itsallovernow | Blue Eyes

Ok, two days computer free. I'm never gonna make it. Again, rough, but we're heading for home, kids.

Chapter 28

She felt wrung out like limp laundry, had only felt this way once before when a trader had passed on a nasty case of the Morelian flu. She hadn’t been vaccinated for the strain, and she’d spent a week feeling like a transport pod had landed on her, drifting in and out of a delirium filled consciousness. She remembered very little of that week, except for the way that Aeryn had looked. Her mother’s face had been white and pinched, a different kind of fear taking up residence behind her eyes, and Aeryn had been near by for most of the illness, present almost every time Anix woke up from a sweaty, fevered sleep.

When the fever broke and the illness retreated, she’d again woken to her mother’s face, damp and thin, deep circles under her eyes. D’Argo had stood behind her, hand on Aeryn’s shoulder, grinning down at Anix. Aeryn had kissed her forehead, cool hands stroking her cheek and then D’Argo had pulled her away, stumbling in exhaustion and Anix had drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

This felt much the same, her body weak and her stomach now empty. She’d woken up in the medlab and proceeded to vomit all over the tech examining her. Apparently, Sebacean/human hybrids didn’t react particularly well to being nearly roasted to death. In that awful box, the loss of muscle control had crept over her before her system shut down, before the hysteria set in and her limbs were still lax and unsteady.

She had been taken back to her cell once the medtechs had decided she was stable enough, and was alone again, with no idea of where Aeryn or Crichton were. Where her parents were. It was an odd thought. She curled her knees up more tightly to her chest, burrowing under the heavy coverlet that the tech had given her. There’d been a strange compassion in this new tech’s eyes and it made Anix wonder if she knew something that Anix didn’t. She wanted her mother, or D’Argo or Teyvn or Be’Ann or hezmana, even Crichton. Someone who could help, who would hold her and stroke her hair and give her a little false hope. She didn’t want to be alone.

The lights flickered in the cell, klaxons sounding off and on, but she remained huddled under the blanket, waiting for someone to come get her. She was trying very hard not to think of the ramifications of suddenly having a face to connect to the other half of her genetic makeup. She knew she was assuming a lot. No one had said to her directly that John Crichton was her father, but Anix knew Aeryn Sun, and it seemed unlikely that there’d been all than many random non-Sebaceans in her past before Anix was born. This meant that she had shared DNA with the child of the Princess. Had lost a sibling when John and the Princess lost their child. She didn’t know how she felt about that, didn’t know if Aeryn had deliberately kept the knowledge of her father from her. Anix doubted it.

This current disaster was probably exactly why she’d never been DNA matched, why no one had ever pushed Aeryn on the paternity issue, well aside from the unwillingness of anyone to push Aeryn on anything. It also explained the failure of some of the vaccinations. Things were making sense, but they also made her stomach ache and her head throb, so she closed her eyes against the lights and the noise and tried to curl inside herself.
***
Katralla was tucked up next to Tyno, sitting across from Teyvn’s stretcher. The underground rooms teemed with bodies, and D’Argo very much wished that Sebaceans didn’t produce such a strong fear scent. His eyes were watering with the overwhelming stench of terror. He looked over at Katralla, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and tried to ignore the stony, glaring face of Empress Novia. Atos, frustrated and mourning had finally slapped cuffs on her wrists after the third refusal to go underground. The palace guards had simply looked the other way, silently condoning the action.

However, if they survived this latest fiasco, D’Argo was going to suggest that Atos sleep with one eye open until they were safely off planet. Maybe for a long time afterwards.

“It feels cowardly to be huddling here like frightened animals,” Katralla said softly. And D’Argo nodded his agreement.

“I know, your highness, but we have no recourse on the surface against a Stryker attack.” She nodded back, but still looked unhappy.

He understood completely.

“How are you feeling?”

She tilted her head, a minute shrug. “Tired,” she said. “Frightened. Angry. Uncertain.” She rested her head back against the wall. “Worried for John, scared for my people.”

“We are doing everything we can,” he offered gently. “Your people are doing everything they can.”

“I know this, but we’ve no guarantee that it will be enough.”

“No, we don’t.”

She closed her eyes, leaving the room in silence. D’Argo glanced over at Teyvn who seemed to be sleeping fairly peacefully. The sight brought a reluctant grin to his face. Aeryn had said frequently and sardonically that the man could sleep through a battle as long as his name wasn’t on the roster. D’Argo leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. “Just for a few microts,’ he told himself.

BOOM.

The noise from above echoed through the cavern, shattering his brief rest. Dust rained from the ceiling, followed by shrill cries, shrieks of terror from the people huddle together.

Boom, Boom, Boom- hard and quick and horrifically loud. The palace was shaking, things collapsing on the surface, sounds of explosion followed by a microts lull. And then the lights went out.

“Fuck,” snarled D’Argo, adopting the human’s curse. “They just blew the frelling generator.”

***
The two things in front of him were all he could see, both stone cold beautiful, both dangerous, deadly. Aeryn, eyes blurry, pupils dilated, jacked up on whatever they’d given her, but still coolly contained; and the silvery object that she rested her fingertips on. Harvey whimpered, trussed up like a turkey as their collective gaze zeroed in on this thing that his girl had built. Bells and whistles were going off on his head, and he decided that he really didn’t want to share, rolling Harvey down the hill to stew for awhile.

The chip was gone. He could literally feel it’s absence, along with what it had left behind. Harvey was like a toothless tiger, big and threatening although suddenly fendable. But he was still there. Caged for the moment, but still present. Something else was there though, as well. Clarity. With the loss of the chip and its insidious tendrils his mind felt lighter. He could still see the whirling blue, see the equations dancing like Pink Elephants, but less elusive. When he reached towards them, beckoned, they giggled shyly and slid towards him like snakes, wrapping around his wrists and whispering in his ear.

He reached out towards the device, stroking it like a lover and the words clicked home. “Displacement engine,” he said, hearing Jack, hearing his dad in the tone of his voice. The engine had consumed his entire gaze.

“It helped take out the dreadnought,” said Aeryn carefully, “We’re hoping it can do the same thing here.”

He nodded, already understanding all of that, transfixed by the device and the whispers it was sending out to him.

“We need a wormhole,” Scorpius reiterated, too close to John’s ear for comfort and he reared back, away from the hybrid.

The ship rocked to the left then, knocked by a blast from outside. The engine slid a little and Aeryn grabbed the edge of the table for purchase, pushing against the weapon to hold it steady. John and Scorpius ricocheted off each other like balls on a pool table.

“And we need it soon,” Scorpius growled through gritted teeth. “The planet is under attack. Obviously, so are we.” The shuddering, blinking ship confirmed his words as power flickered off and on.

“No solar flares,” John murmured absently. “Don’t know if there’re wormholes here.”

Aeryn’s voice was tight. “What does that mean, John?”

He shrugged, looked up at her, saw pain and chemicals and sorrow. “Don’t know. It’s close, but I don’t know, babe.”

“Crichton,” Scorpius snarled. “If you can’t create a frelling wormhole, then we are lost. We’ve wasted valuable time and resources, and now you’re telling me that it was for nothing.”

He shook his head, and laid his hand flat on the device. He could feel what it did, the echoes of energy and theoretical physics chiming out the answers and it was enough to make him smile, slowly, because these answers had been there all the time. This was Einstein and Newton and Hawking and making real what was on the edge of the imagination.

“This thing,” he breathed through his nose, giddy with understanding, “displaces energy. Flips flops direction." He looked directly at Scorpius, firing the words at him. "Wormholes are about direction.”

Something shone in Scorpius’ eyes, a hint of understanding maybe, didn’t matter to John if was down and dirty lust as long as it saved them.

“We need energy," he continued, " the kind a wormhole provides. We don’t need a stable wormhole, we just need the energy.”

“A proto-wormhole,” Scorpius said, and John agreed. “Could be that, could be something that compresses or expends a large amount of energy.”

“Like an explosion,” Aeryn said slowly.

“Big enough, and yeah. We could use that.”

The big ship rocked again, and the klaxons blared again, steadily now and Aeryn’s mouth tightened.
“The Dreadnought is getting closer.”

“We don’t have time to experiment,” John said, authority creeping into his tone. “I can’t make a wormhole out of nothing, and there aren’t stable flares here. Do you have the equipment to open up a proto-wormhole out of an energy fluctuation if I can reason out the equations to direct it?”

Aeryn and Scorpius exchanged glances, and Scorpius replied in a rush, “No. We’re nearly out of time. The Strykers are now on the offensive, the Prowlers struggling to maintain their hold. The dreadnought is too close. We are out of options.”

“Then we blow something up,” sighed John, “Run the displacement engine against the expended energy and open up a change in direction. It won’t be as spectacular as what this baby could do with a fullout wormhole, but it should take care of the Dreadnought if everything’s lined up. So, the question is, what are we gonna blow up?”

“A Stryker,” Aeryn answered quietly. “The engines are different than ours, use a more explosive fuel, and harsher start up. It’s part of why they’re so much faster, but they’re also less stable. And if you hit them in the right place, they make one hezmana of an explosion.”

John looked at her, focus shifting, and felt the wormholes sliding to the back of his consciousness. He grinned at this newly found mental freedom. He could put them away, he thought. He could put Harvey away.

“Has to be up close and personal,” he said, moving closer to her, looking at her eyes. “Have to flip the switch on the displacement engine a microt after the explosion. Timing’s everything, because if the Dreadnought’s too far away, it’s only gonna get singed.” He looked down at the weapon again, “And I’m guessing we’re only gonna get one chance.”

Her nod was short, sharp. “We can affix this device to a Prowler. It’s fast enough, has the firepower to hit the Stryker where it counts.”

John felt his throat tighten. “Someone’s gonna have to fly the Prowler.”

“Yes,” Aeryn said, her own lips curving out into a smile. “Someone will.”

John turned to Scorpius. “You guys make sure the dreadnought’s where it’s supposed to be, get the other pilots out of the way.”

“Yes.” He said. “We can do that.”

“One more thing, Scorp,” he said. “Before we get this party started. I want to see my daughter, make sure she’s okay.” He heard Aeryn’s breath, the quick intake, but she didn’t react otherwise. He wanted to look at her, wanted to share the moment of saying those words outloud, but there was too much at stake, not enough time.

”And I want a stamped or signed or wax sealed promise that if we do this, she’s free, that the Planet below will be safe from Peacekeepers, at least for awhile.”

“Captain Sun has already made such a deal,” Scorpius said dryly. “The child will be released, as will you if we survive this. I can make very few promises about the Sebaceans on that planet, but,” he paused, "I will do what I can." He looked shrewdly at John, face not betraying the heightened sense of fear that he had to have been feeling. John was certainly feeling the fear and adreniline. The ship was almost vibrating from it, and the muffled sounds in the background seemed to be some kind of register of Prowlers going down. The numbers sounded pretty bad. “But this needs to happen now!”

“I want to see Anix,” Aeryn said quietly. “Before we do this. They can bring her to the hangar.”

Scorpius snarled, but nodded. There was a tech standing near the door, a slim silver canister in his hands, eyes opened wide.

“Sir, this is the partanium.” The room was suddenly silent, the only noise muffled clanking from the hallways as blasts hit the ship and people fell and things clattered loose.

Scorpius jerked his head. “Then we are ready to go,”
****
She wanted to take the blanket, but figured about all she had left was her dignity and dragging an old PK-issue blanket behind her like an infant wasn’t going to do very much for that dignity thing. So, she wearily dragged herself off of the bunk and followed the guards down the hallway, trying not to slam into walls or guards or guns as the ship shook from blasts and rocked back and forth, recovering equilibrium.

Moving felt an awful lot like pushing her body through mud, but she kept going, trying to stay straight and tall, hoping that they were taking her to someone familiar, someone safe. All around, soldiers and techs raced through the halls, intent on their tasks, ignoring the alarms, going to their places, ready to fight their enemies and Anix bit her lip, set her shoulders and marched forward along with her guards, who brought her to a small hangar.

Aeryn was inside, standing next to a Prowler with an odd device strapped to it’s hood. She looked like dren and was arguing with Crichton, who actually looked much better than the last time she’d seen him. Scorpius stood nearby, bracketed by guards, all of whom looked like they’d be happy to shoot the snarling couple.

“You haven’t flown in sixteen cycles,” Aeryn barked. “And you’ve never flown in combat.”

“I know what to do,” he insisted, “And I remember how to fly that thing.”

“No. I fly it. You walk me through it, step by step, when to angle, when to throw the switch, but I fly.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she blocked his words.

“I’m right about this.” Her voice was rough, harsh with intention.

“Dammit Aeryn, I know this like I invented it. It’s instinct, feeling.”

She nodded, softer now. “Yes, instinct. Feeling. Training. You can’t hit the Stryker. I can. If we don’t accomplish that, what comes next is secondary.”

John’s shoulders slumped.

“It’s a suicide mission, Aeryn.”

Her back straightened and she tilted her head. “My life is forfeit, John, And this, this is better than torture, being made an example of.”

John locked quickly over at Scorpius, who raised his eyebrow, gave a slight shrug.

He reached across the gulf between them, touched her cheek. “You’re not gonna die.”

She smiled at him, touching his hand, keeping him close. “I’ve done some good things,” she answered, angling her cheek into his palm. “I’m proud of my life.”

There were other Peackeepers in the room, techs preparing the prowler, guards and soldiers, and it felt like no one else was breathing except for the two fugitives standing in front of a battered Prowler. Anix watched them, and some sort of understanding slid into place.

John moved forward, lips sliding over Aeryn’s, a whisper of a kiss, the tenderness of the gesture unheard of in this place. He rested his forehead against hers, hands holding her face gently and said something that Anix couldn’t hear. Aeryn nodded, touched his mouth with her fingertips and turned towards the guards.

She walked over to Anix, pulled her into her arms, holding her tightly.

“I love you,” she said.

When she pulled away, Anix could see damp patches on her mother’s shirt, and she reached up, scrubbing at her own eyes, unaware of the tears pouring down her face.

“I love you too,” she answered.

Aeryn nodded. “If this works, you’ll be free. D’Argo knows. He’ll be waiting for you, and John will take you back to the planet and you can decide from there what to do.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Anix said. Holding onto that thought, that if she said the words, she could make it true.

“Maybe not,” Aeryn answered and smiled at her daughter. “Maybe not.”

She let her go and the chill returned, and Anix wished again for the blanket.

Aeryn turned to Scorpius, who looked at her steadily and then nodded. “We’re out of time,” he said.

“And if we live, you have what you wanted.”

His smile was smooth and cold. “Yes.”

Aeryn walked back to where John was standing, and pressed something into his hand. And then mounted the ladder to climb into the cockpit.

The cage closed, the Prowler roared to life, and then they were all shepherded to safety as the glass barrier came down to prevent them being sucked out into space. John stood next to Anix, arm wrapped around her shoulders and she sunk into him, feeling small and young and miserable. The Prowler shot out of the bay doors, and she heard John whisper, “Fly safe.”