"God damnit, Aeryn! What the hell are you thinking?" John bellowed. He shoved away from the tall bench, his project there now completely forgotten. He strode in the direction of the bay but stopped. There would be nothing there to see, just an empty space. His daughter and Korbyn were long gone. 

Aeryn's response was oddly pensive. "John…" 

He paced. It was too difficult to look at her. The betrayal was hard knot beneath his heart. "I know you didn't want her here, but that's…" 

"John…" Her voice was still calm, beseeching. "Look at me." 

"What?" He whirled on her and he was instantly regretful. The look of grief on Aeryn's face was an instant buffet against his anger. 

"I tried to dissuade her, John. She would not listen to me." 

#

Pilot looked up from beneath the heavy crown of his massive head. A sheepish quality entered his voice. "Elenor approached me about accessing specific navigational charts in Moya's datastores. I did not see the harm as it is not a typically secured system." 

Aeryn stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on one of his claws. She smiled slightly. "It's alright, Pilot. No one is blaming you." 

"Can we access the nav interface, Pilot?" John asked, deadpan. His face was devoid of expression. Only his red-rimmed eyes told of his recent anguish. It was a reaction he utilized more often, Aeryn noticed. Though stoicism was something she recognized from her own lifetime as a Peacekeeper, it was no more welcome to see on John. 

The Navigator obediently prodded the controls. There was a brief hesitation. An alarm filled his voice. "Commander, I am afraid that the entire section of data I released to Elenor has been… removed." 

John strode toward the console. "She erased it?" 

"Yes, Commander." Pilot's head lowered. 

"That just bites it! Oh … great! Fan-fucking-tastic!" He laughed derisively, throwing his head back. A bitter smile formed on his face. Angrily he stalked down the catwalk. 

"John, listen to me." Aeryn called after him. "I have a plan. 

#

"A daughter?" Crais frowned. 

"Yes." 

"By Crichton?" 

"Yes." Aeryn said, feeling her face grow flush under his increasing incredulity. 

She fought the urge to fidget with the belt of her holster. Four cycles now. Bialar Crais was no longer her captain, yet there would always be that part of her, the Peacekeeper part, that regarded him in a mix of fear and awe. It would always be the case no matter how much she could rationalize his defection or her own. 

"Officer Sun… you are aware what is… required… to have a child? Let alone one that is to have advanced to over twenty cycles in age… " This was delivered in his own signature acrid sarcasm.  

She drew her chin up. "I realize that this sounds… unlikely. Nevertheless, these are the circumstances." 

"What is it that you require from us?" He gestured at the living walls of Talyn's command tier. It would always make that bitter knot in her heart. As if he spoke for Talyn… as if he could even presume... She squelched the thoughts. It would do them no good. Not now.  

"Elenor removed maps from Moya's memory to prevent us from pursuing. I know that Talyn possesses Peacekeeper datastores…" She paused, very aware of the juvenile leviathan's quiet presence. He was listening to them even now. Deep beneath that signature engine hum was a consciousness, raw and for the larger part unbridled. One that she had come to love. And his absence, the worry over him made that same damned niggling ache seated beneath her heart. 

"You require… directions." Crais returned. 

"And a lift." John said flatly. 

"A NeuTech installation is often heavily fortified. While Talyn's weaponry is considerable… in comparison… it is not invincible." Crais spoke slowly, as if explaining a complex principle to a small child. 

"You chicken… Crais?" John stepped forward. Instinctively Aeryn barred his path. 

Crais looked at Aeryn as if imploring her sympathy. Finding none, he looked back at John. "I am merely stating the facts." 

"We have limited information on the installation… some that we were able to recover. It is very likely that the armaments are not entirely operational because of its proximity to a gas giant." Aeryn explained. "It causes a high degree of instability in most inorganic energy weapon matrices…" 

John finished her statement. "Which is why Talyn wouldn't have a problem." 

"Irregardless, I see no reason to--" Crais paused clutching the base of his neck, the core of his link to Talyn. He squeezed his eyelids shut. Aeryn and John exchanged a glance. It was a long moment before Crais moved again. He released a heavy sigh. 

"Apparently Moya has convinced Talyn to consent to help." He looked at Aeryn and John in silent accusation, as if this were their conspiracy as well. "He is most adamant."

"Good girl, Moya." John muttered. 

#

"John…" 

He did not bother to look up from the growing stack of munitions crates. "What is it, Chi? I'm busy. If you came to ask to come along… no dice." 

"No… it's about D'Argo." 

John turned around to regard the Nebari. It was more the tone of her voice than her words. "What about him?" 

"You know that he really didn't mean to… drive them away." Chiana smiled slightly. She canted her head and drew a lazy finger along the top of one of the containers. 

"Well… he did a good job all the same." John turned back to crates, checking their seals.

"Chiana…" They both turned to the doorway to see the Luxan. "Aeryn is looking for you." 

"Sure, D'Argo." Chiana swerved past him and disappeared into the hallway with her signature feline grace. For a long awkward moment D'Argo remained on, as if uncertain to enter.  

"I'll be outta your hair in a microt." John dismissed him with his back. He kept his voice nonchalant. At his center he was tired of the arguments, the bickering. John wanted none of it. Each betrayal was a tiny death. Each new lie drew the scars deeper. If this place did not kill him with one unlucky misadventure, then it was these tiny deaths that would do it, one at a time. 

"I want to talk with you." D'Argo strode into the bay proper. 

"I know what you're gonna say. I don't want to hear it." John muttered. "I know why you did it, D. But my daughter isn't Jothee." 

"That is NOT about Jothee…" D'Argo thundered. He pounded a fist against the wall. Snarling, he pivoted to the doorway. 

"Then what kind of frelled up Luxan PMS is it?" John shouted. He pursued. "That's exactly why you did it and you know I'm right!" 

"Family is important. Blood is too. My own flesh and blood betrayed me." D'Argo whirled on him. But John did not retreat. The Luxan's voice softened slightly. "I imagined if Jothee could… than how could I expect better out of anyone else." 

"Ellie is my daughter! My flesh and blood! This is the only home she had left! She wanted a second chance! Hell… I didn't even mind that missing link she was shacked up with!"  

"John… she chose to go." 

"And you held the door for her." 

#

"Name. Rank. Regiment." The bleary eyed officer asked, barely glimpsing up for the stack of transparencies. He was evidently bored beyond all comparison and only viewed Asher and Ellie as an unwelcome interruption in his daily routine of boredom. The sooner he was done with them the sooner he could return to it. 

Ellie stepped forward. It almost frightened her how easy it was to fall back into alignment, the dead pan stare, the posturing in unvoiced boasting. "Reesa Vechyan. Augmented Courier. High Command." 

The officer looked back up at her. He swallowed. "Augmented Courier?" 

"Did I stutter?" She glared. Inwardly she felt the tinge of fright. She could not be certain if this reality utilized personal couriers, whereas they were prevalent in hers. Often with orders of great importance, couriers were encoded biomechanically with the message. Their bodies acted as the vessels themselves during times of war. It lessened the likelihood of intercepted messages by the enemy.

What did this guard's reaction mean? She spared a quick glance at Asher, but he had not caught it. Instead he was watching a pair of female officers walk by, a lupine smile forming on his face.  

The guard regarded Asher expectantly. Ellie slapped him across the back of the head. "You have a name, dren head?" 

Rubbing his assaulted scalp, he glared at her and rattled off his assumed identity with no real enthusiasm. "Naytun Tsem."  

"My superior requested a security escort and look at what I get." Her eyes narrowed on Asher. "I'm considering requesting a replacement." 

"Good luck." Asher responded. 

"Identification." The guard prompted, unimpressed with her complaint. He still retained the patina of boredom, but it was quite obvious his interest was on Ellie. She felt his eyes move over her body appreciatively. Seeking to further use his weak will as a distraction, she undid the jacket to her utilities much further than required to fish out the counterfeit Identchip. She slipped the lanyard over her neck and drew back slowly, making no effort to refasten her jacket. The more distracted the guard was, the better. 

Asher cleared his throat, either stifling a laugh at her exploits or worried about the attention of the guard. She sidestepped next to him and dug the heel of her boot in to into his foot. 

The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened. The chips had better work. 

The guard turned to the reader, chips in hand. She shifted from foot to foot, trying to peered over his shoulder. Asher's hand landed on her shoulder briefly. 

The guard turned back to them. "Your clearance is confirmed. Proceed to the administrative level… Velka six … lurge two. Report to the security operative."

She marched past him. 

"Vechyan…." 

"What." 

"You did not report the length of your assignment here." 

"No. I didn't." She cut a neat about face and continued down the corridor. 

#

"We had a deal." Sela spat. She shoved away the guard that moved to block her entrance into the logistics room. "You've got NeuTech. I want to be transferred." 

Scorpius looked up from the spewed contents of D'Soto's personal data stores. He had been expecting this. In all honesty he was disappointed she had not attempted to confront him sooner. 

"Officer Tyron, you were instructed to rejoin the carrier. I gave you a direct order." Braca snapped. There was the familiar surge of temperature along his neck he always displayed in this pitiful female's presence, something Scorpius would never understand. 

"That's quite alright, Braca." He waved a dismissive hand. "In fact… I had been hoping to speak with you, Ty." 

"I've done my part, Scorpius. Now do yours…" She strode closer. Although her moves were menacing, it did little to hide the nervous tremor of energies. 

"Sela Tyron… the faithful duty-bound Peacekeeper… How is it you are so desperate to leave your regiment… your home… for so long?" He cocked his head to the side. "Tell me, Ty…. Why is this? What is it you hope to escape?" 

"We had a deal." She seethed. It was pure posturing. This combat tempered soldier was a tempest of anxiety. 

"There is nothing… you would have to hide from me, your superior officer? Is there… Ty?" 

She drew her chin up. The color of her anger seemed to flutter, succumbing to the cooler hues of deception. Sebaceans could be so transparent. "Nothing." 

"Good. Then you would not mind… staying a while longer." Scorpius purred. 

#

Asher Korbyn had always listened to his instincts. The tiny hairs at the back of his neck stood en masse. The muscles of his shoulders were a bundled knot. Everything about this was wrong, his instincts said. 

He regarded the familiar metal walls under low lights, the pensive pale faces of those they passed in the winding corridors. No one ever made eye contact. Voices were subdued. Every third person seemed to be a commando or a trooper. There was a low level anxiety that seemed to permeate the very air. It was as if he and Ellie had just missed some dramatic event. They were now wading through its echo.  

"This isn't right." He muttered under his breath. "Not at all." 

# 

“Your credentials specify only clearance for a courier operative.” The sergeant stepped forward, raising a hand to bar their path. The other one drew up his weapon. It was not pointing at them, nor was it pointing away from them.  

A ripple of panic tasted Ellie’s spine before settling with the pool of dread in her stomach. She feigned annoyance. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my personal security detail. He’s meant for my protection.” 

“This is a secure level. You won’t require protection.” The point was obviously not up for argument. "You may leave your sidearm here as well." 

Frell! She kept her face deadpan as she realized that there would be no way to talk them both into the level. It would only risk further suspicion. 

“Wait in the common area. Near the bay.” She jerked her chin at Asher, meeting his eyes only briefly. The arrogance was gone from his expression. His hand played over the belt to his holster. She shook her head slightly, knowing his thoughts. No. There was no cover. The terrain, unfamiliar. 

“Yes, sir.” Asher growled, eyeing the two guards. On the surface he appeared to garner the usual inter-regimental hostilities. She knew his contempt was real for the two men. As he turned away, his hand brushed against hers. His deep brown eyes held hers for a moment. And then he disappeared down the dimly lit corridor. 

“Officer …” The more stout guard gestured impatiently as he deactivated the magnetic locks on the gateway. She stepped through. Regardless of the cool of the base, a trickle of sweat ran down her back between her shoulder blades. 

The senior officer fell in step with her. “You know… I don’t recall seeing that many personal couriers in this section. What with the risk involved from the Scarran front…” 

“Are you taking a survey?” Ellie snapped. She granted him a cold stare. “I don’t care to participate.” 

“Merely an observation.” He returned. He was oblivious to her lack of desire to talk. “I mean… one can never be too careful. There have been a great deal of attempts on our security net in the past monen. Haven’t there, Selik?” 

Selik had crept up her, soundlessly. “A great deal. Yes, sir.” 

Ellie sighed resignedly, keeping up her charade of self-importance. They were too talkative. Too curious. Something did not feel right. 

“In fact… how many counterfeit passes have we intercepted, Selik? Do you recall?” The smug quality to the sergeant’s voice was unmistakable. He was obviously aware of something. Did he mean to play with her? Panic gnawed at the frayed edges of her nerves. Did they miss something? What was it? She was suddenly very aware of the empty pulse gun holster on her thigh. 

“No clue, sir.” Selik muttered. 

“I understand your need for caution.” Ellie returned, speaking over her shoulder. She granted Selik a side-long glance. The muzzle of his pulse rifle rested in his palm, pointed against her ribs almost casually. An icy finger touched her heart. “Do you intend to accompany me the entire way through this section?” 

“I would think under the circumstances, that would be the wise choice.” A hard edge entered his voice. The sergeant stopped directly in front of her. 

“The circumstances?” Ellie said. She folded her arms across her chest. It was not meant for the appearance of bravado. She felt the knife in her sleeve. Its polished handle slipped into her palm, unnoticed. 

The sergeant smirked at her, showing tiny even teeth. “I must admit your Ident chips were impressive copies. They fooled the primary check point.” 

She felt the blood drain from her face. But Ellie did not react right away. She waited, seeing how they would move. The sergeant made a grab for her wrist. Ellie unfolded her arms, the knife in her grasp. In one quick motion, she slashed out at him. The blade raked across throat, freeing a warm spray of blood. 

“Selik!” The sergeant gurgled. He sank to his knees, clutching his throat. Crimson blood gushed between his fingers. 

She whirled on the grunt. He lashed out with the butt of his rifle. Its heavy weight crashed into her jaw. Her teeth bit down on her tongue, bringing blood. The pain was stunning. The knife clattered form from her hand. 

Snarling, Ellie charged him. She caught him in a tackle at his knees, taking his legs from beneath him. They grappled on the floor for his weapon, Ellie laying on top of him, using her body to keep his leverage off. 

Both of them seized the weapon. Both sought to take command of it. Stray rounds struck the wall above the head of the agitated grunt who was unable to draw a bead on her. Sensors were tripped by the weapons fire in the secure corridor. A klaxon screeched to deafening life.

There was a rumble of boots heavy boots and the creak of leather as reinforcements trundled into the corridor. Winning the tug-of-war over the pulse gun, Ellie rolled off the guard and staggered to her feet. The encroaching pack of shock troopers drew aim on her immediately, forming a semi-circle. 

“No! Don’t fire! He wants her alive.” The command sounded over the alarm. A shorter officer squeezed past the mass of shoulder armor and gleaming helmets. He wore no protective gear, only a closely tailored bodysuit, decorated with the gray and red lapels of a special ops officer. 

He regarded her, his eyes measuring. He was noticeably unimpressed with what he saw. Cautiously, he extended a hand, silently demanding the pulse gun. She drew the weapon up and pointed it at the chest of his impossibly immaculate uniform. The soldiers behind him shifted anxiously. 

He did not react. “You’re not stupid. Nor are you suicidal.” 

Asher, I hope you got your ass out of here. Slowly, she lowered the weapon to her side. She spread her fingers. The gun clattered to the floor. 

And they descended on her like a pack of meat hounds. A heavy boot struck her in the back. She fell forward. Her hands were pulled behind her back. A knee pressed painfully against her neck. Metal shackles bit down into the flesh of her wrists. She swallowed an agonized groan. Rough hands looped beneath her bound arms and pulled her to her feet unceremoniously. 

She watched the special ops officer draw along side her. “Welcome to Ravstar regiment.” 

#

"Where's Commander D'Soto?" Douglas asked. "What have you done with her?" 

"Surprising… you should show such concern for her." Scorpius said. "After her obvious duplicity toward you." 

"Where is she?" 

"D'Soto is no longer in command of this installation. She has been… retired." 

"I'm not sure what that means, but something tells me you didn't give her a gold watch and a trip to Maui." 

"D'Soto should not be your primary concern, Mr. Knox. It would be far more advantageous for you to devote your full cooperation to the wormhole project... for Doctor Northway as well…" 

#

"He wants you to what?" Rachel asked, incredulous. 

"Continue with the wormhole project." Defeated, DK dropped his lanky frame into a chair. He propped his elbows on his knees. His hands obscured his face. His hair was in disarray. The neat black lines of the jacket were rumpled. 

I don’t know him. I don't know this person. It's like someone wearing a DK suit. At this thought, gooseflesh grew on her skin. Rachel crossed her arms feeling suddenly cold. 

"Douglas." She knelt before him, tugging his hands away from his face. He would not look at her however. His red rimmed eyes were focused on the middle distance between them. "Douglas, you're not gonna do it, are you?" 

He did not answer as he rose. His hands ran through his hair as if to free some demon from his skull. 

"Are you?" She prodded, regarding his back. "Listen to me… you've got no idea what these people are all about--" 

"He threatened to kill you… me." His voice contained a flatness that she had never before witnessed. Again she felt the surreal notion that this was not DK, but a clever copy. "Ally… I don't know what they did to Ally, but I know it's not good." 

Rachel placed a hand on his shoulder. "They want the wormhole technology as a weapon. It can destroy entire worlds with it." 

"So what?! I don't care!" He shrugged her hand away. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"If I can take a few of those bastards out in the process…. It's ok by me." 

"Scarrans? This is about Scarrans? Are you listening to what you're saying?" Rachel pursued, this time forcing him to turn, to face her. "Douglas, they will NOT stop with Scarrans. You know that. They can't even trust each other. How do you expect them to honor a deal with you?" 

"They saved my life!" His actions were quick, brute. He shoved her back. Thrown off balance, she stumbled into a low set chair. She could only look up at him in bitter surprise as he erupted into an angry tirade. 

"It's easy for you, Northway… isn't it? Where have you been for the past year? You have no idea… no idea…" 

"Jesus. Douglas, what the hell did they do to you?" Her voice quivered. A loathsome realization rolled over her. They had changed him. The Scarrans… the Peacekeepers… this place. There was no DK left. She was too late. And this was the last mistake she would ever make in the Uncharteds. 

"You shouldn't have come here, Rachel." 

"Douglas!" But he had already left, guard at his heels.

# 

There had been worse pain… hadn't there? 

The birth of her nameless son… the pulse rifle wound to her shoulder… the myriad of injuries any grunt received in training… 

As much as she tried to rationalize it, to compartmentalize the pain, it slipped from her control. Its talons sank deeper. A remaining rational corner of her mind knew why this pain was different… was worse. Every pain in the map of her memory was about being a Peacekeeper, earning that privilege. This pain was about taking that away. 

"Do not attempt to fight the chair, Tyron." Scorpius hummed. "It can have… devastating effects." 

"I told you…" She panted between gritted teeth. "There is nothing…" 

"Then why do you insist on fighting… if you have nothing to hide." 

"Again." 

The pain spread from her skull, stomping down her spine. It was the pain of taking… stealing… loss. She watched helplessly as the memory was ripped into the open. It was reliving and watching it at once in queer duplicity… 

"Where are you going?" His warm calloused hands slid over her bare shoulders. His voice hovered against her neck, playing along her skin.  

She moved to the edge of the bed, looking for her strewn uniform with no real enthusiasm. "It's late. I've got to get back to the barracks--" 

"No. Stay here. Sleep here. Sela…"  

"Are you giving me an order, sir?" She grinned at him playfully. 

His voice was full of mocking admonishment. "Officer Tyron… is that not your former commander? What was his name…" He feigned forgetfulness, thumb and forefingers thoughtfully perched at the end of his chin. 

"You know his name… you bastard." 

"Jaryd Kes…. Quite the heroic end for him." Scorpius leaned over her, rheumy eyes studying her face. "Is this all? This… fraternization?" 

"Why are you doing this? It was a muh-minor… transgression." 

"Minor, but significant to you, however." He shook his head with disapproval. "How interesting… you traded your body for special favors?" 

"No! It was not like that. NO." 

"Then what? Surely your dedication to him is touching. But Kes is dead. Why hold him in such regard… risking your own life as it is now? What is it about Kes you wish so desperately to hide?" 

An animalistic growl formed in her throat. She looked away, staring into the bleak distance. 

"Again." Scorpius said. And the chair roared to life. 

#

"And her accomplice?" 

"Still missing, sir. We're searching every level."  

The room was upside down, and canted at an angle. She blinked again, heart thudding in her ears. No. The room was right. She was wrong. Her arms were pinioned at her sides to the metal framework. Legs bound. Her wrists as well. There was movement in a dim corner. A sleek dark shape. The creak of leather. The deceptively graceful swing of a black train. It  brought a familiar rush of dread before she even assigned their owner. Scorpius. 

"It seems our spy has revived." He said in his patient voice. "Good. Braca, we can begin." 

He stepped closer, an errant shaft of light picking out his pasty features. He stooped over her, clinically prodding at the leads connected to her forehead. There was no familiarity. No recognition in his rheumy eyes. 

"You have the most… interesting energy patterns. Not quite Sebacean. And yet… not human." 

"Scorpius." She slurred over her thick tongue. It was so hard to talk. Drugs? They must have given her something. But what? 

"Ah. You have me at a disadvantage. You know me. But, I do not know you." 

Elenor Crichton began to laugh. It started as a quiet chuckle and rolled over into insane mirth. "You… you don't know me. You.. you don't." She could not help but repeat it. 

"She a raving lunatic." Braca muttered. 

"We shall see."  

Part 4