Part One: Tempus Fugit

No one ever fell in love with this place. 

Elenor Crichton turned her face up to the flat gunmetal gray sky. What passed for a weakling sun did its best to find a path through the heavy clouds. For the most part during her past three weekens on Acheron, it had remained a mysterious white disk casting only a suggestion of warmth. A frigid gust of wind charged at her. On it she mused she could feel tiny flecks of ice. Shrinking deeper into the heavy folds of a deserter's jacket, she hurried her pace through the crowded market. 

Despite the ugly weather, the muddy passages were packed with other patrons. On a planet of perpetual rain and ice this was considered a good day. Acheron was suitable for other things regardless of the inhospitable climate: It was a literal sanctuary for the rogue Sebacean colony it sheltered. Nothing grew here, save the scraggily looking scrub that dotted the outlying wilderness. It housed no ores of great importance or value. And its chief import seemed to be Peacekeeper deserters and small-time smugglers. 

Acheron was the perfect place to hide if you never wanted to be found. She guessed that a great deal of the population was not unlike her, deserters. Homeless. She had heard rumors it was once a breeding colony turned renegade and not worth the effort for the Peacekeepers to reclaim. 

Ellie did her best to blend in with the local populace, choosing to pose as a former tech, should anyone get curious. However it was hard to convince the inhabitants of this place she was once a tech. Although her frame was slight, she had length of bone and a shrewd edge to her presence that was difficult to conceal by her poorly effected subservient nature. As a consequence she found it difficult to make this illusion pass. 

Her trip into the city had not been worthwhile, none of the parts dealers had the components she wanted. It did not matter. She had needed to get out of the tiny little dwelling in the foothills. Sharing the cramped confines with Northway for the past three weekens was proving to be a challenge on her already limited patience. The human had the unnatural and annoying knack of telling Ellie exactly what she did not want to hear and her observations were seldom restricted to less volatile subjects. 

Stalking sullenly through the streets, even now she recounted their latest battle of wills. 

"That shyster you've been talking to…" Northway often launched into conversations without preamble. This time she was leaning over the contents of one of their cargo bins, digging through the rapidly depleting stock of goods she had brought with them from Earth. 

Ellie did not look away from the  navigational chart that she had been pretending to study for the past arn. "Teykan…" 

Northway grunted to herself and stopped rummaging. There was a victorious rustle of cellophane as she found whatever ‘junk food’ she had secretly horded. "He get the part for the marauder’s Cesium manifolds?" 

"Do you see me with it?" Ellie returned, sarcastically. It was their same argument, only disguised differently this time. "Another day. He certain that his source will have it." 

"He's been saying that since we've gotten here." Northway looked at her. She gestured randomly with the open bag of questionably nutritious food. "Look, Ellie. You have to face facts. Korbyn's not showing." 

"You think I am purposefully keeping us here to wait for a man? For him?" 

Northway raised an eyebrow in silent accusation. Ellie did not wait for more of a response. Rising swiftly enough to upset her chair, she snatched up Korbyn's jacket and stalked out the door. 

"A man…" Ellie muttered angrily, shoving her hands into her pockets. Northway may see a lot with her keen perception, but she was always quick to jump to conclusions. However, Ellie could not decide which bothered her more: the fact that Northway suggested that she was being dishonest or the possibility that she was correct. Although she had declared vehemently to the contrary, the part was not necessary for the operation of the marauder. The by-pass was holding. 

With a growing sense of remorse, Ellie looked around the crowded market. She saw only the same grimy desperate faces, shoulders slumped against the cold rain. The annoying human was right. It was unlikely either of them would see Asher Korbyn again, although she knew on an instinctive level that the Peacekeeper deserter with whom she shared a curious personal history was alive. 

Children's mischievous laughter rippled past, disrupting the mire of her thoughts. A small pack of  dirty-faced children darted through the sea of adult bodies. Ellie watched them for a moment, absently marveling at the prospect that she was ever once that small, moved like that, laughed that way with complete abandon. 

Silently constructing an apology for Northway that she would in all probability never employ, Ellie turned down one of the less crowded side streets, nearly colliding with one of the children. The girl was so small she almost tripped over her. Ellie made a stumbling side step to avoid landing on her. 

"You should be more careful." Ellie reprimanded. 

The diminutive blonde did nothing in the way of offering an apology. She turned frightened violet eyes up at Ellie. Dressed in a thin, ragged shift, her bony arms and legs were exposed to the cold. But it did not seem to bother her. 

"Were you a soldier?" The girl asked with a surprising boldness. Something hard seemed to glint in the otherwise innocent gaze. 

Ellie stooped to the girl's eye view. "I'm no one. I was a tech… on a carrier." 

The child canted her head to the side, unconvinced. Her gaze only held smug disbelief. She tugged at the hem of Ellie’s battered jacket. "Tech's don't look like you." 

"You're a very curious little girl." Ellie returned. "What's your name?" 

"Mim." 

"Well, Mim. You should avoid tripping any more soldiers today." Ellie smirked, straightening. She extended her hand to the child, expectantly. "Or picking their pockets." 

The girl's face crumpled into a wizened frown. As the urchin’s charade was obviously thwarted, a coarser demeanor began to show. She looked around her, her thoughts plain upon her wide heart-shaped face. Ellie stepped in her path. Escape was not a serious option in the cramped space between the buildings. 

Ellie wiggled her fingers on her hand, beckoning. "Come on. Let's have it." 

The fist that had been tucked behind the girl's back came into view. Sighing with melodramatic exasperation Mim deposited her money bag back onto her palm. Ellie snatched it up and tucked it into the inner pocket of her jacket. Around them the rain worsened, the light drizzle becoming a steady downpour. It had already saturated her clothes. 

"I suggest you retreat." Ellie said sternly, looking down her nose. She stepped aside to allow the girl to pass. 

Surprised, Mim frowned up at her. Instantly the expression turned into fright as her gaze shifted to something behind Ellie’s shoulder. The would-be thief darted away. 

The hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck stood on end as she realized there was someone standing behind her. The noise of their approach had been hidden by the downpour. Before she could turn around, she felt a massive rough hand clamp down over her mouth. A strong arm wrapped firmly around her waist and she was pulled deeper into the shadows of the alley way. 

Her first, baser instinct was blind panic. She pushed past it and found the smooth black place installed in her head by years of Peacekeeper discipline. Inflict pain. Escape. Counter-attack. Survive. 

With all the ferocity she could manage, Ellie forced her elbow back and into her attacker. This was greeted with the sound of a satisfying wounded grunt. His hold on her waist lessened. She bit at the flesh of his palm, drawing blood. Instantly she was free, whirling on her adversary and ready to attack. 

But she hesitated. Ellie squinted through the curtain of rain at the dark shape in the passage. "Asher?" 

Still winded, he held up a staying hand. The figure gasped for breath. Although sounding dreadfully exhausted, his deep resonating voice was unmistakable. "Crichton. You fight like a tech… anyone ever tell you that?" 

Ellie stepped forward, her fists dropping to her sides. An awkward relief tempered the fading race of adrenaline in her body. She forced the emotion from her voice. "What the Hezmana do you think you’re doing?” 

"What sort of hello is that?" He grinned, but the expression seemed to be tinged by pain worse than any injuries she could have inflicted. Asher regarded his bitten hand, flexing it experimentally. 

She finally allowed the smile that had been lingering beneath her feigned scorn. "I should ask the same of you." 

Asher straightened and took a step toward her, stumbling. As he emerged from the shadows, she glimpsed the pallor to his skin, the deep gouge decorating his jaw. One of his arms, remained stiffly to his side, as though favoring a wound. He looked like most of the unsavory characters in the Uncharteds had taking turns pounding on him. 

Ellie moved closer, her hands hovering over him, uncertain. She peered up into his dark brown eyes. "You're injured. What's happened?" 

"More like who's happened to me." He cracked. "Onari… Zenetians… Ix has placed a heavy bounty on me. I suppose I should be flattered--" 

"Come on. You can brag later." She ducked under his arm, and tried to help take on his weight. They began a in a slow stagger to leave the settlement. "Northway is here too. She can help you." 

"Oh… there's some good news for a change." He muttered sarcastically. 

#

 "Here… look at me." Northway commanded. She tipped Korbyn's chin up, trying to catch the cut above his eye in better light. He glanced at her briefly. His attention had been riveted to Ellie the entire time. 

"This is gonna sting." Rachel applied the tincture to the wound. He hissed instantly as the substance touched his open cut. 

"Frell!" Korbyn recoiled, fixing her with accusatory stare. 

"Big baby." She muttered, swatting at his shoulder. 

"And I thought the Onari were bad." 

She heard Ellie laugh, the first she had heard from the girl in weeks. Ellie had been practically blushing under Korbyn's attention… or the Peacekeeper equivalent to it. Rachel rolled her eyes and decided to let the sarcastic observation go. The girl was happy. Hell, somebody deserved to be after nearly a month stuck on what she had personally dubbed "Planet Minnesota". Rachel pretended not to notice and instead turned her attention to the analysis sequence on the portable med scanner, formerly the property of one Lucien Ix. 

"You've got  fractures at your fifth and sixth with some tearing at the intercostal ligaments…" She squinted at the display. A great deal of the symbols still made little sense but she was finally starting to pick it up. 

He blinked up at her. "Inter what?" 

"Your ribs, Brainiac. I thought you said you were a medic." 

"I was." He managed a lupine grin. "I only know Sebacean anatomical terms." 

"Oh brother." Rachel sighed at his off-color innuendo and looked back at the screen. "Three broken molars… More contusions than you can shake a stick at… and the cut on your jaw is gonna need sutures. Sorry, Korbyn. You're gonna live. You'll just look a lot more lived in." 

Korbyn nodded at her absently, as Ellie placed a plate of food in front of him. It was some brownish chunky goop, Rachel had tasted only once. Whatever had been in it gave cayenne pepper a run for its money. She scowled, watching him hunker over the plate having seen better manners in barns. 

"Here, Northway," Asher chewed. Between mouthfuls of food, he produced a datachip from one of the inner pockets of his distressed duster. Devoid of ceremony he threw it across the table at her. "Security detail I ran across had this on 'em. Thought you'd find it interesting." 

Northway picked up the slender rectangular recording chip and turned it over in the light cast by the common room's fireplace. The only markings the chip bore other than scant Sebacean lettering was the now familiar red, black and white emblem she had come to regard with the same foreboding as a radiation symbol. Peacekeeper. 

Ellie leaned over her shoulder to look at the strange offering and quickly recoiled. 

"What?" Rachel looked up at her, perplexed. 

"It's meant for High Command. High level clearance only." She said. The uneasy tone Ellie's voice even made Asher pause from his gluttony. "Who had this? How did you get this?" 

"Why?" Chew. Swallow. "I guarantee you they don't care about it anymore. Poor provakhtos." 

"Because it's marked a Code Decca One, Korbyn!" Ellie seethed. 

He shrugged and returned to the ambush on his plate. 

Northway found the holo-emitter amongst the clutter of the small table. Shoving stray marauder parts out of the way she cleared a space for it and fumbled for the activation. A screen full of Sebacean hieroglyphics filled the room with sinister red light. A woman in the image began immediately to speak. Her voice was clipped and articulate: 

"For the glory of all… Commander Alejandra D'Soto. Neu-Tech regiment…" 

Her narration competed with a stream of images: the gutted forlorn remains of the Farscape Two… John Crichton, the image obviously from the equivalent of a surveillance camera.  

She heard the faintest gasp from Elle. It was a curious mix of surprise and relief at the sight of her absent father. Rachel watched Elle's pale features in the flickering light as she studied the fleeting footage. Pensively the girl began to chew her thumb. 

D'Soto's image continued to spout of information, statistics, variables, research results. None of it mattered. Rachel's entire world focused on the latest images: DK in his battered yellow flight-suit. In another picture he looked drawn, but healthy. 

"Holy shit." Rachel whispered. Alive! David is alive! She slumped onto the bench. A sigh left her body in one shuddering wave. Tears that had been denied their freedom for well over a year threatened the edge of her vision. The heavy stone that had pinned her soul had been lifted. She cradled her face in her hands. 

"Destroy it… right now. They can't have this." Ellie said. Before Rachel could stop her Ellie snatched the datachip from the emitter. She was reaching for something to crush it with. 

Rachel dove at her with uncommon ferocity. She grabbed the girl's fist that held the chip. "Stop it! What are you doing?!" 

"They want the wormhole tech for a weapon!" Ellie wrested her arm away. Despite her slender appearance she was always surprised by the younger woman's strength. "My father died for this! He died to keep it away from them!" 

Rachel grabbed her by the upper arms. "Ellie, listen to me. You have your father… right now. He's alive. He's out there somewhere. He's free! DK is the reason I came back here. You know that." 

Ellie looked at the chip and then up at Rachel. Her expression held a cheated worry. Rachel realized it was for her. Could she know me that well? 

"I know what you're thinking." Ellie said, her voice quivered. "They'll destroy you, Rachel." 

"I need that chip to help find my friend." Rachel said quietly, letting her hands fall away from the girl's shoulders. 

Wordlessly, Ellie tossed the chip back onto the bench. She drew her chin up and regarded Rachel in a strange measuring silence before storming out of the room. 

#

Sleep would not come. Outside the wind had picked up, ascending to a freakish howl. It placed her nerves more on edge. Rachel leaned against the wall in the tiny room that had been hers for far too long on this harsh little planet. She toyed with the chain around her neck. It had been a gift from her father. Skipping her own graduation ceremony to continue her grueling surgery internship shift, she had found the trinket hidden inside of the pocket of her lab coat. The necklace had never been away  from her a day in her life since then, a constant reminder of her father. Michel Northway had been stern and a shrewd business man, but he had always supported her, no matter what her decisions had been. 

At this moment, she longed to hear her father's deep, cigarette-smoker's voice. To hear the reason in it. Yet even the memory of it felt hollow, conjured. Rachel wondered what he would say on what she was contemplating on this night. Would he agree with Elle? Was it the equivalent of suicide? 

Although she was certain Ellie would insist on it, she would not get the girl involved. She had been through too much to ask her to risk her life once more. This was what Rachel had returned for. This was her own personal crusade, no one else's. 

But DK was alive! Rachel had watched the classified recording over and over, studying anything that could be a clue. D'Soto was seemingly purposefully vague when she mentioned Kaiser. She referred to him as an "unclassified species" in their custody but did not indicate his involvement. Rachel could not imagine that if he were merely a prisoner, D'Soto would not even bother to mention his existence. There were inconsistencies in the message that did not match up, giving her more of a sinking feeling that the whole nature of this beast was something she might never glimpse. Whatever it was, it was larger than Peacekeepers and a few wayward alien fugitives. 

They'll destroy you. 

Rachel frowned. Could the Peacekeeper be the demons that Ellie made them? It had been difficult to get much out of her. There were deep emotional scars in the girl that would never heal and over time Rachel had learned to tread lightly around the topic. Even a casual question could send Ellie into explosive fits of rage. Then there was Korbyn. He had been blasé about his experience with the Regime, offering more of a contempt for their strict lifestyle than marking them as evil doers. 

She knew her decision had been made the moment she left Earth. The hard part was over. There were things she had to do still to the marauder and she hoped she retained enough of the crash course on Marauder 101 to make her plan work. There would not be a second chance. Rachel rose from the narrow cot, listening to the sleeping stillness of the room outside. Nothing. Fearing that activating the lights would rouse Ellie, she found her duffle bag in the semi-darkness and began to pack. It would be best if the girl never knew, never had a chance to stop her. 

"Piece of cake." Rachel whispered to herself humorlessly. 

# 

Rachel paused in the hold of the marauder, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Although it had been nearly a month since they had used the ship, the air inside still carried the flat metallic taste of fried components. She felt her way through the shadows to the brief ladder that lead to the tiny command loft. The powered down console held only a few fluttering readouts. She used their dim light to find the internal illuminators activation. 

"Going somewhere?" 

Rachel released a startled yelp. The voice was female with the faintest curl of  a Sebacean accent. It came from the dark shadow of the navigation alcove. 

"Ellie! Christ! You scared the shit out of me!" Rachel blurted. She leaned back against the tactical station, waiting for her heart to climb back inside of her rib cage. 

The light in the loft popped on, sputtering its harsh chemical luminescence over the banks of silent displays. She caught a quick glimpse of Ellie leaning back into the chair, green eyes like huge pools. Her face was a pallid mask framed by dark hair in the unhealthy light. She moved with such stealth and ease. Rachel had envied her that. Ellie had the uncommon ability to look completely at home in this setting, despite her loathe for what it represented. 

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Rachel said finally. 

"I asked you a question." Ellie returned, folding her arms against her chest. 

"I think you know, Ace." She let her duffel bag drop to the deck. 

"Then you know why I'm here." Stretching her long legs, she propped her feet onto the console, barring Rachel's path into the command area. 

"Ellie…" Rachel pushed the girl's feet away. "Don't start. You're not going to talk me out of this. And… no… you're not coming with me." 

"You don't stand a chance, Rachel." Ellie spouted. "You have no idea what you're going--" 

"I don't pretend to know what they did to you. I'm sorry for what your life was like. But this is… this is different." Rachel interrupted. She began the optimization sequence, trying her best not to hesitate with the clumsy alien system. "I have to trust my gut on this Elle. If they didn't hurt DK, then it means I stand a chance too." 

"A chance?! Are you listening to yourself? This is… insane! If I can't talk you out of it, then we'll come with you." 

"What good would you do? Or Korbyn?” She whirled on Ellie, voice sharpened. “Against a shit-load of people that would have your hides the second they found you out? Think, girl!" 

"I am! I am the only one thinking here!" 

“This is something I have to do. Just me." Rachel added, apologetically. "You got a whole life of your own now… it's waiting for you. You don’t need me around." 

"No… I can't let you. You can't do this." The girl rose sharply, turning away. The ugly jagged sound in her voice making her protest that much worse for Rachel to hear. 

"I'm sorry. Elle. I'm so sorry." She said quietly. Here was a fresh pain. She had grown so close to her, felt so fiercely protective of her. A new goodbye that was on purpose and, yet, hurt worse. There was a genuine soul that dwelled beneath the scowls and daily doses of sarcasm that was Elenor Crichton. Rachel regretted she may not ever have the chance to see the human she had no doubt Ellie would become. 

"Don't leave me, Rachel." Ellie turned back to her. Her face was wet with tears. She turned pleading eyes at her. The slick veneer was gone. All that remained was raw hurt. She used a seldom-employed word. "Please." 

"You're gonna be ok, kiddo. I swear it. I know you." Rachel said, taking the girl into a fierce embrace. "You gonna make me proud, right? You've got Korbyn to keep you busy. Kick his ass a few times for me, ok?" 

"I'll see you again, Ellie. Promise." Rachel Northway hoped that was not a lie. 

# 

"You don’t know what it is, John." Aeryn said in a soft, yet commanding tone. She placed a hand on his arm. "There are simply too many variables. You said yourself you cannot repair very much of the message."

"It could be a trap," D’Argo intoned. He folded his arms against his massive chest. "Scorpius has had access to your memories. He would know just what would lure you to him." "Why now?" Chiana huffed from her perch on the map table. "I mean… it’s been what? A cycle?"

"She couldn’t find us herself, Chi. She’s sick. Look at her." John said, gesturing at the frozen image on the viewer.

"All Peacekeepers look the same to me." Chiana shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but watching for an obvious reaction from Aeryn.

She took the bait. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"She sabotaged Moya." D’Argo offered in a half-assed attempt at Chiana’s defense.

John wordlessly turned and walked out of command, leaving them ensnarled in their argument. To stay would have been pointless. Knowing that unless he repaired the remainder of the mysterious message from Ellie, he would never get their cooperation. And he would do it if it took him the next cycle. That had been nearly eight weekens ago.

Since then he had restored only a small portion. He gone over the badly damaged recording dozens of times, memorizing each inflection in Ellie's voice in the passages that he could discern, the subtle of changes in her expression. As even with the first time, he was struck by how much she had changed in appearance. It was not drastic, but enough to speak volumes to him.

The fierce young woman seemed paler, almost translucent in the eye of the holo-emitter. Her cheeks were sunken, further accenting her high-cheekbones. The dark circles further pronounced the pain that was heart-achingly apparent in the glassy stones of her eyes. Yet she held herself with a bearing that was proud, almost regal. Beneath the pain she remained resolute, stubborn. Just like her mother. Or, like him, Aeryn would argue had she known the course of John’s thoughts.

There remained so much mystery about it. Not a day passed that he did not ponder the information. Of all the badly corrupted data, one bit of information stood out. He replayed the section once more. Her tiny voice echoed through the deserted maintenance bay:

"… zero mark nine… declination seven… Drakor cooperative … system."

He was certain they were coordinates. But what did they mean? Was is a rendezvous? A call for help? On darker days, he had to agree with D'Argo's argument. Was it a trap?

In the time since, he poured over his own memory of the encounter with the brutish looking Sebacean that had given him the recording tucked inside a swatch of cloth from an IASA flight suit. Asking around on the settlement had turned up no clues save one, the odd messenger's name: Asher Korbyn. And from the looks of the people that did know him, Korbyn wasn't exactly finishing school material.

Ellie, who have you gotten yourself mixed up with? He cast a doubtful glance at the recording of his daughter as though she might offer an explanation.

As he did each night, John returned to examining the rest of the other strange clue. He ran the pad of his thumb over the names stitched into the mission patch that had accompanied the datachip. D. Kaiser… R. Northway. Feeling foolish, he pressed the material to his face and inhaled its smell. Chakan oil. Sweat. But he knew the patch was authentic. John did not need the chemical analysis results to tell him that. It just felt right.

"DK, you hard headed bastard… what the hell do you think you're doing." John whispered. "And who'd you drag with you?"

R. Northway. He played the name over and over. It tugged at the edges of memory, teasing him. What was the "R" for? Robert? Roger? Did he know this person? Was this cloth from their flight suit? Or DK’s ?

There had been Northwest Propulsion Labs. Northern Electrical. Hell, the module was built off the shelf. There had been dozens of names involved with the IASA. But the he could see the name in his mind. And it struck him. Bingo. John grinned to himself.

Northway Industries. They practically gave them the propulsion system. It was a pricey by any standards, but the discount had been steep.

"You're up late."

He startled. John dropped the patch to the work bench and turned to watch Aeryn glide through the entrance of the annex hangar to him. He shrugged. "And you're not?"

She leaned against the high set workbench, purposefully making her moves casual. Toying with scraps of filament, she nodded down at the vivisected remains of the emitter and the data spool. "Any progress?"

It was the game they played each time. Not talking about the elephant in the room.

"Mostly garbled, except for a … few things of interest." John sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. The universe was sitting a little too heavily on his shoulders tonight. This had all the earmarks of another argument in the making and he was willing to pass on it. He reached to power down the emitter.

"No." Aeryn's hand fell on his, staying it. She turned her aqua eyes on him. As ever, it was impossible for him to know what she was thinking. Then she asked quietly. "Can I see her please?"

"Um… sure." He did not hide his surprise. In their last encounter Aeryn had branded the girl untrustworthy. Was it possible she thought about her? Worried about Ellie? He wanted to ask, but history had taught him to not press the issue where Aeryn Sun was involved. You retained most of your teeth that way.

The immediate area over the workbench glowed with the blue-tinged light of the recording. Elenor Crichton in diminutive form addressed the vacant middle distance. Her mouth moved, but many of the sound data files were corrupted. What sound that did come through were drawn out sibilants and static punctuated by the occasional intelligible word.

"Can you turn the sound portion off?" Aeryn asked, a crease formed on her brow.

John complied. Silently he watched the two women, one holographic, the other flesh and bone. He was struck by the incredible likeness they shared to other. It was made all the more precious by their differences. Although their features were not the same, there existed in each woman a common quality. It was beauty thrust upon a creature that had no use for it and as a consequence regarded it more as an impracticality than a virtue. Beauty made no difference to a prowler or a pulse gun. And it often attracted an unwelcome brand of attention.

"What?" John said, looking from her to the holograph and back. "Don't tell me you can read lips? That's a mean feat--"

"The Sebacean words she uses… yes." She said, her voice protracted as she watched her estranged daughter's message. After a moment she looked up at his perplexed face. "For surveillance purposes, it's useful."

"Oh?" John nodded, feeling like a clod for not considering this possibility nearly two months ago. "Then what… what is it, Aeryn?"

She pursed her lips, either confused by the message or worried about its impact on him. "You were right. She is… ill."

"Jesus." He sighed heavily and dragged a hand against the back of his neck.

"She repeats a word a few times… telmach'd. It means 'defective'… but as in a condition one is born with."

"What? Don't leave me hangin' here, woman." He prodded.

She frowned. "The rest… I cannot be sure of. There are few phrases… marauder… Scarran threat…"

"You're not making me feel any better here, Aeryn."

"Then she asks for our forgiveness." She said quickly, straightening. "You're right about one thing. Those are coordinates. Drakor system. It used to be a mining cooperative before the Scarrans used atomics on it."

"Do you think she wants us to find her?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

They regarded each other in strained silence. Aeryn pushed away from the bench, slowly walking back to the doorway. John regarded her receding back. "Miss Sun… you up for a vacation to the Drakor system?"

He watched her shoulders drop in a soundless sigh. She answered without turning to face him. "Alright, John."

#

Asher Korbyn stirred on the ridiculously small cot, snapping out of sleep in one awkward jerk. It had been the Scarran dream again. The one about Hedas always sent him fleeing into wakefulness. His hand instinctively went to the spot on his thigh that would normally hold his pulse gun. He more or less rolled out of the bed and fell onto the floor with a dull smack. This enlivened the ache in his fractured ribs and subsequently set the tone for the rest of the day.

With a groan he leaned on the edge of the bed and stood, one arm folded against his tortured ribcage. He shuffled drowsily through the doorway that led to the common room and tripped over a bundle on the floor. Obviously… something was telling him to stay in a prone position today.

"Crichton?" He called. There was no answer.

Then a little less enthusiastically. "Northway?"

Ellie appeared in the doorway, her features in a dispassionate mask. "You're awake."

"Don't I know it." He grimaced at the baleful ache in his side. He rose, looking around. Something about the stillness in the room, the cold, made him ask. "What's happened, Crichton?"

"Northway is gone.”

“Gone?” He asked.

“Gone.”

He performed a noncommittal shrug. It was knowledge that would not exactly break his heart. But on its heels was a sullen realization pushing through the groggy portions of his brain. Asher leaned his forehead against the broken plaster of the doorway. Through clinched teeth he uttered the dread words, “She took the marauder, didn’t she? We’re stuck here on Acheron.”

Crichton growled with disgust and stormed out of the room, leaving him in perplexed silence.

#

"Two days." John repeated over his shoulder as he shifted through the cargo boxes busily. He turned back to regard the bustle of activity that was the shuttle bay. "If we're not back by then… Pilot starburst Moya the hell out of Dodge."

He addressed the open comms to the Navigator. “Pilot, you’ve got a good hidin’ spot for Moya in the meanwhile?”

“Yes, Commander. Ka D’Argo has selected a rogue Sebacean colony in a system nearby. There is no discernable Peacekeeper presence there.”

“It’s called Acheron.” D’Argo added, thundering down the rungs of the transport pod’s ladder. “I was there once before… between campaigns.”

“Good call, Big Guy.” John said, slapping his friends shoulder as he passed. The Luxan gave him a surly grunt. He still remained convinced their so called "vacation" was an invitation to disaster.

"I don't understand." Jool tottered about, narrowly missing a darting DRD in her path. She frowned down at it and then looked at the grim faces of her companions. "Will someone at least tell me why you're doing this?"

"It's something that we have to do, Jool. Aeryn and me." He looked over at Aeryn and caught her gaze before she stooped down to gather more gear into the transport pod. "It's… personal."

"Personal?" Jool huffed.

"Out of the way, princess." Chiana chirped, purposefully bumping the Interion with a large parcel of medical gear. She dumped the bundle into the rapidly growing island of provisions before lingering near John.

"You… don’t have to do this, you know?" Chiana said, tossing her ragged white mop of hair. "Go alone, I mean."

John slapped her playfully on her rump, dismissing her. "You're just jealous you'd be missing out on some fun."

“We should go.” Aeryn’s quiet voice cut through the noise. A stillness settled over them all.

“May the goddess protect you.” Stark muttered, fists clenched against his mouth. He had been relegated to a corner of the chamber, pacing fitfully. Zhaan’s voice had not been quiet at all following John’s announcement. But there was nothing Stark could offer up in protest that they would believe. As much as he concentrated there was nothing he could learn from Zhaan’s energies but fragmented brooding thoughts, troubled images. They smacked of incredible danger for them all.

Part 2

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