SquidgeWorld Archive

Ribbons of light like lace slit seams of silver white fingers to pierce through the darkness. There was no pain now, just a dull numbness that made his ears ache and his heartbeat falter. He was vaguely aware that he was trapped, partly lost in the abyss and partly clinging to the memory of light. Was he still alive? Did he still have mortal form? He did not know. No longer knew anything. It was all so confusing and in a way irrelevant. Alive or dead were terms that applied to others not to him. He was somewhere else, unfathomable, somewhere imbetween. Something was snapping at his mind, trying to corral his thoughts into some kind of coherent stream of consciousness only like a fish in water he kept slipping through the net of expectations that clung to his coat tails like an errant child. A child. Now why did he think of that? Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Blue. A flash of memory, a mere disjointed fragment. A pair of eyes. So startlingly like his own that his wandering thoughts found a brief focus. The child had blue eyes. Not any eyes. His. That did not make sense or did it?

He was falling again. The pain returned but he was somehow shielded from it. How did he know that? How the frell did he know anything? Something flashed passed his face, a warping of space as if the fabric had been superheated. What the hell was this place? Hell? Was that it? Was this what the Luxan called hezmana? Geez I could do without this now, D'Argo D'Argo. Who was that? A friend? An enemy? Someone he had just made up? Something was tugging at his mind, it hurt to concentrate. Injured him to think. Easier to just let go. Oh yeah, this is btter Dad. Freefall

*But what happens when you hit the bottom, John? What happens then?*

He shuddered. What was that? Who was that?

*I promised you would never get rid of me*

What? Who are you? Step out here in the light so I can see you

Something that might have been laughter chilled his heart. He had a heart? Well wasn't that neat. He felt weird, so out of it that nothing made sense. There was no up, no down. Reminded him of the first time he had been drunk. Him and DK. Boy was mom mad at him. They'd been sick all over the stairs, collapsed half way up waking the whole household. That was an experience that did not bear repeating. The memory fragmented, blown away as it crumbled into dust. Gone now. Forgotten. Beyond his grasp. All he had to do was let go and he could join it.

* * * * *

The Scarran diagnosan suspected the human was dying. Did not know enough about alien physiology to know what to do let alone how to do it. All he had were the crude implements of torture. Saving life was not in his remit and Selcrak had said nothing about keeping the human alive. Yet they did not have the wormhole technology either. Another thing he knew was this. If the human died so would he. Panic made him clumsy. One by one he switched off the various devices. Stopped the infusion of drugs and removed the needles that impaled themselves in the human's sickly white flesh through the frame. No need to torture someone who could no longer feel. He could not tell if the human was even aware of him. He seemed to be beyond the reach of sensation of any kind, totally unaware of the diagnosan's presence, where he was or what was being done to him. He dragged him out of the frame and laid him on the cold stone floor, flat on his back. There was very little blood loss and physically all his organs were still intact. A Scarran would have simply shaken it off and leapt to his feet. The human did not move. The diagnosan nudged him with his foot. No reaction. In panic he kicked him. Not even a groan slid out of the slack mouth. Was he dead already? He checked for signs of life. Something pale and wan fluttered beneath the skin. Was it a heartbeat? Or an illusion of life?

He crouched over Crichton for several long microts, not sure what to do. Then he realised something. There was nothing he could do. The idea of escape was not an option open to him for where would he go and how would he get there? A Scarran alone would have no friends, no allies, be able to impress no one into his service. He would be a hated thing, alone and a target for vengeance in every corner of the Uncharted Territories. Their numbers were their strength. No. There was no way out for him except to somehow find a way of reviving the human. His black beady eyes smouldered as he looked down at him. The commander would return soon seeking results. Anything else would be failure. Scarrans did not accept failure either in themselves or others. The diagnosan turned to the only thing left that might help him. His database. Turning from the inert form he punched in a complicated code and began the laborious task of trying to match the human's physical nature into the database. He decided to start with the nearest match he could find. Sebaceans.

* * * * *

The cell had very little light but it was enough for her needs. Her hands trembled as she crouched low on the ground and tapped the floor in a brief tattoo. She paused, repeated the sequence of light taps, then waited. Less that a quarter of an arn passed then she heard it. A tiny soft motor just outside her cell. She tapped a different sequence and the sound moved passed her door then seemed to climb the outside wall. She stopped and waited. After a few microts she could hear a brief scrabbling above her head and smiled. The grating moved and something small and oval slid through. It almost slithered down the wall, its' motion smooth as if it was in a hurry. The little microdroid went directly to her and she hunkered down. Her instructions had been carried out. A sigh of relief escaped her parched lips. So far so good. She moved her skirt aside so that she could get closer to the droid. A light tap on the top of his casing and the droid opened his carapace. Novia looked up, a jerky movement to check that no one was coming. That she was not observed. From a concealed pocket she took her reader and placed the chip from the droid into it then scrolled through the information. The droid had found the human but he was in deep dren. The Scarrans were torturing him. She pressed her lips together and inserted a new chip in the droid. The droid made muted sounds but she ignored them. It was just a tool no more. She could not get out of her cell but Crichton had to get out of that torture chamber. If he could be roused he could find a way out and then he could release her too. She had learned not to underestimate the resourcefulness of the human.

The Empress sighed and decided it was time to risk a communication with the others. But she did not want the transmission to be traced to her cell so she recorded her message with the droid. She watched as the carapace closed. The droid was given his instructions then returned back up the wall, through the grating in the ceiling and out into the corridor outside. She slumped against the far wall and put her head in her hands. Who was she kidding to place her trust in a man she had tricked then sought to betray? A man who even now held the key to power on her homeworld due to his DNA? A man her daughter had learned to love but was destined to never see again? A man who had brought about the death of her only son?

* * * * *

Rygel felt weak but his determination did not falter. Zhaan was anxious, wanting to break the connection but mindful that this was directly against what Rygel himself was commanding her to do. The baby looked upset and clung to the Dominar. At last Rygel moved his eyes from the baby to Zhaan. A brief break in concentration to reassure her as best he could. "We cannot break the connection yet, Zhaan." He said quietly.

"Why not?" Said D'Argo, his deep voice impatient.

The Dominar ignored him. Ignored everybody but Zhaan. She was the only one who would understand, the only one who would follow his directions. The only one he could be sure would listen and pay attention. "You must get Pilot and Moya to home in on the connection, Zhaan. It is our only chance of reaching John in time."

"In time for what?"

Rygel closed his eyes a microt to shut out the Luxan's interruptions. Zhaan looked at D'Argo. "Please D'Argo, do not interrupt again."

He was about to argue but Chiana's hand on his arm silenced him. They were all worried. Time to let Rygel and Rion do what they could. Zhaan stroked the Dominar's brow ridge gently. She knew he was tired. He sighed and gave her a steady look. Serious. Wise. "Zhaan?"

"Yes, Rygel?"

"Whatever happens do not part us until we ask you to."

She looked concerned. "What if you cannot ask?"

Rygel's eyes closed slowly for a microt as if with a great weariness. When he opened them again there was a determination in them that made Zhaan feel proud of him. "Then it will not matter."

For a microt they just looked at each other in complete understanding then Zhaan gracefully inclined her head and Rygel gave a tiny sigh of relief. "Thank you, Zhaan."

He then looked at the baby and their eyes reconnected, Rygel able to use the link must faster this time. His will reinforced with that of the baby. They reached out and touched Crichton's mind, disturbed to find it so fragmented and distant. Rygel reached out gently with his feelings and touched a vague confusion that troubled him. John! It is me, Rygel

For a moment there was no response. Everything was drifting away from him though the connection was strong. John, please, answer me!

As if from a very great distance a response came. Hey Rygel, is that you?

He almost cried with relief. Bad enough to go through all this for a frelling human. Worse still to do it and find the human not responding, the effort wasted. Yes. You have to stay with me

With you? Crichton sounded puzzled.

Yes. You must not allow your thoughts to keep drifting away

Nothing I can do about that, Buckwheat

A pause. How do you feel?

I don't know. Dead. Detached. Where the hell am I?

You're on the Scarran vessel...

Scarrans did this?

Yes. Don't you remember?

A longer pause.

John?

No reply. Something else was pulling at his consciousness. Something dark and seductive. Like a voice from the past.

*I am coming for you*

Who're you?

*You know who I am, John*

Nah, I'd recognise a creep like you

*I am Scorpius*

Scorpy?

*Yes*

Then who's the other guy?

The voice was soothing, silky, a curious balm. *No one of consequence. If he speaks to you again, ignore him*

Ignore him? The voice was puzzled again. Trying to grasp why he should ignore anyone.

*Yes. If you listen to him I shall be very angry*

That amused Crichton though he was not sure why. Angry? With me? He paused a microt. Are you *threatening* me, Scorpy?

The voice flowed like honey, soothing, reassuring. *Not threatening, John, but you don't need him. He will confuse you.*

I'm already confused

*He will confuse you even more. Trust me on this, you don't want that*

No, I don't want that A pause. What do I want?

There was a definite smile in the silky voice now. *To please me*

You?

*Yes*

Who did you say you were again?

*I am the only one who can save you*

* * * * *

Zhaan tried to reassure Pilot and the others but it was difficult. Keeping her own worry from showing was draining. Pilot relayed the information from Rion that Zhaan had been able to access but it was still too vague for an exact location.

"Pilot, please ask Moya to do the best she can."

Pilot nodded slowly. "Moya understands, we are moving along the trajectory given to us by Rion."

"Thank you, Pilot, and can you also pass this information on to Talyn?"

"Already done, Zhaan."

Zhaan turned and looked at the solemn faces. Chiana had stopped crying but looked so sad, so lost. D'Argo was still angry, it seemed to be the easiest emotion to turn to when anything unexpected happened. She supposed it was the warrior in him. Gently she placed a hand on his arm. He looked up, Chiana cradled in his arms lifted her head, her eyes full of questions. "Try to get some sleep, I will watch over Rygel and the baby."

Chiana shook her head. "No, I want to be here."

"I will stay also." Added D'Argo.

Zhaan nodded. "Then let me get you some blankets. You must try to sleep while you can. We will take it in turn to keep watch."

D'Argo frowned. "How long is this going to take, Zhaan?"

He had noticed that the Pa'u seemed to be getting ready for a long drawn out wait. Zhaan hesitated a microt before answering. "I do not know, sweet D'Argo, but I know this. We cannot do anything to interrupt the connection that Rygel and Rion have made to John. They will come out of it when they are ready and not before. It is important that no matter how anxious we become we do not betray their confidence in us."

His face started to darken. "I am a Luxan, Zhaan, and as such am honour bound..."

"I know, D'Argo, and I was not suggesting you would dishonour that vow. This is a critical time for John and that is why we have to be especially patient and not lose sight of what is at sake."

He searched her eyes carefully for the meaning behind her words, his anger evaporating and being replaced by a deep worry. "What is at stake, Zhaan?"

"You know, D'Argo."

Chiana was watching her closely. "He's not going to die is he, Zhaan?"

She shook her head. "Not if we can help it."

"And if we can't?" Asked D'Argo softly.

Zhaan did not say anything. Quietly she slipped away to fetch them some blankets. D'Argo and Chiana exchanged a look. "I do not like this, Chiana."

Chiana nodded, spilling a tear. She looked across at Rygel and Rion. The Dominar had not moved, he sat still like a little portly statue in his thronesled, eyes closed, the baby cradled in his little stubby arms. To the casual observer they could have been sleeping but Chiana knew better. Knew that somewhere a struggle was going on and these two unlikely heroes were
Crichton's best hope of survival.

Zhaan was on her way back with the blankets when Pilot called her. "Zhaan!"

"Yes, Pilot?"

"There is a transport approaching."

She stopped in her tracks, her heart faltering. Not sure that she could take any more bad news. "A transport?"

"Yes."

"Where is it from?"

"Moya does not know but Stark is on board and asking for you."

A look of joy swept over her face making her visage almost luminous. Hope sprang in her heart. "Open the docking bay doors Pilot and let him land. I'm on my way."

Zhaan dropped the blankets and turned and ran down the corridor. When she got to the docking bay Stark's transport had just finished landing. As the outer doors closed and sealed she slowed her pace and approached the transport with a little more caution. Not sure what she would find. Would he be well? Why had he come? A thousand possibilities went through her mind then the transport door opened and Stark poked his head out, the tentative look on his face clearing with joy when he saw Zhaan. He dashed out and took her in his arms, his face full of love and so gentle. Zhaan had tears in her eyes.

"Stark!"

He touched her face gently, fighting with his emotions to form words. "I've missed you so much, Zhaan."

"As I have missed you."

He framed her face with his gentle hands, looked into her eyes then slowly kissed her. She lost herself in his embrace then hugged him to her as if she never wanted to let him go again. He sensed her deeper sorrow and gently prised himself away from her so he could look into her eyes. "Something is wrong."

She nodded, dislodging another tear. Started to speak but he put a finger up to her lips, his voice softly hushing her with such gentleness and such love that she could only do as he wished. "Sssh, Zhaan, let's go to the others then you must tell me *everything* that has happened. Then I will tell you why I am here."