy'd better know his stuff." He muttered, dragging a hand across the back of his neck. Zhaan touched his arm, comforting. "Metur's expertise excels my ability to treat her. Chiana said that he is well known in this region for his skills with toxins." "Making them? Or stopping them?" He said, sarcastically. He turned back to the dismal landscape. "I don't get it, Zhaan. Why? What could Scorpius do to a kid's head to drive her that far? It must make the aurora chair look like a cake walk." "The mental conditioning she was subjected to runs very deep, John. I sensed as much in my bond with her." Said the priest, the pity for L'Tan apparent in her voice. The curtains parted. Metur, a gnarled knot of a being, exited in his ragged bundle of robes. The Trelgin apothecary recoiled slightly as John approached. "Sebaceans" were oddities here. The heat of the planet keep them away. "Well?" John prodded. "The woman-child rests. Hmmmm. Shall be fine." Metur hummed in his strange sing-song. "Lucky her. Nerve not there. Not damaged by xiocine." "Paraphoral nerve?" "Hmmmm. Yes. Have other organs that take place. An oddity, this woman. Most unlikely Sebacean. You no Sebacean either, hmmm? The heat here would kill." The apothecary's wizened eyes peered at him from the folds of an ancient face. A filmy yellow. But sharper than a serpent's tooth. John felt the crawl of hair across the back of his neck. Leaving soon would be a good idea. "Can I see her?" He said, ignoring the question. "Proceed." The alchemist extended a bony, big knuckled hand, ushering him to the door. John turned to Zhaan. "Get D'Argo. Round up Pip and Sparky. I don't want to wear out our welcome." She nodded slightly, reading the new tension in his voice. Things could get worse.
I missed. Corsair was faster than I'd thought. L'Tan peered about the dim room, thoughts slowly clearing. This was not the carrier. Or even the leviathan. A row of candles lined the wall. Twisted ropes of sabet oil vines hung along the walls. The warm, humid air was rich with their scent. Memory return in a rushing wave: The tiny vial dashed to the floor. Crichton's angry voice, tempered with fear. Gnarled ancient hands moving over her, prying open her jaw. Some cloying sweet fluid. A craggy voice demanding that she drink. A sliver of brilliant yellow sunlight struck the far wall. A figure entered through the curtained doorway, Crichton. "I don't know this place." She said simply, watching his approach. "Well, it ain't Johns Hopkins, but it's covered on Moya's HMO." He plopped next to her in the thick layers of pillows. "How do you feel?" "Thick." It was the best word. Her tongue felt sluggish in her mouth. Muscles ached as if she had been through a commando physical training course. Only the pain in her lungs seemed to be receding. He smiled, thinly. "I was afraid you weren't going to make it." "Of course." She peered at him in a sidelong glance. "You need me to repair the Jocosta." "Listen to me." Crichton abruptly seized her shoulders and forced her to look at him. A hurt anger edged his words. "I am not your enemy. I just want to help you. Can you get it through your thick skull?" Zhaan's disembodied voice suddenly issued from his com: "John, there is no sign of Chiana or Rygel. We've searched everywhere." "Keep looking." He replied, but his eyes did not leave L'Tan's. "We'll meet you at the transport pod in a few microts." He rose from the cushions, extending a hand to her. "I hate to break up our dysfunctional family fun, but the guy who runs this joint gives me the creeps. We should split." L'Tan studied his face for a long measuring moment. Hesitantly she took his hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. The curtains in the doorway parted, bathing the room with blinding light. They both looked up to see a silhouette fill the doorway, taller, more firm. Most definitely not the hobbled Metur. "Don't move! Hands where I can see them!" The figure commanded through the muffle of a rebreathing coil. A sinister glint of sunlight on metal betrayed the pulse rifle in his hands. Their attacker spoke to second, unseen via comlink. "I have the Sebaceans right where Metur said they'd be. Let me know when you've spotted the others. Remember, heads are fine. They only wanted the one called Crichton alive." "Great. Just wonderful. Bounty hunter." Crichton muttered. L'Tan spared him a curious glance. She saw nothing beneficial about this new development. The curtain fell shut, imparting their tense triad to the dim. The hunter strode toward them, pulse rifle at the ready. Red eyes narrowed in a jeer over the rebreather mask. "Looks like I'm going to retire in style." "Who the hell are you?" Crichton challenged. "Botan Ved." He answered, studying the human's face. "Yes. You are the one in the wanted beacon." Ved's beady red eyes next fell on L'Tan. He sniffed curiously at her hair, the sound of his breathing amplified by the mask. The pulse rifle's muzzle prodded at her ribs. "Not Sebacean... but not like him. Curious... There's no bounty on you. Must be worth some credits to somebody though. Shame to waste such a pretty piece of meat." "Now, hang on there, Boba Fet-" Crichton stepped forward. The rifle switched back to him at the sudden move. L'Tan lashed out at the distracted hunter, her fist striking his throat. Dazed, he fumbled with the rifle as she seized on it. They were soon caught in a deadly tug-of-war. With a great shove, Ved sent her crashing into the wall. A rain of earthen apothecary jars shattered around her. She lost her footing in the slick oil from a broken vessel and fell to the floor. There was the unmistakable flash of a pulse gun. It struck the hunter high on the back. Ved's limp body fell onto her with a winded thump. Panting, head reeling, she looked up to see Crichton holstering his gun. "Are you okay?" He questioned. But she did not share his distress. L'Tan was incensed. She had been caught unprepared. A grievous error that is seldom forgiven. She angrily rolled the slumped body off of her, waving away Crichton's offer of assistance. "Zhaan? D'Argo?" He called into his com, sparing a cautious peek into the courtyard beyond the doorway. D'Argo's response was angry and breathless. "John! Where are you? There are wanted beacons-" "And bounty hunters." Crichton broke in. "Keep an eye out. We'll be at the transport pod in five microts." He jerked his chin at her. "Let's go. Coast is clear." "No." L'Tan squatted along side the fallen hunter, her head at a curious tilt, studying. "He still lives." "Yes... and he'll wake up really pissed off. Been there. Done that. Let's go." Crichton turned from the door, his brow furrowed. "What're you doing?" "He's Onari. The air we breathe is poison to him." She said, clinically. "No! Wait-" He called. With a callous jerk, L'Tan removed the rebreather coil fastened to Ved's face. A tiny hiss resounded. Instantly the unconscious hunter began to convulse, a thick green foam flooding from his mouth. Then he lay still. "Why did you do that?" Crichton looked from the body to her, dismayed. "You didn't have to do that." She looked up at him. Her face was expressionless as she repeated the Peacekeeper mantra from memory. "It is a tactical error to leave an enemy disabled when it is possible to neutralize him." # "Trouble. Since her first microt on this ship." Rygel huffed, keeping his sleigh throne doggedly in pace with John and D'Argo along Moya's corridor. "We don't need her. L'Tan is another yammering mouth to feed. We should dump the scrawny bitch off at the next commerce planet." John whirled on him, his hand dashing out to grab his royal pain in the ass by the ear. "Put a lid on it, Fluffy. Nobody's dumping anyone. Got it?" He released the Hynerian and watched him dart down the hall, muttering a string of garbled curses. John looked back at D'Argo's disapproving scowl. "What?" He challenged. "Don't tell me you're on the same page as Rygel?" "John, I know what it is like to worry over a child." D'Argo began. "But this is not the same. She is not a little girl. You cannot save her, Crichton. L'Tan is dangerous, even to herself. Today was proof enough of that." "So what are you saying, D'Argo?" John threw his arms in the air in a disgruntled flourish. "Lock her up forever? Drop her off on some rock?" D'Argo met his eyes gaze. He said,
simply. "Just let go." #
L'Tan slouched at the galley's long curving table under the dim starlight of the portal. A plate of food cubes rested in front of her untouched. In the corner of her eye there was a stealthy movement, a darker figure glided among the shadows in the doorway. She turned, eyes piercing the dark. "What." L'Tan said. It was not a question. "Never seen anyone that drank xiocine and lived." The Nebari cautiously approached the table. She regarded L'Tan with a queer cant of her shaggy head. "How do you feel?" L'Tan rolled spiteful eyes up at her. She answered in a derisive voice. "What do you think?" "Right." Chiana nodded with a nervous smile. "I know you're not concerned with my health." She turned back to the window. "Why are you really here, Nebari?" "I wanted to know... It's just that your first day here, you remembered Zhaan. But you didn't recognize me or D'Argo, even Toad." Chiana drew herself up onto the table. "Why don't you remember us? What happens to us in the future?" L'Tan's mouth pulled into a thin line. Her eyes held back a sinister knowledge. "Do you really want to know?" "Chiana." Aeryn's voice sliced the air, startling both of them. The Nebari jumped up with a guilty look. "Aeryn, I was just-" "Zhaan has been looking for you." Aeryn strode up to the table, eyes narrowed. "She needs your help." "No she doesn't, I just left-" "That's why you should leave... now." Aeryn continued jerking her chin at the door impatiently. "Fine. I know where I'm not wanted." Chiana said, striding away in an irritated huff. L'Tan and Aeryn regarded each other in an awkward silence that remained. It was Aeryn who was the first to speak. "Crichton told me about the bounty hunter... Ved." L'Tan turned away, gaze fixed on the portal. "I assume you do not approve either." "I can understand why you did it." Aeryn replied. "A dead enemy is better than a disabled enemy." L'Tan's spine straightened at the familiar words on her mother's voice. Aeryn detected a liquid quiver to her eyes in the half-light. There was something in the expression that reminded her of Crichton. Not so much her features, but the expression of unvoiced loss. "You cannot know what it is to look upon you. To hear your voice." L'Tan rose and stood before the glimmering field of stars, her back to Aeryn. She spoke with a trembling reverence. "When I was a child, I would have gladly given anything for just this moment. I wanted so desperately to know you, to be just like you. "But that could never happen. I am nothing like you. I have done things, worse than my actions today. Things you would never understand. There is nothing... to change that." "You helped us today." Aeryn said. "Helped our shipmates escape the bounty hunters. It's a beginning." L'Tan bowed her head. "I thought only of my own life." Aeryn slipped beside her at the window. "John told me something once. 'You can be more.' He believed it of me. But the real challenge is, can you believe it of yourself?"
She sat within the shadows of the deserted galley, like some forgotten misery. That they would suffer you to stay? Call you their own? All the while you know what is in their hearts, don't you? They fear you. Despise you. You can be more?! Ridiculous tripe. He strode behind her back, all the while his voice deceptively even, protracted. Your mother does not want you here any more than he does. His only interest is the prowler and what he can take from it. "I deliver the leviathan to you and all will be as it should. All will be forgiven." L'Tan murmured, eyes vacant within her pale mask of a face. It was no longer a question. For there was no longer a choice. L'Tan slipped through winding corridors until she reached the darkened bay, heart ramming her ribs. A DRD trundled by, eyestalks nosing the shadows. She froze, hidden behind the sloped roof of the module, until the creature continued on its self-important mission. She paused and drew a shaky breath. The Jocosta waited for her in the dull copper glow of the wall sconces. What are you thinking, L'Tan? His voice was an icy finger on her heart. With an agile grace, she noiselessly climbed inside the darkened cockpit. Nervous fingers played with the identchip on its chain, stalling. Her resolve was draining. "I do this and all will be as it should." She told herself. Shaking hands inserted the chip through the scanner. A low hum resonated in the console. In the dim, she slipped on the occulars. "Jocosta, identify pilot: L'Tan Sun." Her own voice seemed too loud in the closeness of the cockpit. The response flickered across the occular display, weak at first then brighter:
The orange glow of the console slowly filled the darkened space. She spared another quick glance to the hanger. Nothing. No one. "Report status." She commanded. There was a contemplative pause as the ship checked its systems. A list of complaints soon rolled into view:
"Cancel." The report abruptly vanished. She had seen what she needed to know. L'Tan paused, swallowing to keep the tremor from her voice. "Open a hyperlink channel, all known Ravstar regiment distress frequencies." The view changed. Within the theater of the occulars, the blue hexagonal pattern of the communications grid appeared. "Activate automated distress signal. Attach triangulation coordinates. Omni pattern recognition. Operative.... Scorpius. Delay command while we are in range of pulsar diffraction."
It was done. She exhaled sharply; but there was no relief. "Estimate time until free of pulsar signal diffraction."
L'Tan watched the microts start of tick away. The light of the console became a blurry backdrop to the command screen. She distractedly swiped at her eyes. "All will be forgiven." |
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