DISCLAIMER: Farscape and all the characters of Farscape are the property of Jim Henson productions, Nine Network Australia, Hallmark Entertainment and the Sci-Fi Channel and are used without permission for free entertainment only. Rated PG.

Spoilers: From the Premiere to Nerve.--December 1999

Timeline: Sometime near the latter half of Season 1.

by Leah

Written in 1999

It was an unusual day. Unusual because nothing strange or even life threatening had happened. Unusual because day-to-day life aboard Moya the Leviathan, an actual living starship, was the unusual. In the maintenance bay, John grinned to himself as he walked around Farscape One, fine tuning some of the modifications he had made to the craft. He was feeling rather proud of himself. Hey, he had bodily gone where no human had gone before! And with things being so unusual today, he actually had time to enjoy the thought. I, E.T. If only Dad could see me now! Normally, there was one big crisis after another. If it wasn't space bugs, it was running from Peacekeepers, if it wasn't running from Peacekeepers, it was fighting intelligent viruses or DNA mad scientists, or becoming unstuck in time, or being 'Jeremiah' Crichton marooned on a paradise planet that wasn't as perfect as it seemed, or outsmarting bounty hunters, or trying to avoid getting beat up by D'argo or Aeryn or verbally whipped by one of his irritated shipmates or any other number of experiences he would never have even thought were possible until he had become lost in this place. Lost in space.

But despite the constant threat of danger, how fun it was to come to the edge of destruction and pull out in the nick of time. What an adrenaline rush! John was still soaring high from the last close encounter and he felt so good he simply had to share it with someone else, "Pilot!" he transmitted through his small gold-colored communicator. "How's it goin'?"

"Exactly the same as when you asked half an arn ago," Pilot replied as his large purple head and placid brown eyes appeared within a clamshell holographic projector. Pilot reminded Cricton somewhat of a hatching dinosaur...the top of his head looked like the smooth eggshell a hatchling might wear. Although, it spread out more like a mushroom umbrella. "All of Moya's systems are functioning smoothly. I am running a systems check of the ventilation and environmental systems." Due to Moya's pregnancy things did not always function as they should and D'argo had been avidly complaining of gel seeping from the walls of his quarters. "Is there something that concerns you?" Pilot asked, clearly busy, but as always anxious to offer assistance, whether it was to assist in a scientific puzzle or a simple chat.

"Nope!" John paused in his work and slapped his knee, chuckling. "That's what's so great about this day!" Unusual because so far absolutely no one aboard Moya was refusing to speak with him because of some idiotic thing he had done or said. Although Chiana might have something to do with that. She had taken away his status of newcomer and now bore the brunt of most of the others' negative attention. He wasn't sure if she could be trusted either but that was another worry for another day. "Are you doing great, Pilot?"

A clearly puzzled expression crossed the variegated purple face. "I am fine, Commander Crichton. Thank you for asking. Are you certain you are alright?"

"Never better." Unusual because, without begging, he had invited Aeryn to help him work on this project and she had accepted. Well, she wasn't here yet. Maybe she had changed her mind but with the way things were going today he leaned more towards the optimistic. John went back to work and as he worked he hummed a merry tune. He held a small piece the size of a quarter, the same golden color as Moya. It was warm to the touch and he slid it into place on his craft's engine. It was a biomechanoid component that Moya and Pilot had allowed him to use to juice up his spacecraft.

He was still working thus when Aeryn arrived. She walked up to him and gazed for a moment over his shoulder. Her dark hair was pulled back but a few dark strands had escaped and fell charmingly around her ears. She wore a grey tank top and black pants. She stood, shoulders squared, hands behind her back and tsked. "You're doing it wrong," she informed him, as she watched him fiddle with the small component he was adjusting on the shuttle.

"What?" John asked, incredulously. He stopped humming.

"You placed it in backwards," Aeryn explained, briskly.

"Look Aeryn...I'm the scientist here and I think I would know..." his voice trailed off as he looked back at her and saw her expression.

Aeryn raised her eyebrows and shot him the Crichton-you-idiot-look and insisted, slowly, "Simply take a look at it!"

John looked down at the piece and lo and behold, it was in backwards. Strike one. "Well, burst my bubble, why don't you? This is supposed to be a good day." He picked up a tool and yanked at the piece in an attempt to remove it.

"What bubble?" Aeryn asked, seriously.

The added component stubbornly refused to be removed. John blinked twice, reminding himself not be upset. He was determined this was going to continue to be a GOOD day. "No. Burst my bubble. It's an expression. It means..." he stumbled through the explanation as he tried to correct the mistake he had made. Would the stupid little piece come off?

"Crichton, you shouldn't...." Aeryn's voice warned him. "If you would simply let me..."

"Naah, I can do it," John interrupted, cockily. "Ouch!" John yelped as an electric charge traveled up his tool and shocked his hand and arm. "Why didn't you tell me that?" John shouted in pain, dropping the tool. "It stings. Why doesn't anybody ever tell me stuff like that?"

A crease appeared in Aeryn's brow. "You did ask for my help but far be it from to offer a piece of advice where it is disregarded and obviously not wa..."

Strike two. Never blame a Peacekeeper for anything. Especially if it's your own fault. He rubbed his arm and realized the feeling was starting to come back. He picked up the tool. "Alright, Aeryn. Here. If you think you can do it better." He handed over his tool and stepped to one side to let her try.

Aeryn took the tool with an expression John was unable to read. She stepped over to the work bench and laid it down. She opened a tool box and slipped one hand into a black glove she procured from there, then returned to John's craft. She leaned over and with one deft twist she pulled off the backwards component. She held it up to him. "It's a biomechanoid component. Sensitive. It resists harsh methods." She flipped it over, and with another twist secured it in place. A DRD moved in with a miniature welding tool to finish the job. Aeryn straightened once more, slipped off the glove and placed it in John's hand. Her deep blue eyes gleamed with amusement. After all, he had challenged her to do it better. "There you are, Crichton. What next?"

"Well, Aeryn. I guess I need another lesson in biomechanoid technology," John smiled, sheepishly.

Chiana's voice piped up behind them suddenly. "You two playing nice?"

They turned to the newest resident of Moya with surprise and a slight undercurrent of irritation. "Aren't you supposed to be pest--helping Zhaan with something?" John asked.

Chiana's dark eyes gleamed with mischief. "I'd much rather....help you," the pale-colored Nebari girl replied with a tilt of her head and a lilt in her voice.

"You can't help, pip. Much too complicated," John said.

"Why? I'm a good....problem solver." Chiana always liked to draw her words out and add strange inflections to them. She tapped her forehead to emphasize her point and smiled. Her amused expression was partly hidden by her shock of white hair.

Aeryn said, "Where is Zhaan, by the way?" She distrusted the girl before them and it was Zhaan's turn to keep an eye on her. She stared pointedly at the mischief maker.

"Rygel said you were....working on....a project," Chiana giggled secretively. She sprang to the work bench with the agility of a feline and began doing a gymnast routine. "Only he didn't tell me....what it was." She pretended to pout, but her smile soon reappeared.

Aeryn glared at Chiana for not answering the question but Chiana continued as if her story was the most interesting in the universe, "We were in the galley. He was eating and drinking and then all of a sudden--" Chiana paused to leap off of the bench and do a somersault. "--he started snoring and his head fell plop!" She demonstrated the motion. "Right into a pile of food in the middle of his story. Which reminded me of a time when I was a stowaway..."

"SILENCE!" Aeryn shouted. She wasn't taking anymore of this nonsense. She spoke into her communicator. "Aeryn to Zhaan." No response. A look of worry crept into the lines around her mouth. "Aeryn to Zhaan, please respond." No calm voice of reassurance answered her.

John tried. "Crichton to Zhaan. D'argo? Anybody? Hello-o-o."

Still no response. The sounds of Moya, the constant pulses and rhythms of the living ship, sounded strangled. Stifled. Distressed.

John gave Chiana a questioning look and Chiana returned it by sticking out her tongue. "Keep trying if you like, but--it won't work," Chiana informed them both belatedly, clapping her hands like a jester at some secret joke.

"Why won't it work?" John asked, taking a threatening step towards her.

"I thought you didn't want my help," Chiana smirked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"One more smart remark out of you, brat, and I'll--" Aeryn began.

Chiana suddenly became cooperative and momentarily, serious. Apparently, her little Catwoman versus two blind mice game had lost its appeal. "The comms are out and we don't know why. Zhaan sent me to ask you two to come to Command."

"Aeryn. John. I'm glad you could join us," Zhaan, ever opulent, greeted them when they arrived. She stood at a console apparently trying to make sense of Moya's readings. "Pilot says we've developed a problem with the communication's system."

"What took you so long?" D'argo asked, gruffly. He was wearing his normal flame colored attire and the Qualta blade rested in the sheath behind his back.

"We seem to have developed several communications' problems," John said, dragging Chiana into the room by her arm and then letting go. "You." He pointed to the floor. "Stay right there."

Aeryn rushed over to speak with Pilot and look at the read out on the console. "Why aren't the comms working?"

"I am trying to determine that, Officer Sun," said Pilot. His holographic image looked distorted. "In fact, Moya is tracking the source of these interruptions now but is hampered by the disruptions that are occurring. They are irritating to her." Pilot grimaced as a small tremor they all felt ran through the ship.

"The source," Aeryn asked, breathlessly. "What source?"

"I told you it wasn't me!" smiled Chiana. "I don't see why everyone always has to suspect me. If you ask me--"

"WE DIDN'T!" they all shouted, silencing her.

"The interference the source is causing seems to be coming from outside of the ship," said Pilot. "But the direction is diff--" His image flickered out for a moment and then restored itself. "...to determine."

A growl rumbled in D'argo's a throat. "Is there a ship?" he asked, anxiously.

The Delvian, looking like a rhapsody in blue robes, nodded her blue head. "If there is a ship," Zhaan began, calmly. "Then, it may be sending out a jamming signal which would interfere with our communications." She turned to the Luxan warrior and inclined her head towards him. "A good suggestion, D'argo. See if you can locate one, Pilot."

"Scanning," Pilot said, looking skeptical. "Negative. Moya detects no ships in the area."

"Well," John spoke up. "Maybe there's a planet with a transmitter."

"Would anyone like to know what I think?" piped Chiana.

"NO!" was the unanimous vote of the room.

"Pilot," Aeryn said, closing her eyes for a moment in concentration. "Try to filter out the static you're getting and focus on the signal from the source." Her eyelids flew open but now her eyes had taken on a distant look. She swallowed hard before continuing and shut her eyes once more. "Then....follow it." Ever since she had received some of Pilot's DNA she seemed to have a deeper, almost second nature, understanding of Pilot and his symbiotic relationship with Moya.

"I'll do my best," said Pilot. His image flickered out completely this time.

"Arghhhhh!" D'argo began to scream suddenly clapping his hands to both sides of his head.

"D'argo what's the--" John began and then was sorry he'd asked. A loud high-pitched squawk suddenly pierced his own hearing and he shuddered with the rest of his similarly disturbed crewmates, leaning against one of Moya's walls for support as Moya lurched violently.

The sound ended as quickly as it began. Aeryn opened her eyes and with relief saw Pilot's face had appeared once more. And without distortion or static. She had grabbed a console for support. She let go of it now and looked questioningly at Pilot.

Pilot nodded his large head. "I apologize for not warning you all. It was not possible to inform you that a change in com frequency was necessary. I managed to trace the source of the interference. Scans revealed that there is a structure floating in space not far from our position. It had established a link with the communication's systems and its signal caused the distortions. We have just severed the link."

John thought the ringing in his ears would never stop. "You did that?"

"Yes...well rather, Moya did. All ship's com systems should be fully restored."

As if to affirm that, Rygel's groggy, outraged voice suddenly came over their comms. "Whoever disturbed my slumber better a have a ROYAL GOOD reason for it!"

Zhaan grabbed her wrist to speak softly into her comm. "We do, Rygel. I assure you. Please join us in on the command deck as soon as possible. We've had a problem."

Aeryn looked out of the command deck through the viewport at the stars. Searching them. A crease formed on her brow. She looked grave. "It may a be a base of some kind. Can you get a visual, Pilot?" she requested.

"Why did it link with our communications?" D'argo asked, baring his teeth.

"Checking," said Pilot. "We should be in visual range within eight microts, Officer Sun. I am sorry, but I am unable to establish the reason for the link since it has been severed. It caused no residual damage to any systems. I can create for you a representation with Moya's sensor data," he spoke tentatively.

Aeryn nodded assent.

The visual grid projected upwards from the console and the structure appeared. It was huge, thin and shaped like a prism with four surfaces. The coloring of its walls were a dim greenish coloration that once had been a metallic color now deteriorated with age. They gave off an eerie luminescent glow. The projection spun allowing the crew to get a view of it from all angles.

"This is odd," said Pilot. "I am detecting no life forms present within the structure."

"It's a trick!" said D'argo, pacing around the deck. "Something jammed our communications. Someone must be there."

"Not necessarily, D'argo," Zhaan chided, gently. "There is no reason to remain upset. Perhaps our scanners are impaired by its walls or it was simply an automated transmission. Evidently, something detects us. It will do us no harm to signal our peaceful intent."

"In this case, Zhaan, I agree with D'argo. I mean when have we ever run into anyone or anything that just wanted to wish us a good day?" John asked. He was starting to feel apprehension. Feel? No, he could taste it!

"We present no threat to them," Zhaan said, quietly.

"Yeah, but do they present any threat to us?" John asked. Nine times out of ten, the answer was yes. And if not yes, then, "Is there someone on their tail that could present a threat to us cause they think we're in league with them?" Whoa, where had that come from? Had he just said 'in league' with them? Must have been some leftover lingo he'd picked up when pretending to be a Peacekeeper captain.

Aeryn's eyes were still fixed upon the structure. She stood straight and still. "Do you detect weapons, Pilot?"

"I cannot say with certainty," Pilot replied with a slight frown. Moya's engines slowed. "The structure is powered and the material its walls are constructed from are a substance that Moya has never encountered before. We are now matching its course and speed. It should now be visible on the forward view."

This sparked the crew's curiosity. Necks craned to observe this unique structure at its full size. When Zhaan suggested signaling again, no one raised any objections.

"Transmission sent," Pilot informed them. And a moment later, "Incoming transmission. Audio only."

"Well, let's hear it!" said John.

CLICK CLICK. CLICK. CLICKETY-CLICK...and then the clicks resolved into words, blaring over their comms: "KA D'ARGO. DOMINAR RYGEL THE SIXTEENTH. ZOTAH ZHAAN. OFFICER AERYN SUN. COMMANDER JOHN CRICHTON. CHIANA," said a shrill voice that echoed. "GREETINGS, CREW OF MOYA, I'VE BEEN AWAITING YOUR ARRIVAL."

"Who are you?" growled D'argo, stamping his feet. "And how is it you know us when we do not know you?"

Panic quivered through the air.

Cut the transmission, John motioned Pilot the message with his hands.

Pilot did so instantly.

"That settles it!" hissed Aeryn. Without further explanation, she marched off the command deck and nearly bumped into Rygel sitting in his floating throne. She shoved him and his chair aside and continued onward on a beeline course for her pulse rifle. Someone knew far too much about them and they knew far too little about the whatever-it-was so she intended to even the odds. She was glad now she hadn't (how would John put it?) cut corners and gone directly to the maintenance bay to help John with Farscape One despite the temptation she had to felt to come sooner. Putting first things first, she had stuck to her well-disciplined training and cleaned the pulse rifle meticulously, reassembling it completely and stowing it away where others' hands (especially Hynerion and Nebari) would not readily find it. Setting her comm to monitor further communications from her crewmates on the command deck, she walked briskly through Moya's corridors to retrieve it.

Rygel righted his chair from it had been thrown. For a loss of words, he sputtered incoherent insults at Aeryn's departing back and sailed then onto the command deck in very bad temper. "Someone tell me what is happening!" he demanded, slapping the arm of his chair with his fist.

"Hush, Rygel," said Zhaan.

"I don't know how," Pilot said. "But the transmission is now communicating directly with Moya's systems. Requesting us to change our frequency back to the original setting and promising not to cause the interference it did before."

"Why should we?" D'argo began to say.

"Transmission? What transmission?" grumbled Rygel, blinking bleary eyes. "If we were to start trade negotiations I should have been informed."

Zhaan gasped suddenly and everyone on deck looked at her. "I think," she was murmuring something unintelligible to anyone but herself. She looked up swiftly. "Allow it," she told Pilot.

"What?" John asked. "Zhann, what are you doing?"

Zhaan was giving them a calm smile. "Don't worry, John. Rygel. D'argo. Aeryn, you may want to listen to this," she spoke for a moment into her comlink. "I think I may know what it is we are dealing with presently."

"Oh goody," said Chiana, sitting down Indian-style upon the floor and resting her chin on her hands. "Do tell!"

"Yes, tell us already!" sniffed Rygel.

"There are tales of an ancient race called the K'djrites who traveled the universe in search of knowledge and that this race built huge personless machines and programmed these to gather and store vast amounts of information. To gather a summation of knowledge and wisdom of other races throughout the universe. I was always told that no such machines existed. That it was a mere myth," Zhaan's voice trailed off and she simply stared into space, thinking long thoughts.

"Vast amounts of information?" echoed Rygel. His eyes gleamed, greedily. "Useful information?"

"Such as the locations of our home worlds?" D'argo caught the Hynerian's train of thought.

"Or a chart of the Uncharted Territories?" Aeryn's voice suggested over their comms.

Chiana yawned. "The knowledge of the universe at your fingertips and you choose that? What a fun mob I hang out with! Are all your minds this diminutive?" No one listened to her disparaging remark. Their expressions were bright. Their eyes shone with hope.

A wide grin spread across John's face. "A personless machine that's programmed. But there was a voice that just was talking to us. A super smart supercomputer that thinks!" John gushed. "And contains a galactic library, so to speak." Now, here was science! He clapped his hands together once. "Well, put this radio back on two-way and let's find out, why don't we?" John rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Switching frequency back to original setting and opening a channel...now!" spoke Pilot as the hologram of his head in the clamshell-shaped projector disappeared.

"You hear me better now, Crew of Moya," the strange disembodied voice came through crisply and only a faint machine hiss whirred beneath it. Each of the words echoed eerily causing it to seem as if each word hung in the air after it was spoken.

"Uh huh," John assumed the position of spokesperson for the group. He stood looking at the clamshell, struggling to contain his inward excitement and appear competent. "Look. We seem to be at a disadvantage seeing that you know all of our names. Would you mind introducing yourself?"

"And explaining why you disrupted communications?" Aeryn added, striding onto the command deck with her pulse rifle strapped to her side. The first rule before going into battle was: Know your enemy. Thus far she had only heard Zhaan's speculation...and that might be wrong. Whoever was speaking simply knew TOO much about them.

D'argo met her eyes in agreement. He evidently shared her suspicions. "And show us your face?" he grunted. "I like to see who I'm dealing with."

There was an irritating hissing noise followed by garbled syllables and noises that reminded John of a wild western shoot out. A pause ensued and then the voice explained,

"What I am called is not pronounceable by your mere translator microbes, Crichton." There was a clicking sound and then, "I was monitoring your communications to gather more information about you as I am programmed to do to all ships which pass within my scanning range, Sun. In monitoring your communications for the past three days I learned information. The disruption to your comms was initiated in order to alter your course and bring you here." There was another click and inside the open clamshell appeared the huge prism structure. "I am not a biologically based life form and do not have the face you speak of, D'argo."

"That thing has been monitoring all our communications for the past three days!" D'argo growled. "How come you did not know about this?" he accused Pilot.

"Moya and I could not know because it only became detectable a few arns ago," Pilot replied, defensively. "When the comms stopped working. I suggest you stop pointing fingers and seek information from someone who obviously knows more about it than I."

"I was constructed by a civilization far beyond your own," the probe with the unpronounceable name told them. "Delvian. Nebari. Luxan. Human. Sebacean. Hynerion." A pause. "Yes, it is confirmed my store of knowledge is vastly more than each sample of your species possesses."

"You also lack basic social skills," Rygel added. "I am nobody's sample!"

"You exist and cohabitate with Moya. My logistic indicators tell me that is not a usual arrangement. Therefore I conjecture this is an experiment and your actions are monitored so that the watchers of the experiment may check to see what happens to you on a weekly basis, learning the intricate details of your life as you face predicaments together, and predicting where you will go in the future, Crew of Moya," the icy voice of the machine replied.

"That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard!" Rygel harrumphed. "You make it sound as if the whole reason we all exist is simply to entertain someone else."

Zhaan decided to ignore the insult to her 812 cycles of life experience and follow a more fruitful line of questioning, "Then, you do have knowledge of our races? Of our home planets?"

"Irrelevant, Zhaan," the probe replied. "Crew of Moya, you have reached your quota of irrelevant questions. Your mission is to evade the forces of Captain Bialar Crais and find a permanent residence. Affirmative?"

"Well, I-- yeah, I guess," John replied, scratching his head. "How come you know so much about that?"

"Irrelevant question. New program initiated, Crew of Moya. Prepare to board." On one side of the prism a thin line began to glow and suddenly a piece of its wall folded downwards converting into a landing platform.

"Board?" John asked, crossing his arms. His blue eyes brimmed with skepticism. "You're kidding right?"

"Crew of Moya, this is your program. You will land upon my maintenance platform and board. Then proceed to repair my maintenance bots which have stopped responding to the system. Accept program."

"What? You mean you haven't got a control, alt, delete?" John chuckled. He laughed alone. He realized the others didn't seem to think this was funny and tried to explain, "So you can quit and reboot. It's a feature of Earth computers."

"Reboot?" Aeryn raised an eyebrow and glanced at her own boots, before looking up again. "Primitive at best, I'm sure," Aeryn said, dismissively. She faced the huge probe. "We have no intention of boarding you, whatever you are. We are interested only in obtaining information that you can provide us with and then we will be on our way."

"Irrelevant. You are not cleared for access to information, Sun," the supercomputer replied. "Crew of Moya, you will board. Send two to make repairs. If you complete new program then you will be returned to your regular functions. Crew of Moya, accept program or be deleted."

"Be deleted?" It was D'argo's turn to laugh. Pilot had confirmed now that the structure carried no firing weapons. "We are not a program that can simply be deleted."

"I'm afraid I have bad news," Pilot's voice said. "Because it appears we can."

"How d'ya mean?" asked John.

In response, Pilot said, "Moya is picking up the frequency of a vessel that has just entered the perimeter of her long range scans. It is still too far out of range to determine what sort of vessel it may be. The transmitter frequency configuration is unquestionably Peacekeeper."

"All Peacekeeper vessels transmit an ongoing signature code. To identify themselves to other ships and bases," Aeryn explained.

"Great, just what I need," John grumbled. Twice now Moya had been boarded by a Peacekeeper Marauder and both times the results hadn't been pretty.

"Just what we don't need," D'argo replied. "Does it detect us, Pilot?"

"Not now," Pilot said. "It appears our...'new programmer' is masking us from their sensors. If the whim should arise however, to send an alert signal to the vessel...." The rest of the crew could fill in the blanks.

"Can you give us time to think about this for a second?" John asked the dictatorial supercomputer. "Privately?"

"Your request is being processed," the emotionless voice of the machine replied.

"Meaning?" asked Aeryn.

"I think it's thinking about it," John answered, scratching his nose.

A loud click sounded. The eerie voice replied, "You have one arn. Ending transmission."

The structure's image disappeared from the clamshell. Then, static ensued and cleared as Pilot's image reappeared. "It is no longer monitoring our communications," he informed them, helpfully. The relief in his voice was plain to hear.

D'argo roared no longer suppressing his irritation. "I suggest we board that bald-faced metal mouth and silence it forever."

"Now that might not be the best plan," John replied.

"Do you have a better plan?" Aeryn asked, looking at him sharply.

Rygel flew his chair near John's face, saying, "And I don't suppose you are actually suggesting we give in to the demands of a machine. I don’t care how smart it is! The thing looks filthy, probably hasn't been cleaned in eons. I, for one, am not going over there."

"Listen Sparky!" John began, leaning away a little from the Hynerion to avoid hitting his chin on the rim of the hovering chair. He pointed him in a scolding gesture. "You little thieving rascal! We just don’t have the time. I've had just about enough of your, your--"

Rygel wrinkled his face in disdain. "You may spend your time anyway you like you blubbering ninny but if we should Starburst--"

"Moya's pregnant. We can't Starburst every time--"

"Stop it!" Zhaan broke into the controversy suddenly but forcefully. She held up her hand for silence and there was a dangerous blue flash in her eyes. "I suggest we all go sit down and discuss this calmly and rationally. Whatever is decided, will be decided by the whole group."