The Soul's Rainbow Pt 1
By Sarah Wait
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Farscape" belong to the Jim Henson Company, Rockne S. O'Bannon, the Sci-Fi Channel, Hallmark Entertainment, Nine Network Australia, and the actors who bring the characters to life. They have been borrowed with love, but not permission, as have the movies, songs, and books mentioned in this fic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes:Huge thanks to Laura for convincing me that yes, I really *did* need to write the parts I didn't want to; to Paulie for her encouragement and suggestions; and to Adele for being as demanding of me as I am of her.
More thanks to everyone who answered my various questions and cries for help - especially to Jane for saving the day at the last minute, and to Kelly for suggesting one of my favorite lines in this whole thing...Remember - Sarah writes happyfic. Sarah likes happy endings... Hang with me on this one, okay? ;)
Oh, and my sincerest apologies to Elvis.
Copyright Sarah Wait, May 2000
The soul would have no rainbow
had the eye no tear.
- Navajo sayingA sparkle from a nearby booth caught John Crichton's eye and he paused for a moment to investigate. Halfway down the low table, he found a small box full of shiny little spheres. Sticking his finger in to rummage through them, he gave a startled yelp as something pricked his skin. Gingerly, he plucked a clear sphere from the box, then held it up to the light, smiling delightedly as it cast a rainbow of sparkles over the marketplace.
"Hey, guys, look at this!" John's grin faded as he glanced around the booth. "Guys?" He was alone. Again. D'Argo and Aeryn were nowhere in sight. "Aw, c'mon," he groaned.
The owner of the booth eyed him speculatively - with all four eyes. The residents of this planet reminded him of tiny, short-haired Wookies, a comparison that had drawn the expected confused looks from his crewmates. The Dioladan seemed nice enough, though the extra eyes were still a little unsettling. "Urcharan," the proprietor offered hesitantly, "for the ball-deise."
Oh. Of course... Nodding as if he understood whatever the creature had just said, John smiled weakly and replaced the 'urcharan' in the box, then moved out of the booth to stand in the middle of the narrow street. Alleys branched off on both sides.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably, self-consciously fingering the area of his pant leg where he usually carried his pulse gun. It was ironic, really - he had never been much for weapons, but now he felt strangely vulnerable without one. *Funny how things change,* he thought to himself.
Pilot had informed them that Dioladh was a relatively peaceful planet. Automatic firearms were prohibited, and the natives themselves only possessed primitive weapons. "Oh, that's *very* reassuring; thanks, Pilot," he had replied sarcastically, but he had left the gun in his quarters. Aeryn and D'Argo had argued, of course, but in the end they had acquiesced - after the problems Sparky and Chiana had caused on the last commerce planet, they didn't really have a choice.
John briefly considered just activating his comm and asking D'Argo and Aeryn where they were, then stubbornly discarded the idea. He was a big boy, perfectly capable of wandering around a 'relatively peaceful' commerce planet on his own. He didn't need a chaperon. Of course, if he didn't find them before they were ready to head back to Moya, they'd probably just leave him here... With a sigh, John weighed his options - should he go right, after D'Argo and Aeryn; or left, back to the transport pod? He had just decided to play it safe and head back to the transport when a noise near the end of the marketplace attracted his attention.
High above the crowd, a familiar black-shrouded figure shimmered into focus. Scorpius. John's stomach twisted as a chill ran down his spine. He hated that he still reacted so violently to the bastard's mere image, and he was getting sick and tired of seeing Scorpy's face pop up all over the Uncharted Territories.
"Residents of the planet Dioladh. You may have a fugitive among you. I will pay 1,000 carns to anyone who can give me information as to his whereabouts. The reward for his capture - alive and relatively unharmed - is 10,000 carns." John wasn't all that familiar with the currency on this planet, but the murmur of the crowd told him that it was a pretty tidy amount.
The picture dimmed, and John grimaced as his own image replaced it. "Not even my best side," he mumbled, ducking his head and trying to blend in with the crowd.
He turned and headed in the other direction, intent on finding D'Argo and Aeryn, but stopped abruptly when he came chest-to-nose with the proprietor of the booth he had just exited. The creature's eyes widened. "It's him!" it yelled.
In an instant the crowd turned from harmless shoppers to bloodthirsty bounty hunters. Weapons appeared from under cloaks as heads swiveled towards the identifying voice. With a curse, John turned and threw himself into the dirt under the nearest table, scrambling on all fours towards the nearest alley.
~~~~~~~
D'Argo and Aeryn finally stopped near the opposite end of the marketplace on a deserted side street. There was no sense in continuing until they had decided what kinds of food to barter for, and so far they were getting nowhere. While they had easily agreed to ignore Rygel's demands for Cholian Curd, the differences in Sebacean and Luxan palates were once again proving to be irreconcilable. She had just started to recite the nutritional benefits of Command Carrier rations when D'Argo straightened, glancing around. "Where's Crichton?"
Aeryn shrugged, unconcerned. "On the main street. He stopped at one of the booths about halfway back."
"You insisted that he accompany us instead of Chiana or Rygel. I was under the impression that we wouldn't have to watch him," he growled.
Aeryn's hands went to her hips as she glared up at the Luxan. "We don't. He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself."
"I thought we had agreed to stay together."
"He's gawking at trinkets, D'Argo, not starting a war!"
"But now we'll have to retrieve him. It will take arns for him to wander his way over here. We don't have time for this."
He was right; they didn't have time for that - or this silly argument. With a disgusted sigh, Aeryn rolled her eyes and gave up. "Fine. Let' s go."
They had just started to retrace their steps when a roar went up from the crowd in the main marketplace. D'Argo lifted a smug eyebrow and Aeryn swore under her breath. "Crichton," they said simultaneously, reaching for their weapons.
D'Argo cursed as his hands encountered nothing but empty air, then growled in irritation when Aeryn pulled her pulse gun from the back of her waistband. His frustrated gaze met her defiant one, then they turned and started running for the end of the alley.
~~~~~~~
John ran blindly through the marketplace, dodging the small natives and the urcharan that flew past him. So that's what his sparkly, razor-sharp spheres had been - ammunition. Wonderful. And it seemed he could now add 'ball-deise' to his growing alien vocabulary. Apparently a distant relative of the slingshot, it was obviously the 'primitive' weapon of choice on this planet. Crude as they were, they were also effective - and painful. He already had dozens of stinging, bloody cuts from the urcharan he had been too slow to dodge.
Rounding a corner, he found himself in an empty alley lined with large barrels. A scene from 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' flashed through his mind, and with a small prayer that he would fare better than the heroine, he popped the lid off the nearest barrel and crawled inside. Just as he replaced the cover, he heard another shout. "That way!"
Trying to remain as quiet as possible, John fought to steady his breathing. Footsteps approached his hiding place, and he froze. The lid suddenly lifted and light streamed into the barrel. "Told you I could smell him."
Squinting, John peered up into D'Argo's face. He looked rather annoyed, which almost made John wish it had been a Dioladan to find him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Aeryn's pulse gun had mysteriously managed to make the trip to the planet. No wonder she had given in to Pilot's demands so quickly. He wasn't really surprised. After the last time, he should have known to check her favorite hiding place... Apparently the more things changed, the more they remained the same.
However, this definitely wasn't the time to discuss Aeryn's blatant defiance of planetary law - especially considering the glares she was leveling at him. Not a happy ex-Peacekeeper, that was for sure. "Hey," he offered, rising and stepping out of the barrel. "So, where did everybody go?"
D'Argo gestured to a crowded alley on the other side of the road. "It's a good thing Dioladans are not known for their intelligence," he remarked dryly.
"Or their aim," added Aeryn, glancing pointedly at his ripped clothes.
"No kidd - aaah!"
John grabbed his left forearm as a sharp flash of pain seared across it. Blood began to seep through his fingers as he turned to the street to see an unusually large Dioladan holding an equally large ball-deise. Apparently someone had called in the big guns. Instantly three others joined him, and a barrage of missiles sailed down the alley. 'Relatively unharmed', indeed...
Aeryn cried out as one found its mark on her shin and D'Argo hissed angrily. "Follow me!" he yelled, taking off towards the end of the alley. Aeryn fired blindly at the rapidly growing crowd, then together they turned to follow D'Argo.
John realized just how lost he had been when they reached the transport pod almost immediately. By that time, however, all of them had suffered numerous cuts from the Dioladan's weapons. They stumbled on board and as D'Argo initiated the launch sequence, John slumped against a chair, hesitantly removing his hand from his forearm. Blood once again flowed from the wound as soon as the pressure was released. "Dammit," John spit out, his stomach feeling a bit queasy.
Aeryn appeared in front of him and slammed the medkit down on the console next to his arm. "What, are humans afraid of blood?" she snapped.
"No, we just don't like seeing it. Especially when it's ours, and it's leaving our body in large quantities."
Aeryn muttered something his microbes couldn't translate, - which was never a good sign, - then pulled a roll of bandages out of the kit and went to work field-dressing his arm. "Ow," John complained, "you don't have to make it so tight." She glared at him and he fell silent, deciding that if he made her any angrier she'd probably let him bleed to death.
"Look," he sighed, "there was another one of those wanted beacons. The instant they showed my face, everyone went nuts."
Without acknowledging his explanation, Aeryn tugged the ends of the bandage into a knot and stood to leave. "Hey, at least let me say thanks - " John reached out and grabbed her arm, loosening his hold when she winced. His fingers found the slit in her sleeve and came back slippery with blood. He tugged at her arm below the wound. "Your turn. Sit down and let me return the favor."
Aeryn jerked away. "It's fine."
"Hey, you bandaged me up, now let me help you."
"Help me? Human, I think you've 'helped' quite enough for one day."
John's mouth dropped open. "You're blaming this mess on me?" he asked incredulously. She raised an eyebrow in response. "What? How is this my fault?" he demanded.
"You wandered off again," she answered simply.
"I did not!" he protested. "I stopped for two seconds and you guys ditched me! You know, if you would wait for me once in a while, we wouldn't get separated."
D'Argo's voice carried clearly from the pilot's seat, interrupting their argument. "We have trouble."
Aeryn and John rushed to the display to see a small craft exiting the atmosphere of the planet. "I thought you said they didn't have orbital capabilities," accused John.
"They don't," D'Argo answered swiftly. "Apparently we weren't the only visitors today."
"It's a Sealgairian scouting ship," Aeryn reported. "Very maneuverable, quite fast - and a considerable arsenal of medium-range weapons for its size. We had a simulator in our flight program devoted specifically to this type of craft."
D'Argo nodded. "You take over. I'll contact Moya and inform Pilot to prepare for starburst as soon as we're on board."
They switched places while John danced sideways to avoid them. "What can I do?"
D'Argo glared at him. "Just stay out of the way."
~~~~~~~
Three arns laterJohn sat in the maintenance bay, a solitary figure amongst the tools and gadgets, half of which he had given up ever understanding. He held the tape recorder in his hand like a lifeline, speaking softly as he stared unseeing at the far wall.
"So thanks to Aeryn's piloting, we got to Moya way ahead of the Sealgairian ship. She saved our asses, as usual. Or at least, she's usually saving *my* ass. But Moya had to starburst out of there before she was totally prepared - which means Pilot's miffed at us. And we didn't get any of the supplies we wanted to, so Rygel's upset 'cause he has to eat food cubes until we find another commerce planet. Chiana's pouting because we told her she couldn't come because *she'd* get in trouble. Zhaan says she's not upset, but she is, I can tell. D'Argo and Aeryn, well, they're just pissed about the whole thing. Which is understandable, I guess, since I just about got everyone killed today." He groaned and stretched his stiff muscles. Crawling around in the dirt was not his idea of a good workout. "Ah, just another day here in the Uncharted Territories. At least for me."
With a sigh, he forced his thoughts from the events of the day and moved on to the other topic that had been occupying his mind lately. "So, Dad, as near as I can tell, it's almost Christmas. Again. I must have totally missed it the last time around - too busy figuring out my elbow from my amniox out here.
"You know, I never understood how people could be depressed around holidays. That just seemed so insane to me. But now - now I see how bad it is when you don't have family or friends to be with. Well, okay, so technically I have friends, but they're all pissed at me now. Again. Sometimes I wonder if *they* would call themselves my friends, or if I've just forced that term on them. I thought I'd found another family out here, Dad. Not to take your place, no way anybody could do that - but something to fill the void. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'm like that annoying uncle everyone puts up with, but secretly wishes would just go away...
"Sometimes I wonder if they wish I had never come through that damn wormhole. I know I wish it sometimes. Like now. It's frustrating, Dad, because it's times like these when I think it would have been better for everyone if DK and I had never built Farscape; if I'd never come here..."
With a sigh, John clicked the recorder off. There was no sense indulging in what-ifs and what- could-have-beens. Pushing himself to his feet, he stretched his aching muscles and headed for his quarters. He had a small stash of food cubes that would suffice for dinner, then he planned on turning in early. There was nothing for him here, anyway.
~~~~~~~