Crichton set another empty glass down on the bar, and let his fingers stumble towards the replacement. Beside him, Chiana again snatched a glance over her shoulder at the door.
'Expecting someone?' he said dryly, as her eyes darted guiltily back to the bar.
Her lips twitched into a nervous smile. 'Only an over-protective Luxan.'
He nodded, as he tilted the glass to his lips.
She was lying.
He wasn't sure how he knew; something in her suddenly slurred voice, as if she was granting him the upper hand, making him think he still held the reins. He'd seen her pull the same trick on unwanted lechers in bars; this was the point where she stood up, lifted the guy's wallet, and strode away in unexpected sobriety. He had an uneasy feeling that he wasn't about to be even that lucky.
'Do you trust me?' she said.
Bad time for that question. Every warning sense he had was tingling; he realised dimly that he'd drunk far more than he'd intended.
'Any reason I shouldn't?' he said slowly, pointedly casting his eyes over to the doorway and wishing it was a little more in focus.
'I know why Stark left Talyn,' she said softly.
Crichton blinked. That one had sailed past his backstop.
'You brought me down here to talk about...Stark?' he stuttered.
Chiana stuck out her lip, ignoring his dismissive voice.
Crichton sighed, rubbing his eyes with weary fingers. 'I know why he left, Chi. He heard some voice from Zhaan and he wanted to go follow her signal. No big mystery.'
'I know what she was going to tell him.'
Crichton tested his jaw muscles. 'What, you two got telepathic voicemail? She pages you once a week with a horoscope and skincare tips for the recently deceased?'
God, he was bitter. Caustic. You could clean toilets with the acid he could produce right now. And he was trying to be nice, trying to give her leeway, and she just looked scared. Of him. With justice.
'You know I've been...seeing things. Knowing things. That I shouldn't know.'
Easy little Chi, except it was never easy. He bit back the harsh retort; knew from her face she'd seen the shadow of it cross his eyes anyway.
'It's OK,' she said dully, tapping the glass again with black nails. 'I know what it sounds like. If it wasn't in my head, I'd think it was a bunch of dren too. If you're hearing voices, you're either holy or you're farbot, and I'm sure as frell not holy.' She let out a tiny giggle, her breath misting the glass as she tilted it to her lips, but there were still tears in her eyes. 'I guess you'd know about that one, though.'
As his teeth ground together, preparing for the acerbity of the comeback, he felt Harvey shift in his mind. Like a moth in an eardrum; like mental indigestion; like a needle in a vein. Something where it should not be, reminding him of its presence whenever he moved. He bit the comment back, her eyes on him leaving him feeling strangely, horribly exposed. Her steady gaze gave no respite.
'I was going to leave you a warning,' she said, softly. 'I didn't know how to...'
Crichton felt a crawling sensation up his spine, and twisted his neck to peer over his shoulder. The doorway was still clear. No-one approached. Yet.
'Looks like you still have time,' he said, dryly.
Chiana glanced urgently at the empty door. 'You'd want to know?' she said, her eyes hesitant. 'Whatever was coming, you'd want to know?'
He nodded, from instinct.
Chiana's eyes clouded. 'Remember that you said that,' she murmured, almost inaudibly, and pushed a holochip in a tiny projector towards him.
Crichton stared down at the device. It danced on the bar, shifting unsteadily under his blurry gaze, before glowing into life. A bluish projection hovered above it, the quality poor but clear enough. A transport pod. A uniformed Sebacean. Two Hynerians; one female, one bound.
'Security monitor in the pod?' Crichton murmured, screwing up his eyes to clear his vision, but Chiana silenced him with a swift movement from her hand and set the flickery image in motion.
The figures moved; with a crackle of static, spoke. Then the projection stilled.
Crichton stared at the frozen image, the motionless Sebacean tech reaching an experienced hand to the flight controls. It was meaningless; an outtake with no punchline.
Chiana stared at him expectantly.
'What?' he shrugged.
She slid a finger along the controls, and the image of the female Hynerian spun backwards, repeating herself.
'Begin broadcasting our location to the peacekeepers.'
Again, she gazed at him, her breath held. He blinked, mystified.
'Am I supposed to guess what happens next?' he said lamely, risking a quick glance at the doorway. Still empty.
'Two signals already broadcast Moya's location to the peacekeepers, Crichton,' said Chiana, her voice low. 'Two signals from on board Moya. Why would they need to begin sending any more?'
Crichton rubbed an eye as if weary, while a foot slid to the floor in readiness.
'I don't know, Chi, maybe it was a slip of the tongue, maybe they're just paranoid.'
'Or maybe it wasn't Orrhn that sent the other signals.'
The leather coat was nudged off his thigh, the pulse pistol resting under his waiting hand.
'No-one ever said she did,' he said absently, twisting in the seat so he was side on, with a view of the whole room. 'Orrhn was too busy getting jiggy with Mr Rygel to set up her own little CB system. It was the tech that sent the other messages.'
'The tech was locked in a cell until they left in the pod. There was a DRD watching him the whole time; he didn't leave that room until Orrhn let him out.'
She was hunched low on the stool now, her face close to the bar, black eyes darting anxiously around the room. Crichton followed their movement, every sense tuned to it, the drunkenness fading in the face of adrenaline.
'If he was smart enough to build a transmitter, he would've been smart enough to disable a DRD,' he said, fingers sliding down the cold metal of the pistol.
'Pilot's recording data shows no evidence of tampering,' she said softly, drawing herself back in her seat as if anticipating sudden action.
Crichton dragged his eyes from the silent tables of drinkers, unaware of his scrutiny. He narrowed his eyes, looking at Chiana searchingly.
'So, what? Crais sent the transmission?'
It sounded wrong even to him. Regardless of any personal transformations he might claim, a mutinous ex-Peacekeeper captain would not be welcomed back to the fold. In fathering Talyn, Crais had lost none of his pragmatism.
Chiana shook her head slowly. 'The Boolite said 'She',' she murmured. 'And Hubero was an androgen.'
Crichton nodded slowly, recalling the nervy expression of the escaped Nebari as he mentally counted them down. A sober smile crossed his lips, as his thumb located the weapon release catch on his holster.
'Unless D'Argo's hiding something unexpected under his kilt, Pip, that leaves Aeryn, Jool, and you.' He raised an eyebrow, pointedly. 'If there's something you want to get off your chest, now would be the time.'
Chiana gazed up at him, a small frown creasing her smooth forehead, ruffling the soft hairs that fell over it. She stared in confusion for a moment, then shook her head.
'Who was first on the scene when Naj Gil was found dead by D'Argo?' she said rapidly.
'The Scarren?' Crichton said. 'I don't know. When I got there it was...'
'Aeryn left to fetch medical supplies. And the second transmission was sent while everyone else was there. Everyone but her and the tech.'
'So the tech sent it.' He saw her mouth open to protest, and shook his head. 'I don't know how. Maybe he can walk through walls. Maybe he put it on a timer. Maybe the DRD watching him just fell asleep, and didn't want to fess up to Pilot.'
Insane. Insane conversation. He kept his eyes on the door.
'Why wouldn't the hangar doors close when Orrhn was escaping?' said Chiana, in an urgent whisper. 'The tech and Orrhn were in the pod with Rygel, how could they have controlled them?'
Crichton shook his head, barely listening. 'I don't know. Maybe Orrhn rigged some kind of...'
'She didn't,' Chiana cut in. 'I checked. Moya malfunctioned because someone sabotaged the conduits in the neural nexus.'
An exasperated snort of frustration escaped him, as he touched the ball of his other foot to the floor, poised. 'C'mon, Chi, that's impossible. I was down there doing repairs myself. I was there. I was right there.'
Talking.
Fluffy pink slippers. Donald Duck.
Coaxing; cajoling; gibbering.
Mickey Mouse. Huey, Louie, and Dewey.
Talking, instead of listening. Talking, instead of looking, as she severed the linkages that controlled the hangar doors right before his eyes.
His eyes crawled from the door to look at Chiana. She stared up at him, shoulders hunched, her eyes shiny with uncertain tears, like a confessing child waiting to hear her punishment. He stayed still, his thumb hovering on the release catch, his lips opening and closing, searching for words.
'That's what Zhaan needed to tell Stark,' she said, quietly.
Crichton shook his head.
'That's why I have to leave. Why I had to do it like this.'
He shook his head again, blinking angrily at the hot tears pricking at his eyes. 'You're wrong,' he whispered throatily, his voice hollow.
She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, and the fearful hope that had lingered in her black eyes dissipated. She drew back from him almost imperceptibly, recoiling into herself. 'Then she won't have tried to come with you,' she murmured, taking up her glass, and staring unseeingly at the liquid inside. 'She won't have wanted to bring the Farscape One.'
He swallowed, almost choking on his own breath.
Then we'll take the module, and I'll come with you.
Linfer. Phase shielding. A craft made on Earth, from earthly components. Unique.
Same idea.
No, I wanted to take your module.
You didn't know D'Argo could fly this.
Rygel had survived a wormhole in it. Unique: the module, not its creator. And unique is always valuable.
Insane.
Insane conversation.
The door swung open, its creak loud in the silence.
'Crichton.'
Aeryn.
Surveying the room coolly, hand resting easily on the hilt of her holstered pistol. Cold, dismissive glance at Chiana; taut smile at Crichton.
Those are escaped prisoners you have on your ship. They're dangerous. Don't you care?
No. Not any more.
'It's been more than an arn. We were concerned.'
'I would've commed,' he said, clearing his throat uncomfortably as Chiana stiffened beside him.
Aeryn nodded, her eyes flicking briefly to the weapon at his thigh, then back to his face.
'Are you ready to leave?' she said.
He shifted his weight, one foot to the other. Poised. Ready to do...something. Bolt. Shoot. Cry. Decide.
'D'Argo's waiting,' she added. 'He insisted on coming. Actually, I think he just wanted an excuse to try out landing the Luxan ship.'
'You didn't bring the module?' he asked, aiming for casual and hitting a rasping note, his breath too tightly held.
She shrugged lightly.
Maybe I could have become something different.
Hope.
'The DRDs couldn't get it together,' she said. 'Some vital nav component or other went missing. You really should be more careful.'
No hope.
He tried to freeze his face; keep the death of his future from blazing in his eyes. She showed no flicker of recognition.
If you'd lived, I could have truly changed.
Chiana made a minute movement at his side, her hand slipping to a concealed pocket in her travelling coat. Her fingers traced a lump there, about the size of a nav unit.
Crichton saw it and hopped off the stool, the folds of his coat falling in front of her hand, hiding her.
But you are gone. And I am what I was bred to be.
'We should go,' he said, firmly.
Aeryn nodded once, her face unemotional. 'Chiana...?' she began.
'Has chosen to leave,' he finished for her.
Chosen to save him. Chosen to take the responsibility from his hands, in case he didn't come, in case he wouldn't listen.
'And we will respect that decision,' he added.
Aeryn nodded curtly as he turned, and pulled the Nebari into an embrace that concealed the grief that was rising in his throat. She clasped him tightly, as his hand stroked her soft hair once.
'Thank you,' he murmured, his voice a rough, husky whisper.
She breathed the words back into his chest.
They parted, Chiana reaching up to kiss only his cheek, and wipe away a tear like a fussing mother. A tiny half-smile tugged at her lips; his eyes gave her his promise.
Then he turned, and, joining the peacekeeper at the door, strode purposefully away to face up to her choice.
