Epilogue

She lay awake, staring into the darkened spines of the ceiling. Around her Moya thrummed with life. If she listened closely enough, she could make out the giant's heart. It was a game she recalled from childhood. One of the many memories that never would happen. Elenor shivered. 

She wriggled closer to Asher, seeking his warmth in the bed. He stirred only slightly. Sleep obeyed him. It was something she envied him, no matter what it meant as to a lack of conscience. If he did dwell on tedium, Ellie was not aware of it. He claimed what he wished from life and left the rest to chance. Primitive yes. But it made a rudimentary sense that she could only hope for to simply … exist. 

Unconsciously, her hand traveled to her flat stomach. A life thrived there, still her secret. It was surreal. The prospect frightened and thrilled her at once on some unnamed level, yet it remained untouched by the reality of her dilemma. She had not told Asher. Elenor had told no one. 

She knew nothing of pregnancy. It had been explained that, for hybrids, it was an impossibility and therefore, not worth her attention. Her curiosity won over her need for caution soon enough. A weeken before she had stolen into the Interion’s miserable excuse for a lab and accessed the medical datastores. 

Gestation, Sebacean female. Can very between one to seven cycles. Dependent upon cessation of dormancy stage, read the infodisc. It went on to drone through phases, indicating a dizzying array of diseases and genetic mishaps that could happen to child and mother along the way. Finally, heart sinking, she had enough and hid the infodisc away, careful to cover any clues it had been accessed. 

Anything else she found was disappointing at best. It held only obtuse facts there were as sterile as the medical holos that produced them. There was nothing that could possibly lend comfort. The facts were all meant for normal, full-blooded Sebaceans. Elenor’s situation was hardly normal. And she was not entirely Sebacean. 

The fear once more caressed her heart. Dormancy? She could not hope for that. On some precognitive level, Elenor knew that was not the case. The child was growing. She could sense it in the way the clothes fit her body. The truth was, after all, inevitable. 

How long before Asher began to suspect? He did not possess the lazy intellect he pretended. He would know before long. There already had been strange questions and suspicious kindnesses he had visited on her. 

Would he leave? Perhaps simply disappear on some feigned excuse? How long could she deny the inevitable? Yet still a small warm corner in her mind clung to a foolish hope that he would stay, perhaps even welcome the news. 

She listened to the slow even sound of Asher’s breathing, before rolling onto her side to face his darkened silhouette. 

"Asher." 

He was instantly alert. Regimental training was drilled into a soldier for life, deserter or not. His muscular arm fell around her waist. 

"There is something I must tell you…” she began. 

# 

"Poor bastard." 

Asher did not look up from the Tadek board at his opponent. Instead he smirked. "Changing tactics, Rygel? You're not content to lose. So now you'll just insult me?" 

He reached for the mug of reslack and took a long swig, careful to keep one eye on Rygel. The little bastard knew ways to cheat that Asher had not even imagined. It made him envious as Hezmana. 

"Crichton's going to have the Luxan feed you your own face when he finds out." A knowing smirk grew across the Hynerian's mouth despite the fact he had a growing deficit in wagers. Casually, he drew on his pipe once more, certain to exhale the smoke in Asher's direction. 

"Finds out what?" Asher frowned, gesturing impatiently for Rygel to take his turn. The pleasant buzz from the reslack seemed to evaporate almost instantly. The little bastard couldn't know… could he? Neither of them had told a soul… 

"Boy, I know that you are capable of great stupidity. I've witnessed it first hand. But ironically, you do not possess the talents to feign it convincingly." Rygel made a move that all but regained his previous lost wager. 

Asher leaned back, shifting in his chair, trying desperately to make his moves nonchalant. "Just what should I be so worried about Crichton finding out." 

"What's it worth to you?" The smirk on the overly large mouth broadened.  

Asher lunged across the table. The Hynerian tried to dodge out of the away, but the thronesled was too sluggish. In one swift move, he lifted Rygel out of his chair and pinned him down on top of the Tadek table by his throat. 

"Have you been eavesdropping, you little slug?" Asher leaned down into his face. "Listening to things that are none of your business?" 

"Let go of me." Rygel squirmed. "I don't give a drannat's ass to listen to you and your little hybrid bitch… all of that incessant groaning and grunting night after night…" 

"Oh… so you have been nosing around our quarters." He pressed harder against his Rygel’s neck. 

"Is there any answer I can give that won't result in further torture?" Rygel wheezed. He wriggled again, this time managing to sink his teeth into Asher's fist. 

More surprised than injured, Asher released his grip. Rygel moved with surprising speed, rolling off the table and hitting the floor in a waddling sprint. Before Asher rounded the table, the Hynerian had dodged into the safety of an access conduit, the opening much too small for Asher to pursue. 

He could only make out the little slime bag's shadow. Flexing his injured hand, Asher hissed into the darkness of the conduit. "You tell Crichton about the baby and I'll cut off whatever passes for mivonks on you--" 

"Baby?" Came the surprised gasp from the darkness. There was a calculating silence.  

Frell!  

"Is that what this is about…? I was talking about what you did to that damnable module of his… but this…” His voice drew out into a chuckle. “This is far more interesting."  

Frell it! Frell it! The little bastard had been bluffing. He hadn't known dren and Asher just handed him an instrument of incalculable extortion. 

"Well now, boy. You've really done it. He'll have the Luxan feed you more than your own face when he finds out what you've done to his daughter." Rygel laughed. He paused, full of false sympathy. "Relax, boy. You’ve got cycles…" 

"Ellie's only half Sebacean." Asher cut him off.  

"Just not the right half." Rygel sniggered. 

“We’ve only got monens.” Asher pounded the wall above the tunnel. "You have to come out of there sooner or later." 

"That's what you think. I can stay in hiding for quite a while." 

Asher settled to the floor, his back resting against the wall. He ran his hands over his face. He uttered a resigned sigh. "What's going to keep you quiet… besides killing you?" 

"I'm offended that you think I'd take advantage of such… happy news." 

"You are a slimy little bastard that would sell his own mother's skull." Asher turned to peer into the tunnel once more. 

"She's been dead for four hundred cycles. She wouldn't have any use for it." Rygel huffed. His voice evened out and assumed a diplomatic quality. He stepped into the light filtering in from the tunnels' mouth, careful to remain out of Asher's reach. "Be reasonable. Do you honestly think you two are going to keep something like that secret for long? You are aware that Crichton will eventually find out? He may be incredibly dim, but he’s not an idiot." 

"Of course I am, frellnik. Very aware." 

"Listen to me, boy. I'm going to do you a favor." 

"A favor? You?" Asher laughed. 

"It happens to suit me to do this. There is an advantage to it. I no more want you, that girl or a whining infant on this ship. You're too many mouths to feed as it is, especially if you keep breeding." 

"Talk."  

"Crichton will see the wisdom in it too… eventually." 

# 

"Are you certain?" Ellie asked. Her father was a pensive black cloud, duster swaying at his somber pace. His expression remained stony as he turned to look at her.  

"Yes." He reached out, touched her face. Something in his eyes softened slightly, before he withdrew again, looking away. "Just remember what we talked about." 

"You've my word." She returned, dutifully, but the barb was still fresh. No one here was to know he was her father. He would not reveal the reasons why she and Asher must not divulge this simple fact. Her injured pride longed for restitution. Was he ashamed? Because of the baby? Because I'm a hybrid?  

His response had been terse, as bleak as his expression. "To protect you… all of you." 

They continued in this tense processional down the immaculately white corridor, Asher at her side. Aeryn Sun lingered in their wake. The hall ended in a larger, nearly cavernous chamber. More brilliant white and gleaming silver. The far wall was dominated by a series of risers, ascending into unseen rooms. Their escort disappeared into an antechamber without another word to them. They stood in uneasy silence. She felt Asher’s hand against her back, briefly. She forced a small smile at him. Unconsciously her hand lingered over the swollen curve of her stomach. Soon. The Interion had said it would be soon… only a few monens now.

"John Crichton. This is unexpected, at best.” The voice was cultured, edged with impatience. Empress Novia had silently glided into view to stand the top of the stairs. She waved off the small group of attendants that collected around her before descending. 

“Your majesty,” John greeted, cocking his head to the side. It was apparent that to him the words were perfunctory, meaningless. 

"You've come at a very inopportune time." Novia continued. With a practiced, nearly condescending smile on her face she stopped before reaching the same level at they. The ruler was a figure in fine white robes, her aging features adorned in the severe colors of their fashion. She folded her hands in front of her, presenting the portrait of patient wisdom. Ellie watched the older woman move, her gestures and speech, and immediately formed a detached dislike. She realized there was nothing to Novia that had not already been rehearsed or coached and always for her own benefit. 

"This won't take long." John said, with the same off-hand bitterness. 

Novia’s eyes widened slightly. A knowing smirk flittered across the refined features before disappearing. "Very well. Why are you here?" 

"I am here to request amnesty… sanctuary…" 

"Oh?" Her mouth pulled into an angry bow. 

"It's not for me." He nodded to Ellie and Asher. "For them." 

"And who are … they?" Novia asked with hollow politeness. She turned to look at Asher and Ellie in turn, as if just noticing their presence. Her gaze was cold, calculating. A frigid smile graced her mouth as she regarded Elle's swollen belly. 

"They're important to me. I owe them." John answered. “They need to be kept safe.” 

She drew her chin up, spine stiffening. "This is not a refugee camp, Crichton. Nor is it a medical welfare state." 

"Frell this. I'm not here to beg." Asher snarled. He turned away, grabbing Ellie by the forearm. She took a plodding step with him before stepping back. 

"You've got more than just you to think about now, Korbyn." John planted a hand on Asher's shoulder. His voice dipped lower. "You don't have another option. You can't just run off and play Pirates of the Caribbean anymore." 

Asher looked at Ellie. The fury contained in his deep brown eyes barely muted. His face reddened with squelched pride. He nodded slightly, conceding. The line of his jaw tightened as the muscles knotted. 

“Listen…” John's voice started, low and somber, them becoming more forceful. He strode towards Novia, stopping at the riser on which she stood. "You owe me. Considering what you pulled, lady, and what I did for you…" 

"I will allow your request." She skewered him with her gaze. Her words were eager to stop his present speech. Novia gathered the hem of her robes and turned to ascend the stairs once more. Pausing, she spoke over her shoulder, mocking John’s off-hand tone. She granted him a side-long glance. "On one condition. You are never to return here, John Crichton. For that I give you my word they will have my protection." 

John uttered a single word, jaw a tight line. “Deal.” 

"No!" Ellie blurted, grabbing his arm. "No. I refuse--" 

"Ellie." John returned. The tone offered no room for negotiation. His gaze was unflinching beyond the red-rimmed lids. He smiled slightly. “You knew it would be like this.” 

"But… I'll never see you again…" 

"Shhh, Ellie…." He hushed, his hands going to her face. Slowly he drew her into an embrace. "No… don't say that. You don't know that." 

# 

Asher awoke with a start, his eyes instantly adjusting to the darkness. The dream abandoned him to a racing pulse and sweat glazed skin. It was the same dream, about Hedas… the dying tortured women in the hot, dark little room. No matter how calm his life now was by comparison, he would never escape that memory-nightmare. 

The weight on the bed beside him shifted slightly. He pushed himself up on one elbow and regarded her in the moonlit room. Ellie was porcelain curves carved by shadows. He envied her this sleep when he knew the dim threat of the dreams would keep him, awake, on alert for the remainder of the night. And he would have to leave all too soon. 

Quietly, he rose from the bed and padded across the cool tiles and felt his way into the small room that adjoined theirs. Moving cautiously he stood over his daughter's bed. 

Rachel. The name was meant as tribute. Although he’d never admit it, he could think of none better. 

The love he felt for the girl was simple: fierce and protective. She was well over two cycles old now and on her way to becoming the hellion his mother had cursed upon him for his own childhood conduct. He did not care; he reveled in her impishness. Asher was a slave to his daughter’s every whim and blatantly unashamed of the fact. This was the first and only pure form of innocence in his life. For her, he would do anything. 

He lightly caressed the soft mop of Rachel’s dark brown curls, before slipping quietly back into the bedroom. Motionless, he stood before the wide window. Quiet. At first he found it unnerving. For whatever safety their home for the past two cycles provided, it was too quiet. That was the part that took getting used to. The house was placed atop a cliff, with a view of nearly the entire port. The beauty of the nighttime scene beyond was lost on him. He was not given to such fancy, but he knew that this place was far better than he could have ever imagined for his own end. 

He did not know what control Crichton possessed on the politics of this place, but nevertheless Asher was impressed. At best, he had only been able to surmise that Crichton had a secret that the Empress wanted kept silent. Whatever it was, he had not even told his own daughter. So they, in turn, kept theirs. 

The empress, although always vaguely hostile to them, was gracious to a point. But he was aware that their presence aroused curiosity that clearly made the monarch uncomfortable. Following the birth of their daughter, they were given the gift of this home in the northern providence. It was far from Court, but, for Ellie, not far enough away from Novia. She had instinctively formed a suspicion about the aging monarch and no amount of bribery would change that. What had seemed an act of generosity and kindness had been, in fact, a calculated move that even Asher did not surmise until much too late.

The trouble took its time in finding them. Long enough for them to be lulled into a false sense of security. One night, only days after the birth of his daughter, Asher had wandered through the narrow passages of the city. The physicians had been blasé, passing off his concerns as the obligatory fretting of a new father. His mind had been wrapped in worry over Ellie, the baby...

"I know you."

Asher turned, hand going to his thigh for a side arm that had been surrendered monens ago. This was not missed by the visitor.

"Yes. Most definitely." The man smiled at him. The expression was shrewd, as sharp as the abrupt angle of his aquiline features. Asher recognized him immediately. They had never been introduced, but for even a retired thief, old habits die hard. Spotting law-men came like second nature. They radiated a unique danger. And Security Minister Essig was no exception.

"You know me, friend?" Asher moved his hands carefully, playing off the sudden defensive shift in his posture. He looked around. At this hour the streets were virtually deserted. It mattered little. He and Ellie had no allies here.

"You are the one… Korbyn. Hmm?" But Asher knew the question was as false as the Security Minister's smile. Essig had an agenda. Men like him always did. This was no chance encounter. "How is your young… wife? I understand your child has been born… hmm… a girl."

Asher said nothing, the forced pleasant expression on his face dissolving.

Essig continued. "You know me. Who I am? My service to Novia's house?"

"I know your kind."

"As it is my business to know yours… in order to protect the great house I serve. I need to know when and where potential threats lie, so that I may… extinguish them."

"We're no threat to you." Damn you, Crichton. You said we'd be safe.

"The young woman… your wife, as you call her… no. It is as if she were invented from thin air. But you…" He shook a narrow finger, voice filled with feigned consternation. "You are another matter, Asher Korbyn."

"What do you want from me?" He had fully expected this day to come. Asher held no fantasies about shirking the skin of his former life. But damn it not so soon. Not like this.

The aged solider folded his hands behind his back. He gave Asher an appraising glance before speaking again. "It occurs to me that you and your mistress are enjoying the gracious hospitality of our Empress currently without the expectation of restitution. It also occurs to me that if certain information about your past activities in the Keurig-Ix system or your status as a Peacekeeper deserter were brought to your benefactress's attention, it is quite possible that you and those that depend upon you may suffer those consequences."

"Don't threaten by family." Asher took a menacing step forward. It raised no reaction from him.

"Family…" Essig mocked, amused once more. "Yes. That's very noble. Spoken like a man of honor. A man that actually deserves the comforts of such things."

The smile sharpened. Essig leaned closer. "But do not insult my intelligence. We both know exactly what you are."

"If you were going to get rid of me… us… you'd have done it. Then what do you want?"

"I am presenting you with an undeniable chance to possibly earn your life… your family's life here.”

Asher could only glare. He could nearly hear his options being shut off.

“Even, granted the considerable powers I have to act in the name of Novia, there are… limitations… imposed by simple legalities… that impair my abilities as Minister of Security. These are matters that would mean very little to man of your considerable… talents."

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" He felt her cool skin against his back. Her arms folded around him, pulling him from his revere.

"Yes."

"Another errand for Essig?” Her voice was brittle and cold like the air. She sighed, sadly. “How long this time?”

"You know the answer, Ellie." He turned to regard her. "This is the last time."

She moved away from his touch and sat on the foot of their bed. Her voice was thin. “Last time was the last time.”

“This time it’s different.” Asher replied. “I promise.”

THE END… for now.  

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