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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Completed:
2013-06-26
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3,269
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3/3
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Cinder-Rocket Jockey

Summary:

A Fractured Fairy Tale, Farscape style! A retelling of the story of "Cinderella," in a much more demented way.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Notes:

One day, I'm gonna write me a serious, full-length Farscape story, with a plot and everything. Someday. However, today is not that day. So, with apologies in advance...
DISCLAIMER: Farscape is owned by O'Bannon/Henson/Hallmark/SFC, not the humble fanfic writer with absolutely nothing lawsuit-worthy.
NOTES: Yeah, I know. I'm sick. Timeline really isn't applicable. No spoilers. John/Aeryn romance-type stuff, sort of. Thanks to beta-readers Koren and Jill! <waves>
ARCHIVING: If you want it (and that's questionable), it's yours. I'd appreciate an e-mail with the URL, but it's not required. This is also archived at http://www.dupont-hadley-ms.davidson.k12.tn.us/reh/farscape.html.
Laura, if you wanna count it as another entry in the contest, have at it. :)
FEEDBACK: Please! Any and all welcome
SUMMARY: A Fractured Fairy Tale, Farscape style! A retelling of the story of "Cinderella," in a much more demented way.

Chapter Text

"Cinder-Rocket Jockey"
by Rebecca Helton
* * * * *

** PART 1 **

Once upon a time, there was an astronaut by the name of John Crichton. He lived on a living ship called Moya, and his main purpose there was to solve all the problems that originated and get absolutely no appreciation from the others living on Moya with him.

Because he wasn't from that area of space, and he didn't know as much about biomechanoid technology as the others, John got stuck with all the drudge work. Pilot tried to stick up for him, but he was usually busy working the controls in his chamber, and didn't have much time for John. The poor astronaut was at the mercy, such as it was, of D'Argo and Zhaan, who considered him a complete incompetent.

One day, John was busy cleaning some of the DRDs. They didn't really need cleaning, but it was the only job that Zhaan and D'Argo could think of that he couldn't damage something while doing. John didn't really mind, though, because something very special was going to happen tonight. Moya was orbiting the planet PiKayia, where in the city of Craiston, there was going to be a big, blow-out party. Why? Because at this party, Princess Aeryn was going choose a mate.

John didn't think that he had an ice cube's chance in hezmana of being chosen as the mate of Princess Aeryn (though he could always dream), but he hoped he would at least get to dance with the rumoredly-beautiful princess. Whistling as he thought about the princess, John continued cleaning.

Finally, *finally*, the day was over and night started to fall on Drena. John had only managed to clean about a quarter of the DRDs, but he figured that D'Argo and Zhaan would grant him a reprieve to go to the party. John stored the cloth and DRD-cleaning fluid, then went to find the priestess and the warrior.

The two aliens were on the command deck, wearing their best party clothes (which, since they were escaped prisoners with next to no belongings, weren't any different from their regular clothes, but just go with it). Zhaan asked John what he wanted, and if it could wait, since they were in something of a hurry.

"Can I come with you to the party?" John asked. "I've finished cleaning almost half of the DRDs." His conscience chided him, but he told it to shut up.

D'Argo and Zhaan looked at him, then to each other. They burst out laughing.

John still wasn't too sure about alien mannerisms, but he had a feeling that this wasn't a Good Thing.

"Good joke. For a human," D'Argo finally said.

John's stomach dropped to his boots. "It wasn't a joke," he said reproachfully.

Zhaan and D'Argo again looked at each other, expressions of contrition upon their faces. "Oh, John," Zhaan finally said, "we're sorry. But you can't come to the party." John's face fell. Zhaan
reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "There are many strange people and things at the Royal Palace of PiKayia. With your tendency to muddle everything you touch--well, you see that we just can't let you come with us. We might get on *more* people's Wanted lists." She smiled sympathetically at him.

John sighed heavily. "I understand," he said softly, even though he didn't. He managed to force out, "Have fun at the party."

"You can make yourself useful up here by cleaning *all* the rest of the DRDs," D'Argo said, standing up and taking Zhaan's arm. They started to leave the command deck, chatting amiably.

John was stunned by the immensity of the task D'Argo had laid before him, and didn't manage to think up a suitable reply until the Luxan and the Delvian were nearly out of sight down the corridor. "But you said the DRDs don't really *need* to be cleaned!"

John sighed dejectedly and leaned against a console. Ever since he'd been thrown across the universe, he never got to have *any* fun. It was always work, work, work, always drudgery, because he didn't have any other skills. He didn't even have a ship that worked anymore, seeing as how the ship he had arrived in had been damaged in the run-in he'd had with a Peacekeeper prowler. The other lucky stiff had walked away unscathed...

John was just about to get back to cleaning the DRDs when he heard a loud, squishy *pop*.

John stared in amazement as a small being wearing a diaphanous, light blue robe (do NOT ask) riding in what looked like a flying chair appeared before him. 'Man, this place just gets weirder and weirder every day.'

The small being, who was munching on a food cube and carrying what looked to be a scepter with a glowing red crystal in it, looked at John with a bored expression. "Sho yor th' yoom--" he swallowed, then repeated, "So you're the human I've been sent to help." Under the being's appraising glance, John felt like a piece of meat in a butcher shop.

"'Help'?" John wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that or not. "Who are you?"

The being's chest puffed out, and he settled himself proudly in his chair. "Rygel the Sixteenth, Dominar of--" he broke off, apparently remembering something. With markedly less enthusiasm, he continued, "Your Hynerian godparent."

John raised an eyebrow. "'Hynerian godparent'?"

"Can't you say anything for yourself?" Rygel asked, irritated. "I know I'm quotable, but there is a limit." He sniffed. "Now. You're the one who wants to go to the princess's party, correct?"

"Uh, yeah."

Rygel waved his scepter around and mumbled something that John's microbes translated as "Bippity, boppity, boo." Suddenly, Farscape1, John's former ship, appeared on the viewscreen.

John stared in awe, his mouth dropping open slightly.

"Well, don't just stand there, you've only got until midnight!" Rygel said.

"Why? Does it turn into a pumpkin when the clock strikes twelve?" John asked, broken from his his haze of amazement.

"A wha--?" Rygel started to ask, but John cut him off.

"Never mind. What happens at midnight?"

Rygel sighed heavily, extremely put-upon at having to explain something so simple to this human yotz. "The party ends," he growled.

"Oh."

Rygel's image started to fade, but then came back into focus. "One more thing," he said. "You can't have D'Argo and Zhaan recognizing you." He waved his scepter around in the air. "There," he said, giving John a critical glance. "You'll look like yourself to everyone except them, until midnight, of course."

"Thanks." John was grateful, but wondered exactly *what* he would look like to his two shipmates.

Rygel nodded and disappeared in a puff of helium. Once John had gotten his voice back to normal, he called Pilot over the comm. "Hey, Pilot? Can you bring in that ship out there with that docking web?"