UTHOR'S NOTE: A missing scene from "Nerve" Gilina's viewpoint. (DISCLAIMER: Farscape belongs to Rockne S O'Bannon, David Kemper, Nine Network, Hallmark Entertainment,Jim Henson Television and the Sci-Fi channel. The following is an independent fan production for the purpose of free entertainment only with no monetary gain. No infringement intended.)



I can't believe my eyes. It couldn't be.

He couldn't be here. Not after all of this time. Not after over half a cycle of hoping against hope. It must be a hallucination. I turn away for a moment reasoning with my senses to banish any wishful thinking. Bracing myself, I gaze across the crowded lounge again.

Yes. Undeniably so, it is John. This time I am certain my eyes are not deceiving me. The human is here. He is standing calmly in the Officers' Lounge, in the midst of all these Peacekeepers, conversing with the commander of the base. It is a fantastic sight and only I seem to be aware that John isn't whoever he claims to be. Yet, he must have the proper (even if is falsified) identification or he would have been caught the moment he first arrived here. He is wearing the uniform of a Peacekeeper captain. Red and black. He looks handsome. And brave. Whatever brought him here must be extremely important for him to put himself at risk like this.

I lower my eyes, forcing myself to look away from him. He mustn't catch sight of me for any sign of recognition could shatter the thin charade he has acted thus far.

He seems to have a traveling companion, a distracting pale girl who is making certain no one is keeping a close eye on John. I ignore her for the moment, stooping down in order to finish the repair I was ordered here to do. The dispensers for some of the officer's favorite drinks haven't been running well. I locate the problem in the flow regulator and fix it. "All done sir."

The darkly-clad bartender moves to toss a scrutinizing glance at me and my work. He surely doesn't comprehend any of the mechanics behind what I have done but pretends to make a close examination of it.

"That'll do," he speaks with a short nod. "On your feet." His voice is gruff but drones sleepily. I wonder how many arns his shift has been. He doesn't seem very alert.

I nod gratefully and then pause, weighing the risk. Keeping my eyes cast down as I don't rise right away, I kneel to gather up my tools and remark, "Seems very busy today, sir."

"Every one's here to get a glimspe at this Specials Ops fellow," he replies in an amused tone, not paying anymore attention to me than if I had been an insect on the wall.

I stand up slowly, being careful once more not to look at John. "Special Ops, sir?" I inquire softly, standing at attention. I keep my voice disinterested, all the while gripping the handle of my tool box so hard that my knuckles turn white.

The bartender is standing in front of me, barring the way to the exit and chooses to keep me waiting an extra few microts for my dismissal. Of course, he has all of the latest gossip and wants to rub in the fact that I, a PK tech, am ignorant of such information. "He won't tell what his mission is," the man rubs his chin, thoughtfully. "Says his name's Larraq."

Larraq. I repeat the name to myself, silently engraving it upon my brain. I swallow nervously. Larraq? What could John be thinking coming here to a Gammack base when he is a wanted fugitive by Captain Crais?

The bartender grins but then his gaze moves past me to the follow the movements of Crichton's lady companion and I am at once ingratiated to her. "May I go, sir?" I ask, softly.

The bartender dismisses me with a wave, barely glancing my way as he moves over to let me pass. Heart pounding fast, I escape into the corridors of the base. The sounds of beating music floating out from the lounge fade behind me. I head for my listening cell. It's a small cell around the bend of the next corridor and I pause as I come to the security checkpoint. In a few moments, I'm done and security lets me pass by. They suspect nothing. I'm only a tech and the security personnel feel no need to concern themselves over me. I enter the shadows and the door rolls away in front of me. I walk in, sort my specialized tools on a small table, and then stow my tool box beneath it. I hear the door close automatically behind me in a few short microts.

From my listening post inside this cell, I can tap into the main computer grid. I pull out some thin black cables and connect them to the system. I put the optics on my head and watch the holographic readout display carefully. Searching for the name Larraq. I find it and press my lips together as I recognize the section and quarters the fake Larraq has been assigned. My stomach performs a somersault. To get there John will have to pass through the security checkpoint. Security Velta. Genetic verification required. He may well have forged a Sebacean idenity and fooled the officers of the base but I know with certainty he won't fool the genetic scanners.

Unless...