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2020-11-05
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Playing With Fire

Summary:

SUMMARY: "When Santiago decides to get creative, it affects more than just Harsh Realm".

Work Text:


 
 
"PLAYING WITH FIRE"
A "Harsh Realm"/"Farscape" crossover story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

No one liked the idea of splitting up but it made sense. Everywhere they looked, Republican Guard were swarming around the small half-ruined town. Looking for something or someone. This was bad. Dangerous. And they had walked into the middle of this heaving nest of vipers. There was no way round it which meant they would have to go through them. Together they would be too obvious but if they split up and each made their seperate ways out again they stood a chance of slipping through the net. Even if only one of them made it Pinocchio would consider the risk worth taking. Hobbes did not agree. He would rather whatever fate befell them happened when they were together. He knew why Pinocchio was pushing so hard for this, trying yet again to make sure he got out alive no matter what happened to him and Florence. Sometimes it made him so damn angry but then he would look into friend's eyes and his anger would pop like a deflated balloon. How could you be angry with someone who would give his life again and again to save yours?

How could anyone that lived and breathed be that ungrateful? Yet sometimes it did fill him with a consuming rage. A rage of frustration. Tempted at times to yell out that he was no more important that either of them. Not that they would listen. Or believe him. They thought he was the One and now they had got him believing it too. What a screwed up excuse for a world this freeking place was.

"You can say that again." Murmured Pinocchio.

He glanced at his friend, realising he had picked up either the thought or the emotion behind it. He was never quite sure whether it was telepathy or something akin to it but more random. Whatever it was, his partner seemed able to pick up on what he was thinking at the oddest times. He allowed a smile to briefly dust his lips then turned his head to look out from the broken down ruins of a building where they were currently hiding. As they watched, the guards moved on but each were aware that other guards were scattered throughout this settlement. Pinocchio did not recognise any of the men of this unit. For a moment a spark of hope flared in his breast. They
might just pull this off, but not if they stayed in a group. They were too distinctive like this.

"We gotta split up and now before someone spots us together."

Florence was frowning. <I don't like it>

He turned his head towards her, his voice as abrasive as sandpaper but his eyes gentle, knowing, a wealth of emotion trapped behind glass. "It's our best chance, Florence."

She nodded, clearly unhappy. He looked at Hobbes.

"Why can't we just retrace our steps? Before they come back."

"Because there are soldiers behind us as well, genius."

Hobbes sucked in a breath of cold air. "This isn't a good idea."

"Noted, now get moving."

For a moment it looked as if Hobbes was going to argue but then a little sigh escaped his lips. Reluctant but bowing to the inevitable he gave a nod and they each chose a direction, promising to make their way any way they could back to their camp. Hobbes paused before darting out from the shelter of broken stones that had once been a house. "How long do we wait?"

He was met with a grim look on his partner's face. "As long as it takes. Shouldn't be more than a day or two but don't be tempted to come back here if it's longer."

What he meant was that if they did not all meet up in a few days' time those missing had either been caught or killed. Hobbes nodded then darted off to the right, his steps zig zagging across the open space. Florence broke left, her movements swift but cautious, a balanced grace of movement and necessity. Pinocchio stayed put for a while. Watching his friends' backs and ready to send any man to hell who dared to put them in danger. Only when they had gone did he consider his own options. He turned his dark head and looked back the way they had come but a small knot of Repulican Guard were standing by the remnants of a makeshift tent. He was about to take another direction but some instinct made him hang back, shielded from their view by part of a wall. He was just too far away to hear anything that was said but they seemed to be discussing something. Something important. Another soldier came into view and joined them. The talking became more animated. Pinocchio wondered what was going on. In Harsh Realm information was a precious commodity. A lack of it could get you killed as surely as any bullet. If he could find out what was going on it could give them an edge. Strealthily he inched back and worked his way from building to building, getting gradually closer until he was near enough to eavesdrop on the guards. There were five in all, none older than twenty five. All of them hoping to make twenty six.

"What do you suppose has got the old man so rattled?"

"Search me. Knowing the General it could be anything."

"I don't think this is just anything." A third soldier cut in.

"Then what's going on?"

The third soldier shrugged. "Damned if I know, all I know is it's something big. Unexpected. If I didn't know better I'd say it's got him spooked."

"Spooked?"

"Yeah."

The voices dropped to anxious whispers and he could not hear any more then the group moved on. Pinocchio had no idea what they were talking about but anything that struck a chord of fear in Omar Santiago had to be a good thing for the rest of them. Didn't it? He shook himself and moved out of the shelter of the wall to work his way back the way he had come. The whole place was deserted now or appeared so. The people having fled in panic when the soldiers arrived. Some had been rounded up already, others shot for trying to escape, the air charged with blue sparks as another person was dispatched from the Realm. Some had managed to hide, a few perhaps had even escaped. Because the truth was, vc or real, no one wanted to die. He wondered when he had started to think about the vc in the same breath as himself and Hobbes. When had he started to worry about what happened to them? Was it just because of Florence or had some buried speck of decency managed to raise its' ugly head dispite all his attempts to remain untouched by their misery and deprivation? Or was it simply that having felt and endured their agony himself he had learnt to appreciate that all life was sacred, that while he and Hobbes were stuck in this game they were as much vc as everyone else. Their bodies were not here in Harsh Realm, they were
back in the Real World up on a slab, hooked into a God-damn computer while their brain waves ran around this weird little hell hole playing out every sick scenario Santiago could think up. Well, he was damned if Santiago was going to win this Game. Damned if he was going to survive the experiment. Just then explosions split the ground a few feet in front of him and rocked him out of his reverie. He shrank back, looking to see what had caused it, from where the threat had come. But he saw nothing but dust and fire and debris. He back tracked, eyes scanning constantly, looking down his rifle sight for any advantage he could get but there was nothing to see. No movement apart from sporadic eruptions as fire and debris rained down on him. Back at the ruined house he risked a look upward but the sky was a dirty grey cloud that looked man-made, and then the cloud exploded and the sky was aflame, the concussion knocking him off his feet and deafening him. Fires broke out all around him, punctuating the detonations that shook the earth and split the remaining ruins into crushed rock and boiling dust. He could not breathe, his lungs scorched with fire, his nostrils gagging on the thick sulphurous winds that raged in furious eddies between explosions. What the freeking hell was that?

He had to get out of here. He managed to stumble to his feet, his balance all shot to pieces, unable to focus properly, barely aware of the blood trickling down the left side of his face where his ear was ripped and the side of his head cracked. He tried to shake his head to clear the blood from his eyes but it only made him dizzy. He leant against the last remaining piece of wall and was violently sick, but it did not clear his head, only empty his stomach.

He lurched forward and had almost made it across the open ground to the next pile of rubble when the second wave hit. His leg bent awkwardly beneath him and he fell. All attempts to stay hidden abandoned the moment the assault had begun. He had been in enough battles to know when concealment was a lost cause. The last thing he remembered was hot pieces of rock and metal falling around him as liquid fire rained down and exploded on impact with anything it touched. It was as if someone had napalmed the sky. His only consolation was that this catastrophe had erupted on the Republican Guard with just as much force as it had on him and his companions. Was this what Santiago was trying to fight? Or had he been the one to unleash it? Another of his sick little experiments only this time it was likely to take the whole freeking
Realm with it. The earth spun in darkness, his world coalescing into ribbons of pain that bound him. He closed his eyes and drew in a ragged breath, unconscious before he could breathe out again.

He awoke slowly, the pain clearing his head as he tried to find a path through the dizzy confusion of tangled thoughts. Fragmented memories jostled for position then the light cut his sight to ribbons and he closed his eyes again and groaned. He felt a hand touching him, hesitant, cool, but gentle. He waited for the warmth to issue forth and heal him but it did not come. He wondered at that and assumed that whatever had happened had affected Florence. He could not blame her if it had robbed her of her ability to heal. He knew how that would hurt her, to watch and not be able to help, not be able to put things right. He forced his eyes open, wanting to reassure her that it was alright. A fresh assault of pain made him cry out as his leg was straightened. He squinted up. Someone was bending over him but it did not look like Florence. He felt the hands explore him again, travelling over his chest, touching his arms, gently probing his wounds. He tried to move his head and see, but pain exploded behind his eyes. He closed them again and groaned involuntarily. The hands moved to gently touch his head, something soft being placed against his left ear. The pain jabbed him, taunted him but then died down to a dull throb that left him dizzy,
disorientated. Someone spoke, or at least he thought they did. It was hard to tell. The words, if words they were, disolved as he lost consciousness again.

When he finally woke and was able to focus, he found himself looking up into the face of an odd looking individual. The man looked like his hands felt. His touch had been hesitant, cautious, frightened almost but wanting to reach out, to help. A man at war with his own good intentions. Driven by equal measures of fear and compassion. Looking up he saw its' echo drawn in flesh. He did not recoil at the sight of the strange half mask over the right side of the man's face, his attention drawn to the eye looking at him. There was intelligence in that look. It was not an old face but he could see the man had suffered. What he had suffered he could not guess at but only
one who had endured pain understood it this well. He was clean shaven, possibly in his thirties and shorter than he was. His voice when he spoke was as hesitant as his hands had been. Fearing to add pain to his injuries, fearing to be rejected, to offend. He did not know how or why he understood him, he just did. And as with many other things in Harsh Realm, he just accepted that this was the way it was.

"It's good to see you awake."

Pinocchio did not try to nod. "Who're you?"

The eye darted as if to make sure they were alone. "Stark."

"Stark?"

He nodded. Pinocchio closed his eyes momentarily to stop the world spinning round him. When he opened them again, Stark was leaning anxiously over him. "I managed to fix the leg, the break is almost healed but I can't do much for your ear. I have nothing with which to stitch it."

He looked blank, nothing made sense. Realising he was confusing him, Stark told him how he had found him injured and unconscious. How he had dragged him out of the main street and into the relative shelter of these ruins. As he talked he tended him, cleaning out the wound on his head, changing the dressing on his ear, carefully applying a strange oinment to his many cuts.
His hands were gentle, sure, accomplished. Stark had obviously done this many times before. What was he? A doctor? He had an odd look about him. Not a doctor then. Definitely not military. "Why did you help me?"

Stark looked at him in surprise. "You were injured."

"You're not with Santiago then." It was a statement not a question.

"Santiago?"

A strange sensation rippled through him as he heard Stark's confusion.

"Who's Santiago?"

Pinocchio closed his eyes. Oh, God, another one. Another poor soul shoved into the Realm without a clue. How many more? He opened his eyes again and looked at Stark for a moment. "How did you get here?"

A look that might have been fright flickered in his eye, he looked over his shoulder and for the first time Pinocchio wondered if Stark was alone. Yet for some reason he did not feel afraid. If the man was going to harm him, strip him of his boots and rob him, he would have done so by now. That gave him some kind of honour in his eyes.

"Our ship crashed."

He frowned. "Ship?"

For a moment he had visions of an ocean going vessel sailing from the Real World into Harsh Realm on a sea of sand and lost promises. Yeah, right, a ship.

Stark looked at him for a moment then pointed up. He frowned. Stark started to explain about their landing craft, watching Pinocchio's face closely. He was careful not to say too much, just enough to explain his presence here. If he and Crichton were to find their way back to the landing craft and back to Moya they would need help. Some kind of guide. They would need to enlist the help of this man.

"I must have hit my head harder than I thought." He murmered sarcastically.

"Or not hard enough," Another voice interjected.

Surprised, Pinocchio turned his head and saw a well built man roughly the same height and age as Hobbes, only it wasn't Hobbes. He had no idea who it was. Had never seen him before, but he had that same good natured look on his face. He had an amused look in his eyes and his smile was gently mocking but not unkind. He was clean shaven with short fair hair. He moved as if he
could handle himself well in a fight and was dressed in strange clothing. Almost a uniform but not quite. There was a kind of unconscious grace in the way he carried himself. Pinocchio noticed he was armed but had never seen a handgun like it before. He frowned and looked back into the man's eyes. He was watching him congenially, as if knowing the kind of confusion running through his mind. He dazzled Pinocchio with a smile, one that travelled all the way up to his eyes.

"My name's John Crichton."

For a moment he looked at the proferred hand then slowly shook it. "Mike Pinocchio."

He saw a look of humour in Crichton's eyes but as he bristled for the inevitable wise crack, the man just chuckled. It was a light warm sound, no sharp edges to cut him on. He liked the sound. "What Stark said is true. We have no idea what this place is but we have to get back to our ship. As soon as we can find our landing craft that is."

He glanced from Crichton to Stark and back again. "You're in Harsh Realm." Crichton tilted his head. "Harsh Realm?"

Pinocchio tried to sit up. Stark helped him and he grunted his thanks. "Yeah. It's not a real place, it's a virtual world - a computer simulation of earth."

To give him his due, Crichton did not laugh in his face. He appeared to be digesting what he was hearing as if testing what parts of it could be believed or should be believed. "What does that make you?"

"The unluckiest son of a bitch still drawing breath!"

They laughed and relaxed. Stark handed Pinocchio a flask of something. He looked at the light blue liquid and Stark nodded to encourage him. He took a cautious sip and felt refreshed. Stark smiled at his reaction. "Our food is back at the landing craft."

"What can you tell us about this place?" Asked Crichton.

Pinocchio gave a little sigh then told them the whole story. Neither interrupted him, the serious expressions on their faces telling him they were taking it all in. He had to wonder at that. What kind of place did they come from where a place like Harsh Realm could seem no big deal?
 
* * * * *

She watched the aerial detonations set off the strange grey cloudbank and saw how the descending flames ignited everything and set off further explosions as contact was made with the ground and any other solid object unfortunate enough to be in its' path. She frowned, not understanding what it was. A weapon obviously, but where did it come from? What could make the sky erupt like a volcano? Florence shivered and hoped the others had made it clear. They had only just left in time by the look of things. Her instinct was to run back into the town and look for them but that would be adding stupidity to folly. There was only one course of action that made sense and that was to return to their camp and wait for them. It would be what they would do.

* * * * *

Stark helped Pinocchio to stand. To his surprise the bone had knitted back very quickly, not as instantaneously as when Florence healed him but a few hours still beat the months it would normally have taken back in the Real World. He wondered what the stuff was that Stark had plastered on it then decided he might be happier if he did not know. These people were strange but also oddly familiar to him. They reminded him of home, a place he was destined to never see again. It brought an unexpected lump to his throat. Stark was looking curiously at him. He shook his head, not wanting the man to think he was in pain. At least, not in the physical sense.

"It's okay, thanks."

A smile broke out on Stark's face and he turned to grin at Crichton.

"We appreciate you helping us."

"I haven't helped you yet," Pinocchio rasped back grumpily.

Crichton smiled then they got down to the business of trying to work out where the landing craft had come down. Pinocchio asked a lot of questions and carefully reconstructed the odd landmark they could recall against the map of the Realm he carried inside his head. He explained the most likely location and how far it was.

Crichton looked pleased then gave him a look of concern. "It's a fair walk, think you can make it?"

Stubborn eyes burned back at him, a fraction short of a glare. "I'll make it. Sure you remember the way?" He sneered back in challenge.

"Oh, I remember. Besides, how can we go wrong if you're coming with us?"

He chuckled and led the way, Stark watching Pinocchio as they followed. As they walked Pinocchio decided to find out more about his companions. He lengthened his stride so he could walk alongside Crichton. "What's your story?"

Stark said nothing, tried to make himself smaller if anything and dropped a pace behind them. Happy to leave any revelations to Crichton. "I was a pilot, testing out an experimental aircraft called the Farscape I. We were trying to push the envelope, see how fast we could go, the limits of human endurance. The race for space. Somehow I entered a wormhole, ended up in a whole new galaxy. Frelling strangest place I'd ever been. I would have died if they hadn't rescued me."

"Who?"

He smiled. "My companions. The leviathan."

Pinocchio frowned. "Leviathan?"

"Moya." Said Stark behind him.

Crichton nodded. "Moya, our ship."

He shook his head, not making head nor tale of what he was being told. "This ship, it crashed?"

"The landing craft did. The ship itself is in orbit above us. At least it was until everything started to explode. What's with this place?"

"It's a training ground. A virtual simulation of every war scenario Santiago wants to recreate."

"How did you get in here?"

Pinocchio scowled, the memory painful. "I volunteered."

Crichton looked at him, saw the pain in his eyes and made no comment.

"I was hooked up to the master computer. Right now my body's back on a slab in the real world. They downloaded my brainwaves into this simulation along with hundreds of other soldiers inserted into the game to make it more realistic. Not everybody was downloaded into the programme though. The people you see in the camps, the broken down towns and so on are mostly vc -virtual characters. They were recreated from a government census so they only exist inside the Realm. Kill them here and that's the end. They digitise, simply cease to exist."

Crichton stopped walking and looked at him, intrigued. "What about you? What happens if you get killed here?"

He shrugged, his downturned mouth souring his expression. "Nobody's sure. Some say if you digitise here you wake up again on that slab back in the Real World. I'm not keen to find out how true that is."

"But you want to go back?" That was Stark.

Something like pain burned deep in his eyes, a sleeping sorrow prodded into unwelcome wakefulness and resenting the intrusion. The words came out slowly as if dragged out against his will. He tried to sound as if it was no big deal but he was not fooling anyone and he knew it. "There's nothing for me back there. I'm gonna live and die right here. In Harsh Realm."

Stark and Crichton exchanged a look and the three of them continued walking in silence. For some reason, Stark felt touched by the soldier's sorrow, feeling his emotions as deeply as if they were his own. He looked around him as he walked and wondered what could be so terrible that he would rather spend his life living and dying in this virtual battleground. He wanted to find out. If he knew then maybe he could do something, help in some way. He watched the soldier's profile as they walked on and realised this was not the only burden the man carried. He was sad and intrigued. Drawn to his pain as much as his mystery. Instinctively knowing he carried many secrets locked inside him. Crichton squinted up at the sky above their heads. Pinocchio did not look up, but trudged on not looking at anything above eye level. A thought occurred to him. "Why did your craft crash?"

"We were shot down."

He almost stopped in surprise. "Shot down?"

Crichton nodded. "Peacekeepers. They've been trying to catch me for a while now, at least one peacekeeper in particular by the name of Bialar Crais. Blames me for the death of his brother. It wasn't my fault, it was an accident, but he won't listen. If Crais gets his hands on me..." His voice
trailed off. "Let's just say it won't be pretty."

Pinocchio nodded. "Is that what happened with the clouds exploding?"

He frowned trying to work out what he meant then his face cleared with understanding. "Oh, the chakan oil discharges. Yeah."

"So they're not aiming at us?"

Crichton looked at him. "I doubt they realise anyone else is even down here."

"Hrrmpph."

"Believe me," Said Crichton seriously. "You want it to stay that way."

* * * * *

Hobbes looked at what was left of their camp. He should have expected it but it still hit him hard. He looked around and salvaged what he could then went to check on the chevy. It was still hidden where they had left it and was miraculously undamaged. A great sigh of relief drew a smile to his lips. Pinocchio would go nuts if anything happened to his car. He opened the door and Dexter darted out, happy and excited to see him. He picked the little dog up and hugged him, then went back to the camp to see what he could rustle up to eat for him and the dog. He looked up warily but the sky seemed to have quietened down. Whatever was going on it had stopped for now and for that he was grateful. Especially as it looked like they would be sleeping under the stars from now on.

* * * * *

The craft was like nothing Pinocchio had ever seen. He was amazed and tempted to pinch himself. Stark was grinning at him while Crichton went aboard to check his instruments. "You didn't believe us, did you?" Pinocchio looked at him but before he could reply, the little man shrugged. "I don't blame you. Sometimes I don't believe half the things that happen to us either."
 
"Where are you from?"

Stark waved a vague hand above his head. "Out there. Somewhere."

"Does it have a name?"

"Not any more."

He wondered about that.

"I don't want to go home either." He added quietly.

"Why?"

Stark shivered as painful memories assaulted him. "My people are dead. Killed. Murdered."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's not your fault. What about you?"

Pinocchio glanced at the craft but Crichton was still inside. He turned back to face Stark. "There's nothing for me back in the Real World. I was badly injured, scarred all down the right side of my face and body, leg blown off. Not even half a man." He broke off, words failing him for a moment. Stark did not say anything, he was sensitively following the track of his thoughts, picking up the pain and the sorrow, trying to get to the source of it all. Unaware, Pinocchio continued talking. His voice quiet, hushed. "That's why I volunteered. Traded the body of a cripple for this." He flexed his hands, looked down at his arms and legs as if they did not belong to him. When he looked up again the glimpse of raw emotion in his eyes pierced Stark right through to the heart. "I traded one kind of hell for another, Stark. Don't make the same mistake I did."

He did not know what to say to that so he put a hand on his arm and just looked at him, hoping he could somehow convey what he felt.

"You say all your people are dead?" He asked quietly.

Stark nodded, fighting back tears. "I'm the last."

"What happened? A war?"

He shook his head. "Not exactly. Some died in conflict but others were simply murdered out of hand. I was trying to track down those that had escaped but then they got caught, a thousand of them, slaves to be bought and sold." His gentle voice had become bitter. "Then Scorpius bought the lot in an auction and had them all killed."

"Who's Scorpius?"

"A crazed military leader who makes your Santiago look like a pussycat."

Pinocchio turned to see John Crichton looking back at him from the entrance to the craft. He had not heard him come out and had no idea how much he had overheard. There was something in Crichton's expression that made him catch his breath. Just what kind of monsters were these people running from?

"Pray you never meet him!"

"Is there anyone else I should be avoiding while we're at it?"

Crichton smiled a little but this time no humour reached his eyes. Pinocchio realised that the mere mention of Scorpius's name had pained him deeply. But why? "I think it's time you saw the inside of our landing craft. Perhaps you can help us fix it."

That amused Pinocchio. "Hell, I can't even fix my car."

"You have a car?"

"Yeah. A chevelle, why?"

Something sparked in Crichton's eyes, a flash of interest. "There isn't a car I can't strip down, reassemble and have running better than when it rolled off the production line."

Pinocchio scowled at him more in disbelief than anything else. "Words are cheap, Crichton."

He grinned back, openly daring him now. "You help me fix up the landing craft and I'll fix your car."

"Who said it was broke?"

Crichton laughed. "As if you'd be walking through hell if it wasn't."
 
* * * * *

Florence was not sure what to make of the woman. In a world of devastation she looked as if she had just stepped out of the box, all shiny and free of dust and decay. It was incongruous. It was unbelievable. It fascinated her. She watched the woman from her vantage point behind the broken wall. Curious as to what she was doing there, taking in the details of the strange clothing - or lack of it. It was a puzzle she wanted to solve but not until she had more information. Not until she knew whether the woman was friend or foe. Florence found out soon enough as she was suddenly and forcefully grabbed from behind, her rifle torn from her grasp as if it were a mere toy.
Her eyes widened in fright then terror when she was spun round to face her captor. If she could have cried out she would have screamed. Even if she had the power of speech she would have been unable to find words to describe him. The vivid coloured tattoos, the long tapered chins and weird markings. His face a fearsome mask, his grip strong as steel.

The woman turned, her black leathers almost grafted to her skin. Her look imperious, her black hair bound back for battle readiness. She walked towards her companion to look at what creature he had caught. Florence was in shock. This could not be happening. It could not be real. The Luxan's voice was deep, rich and menacing. She felt every word go through her even though she could not understand a word it said.

"I caught this one spying on you."

The woman, Aeryn Sun, considered Florence then glanced at D'Argo. "Perhaps she knows something. She may know what happened to Crichton."

"Or not."

Aeryn lifted her head a little. "We are looking for a craft with two of our companions in it. It crashed somewhere in this region."

Florence just looked at her dumbfounded. She had no idea what the woman was saying. Aeryn felt herself getting impatient. She tried again, still no response.

"She does not understand us." Offered D'Argo.

"So it seems." Aeryn said, annoyed at him for stating the obvious. "We'll have to take her back to the pod and..."

Before she could finish the sentence a shot rang out and all three ducked. A voice rang out strong and clear from behind some rubble. D'Argo narrowed his eyes but could not see who had fired.

"Let her go!"

Florence moved immediately using the distraction to slip free of D'Argo's grasp, grab her rifle and make off towards the sound of Hobbes' voice. The Luxan made to grab at her but Aeryn put a hand on his arm and shook her head. She was trying to make out who was firing at them, how many there were, but once Florence had broken free the firing stopped. No attempt was made to harm either her or D'Argo. When all fell silent and still no one surfaced, Aeryn decided they should investigate but whoever had come for Florence had vanished with her. Aeryn turned to D'Argo, an annoyed expression on her face. "Let's try to home in on the last known signal."

* * * * *

Pinocchio was cursing. Nothing in Crichton's landing craft looked even remotely familiar. His frustration amused Crichton but at least they had food - of sorts. Pinocchio watched Crichton work steadily on a number of futuristic looking panels and shook his head. Stark watched him but said
nothing. It was hard to tell whether he was amused or sympathised with his frustration. "I don't know how the hell you can make any sense of it. Looks like nothing I ever seen before."

Crichton smiled. "Well, it isn't earth technology but once you get used to how the power's rigged and the controls are linked it isn't that much different." He was given a look of sour disbelief. "Oh yeah?"

"Having said that," He sighed. "It doesn't look too good either."

"Why's that?"

He pointed to something that was a dark gungy brown in colour. "This panel is completely fried. Normally you'd have a display, mostly green, yellow and red. No way can I repair that."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well," He looked up and glanced around the landing craft. "The beacon activated the moment we crashed. Hopefully the others will be able to find us."

"Others?"

Crichton looked at him. "Relax. You'll be alright as long as you're with me."

"What if I want to leave?"

He shook his head. "Not advisable."

"I have friends out there. They'll be looking for me."

"Are they smart?"

He frowned. "Yeah, but..."

"No buts, wait until my companions get here then you can go wherever you want. If your friends are smart they'll see the pod come down and keep their distance."

Pinocchio fell silent thinking about Hobbes and his curiosity. Crichton looked at him for a moment. "You don't believe me."

"It's not that, but they're friends. I don't want anything to happen to them."

He nodded. "I understand. My friends aren't trying to wipe anyone out, they're just coming to look for me. Providing no one opens fire on them, everything'll be alright. Once we meet up, we'll try to fix the landing craft then leave."

"And if you can't?"

He shrugged. "We go back in the pod."

Pinocchio did not say anything. He was thinking how much Santiago would love to get his hands on this kind of technology. If Crichton could not get it working and had to leave it behind he would have to find a way to destroy it. He watched Crichton resume work on the busted panels for a while then went and stood outside considering his options. He did not hear Stark follow him out. "You are worried."

He looked at Stark and nodded. "Are your friends like you and Crichton?"

"Yes and No. Aeryn is a Sebacean like me so she looks human. Ka D'Argo is a Luxan and is pretty impressive looking."

He frowned. "What's a freeking Luxan?"

"Let's just say you'll know he's alien the moment you see him."

"Great. Wonderful description."

Stark smiled at his reaction. "How's the leg?"

He made a non-commital sound.

"Does it hurt still?"

He shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I noticed you're still limping and the limp's getting worse. I should look at it."

"It'll heal. When I meet up with Florence again she'll fix it for me."

Stark looked at him for a moment, trying to keep his tone light. "What if you don't meet up with her again?"

The dark head turned and looked at him. "Why do you say that?"

"It's a war zone. You said so yourself. Anything could happen."

"I'd know if anything happened to Florence."

Stark nodded but did not ask how he knew. He indicated for him to sit down. He sat and watched Stark remove the dressing on his leg. The swelling had gone down but some infection was setting in. The bone though had knit well. He looked at Pinocchio. "This part needs to be removed, it's infected." Pinocchio gave a grunt.

"I can cut it out. You've been walking on it too much, aggravating the healing process when you should have been resting."

"I can sleep all I want when I'm dead."

"It'll hurt."

Pinocchio looked at him as if he had just been dared then nodded. It was not as if he had anything else to do. He took the knife out of his sheath and handed it to Stark, handle first. "Might as well start straight away."

Stark nodded, got a fire going then heated the blade. His hands were firm but gentle and though he used more of the strange gel to deaden the pain it still hurt. Pinocchio gritted his teeth and Stark gently told him about his homeworld, the family and friends he had left behind. A peaceful world. A place where dreams were not just created but shared. It helped to take his mind off the pain and when Stark had finished he cleaned the wound and re-dressed it. He looked up, pleased. "It will heal properly now. By tomorrow the opening will have sealed."

"Thanks."

Stark looked for a long moment into those vivid blue eyes, as if he could read things in Pinocchio that no one else could see. "What about the other pain? The other hurt you carry?" He asked softly.

He wanted to draw away from him, tell him to mind his own freeking business, but he knew that Stark was not intending to pry. He genuinely wanted to help him though he did not know why.

"I could help you."

The offer was whispered. Sincere. Pinocchio felt as if he were looking directly into the man's soul. It was laid bare before him in a display of trust. It was strange. Alien. Yet comforting. For some reason he also found it touching. He also sensed Stark's fear of rejection. His need to reach out
and do something, to be other than he was. As if by helping someone else he could heal himself. He did not know why he should think that or why he should trust him but he did. "You've already helped me and I'm grateful. You saved my life."

Stark nodded. "I could do more if you'll let me."

Something in Pinocchio ached as if he longed to be healed but another part of him fought it. Embracing the pain he carried as if it somehow gave his life meaning. It was known, familiar. Had been part of him for so long. Florence had tried but he had resisted. Shut her out. He knew it had hurt her but after a while she had accepted that he would only lower his defences so far. Even for her. So why did he feel so drawn to lowering them completely for Stark? What was it about him that engendered such radical trust? Just then Crichton stepped out of the craft and joined them, saving Pinocchio the need to reply to Stark's offer. But he could see it in his eyes, waiting for his answer, patient and ready to act whenever he was.

* * * * *

Hobbes could not believe what he had seen, was sure he was cracking up. Yet Florence had seen it too. He had barely got to her in time. What the hell was happening to them? Was Santiago messing with their minds as well as this whole freeking simulation? His chest ached from running so hard. He looked across at Florence and could see she was close to exhaustion too. Frantically he worried about what to do next. Only by the greatest good fortune had they managed to avoid running into any more of Santiago's men. Around them they could hear occasional gunfire, the sky occasionally flashing with some unknown fire setting light to the Heavens. What was going on? Was the whole Realm about to come crashing down on their heads? They stopped running. Florence looked behind her wide-eyed, as if she expected the beings they had encountered to be following hard on their heels but there was nothing. No sign of pursuit and for that they were both
grateful.

"What the hell was that?"

Florence shook her head. She still looked terrified and he could not blame her.

"Come on. Let's find Pinocchio and get out of here."

She nodded and they set off at walking pace, taking the opportunity to get their breath back and pace themselves. For a long time Hobbes said nothing. He wondered if it were possible to share nightmares. If this was all some elaborate dream, how did they wake themselves up? As they trudged further the panic subsided and he regained control, even felt slightly bemused by what had happened. He shook his head. Must have been a trick of the light. Yeah, that was it. He glanced across at Florence, she shook her head. Disagreeing with him. Not knowing what to say he said nothing. They finally got back to their camp but there was no sign of Pinocchio. No indication he had ever made it back. Hobbes was really worried now. It had been almost three days. How long were they supposed to wait?

* * * * *

Crichton looked at Pinocchio for a moment. "You want to what?"

"I have to go back, make sure Hobbes and Florence are alright."

"Didn't you hear a word I said?"

"I heard, I understand, that's what makes it so important I get back as quickly as possible. If they run into your friends, I'm not sure they won't get into a firefight."

Crichton appeared to be taking that in, he glanced back at the useless landing craft then made a decision. "Okay, but I'm coming with you."

"Not necessary..."

"It's not an option. If you meet D'Argo and Aeryn before you meet up with your friends I don't want to think about what might happen."

"But what happens if your friends get here and find you gone?"

He gave a smile that reminded him so much of Hobbes that for a moment he caught his breath. "Stark'll stay with the craft, won't you Stark?"

Stark nodded, more than happy to stay clear of any danger. He was not suited to heroics anyway, at least not those kinds.

"It's settled then."

Pinocchio could see that Crichton would not be diverted and nodded his thanks. Stark nodded to him as they left then watched them until they were out of sight. He looked up at the oddly coloured sky above his head, shivered, and went inside the craft.

* * * * *

D'Argo was feeling pissed off. Not only was this world completely alien to him, it had to be one of the most depressing places he had seen in a long time. And he had seen a lot of depressing places. Quite what it was that unsettled him most it was hard to fathom. The sooner they found Crichton and Stark and got back to Moya, the happier he would be. He paused and frowned at Aeryn. "How much further?"

Aeryn was checking her digital readout carefully, turning the device slightly to the left and right to get a true bearing. She nodded slightly to their left and they automatically adjusted their direction as they walked. "This way. I don't think it's far now."

The Luxan was wary, his acute sense of smell picking up odours that were unknown to him. Among the strange smells he could not recognise were ones that were all too familiar to him. The scent of burning flesh, hot ash, blood. There were also various body scents masked by the gunfire but not obliterated by it. Faint scents that took time for him to seperate and be sure of. It made him very uneasy. Aeryn watched his reaction and her eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"I do not like it. Many have died here, yet we have found no bodies."

Aeryn shrugged. "Some cultures bury their dead."

"If that were the case here I would know."

She did not ask how he would know but assumed he would smell the trace of buried flesh. Aeryn did not really want him to go into that kind of detail. Just then he stopped suddenly, weapon raised. Aeryn Sun copied him. Within seconds she heard the noise that had alerted him, the dull thrumming whine of a vehicle engine. It was heading towards them. Aeryn glanced around and indicated some rubble they could use to hide behind. Nodding, D'Argo indicated for her to go behind the rubble then left her to pick another hideout twenty yards away. It was the remains of a brick wall. Not high enough for him to stand behind, but if he crouched it would fulfill his needs. They took up position and did not have to wait very long before two humvees roared into view. Each full of soldiers. Waiting only for the vehicles to come into range, D'Argo fired on the one nearest to him and Aeryn took the other. A plume of fire erupted in the grill of the first vehicle which then rocked over on to its' side, the soldiers spilling out in disarray as the Luxan gave a full throated battle cry and sprayed them with fire before they could retaliate. Two soliders still trapped in the vehicle never made it out. The vehicle burst into flames and as the flames consumed them the men digitized. Stunned, D'Argo watched in amazement. Aeryn had slightly more luck, she took out all the soliders but one. Not pausing as the others digitized, she grabbed him round the neck and divested him of his weapon. The man immediately put his hands up, realising that he was in a no-win situation. Aeryn dragged him clear of the vehicle and was joined by a puzzled D'Argo.

"What happened to them?"

Aeryn shook her head, still hanging on to their captive. "I don't know, but that's obviously why there are no bodies lying around."

D'Argo nodded and looked fiercely at their captor. The man's eyes widened in terror. "Who are you and what is this place?"

The man opened his mouth but instead of answering the Luxan he screamed. Aeryn shook him, intending only to shut him up so she could try questioning him but the body went limp. The soldier had passed out. She gave a look of disgust and threw him to the floor. D'Argo seemed unimpressed. "They are weak, pathetic. Not even worth the trouble of killing."

"We don't have time for this, let's press on."

D'Argo nodded and they resumed. Aeryn wanted to leave as much as the Luxan. If this was Crichton's homeworld, he was welcome to it.

* * * * *

Crichton and Pinocchio fell into a comfortable rhythm, each watching the other's back as they pressed on. Crichton looked across at his new companion. "What do you want me to call you? Mike, Michael - Pinocchio?"

He shrugged. "Whatever."

Crichton grinned. "Whatever it is."

For a moment Pinocchio just looked at him. "Did anyone ever tell you how freeking odd you are, Crichton?"

He chuckled, thinking of Aeryn. "Me, odd? I'm not the one who thinks it's normal running around a virtual world trying to take out a power mad dictator who wants to wipe out the real world and take over this one, while his body is back in the real world hooked up to a computer that allows a simulation of himself to experience everything known to man including death." He paused and looked at Pinocchio. "Did I miss anything out, Mike?"

Pinocchio broke into a grin. He was really starting to like this guy. Odd or not. "Not so it matters."   He paused. "What's your story?"

"I told you..."

He shook his head. "I'm not talking about the astronaut stuff. Your story."

Crichton thought about the question a moment. "Care to be more specific?"

"All that stuff about people chasing you, wanting to kill you."

"Oh, that."

"Yeah, that."

A pause. "After I teamed up with Stark and the others on the Moya there was an accident during which this PeaceKeeper, Bialar Crais, lost his brother. It *was* an accident, it could just as easily have been me that died but it wasn't. The trouble is Crais doesn't believe it. As far as he's concerned I killed his brother."

"I can see how that would make him pissed off with you. So what about this Scorpius guy? He a PeaceKeeper too?"

Again, the flash of pain on Crichton's face. Pinocchio regretted bringing the subject up but he was curious. He also wanted to know if any of these characters were likely to have followed Crichton here. If so, he wanted to know what they might be up against. "Scorpius is psycho, a mad crazed military leader..."

"I know the type."

"....who is after me because I have the information about wormholes hidden in my brain."

"Wormholes?"

Crichton shrugged. "It's a little complicated, Mike. Anyway, Scorpius is determined to get the information out of my head and he isn't too fussy on how he goes about getting it." He paused, tempted to tell him about the Aurora Chair and the torture sessions then figured he did not need to know that.

"Is there anyone else in the Universe you've pissed off that I should know about?"

Crichton looked at him and smiled. "Not that I can think of. How about you?"

Pinocchio grinned. "Just about everybody I've ever freeking well met. Must be my good looks and charm."

"Must be."

They were approaching the camp. He slowed down and indicated for Crichton to drop back a few paces just to be on the safe side then paused and gave a low whistle. They waited for a moment, then a matching whistle came back to them and Hobbes and Florence emerged warily. When Hobbes saw Pinocchio he started to smile with relief but his expression froze at the sight of Crichton. Pinocchio smiled and waved a hand towards Crichton. "Hobbes, I want you to meet John Crichton. Crichton, these are my friends - Tom Hobbes and Florence."

Hobbes was stunned for a moment then remembered his manners and offered his hand. They shook and weighed each other up, Hobbes liking the cut of the man but he was still wary. Florence was more curious, taking in his strange clothing and how clean he was. He looked out of place in Harsh Realm. Hobbes looked at Pinocchio. "I was worried about you."

His friend nodded. "Sorry. I got injured, Crichton's friend Stark fixed me up. Saved my life. They're stranded here, trying to find their friends."

As he explained he walked over to the chevy, anxiously running a critical eye over it to make sure no one had been messing with it.

Crichton whistled and a grin broke out on his face. "You weren't kidding, Mike. You really do have a car!"

Hobbes and Florence exchanged a look. Mike? Since when had Pinocchio let anyone call him Mike? If the familiarity seemed strange to his friends he showed no sign of having noticed and Hobbes had to wonder at that. He watched the newcomer run a loving hand over the bodywork and could have sworn he saw Pinocchio puff up a little with pride. Florence looked amused. Boys and their toys, her look seemed to say. He had to admit she had a point.

Crichton looked at Pinocchio. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Knock yourself out!" He threw Crichton the car keys and noticed the surprise on Hobbes' face. "What?"

Hobbes shook his head. Deciding that now was not the time to whine about how hard it was for him to pry the keys off his friend yet here he was handing them over without a murmur to a complete stranger. Maybe Pinocchio was sickening for something? An outbreak of humanity perhaps? Nah, not possible. "So," said Hobbes falling into step beside his friend as they left Crichton to look around the car. "What's this about Crichton's friend saving your life?"
 
* * * * *

Government House was a hive of quiet activity. No one wanted to disturb the General any more than could be avoided. Even Inga had gone to ground. Major Mel Waters considered not passing on the message. Waiting until Santiago wanted to see him before imparting the update but experience told him this would be a mistake his commander in chief would not tolerate. He hated being stuck between a rock and a hard place, especially when the rock was Santiago and the hard place was Harsh Realm. The General had insisted he not be disturbed but this could not wait. He paused outside the double doors and swallowed hard, trying to hide how nervous he was. The guards either side of the doors were careful not to make eye contact. If Santiago blew a fuse they did not want to be in the line of fire. Waters screwed up his courage and rapped sharply on the door. There was a moment of silence then he heard the General's voice. "Come in!"

Waters went in and came smartly to attention, snapping off a salute as the General looked up from some schematics he was studying. He frowned at being disturbed. "What is it?"

"The unidenitifed objects, sir. One was brought down at these co-ordinates, sir."

He handed Santiago a slip of paper. He did not look at it, he was still watching Waters' face. The General raised an eyebrow, no emotion showing. "And the other one?"

"We missed, sir." He paused. "We don't know what happened to it."

Santiago looked at the co-ordinates and studied the map again. A grim little smile cracked his thin lips. "Tell the men to get ready. This will be our first live test."

Waters' hesitated. Santiago looked up at him. "Was there something else, Major?"

"Yes, sir. What if the object has occupants?"

A hint of amusement drifted across Santiago's eyes at Waters' reluctance to call it a craft. Then they glittered hard as diamonds. "Manned or unmanned Major, whoever sent it into this Realm made a big mistake. However, I am not an unreasonable man. I intend to make the most of this 'gift'. We need to test the weapon, this will be the perfect opportunity." Santiago paused. "Everything else we have done, Major, was simply a prelude. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir!"
 
* * * * *

Florence was looking at him. Pinocchio could feel her thoughts: gentle, concerned.

<You were injured. How?>

He turned to look at her, his expression not changing but his eyes softening. <There were explosions, Florence. The sky was on fire, don't ask me how. I don't know>

She nodded. She had seen the same thing.

<I'm okay> He reassured her.

<Where were you injured?>

<Mainly my leg - a bone was broken, splintered. Some cuts and bruises> He gave a hardly perceptible shrug. It was nothing.

<Let me see>

For a moment he hesitated. Crichton was talking to Hobbes, their discussion animated. Neither were looking in their direction. She hid a smile, knowing how he hated to show any sign of weakness. His leg could be killing him but he would never say, only the odd grunt or flinch giving his secret away. He sat down next to her, his knee stiff as he bent it carefully though the pain
was nothing but a dull ache now. Barely worth mentioning. Florence ignored any attempts to brush it off and laid her hand on his swollen knee. He felt the familiar light penetrate his flesh with a comforting warmth and closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself to enjoy the return to fitness it
heralded. When he opened them again Florence had finished and was looking back at him. The swelling had gone, the rest of the healing had been completed. She did not move her hand.

Pinocchio smiled gently at her. <Thanks> He dipped his head and kissed her gently, unaware that Crichton and Hobbes had stopped talking and were now looking in their direction. Hobbes smiled and looked at Crichton who chuckled softly back at him.

"Quite the Romeo." Crichton murmured.

Hobbes nodded, amused but happy. It was hardly the way he would describe Pinocchio. Crichton had a lot to learn. "Come on," He whispered. "Let's give them some privacy."

Pinocchio and Florence did not hear them slip away. Lost in their own little world they had no idea that hell was about to erupt in a fiery storm all around them. Pinocchio pulled away slowly. Reluctant. He touched her face and gently traced the cheek bones, watching the way the light touched her and made her shine. His right hand brushing her left cheek while the thumb of his left hand traced her lips with wonder. His heart ached as he looked at her. He could not bring himself to say the words but Florence knew. She understood. Speaking the words out loud would not change things. Would not make him love her more. She gave a fleeting smile then leaned in to him and stole a kiss, her lips drawing it out to make it last. Her sweetness invading all his senses like a conquering army defeating him without firing a single shot. It made him dizzy with a joy so deep he thought he would drown.

At last they parted and he smiled. His heart did a flip when she smiled back, doing odd things to his insides. As if he had butterflies but it was a delicious feeling and sent shivers of pleasure right through him. It amazed him how such a simple thing could have such a profound effect on him. Before he could say anything his attention was diverted as the earth shuddered beneath their feet. It took him a second to realise it was a physical disturbance not something the two of them had created. He frowned, suddenly anxious as they sprang to their feet. Pinocchio looked around him. Where the hell were Hobbes and Crichton? At that moment Florence nudged him and pointed towards the chevy. Hobbes and Crichton were running from the vehicle towards them, both looking as worried as they felt. The tremors were now coming more frequently but what was causing them?

Pinocchio wanted to get moving right away. "We've got to get out of here." They looked up but could not see anything. Crichton looked at Pinocchio. "Can you give me a few minutes, Mike?"

"Why? What have you got in mind?"

"Let me have a look at the chevy. If I can fix it we can put some distance between us and whatever threat may be coming after us."

Pinocchio frowned but he did not have a better idea. Just then another tremor shook. It was still fairly weak but stronger than the last one. Moments later he saw a distant flash of light against the horizon as if something had exploded or caught fire. He felt his heart sinking like a stone. He had to catch it before it sank completely. "Okay, but if it looks hopeless or looks like it'll take too long we're outta here. Got it?"

Crichton nodded. "You got it, Mike."

Hobbes looked at Pinocchio as Crichton dashed back to the car. Florence looked concerned, she hated waiting about. It made her feel like a sitting duck. Hobbes wondered about Crichton. "You think he can fix it?"

Pinocchio shrugged as he, Florence and Hobbes started to walk towards the chevy. "I don't know, Hobbes, but he's an astronaut, test pilot and God knows what else. If he can't fix it, I don't know who can."

Hobbes kept looking up at the sky anxiously. Florence watched him then touched his arm. He looked at her and shrugged. "I wish I knew what was going on."

That was when he noticed the tight expression on Pinocchio's face. "You know, don't you?"

"Know what?"

Hobbes waved a vague hand. "What those tremors are? Those distant flashes."

Pinocchio stopped walking. They were only a few yards from the chevy. They could hear Crichton working under the hood, muffled oaths peppering his activity with words strange to their ears but having the same meaning in every language. Frustration. Pinocchio looked at Hobbes a moment before answering him. "I don't know Hobbes, but I have my suspicions."

"What do you think they are?"

"I think they're shells and that what we're feeling is the aftershock after they've hit."

Hobbes' eyes widened into complete circles. "Santiago's never done that before. Not with anything heavy like this."

"Maybe he's got some new toys, Hobbes. Ones we know nothing about."

Just then another shockwave hit and the earth shuddered, like a deep ripple running through the earth's mantle as if it was reacting in pain. Pinocchio ducked under the hood to see how Crichton was doing. He could see Hobbes hovering anxiously at his elbow. Crichton glanced at him but kept on working, his hands moving expertly around the engine as if he could do this blind-folded. After a few more moments, the hands became still and he looked across at him. "Try it now."

Pinocchio nodded and jumped in the driver's seat. To his surprise and relief the engine started first time. A grin momentarily lightened his expression with the first glimmer of hope. Crichton dropped the hood and wiped his hands on the back of his pants. Pinocchio revved the engine impatiently. "Come on, let's go!"

Crichton and Hobbes jumped in the back seat then Florence got in next to Pinocchio and they drove off just before Florence had finished closing the door. Crichton leaned forward. "Hey Action Man! What's the hurry?" Florence noticed Pinocchio was looking not in the rearview mirror but
sideways up at the sky. "We have to get out of here - now!"

Hobbes looked out of his side window and saw a shell streak overhead. "They're not firing at us."

Crichton felt sick to his stomach as realisation dawned. "No, but they *are* firing in the direction of my craft."

Hobbes turned his head and looked at him. "Craft?"

Taking his eyes off the sky, Pinocchio looked at Crichton in the rearview mirror. "You'd better tell him, Crichton."

"Tell me what?"

While Pinocchio drove as if all hell was chasing them, Crichton told Hobbes about the Farscape Project, accidentally travelling through the wormhole and ending up in an alien galaxy, meeting up with and joining forces with a group of aliens who were on the run. He ended up with the crash of his landing craft and the news that two of his alien friends had landed a pod in the hopes of rescuing him. Hobbes face was a picture. "So you really *are* an astronaut?"
Crichton rocked his head a little. "Was."

"Was? What are you now?"

"I'm just a guy trying to make it back home to Earth."

"Pity you picked the wrong one," Pinocchio chipped in drily.

A thought occurred to Hobbes. "How many of you are there?"

"There was just me in the Farscape 1 - that was the name of my experimental craft - when I hit the wormhole. The only problem was, I ended up in an alien galaxy. They call it the Unchartered Territories."

"They?"

"My companions. They rescued me. Since then we've stayed together, looked out for each other. Become friends."

Pinocchio was only half listening to the conversation. He was concerned about what they might find up ahead. He hoped Stark was alright. Florence looked at him. <What are you worried about?>

<Those shells>

<Why?>

He glanced at her, not wanting to voice his fears out loud. To alarm everyone unnecessarily until he was sure. <I could be wrong, Florence>

She thought about that for a moment. <You know what they are>

<No, but I have my suspicions. If I'm right we left only just in time>

He kept his attention on the road ahead after that, steering round the potholes and trying to stay on track. Occasionally Crichton stopped talking to Hobbes to correct his direction. All conversation died down and for a while they rode in silence. Florence remembered something Crichton had said. <He mentioned aliens>

<Yeah, regular freeking travelling circus>

<What do they look like?>

He glanced at her before returning his attention to the ground in front. <How the hell should I know? I only met Stark>

<Stark?>

<Yeah, he's Sebacean. Looks human like us but he isn't. Not sure what planet he's from but you'll like him>

Florence frowned, not sure how to take that. She looked worried. <We met two...> She broke off. Two what? <One was female, looked human. The other...>

Her thoughts trailed off. Pinocchio looked in his rearview until he caught Crichton's eye. "Crichton, I think Florence and Hobbes may have run into your friends."

Crichton looked at Hobbes and Florence. "Aeryn and D'Argo?"

Hobbes shrugged. "There was this woman in black leather with a gun and something else...orange, tattooed..."

Florence nodded, eyes wide.

"That'd be D'Argo. Did they hurt you?"

They shook their heads. Hobbes nodded towards Florence. "No. They caught Florence but I fired at them and told them to let her go. When Florence managed to get away we ran." He paused, remembering. "They didn't follow us."

]"It's okay, they're looking for me."

Hobbes and Florence exchanged a look. "They're with you?"

He grinned at their reaction. "Yeah. Friends."

Before Hobbes could ask him any more questions they came to an abrupt stop. Everyone looked to see why. A dozen feet in front of them was a charred and melted wreck. The ground was scorched for yards around. Further out were rocks and shrubs still largely intact. Pinocchio jumped out without speaking and ran towards the tangled mess that was all that was left of the landing craft. "Stark! Stark!"

Everybody else climbed out the vehicle. Pinocchio stepped back a pace and slowly turned round, trying to spot anything out of place, any sign that might indicate Stark had got out alive or before the shell hit. Crichton was yelling now, "Stark! Where are you?"

A few moments passed in tense silence. No one wanted to voice the unthinkable. Pinocchio saw the misery in Crichton's eyes and felt his heart sink then turned at a touch from Florence. <Look>

A head had popped up from behind a rock. As the man straightened, two other figures stepped out alongside him. The man had a leather mask covering the right side of his face and he was unshaven. He looked in one piece but shaken, wary. He was dressed in rough clothes, understated browns. They looked as if they were chosen more for camoflage than fashion. Hobbes and Florence recognised the other two and took a step back. Crichton started to walk towards them. "You frightened me for a moment, Stark. I thought you'd been killed."

Stark nodded an apology, looked at Pinocchio, then looked with interest at Hobbes and Florence. Then D'Argo spotted Florence and pointed a finger at her and started to walk towards her. "You!"

Florence shrank back and Pinocchio stepped in front of her. "Back off!"

D'Argo stopped in his tracks and looked him in the eye, forgetting Florence for a moment. Aeryn watched, curious to see what would happen. Crichton hurried forward. "It's alright D'Argo. They're friends."

D'Argo did not take his eyes off Pinocchio and Florence. "This one," he pointed again at Florence. "Was spying on Aeryn."

Pinocchio looked at Florence. She was shaking. <What happened?>

<I saw the woman. She looked strange. Out of place. I was curious>

He nodded. Seeing the striking looking woman with her jet black hair and leather outfit he could understand Florence's reaction. Anyone would have stared, himself included. Aeryn had been watching Florence now she looked at Pinocchio, her eyes meeting his. It was not so much a challenge as a critical appraisal. Curiosity. Pinocchio looked at D'Argo, wanting to defuse the situation. He kept his voice level, not wanting to alarm him. "It's okay, D'Argo. That your name?"

The alien frowned at him as if he could crush him with a look should he wish to.

"Florence was just curious. No harm intended."

Crichton nodded. "Mike's right."

D'Argo lifted his head a little and sniffed the air to take in their scent. Pinocchio stood his ground and waited. "You are humans?"

Pinocchio nodded warily. "Yeah."

The Luxan's eyes took in all three of them. "Like Crichton?"

He smiled briefly at some secret amusement. "Yeah. Just like Crichton."

For a moment, Pinocchio thought the alien was going to tear his head off. The deep rumble was disturbing. Even Crichton seemed not sure how D'Argo would react. Then suddenly the sound burst out of his mouth and he started to shake. D'Argo laughed at him. "You stand your ground human. I like that. I am a Luxan."

Hobbes and Florence had witnessed the whole exchange in some confusion, not understanding a thing that Aeryn or D'Argo had said. They took their cue from Pinocchio and nodded cautiously when he introduced them to the aliens. Aeryn walked slowly around Pinocchio. He resisted the urge to turn his head and follow her. It irritated him but he managed to bite his tongue. She stopped when she had gone full circle. "You can understand us?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

She looked at Florence. "The female couldn't understand us. Neither could the male."

"Their names are Florence and Hobbes."

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded. Committing the names to memory.

D'Argo looked at Crichton. "I do not think much of your Earth, Crichton." "This isn't Earth - at least not the one I left."

Pinocchio tried to explain. "It's a computer simulation."

Aeryn raised imperious eyebrows. "A simulation? You mean this isn't real?"

"No, it's a war game. But believe me, while you're living it, it's real."

She nodded her understanding then watched him more closely as he stiffened, looking up at the sky with a wary frown. "We can't stay here. It's too dangerous."

D'Argo nodded. "We have to get back to the pod, Crichton. Get back to Moya."

Pinocchio looked at Crichton, his expression serious. "We'll come with you. Make sure you make it back okay."

"That's not necessary, Mike."

He snarled. "This ain't a discussion, Crichton."

D'Argo seemed amused, then watched Pinocchio walk over to where Stark stood quietly trying to blend into the background. He was surprised to hear the human's voice become softer, more solicitous. "Stark, I'm glad you're okay. There's some friends of mine I want you to meet. That okay with you?" Stark looked at him for a moment then nodded. Pinocchio went to Florence and Hobbes and introduced them to Stark. "Hobbes, Florence, this is Crichton's friend Stark. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here now. He saved my life."

Stark looked embarrassed, not sure what to do or say. Pinocchio was smiling at him, trying to put him at his ease. He put an understanding hand on his shoulder then stepped back. Florence looked at Stark for a long time and he seemed to relax. After a while he smiled at her. "I've heard a lot about you. How you're a healer."

Florence frowned and looked at Pinocchio. She could not understand a word he said.

<He says he's heard you're a healer>

She looked back at him and smiled. Hobbes held out his hand and saw the puzzled look on Stark's face.

"You're supposed to take his hand, Stark. A human form of greeting."

Stark nodded then took Hobbes hand and they shook. The look of thanks on Hobbes' face needed no translation. The alien beamed shyly back at him. Aeryn and D'Argo looked at Crichton for some kind of explanation. "Later. I'll tell you all about it later."

Just then something whistled over their heads. It exploded close by. This time the aftershock was almost immediate. Pinocchio looked worriedly at them. "Like I said, we have *got* to get out of here. Now!"

Aeryn looked at Crichton. "This one likes to be in control."

He grinned back. "We should listen to him, Aeryn. He has good instincts."

She turned her head and watched Pinocchio heading back for the car, Hobbes and Florence with him. Stark looked at Crichton. "What did he mean, we have to get out of here?"

"The shells, Stark. That's what hit the craft, that's what could wipe us all out if we don't get a move on."

Discretion being the better part of valor, even D'Argo could not argue with Crichton's logic. Setting a fast pace, Crichton and his friends walked while Pinocchio drove the chevy slowly alongside them, his eyes constantly flicking to the right and left watching for any sign of trouble. Not only
were the shockwaves a hell of a lot stronger here, but the shells were falling far too close for his liking.

* * * * *

Inga Fossa was concerned. She had nothing against ambition. It was a useful tool. A weakness to be manipulated, exploited. What worried her was the ordinance that had recently come into Santiago's hands. Where was he getting it from and who was his supplier? What did they want in return? Introducing this level of warfare into the Game was not simply problematic. It could ruin everything. Bring the Game crashing down on all of them. Keeping the delicate balance of power within Harsh Realm intact was part of her agenda. These shells jeopardised that. Inga sat for a long time reviewing her options. The steely glint in her eyes hardening into something which was
unfathomable.

* * * * *

It was with relief that they made it back to the pod. Crichton did not realise how hard he had been praying until he saw the pod in one piece, all systems operational, just awaiting their return. It was not until he and D'Argo got closer that he noticed something half buried in the earth ten feet from the craft. He frowned and approached cautiously. D'Argo was about to touch it, to see what it was, but Crichton put a hand out to stop him.

"Not a good idea, big guy."

D'Argo looked at it suspiciously. "What is it?"

The others gathered beside them. Hobbes walked slowly round it. "It's one of the shells they've been firing."

Stark looked relieved. "Lucky for us it didn't explode."

"Or not." Said Pinocchio.

Hobbes nodded then looked at Crichton. "Who can tell how stable it is? What might set it off."

Pinocchio's look darkened as he got closer. All his nightmares suddenly rolled into one. Aeryn had taken to watching him closely. "What is wrong?"

He did not look at her, he was looking at the shell. It was not that impressive to look at, just over two feet in length and weighing about 14 pounds, but he had seen its' like before. The memory was not a happy one. "I suggest everybody stand back. It's a thermobaric warhead."

Hobbes looked uneasy. "What's that?"

He met his friend's eyes. "You never hear of them, Hobbes?"

Hobbes shook his head.

Pinocchio started to explain. "We never used them but the Russians did."

Crichton looked at the missile with more respect. Everybody had now backed away a respectful distance. Hobbes looked at Pinocchio. "How do you know what it is?"

"Remember the conflict in Afghanistan, Hobbes?" Hobbes nodded. "For a while I was one of a small team of military advisers sent out there. I saw them in action. The Russians were using them. You should have seen what they could do. The Afghans called them 'Satan Sticks'. The Russians adapted them so they could be fired from a rocket launcher, a kind of bazooka. It made them highly portable and very deadly."

He paused and stepped close to the warhead, careful to move slowly and create as little vibration as possible. Hobbes realised he was looking for any markings, any indication of what the warhead was carrying. He pointed out the make up of the missile for Crichton's companions so they would
understand what made it so lethal. "It's in two parts consisting of the propellant and the canister which contains a volatile gas, liquid or finely powdered explosive. Some versions were adapted to carry biological agents but I don't think this is one of those."

Hobbes was watching his face carefully. Trying to read what he was thinking. "We've seen missiles and warheads before."

"Not like this, Hobbes. These gave me more nightmares than nerve gas."

His friend looked surprised then his frown deepened in worry. "So what can it do?"

Pinocchio carried on scanning the casing slowly as he spoke. "It has a range of 600 yards when launched from a bazooka or rocket launcher. The target or kill zone is 24 feet in diameter. Everything in that kill zone is destroyed, Hobbes. People die, buildings are wasted. No survivors. As the missile impacts a cloud of explosive particles is released which then ignite, forming a spreading fireball. The blast burns up all surrounding oxygen, creating a vacuum and increasing the pressure of the blast wave. Don't let anybody tell you it's safer in a building when one of these babies detonates. The damage is much greater *inside* a building - the containment can increase the intial kill zone to 2,825 cubic feet."

Nobody spoke. The sheer statistics were stunning them. His voice quieter, Pinocchio finished describing the nightmare. "Outside of the kill zone and up to 60 feet away all victims will suffer burns and severe internal injuries. Between 60 and 240 feet people will suffer blast damage to their eyes, ears and internal organs. It works by creating a fireball which incinerates everything within the kill zone. Outside of the kill zone but within 240 feet you are looking at internal organs being microwaved from the inside out. The Marine Corps said it was like the effect of a tactical
nuclear weapon without the residual radiation."

For some minutes no one spoke.

"I can't believe Santiago brought these into the Realm. That he would stoop so low." He added.

Hobbes sucked in a breath. "Maybe he didn't."

Pinocchio pinned him with a look. "Who else could it have been?"

He shrugged, he had no idea. Next to Hobbes, Crichton shivered as if someone had just walked over his grave. "What do we do with it? We can't leave it here."

A slow sigh escaped from Pinocchio's lips. "Only two things we can do: disarm it or detonate it."

Hobbes looked at him in horror. His expression was almost comic except no one was laughing. "Disarm it?"

His friend nodded. Perfectly serious. "Or detonate it."

"I don't know anything about disarming warheads, Pinocchio."

"That's why you won't be doing it."

A look of alarm spread over his face. "You'll be killed."

Pinocchio straightened up and looked at the others. "We could all be killed, Hobbes."

Crichton nodded to himself. "I'll help you."

"No, you all need to back off and let me get on with it." He threw Hobbes the keys to the chevy just in case they needed to leave in a hurry.

Crichton was shaking his head. "You can't do this on your own and I have as much at stake as you do."

The vivid blue eyes locked on to Crichton's and for a moment neither spoke. At last he nodded, reluctantly. "Okay, but you do *exactly* as I say when I tell you or you leave me to it, you got that?"

Crichton nodded.

"Got any tools?"

Crichton looked at Aeryn and D'Argo. Aeryn nodded. "I'll show you."

He nodded and followed her inside the pod. The others just looked at the warhead. It looked so unimpressive. How could anything that small be so damn deadly? Yet none of them doubted that it was or that it would be their luck to be sitting right on top of it when it went off...

* * * * *

No matter how many times she did it, Inga always held her breath when she scanned herself in to return to the Real World. It was creepy how used to it she had become and yet part of her still expected something to go wrong. Her brain patterns ending up scrambled like Humpty Dumpty. And all the Kings Horses and All the Kings Men would not be able to put her back together again. Macabre as the thought was it helped to keep her centered. Remind her why she was doing this.

As soon as the electrodes were disconnected she sat up and a white towellin dressing gown was placed around her. She got up and allowed herself to be shown into a cubicle where she had left her clothing neatly hanging in a small wardrobe. Silently she dressed, smoothing out imaginary creases. It was the only sign of how nervous she felt. Outside the cold crisp air matched her mood. She walked over to where she had parked her car, unlocked it and got in. Inga paused before firing up the ignition and driving off. She had managed to find out what type of weapon it was and though it did not mean much to her, she had powerful connections. Not only would they know exactly what it was but they would also be able to find out where Santiago had got it from. What would be harder would be convincing the cabal that it would be in their interests to interfere. As she drove she thought about it and realised that if she asked for them to do this and they said no, she would be left unable to do anything. The thought made her purse her lips. The alternative was a lot riskier but at least she would be free to take whatever action she deemed necessary. At the fork in the road she decided to turn left instead of right. What the cabal did not know could not hurt her.

* * * * *

Pinocchio followed Aeryn inside the pod. She showed him where the tools were kept and he made a careful selection, though most of them he had never seen before. When they rejoined the others Aeryn paused. "I am curious. You can understand us."

A half smile quirked up one side of his downturned mouth. "Looks like."

She frowned. "I don't understand why you can understand us and the others can't."

"It's in the programming."

"Programming?"

He nodded. "Yeah. The programming. That's how I can hear what Florence is thinking, understand Meckinese even though I've never learnt the language and understand you."

Pinocchio turned as D'Argo rumbled behind him. "You are human?"

"Yeah, we're all human."

Aeryn looked at him, her expression intent. "Like Crichton?"

He could not quite hide the smirk on his face. "Sorta."

Crichton interrupted, sounding a bit testy. "I am here you know, you don't have to talk about me."

Hobbes frowned, only catching what Pinocchio and Crichton said. "What's going on?"

"They're deciding whether to boil, bake or fry us Hobbes - what do you think?"

Crichton chuckled, amused at Pinocchio's humour but Aeryn was annoyed. "That is not what we said."

Crichton raised a hand and tried to mollify her. "It's okay, Aeryn. Earth humour."

She frowned. "It was a lie."

"Not a lie, Aeryn. Sarcasm."

The word meant nothing to her and it showed on her face. Pinocchio looked at Crichton and they grinned at each other like two conspirators. "Let's just say the explanation loses something in the translation."

Baffled, Aeryn and D'Argo said nothing. Florence did not like the idea of Pinocchio trying to disarm the warhead but in the absence of any alternative decided that if he could not be talked out of it someone should keep watch. Besides, she did not think she would be able to bear watching anything happen to him if it all went wrong. As if sensing what was going through her mind, Hobbes followed her away from the others. "It'll be alright, Florence. Pinocchio knows what he's doing."

Her eyes searched his for a moment then she nodded.

* * * * *

High above the cloud cover, the Leviathan waited. Zhaan was concerned. "Pilot, are you sure Crichton's craft was shot down?"

The image of Pilot filled the oval screen behind her. "Yes."

Zhaan checked the instrument panel again and shook her head slowly. "There are no other ships in the area. I don't understand."

"The attack came from the planet below."

Zhaan looked surprised. To all intents and purposes this should have been an unpopulated world. She wondered what else they had assumed and got wrong. "Planetary defences? Are you sure?"

"No, but it is one explanation. They could have ground to air missiles."

The blue Delvian fell silent, glad that at least Aeryn and D'Argo appeared to have landed safely. "Pilot, raise Aeryn and D'Argo. Something doesn't feel right."

* * * * *

Major Waters was not too keen on his latest assignment. Normally the thought of heading out to capture enemy troops would have been most appealing but checking on something they had shot out of the sky filled him with dread. He did not believe in aliens of course but he could not help wondering. He said nothing to his men. When they got to the site he was more confused than ever. It was obvious from the get go that anything that had been there had been destroyed by the missile fire, but what had it been? He looked at the melted and blackened mess that was all that was left of the landing craft. He could not find anything intact, nothing to explain what it was or where it had come from. Frustrated, he decided there was only one thing to do. They would take it back to Santiago City with them. Let Santiago's scientists examine it. They would be able to make more sense of it than he could. Plus this way he would not be returning empty handed.

It was as he was turning away to direct his men that he noticed the tyre tracks. Waters felt his pulse quicken. Interest sparked. Suddenly everything took on a new and much more meaningful twist. He would bet a month's pay that those tracks belonged to Pinocchio's vehicle. He quickly modified his plan.

"Jackson!"

A fresh faced lieutenant came to attention. "Yes, sir."

"I want you to take three men and find a piece of whatever landed here then take it back to Santiago City. Take as much of it as you can carry and report the finding directly to General Santiago. Tell him that we also found a set of tyre tracks and are following them."

"Yes, sir!"

Waters looked down at the tracks and slowly raised his eyes, watching them snake around the potholes and head off towards the distant horizon. He straightened then headed back to his vehicle. As Lt Jackson got to work on filling his humvee with pieces from the crash site, the other three vehicles drove off in the direction of the tyre tracks. Waters was pumped up with adrenalin at the prospect of hunting down Pinocchio, because wherever Pinocchio went Hobbes and Florence were sure to be with him. He smiled. Happy for the first time in weeks. This promised to be a day he would long relish.

* * * * *

The missile had little in the way of markings on it. Some old worn lettering stencilled on one side but half hidden by the earth that partly buried it. Frustrated he knew he would have to dig it out to get to the part of the cas ing where it was sealed. Crichton sorted through the tools he had taken from Aeryn and laid them out carefully at their feet. He looked at Pinocchio's expression. It did not bode well. "What do we do first?"

"First we carefully brush away the earth. It's buried too deep for me to get access to the removable part of the casing."

Crichton did not ask him if it was dangerous. The look on Pinocchio's face told him that. He watched him work and copied his actions, brushing the soil back, keeping his movements smooth and unhurried. Pinocchio paused and Crichton did the same. He frowned when he saw him remove his jacket.

"What're you doing?"

"Have to cushion the warhead. When we remove the rest of the soil it'll tip over. We can't afford to change the angle of attitude. We don't know if the payload is a volatile gas, liquid or powdered explosive. If it's one of the first two any motion could set it off."

Crichton nodded and helped Pinocchio roll his jacket under the sloping side of the missile, then they carried on the painstaking task of uncovering the rest of it. As they uncovered the entire length Pinocchio swore softly. Crichton looked at him intently. "What?"

"I was right. This is a Schmel, the Russian version. Same type they used in Afghanistan. The Russians called it the Bumblebee because of the noise it makes. Carries one hell of a sting."

Stark was sitting over by the pod, anxious eyes flicking from Crichton and Pinnocchio to where Aeryn and D'Argo were deep in discussion. He had heard Aeryn's communicator and knew she was in touch with Moya. He hoped it was not more bad news. He was not sure how much more he could stand.

Florence completed a circuit of their position with Hobbes. He had insisted none of them should wander off alone, even those keeping watch. At first she had wanted to argue but then realised he was right. Besides, it was irritating not being able to understand what the aliens were saying. Hobbes stopped and looked thoughtfully up at the sky. "What do you suppose it looks like?"

She frowned at him, not understanding what he was talking about. "Their spaceship, Florence."

Florence shrugged. A dreamy look came over his face. "I always wanted to be an astronaut, ever since I was a kid. Did I ever tell you?"

She shook her head. He smiled. "When Neil Armstrong set foot on the Moon in '69 I was just a kid. Used to imagine what it must have been like. To look back and see the Earth from space, a shining blue marble in an ocean of black."

She just looked at him. Amazed. She could imagine nothing more idiotic. Why would anyone want to do that? This was where they lived not up there in space. But then a lot of things Hobbes said made no sense to her.  They continued walking and noticed Aeryn arguing with D'Argo outside the pod. At least that was what it looked like. They exhanged a look and gave the aliens a wide berth. D'Argo leaned in close to Aeryn. "We go now!" Aeryn shook her head. "We can't. Not until Crichton's finished with the missile."

"You heard Zhaan. It isn't safe here."

Aeryn did not hide her temper or her frustration. "It isn't safe ANYWHERE D'Argo. What do you want to do? Run and hide?"

For a moment it looked as if he would hit her but he did not. Aeryn lowered her voice and softened it just a bit. "Look, all we know is it isn't the PeaceKeepers. That has to be good news and it will cheer up Crichton. He's got it into his head that Crais is behind this."

"The human says it is someone called Santiago."

"Pinocchio." Aeryn paused. "Crichton trusts him." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"He is a human."

"So?"

"They are weak. Inferior. We should not trust them."

"Crichton's human."

The Luxan paused for a moment. Rival feelings at war within him. He snorted. "He is one of us."

Aeryn nodded. "Whatever else happens we'd better make sure we're ready to take off the moment it's safe to do so."

For once D'Argo did not argue. He could not wait to get off this world. "I will check the instruments and get everything ready for take off."

"I'll tell Crichton."

Pinocchio sat with his legs out, either side of the missile. He was covered in dirt and grime, sleeves rolled up while his calloused hands gently worked an implement up against the seal of the shell casing. Crichton was holding the missile steady, making sure it did not move as they worked. Neither were aware of Aeryn until she spoke.

"I've heard from Zhaan. She confirms there's no PeaceKeeper activity."

Crichton flicked his eyes up towards her. "That's good."

She nodded at the missile. "It would seem one of these shot us down."

Crichton looked at the schmel. Pinocchio said nothing. All his concentration was on the work in hand. Aeryn paused, uncertain how much to say. "D'Argo's getting the pod ready to take off when you're done."

He nodded. "Good. That's good Aeryn. As soon as it's safe I'll let you know."

Aeryn nodded, was about to say something then changed her mind and left them to it. Crichton looked at Pinocchio. "We will be able to disarm it, won't we?"

"I'm counting on it. If either of us slips, just run to the pod and get the hell out of here."

"Like I'm going leave you behind."

A sneer crossed Pinocchio's face. "You won't have a choice, Crichton."

Crichton did not say anything. He did not like to think of anything happening to any of them. Given a choice he would stay longer, just to get to know them all better. After all, how likely was it he would bump into anyone else from Earth? Then his attention snapped back to the missile at the sound of a quiet click. To his heightened senses it sounded loud, almost making him jump. A smile creased Pinocchio's dirty face. "Easy now, Crichton. Lift this top section real slow."

Just then the distinctive sound of humvees approaching made them both look up in alarm. The language that came from Pinocchio's mouth would have made a marine blush. "It's Waters."

Three humvees circled them and soldiers poured out in a deadly ring of steel. "Fuck! Of all the times for that ass-hole to appear, he has to pick now."

"Who's Waters?"

"Santiago's right hand piece of shit." Pinocchio fixed Crichton with a firm look as he noted the soldiers getting themselves into position. They had maybe a minute, at most two. "Crichton, get to the pod. Take every freeking person you can convince to get in it and take off."

"I'm not leaving you, Mike."

"The hell you aren't! This is your only way out because I guarantee you if Waters gets you and your friends none of you is going to make it out of here alive. Understand me, Crichton? Not you, not Aeryn, not D'Argo, not Stark. Nobody. And Santiago gets your technology into the bargain. This way you can get out of here and save some of my friends too."

Crichton felt a rush of emotion, but Pinocchio was shaking his head to stop a rush of arguments. "Just do it, Crichton. Get them to safety. Waters won't kill me. He can't afford to go back to Santiago empty handed."

"I'm sorry, Mike."

He nodded and watched Crichton carefully remove his hands from the top of the casing. "Me too, now get the hell out of here!"

Crichton backed off then turned and ran, gathering Florence and Hobbes with him. Thinking they were just going to use the pod as shelter they allowed him to usher them inside. Stark was at the doorway, eyes widened in fright. As soon as he was in, Crichton hit the door seal and yelled. "D'Argo! Get us out of here!"

Florence whirled round as the door shut behind them. Hobbes looked at them in horror. "You can't take off! Pinocchio's out there, we have to help him!"

Crichton spun round to face him, his expression one of pain and determination. "I made Mike a promise, I'm going to get you out of here. To safety. Then. If we can, we're coming back for him."

Hobbes felt his heart miss a beat. "What do you mean - if we can?"

He could hear and feel the vehicle getting ready to lift off. Crichton's voice was quiet, intense, but Hobbes and Florence heard every word. "That's if our take off doesn't ignite the warhead you're friend is sitting on!"
 
* * * * *

Inga Fossa looked at the papers, eyes narrowed. When she raised her head Foster was trying hard not to fidget. He did not like meeting face to face, it increased the danger to unacceptable levels. It was a measure of the strings that Inga could pull that he had agreed. Just this once. Like he had a choice. "I need the supply stopped. Choked off preferrably at source."

He shook his head. He was sweating profusely now but thought it did not show. It showed. "Can't do that. Too risky."

Her voice was cold. "Who for?"

Foster had been told about Inga. Warned. She was hard, she was cold, and she was utterly ruthless. Connected to all the major players in ways it did not even bear thinking about. He knew if he crossed her there would not be enough of him left afterwards to fill a thimble. They did not give her any fancy names. You did not need to know the name of the poison to know it would kill you. The only question was how long it would take.

Inga leaned back and crossed her legs. Icy cold eyes looked into his. Not a flicker of emotion, not a ghost of humanity stared back at him. He swallowed. Hard. "I was told you were the best." She said.

He did not reply. Like a prisoner waiting for his sentence to be passed he held his breath and prayed.

"You have until 0900hrs tomorrow."

He was all jerky movements, wide eyes and panic now. It was really quite entertaining except Inga did not have time to enjoy the spectacle. She wanted this wound up and wound up fast. "If you can't handle this..."

Her voice trailed off leaving him hanging by his metaphorical fingernails. The implication was clear. This was his one chance. "They'll kill me."

She nodded, her voice emotionless. An undertaker laying the body out for burial. "Probably."

He could almost feel the cold slab of the mortuary beneath his cooling flesh. God, he could not remember being this afraid before. He had heard stories about her. Things she had done. Christ, she had even sacrificed her old man to further her ambitions. What would she not do to him? The rumours, the stories, had not done her justice. She was infinitely more chilling in the flesh. If he lived through the night, this would be the nightmare that would haunt him. "You can't ask..."

Inga slowly shook her head. "I'm not asking."

He swallowed. "How...?"

"I don't care how. The details are your concern."

She rose in one fluid movement. It seemed incongruous to him that evil should have such grace. Numb, he watched her leave. Almost an hour after she had gone he still sat there, trembling. At last he pulled himself together. Once moving, he acted fast. He made emergency arrangements for his family. He had to get them out of the city. To safety. Then he would be able do it. An accident would be the best thing. Explosives were reknowned for the high element of risk and who knew why some batches became unstable? That was why they packed and shipped the two parts of the missile seperately. At the warehouse they were assembled ready to be inserted into the programme. That would be the place to strike. It was also the most heavily guarded. He considered taking his own life for all of a second but knew he could not do it. If he did Inga's wrath would know no bounds. His family would never be safe. Inga would see to that and who knew what perverted means she would use to exact her revenge. Yet if he succeeded Santiago's people would hunt him down. No escape either way.

* * * * *

Crichton tried to talk to Hobbes and Florence, explain that he had no choice but Hobbes would not look at him and Florence just glared. He sighed in exasperation. "You think I wanted this?"

Getting no reaction he turned away from them to see Aeryn looking at him. "You had no choice, John."

Somehow her reassurance was no reassurance at all. He went to see how D'Argo was doing and how far they were from Moya. Aeryn looked at Hobbes and Florence, started speaking then realised they could not understand her. A spark of frustration flared in her eyes. Hobbes looked at her for a moment, angry and miserable. Annoyed with the way in which Crichton had tricked them into leaving their friend behind on the planet surface.

Crichton returned moments later. "We're approaching Moya now. Once we're aboard we can plan what to do next."

Hobbes looked at him. "You have no idea what they're going to do to him. Once Santiago gets his hands on him..." His voice trailed off painfully.

Crichton had an image of Scorpius in his head. "You think he'll torture him?"

He nodded. "If only to find out what happened to us. To find out about you."

Crichton nodded, understanding. "If there's a way we'll get him out of there and give Santiago something to think about. This bully's going to find out the kids in the playground fight back."

Hobbes looked surprised. He thought Crichton had taken off to save his own hide. "You're gonna take on Santiago?"

"Not exactly."

His eyes narrowed slightly. Florence was watching Crichton carefully, trying to judge if he was telling the truth or whether he was just trying to salve his conscience. "What does that mean?"

"It means Moya isn't a warship, Tom. We can't go in and destroy Santiago. We simply don't have the firepower."

"Then what can you do?"

Crichton grinned slowly. The glint in his eyes making Hobbes think of a game of poker. "We may not have weapons but Santiago doesn't know that, right?"

* * * * *

Waters was enjoying himself. He knew Pinocchio could not move. Did not dare to with that missile sitting between his legs. It amused the hell out of him but even good things had to come to an end. Much as he would love to see the damn thing detonate and take Pinocchio with it, he had to have something to take back to Santiago. That meant that as distasteful as it was for him, he would be forced to save his hide and defuse the warhead. He hunkered down opposite him and looked into those vivid blue eyes. "This's your lucky day, Mike."

Pinocchio sneered. "Why? You been diagnosed with gonorrhoea or is it syphilis this time?"

The Major glared back at him, fury quickly building. It took an effort for him not to knock the smile off his face but if he did that they would all go up in one huge fireball and no one was worth dying for, not even this son of a bitch. "You're gonna pay for that."

"Yeah, well you know what you can do...."

Before he could finish the insult, Waters spat in his face catching him in the eye. Pinocchio swore as the spittle ran down his cheek and a smile spread across Waters' smug face. "I was gonna have the missile defused but on second thoughts, I think you should clean up your own mess."

He just glared back at Waters, knowing he had him and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. He was tempted to set off the missile just to have the satisfaction of taking Waters with him but it was not that simple. Hobbes needed him. He had to make sure his friend survived and was given the chance to take out Santiago. So much depended on that one man that sometimes it frightened the hell out of him. Then there was Florence. No, he had to see this through for them. For them and everybody depending on them.

* * * * *

Hobbes' eyes were as wide as saucers. He had thought the pod was a nifty bit of engineering but when he saw Moya he was completely dumbfounded and totally impressed. He felt a bit like Ziggy Stardust and was half expecting the Spiders From Mars. It was like nothing he could even imagine. Crichton grinned at him. "I'd offer you a guided tour but we don't have time. Maybe later."

He just nodded back, hoping there would be a later. Florence looked around slowly, not sure how to make sense of what she was seeing. Stark watched their reactions but did not speak. Content to watch and listen, trying to understand the human dialogue but unable to make sense of anything Hobbes said so he concentrated on reading their body language. Aeryn and D'Argo exchanged a few meaningful looks but were content to leave the talking to Crichton. Then Zhaan joined them. Florence could not take her eyes off her.

Crichton was amused and wondered how they would cope with Rygel and Pilot. Now there was a thought. "Zhaan, I would like you to meet Tom Hobbes and Florence. They're humans and come from the planet below. Tom, Florence, this is Zhaan. Zhaan is a Delvian and a valuable member of our crew."

Hobbes nodded, not sure what to do. How do you greet an alien? "Pleased to meet you, Zhaan."

Florence just nodded. Zhaan smiled gently and bowed her head. "Welcome to Moya."

At their blank expressions, Zhaan turned to Crichton. "Can they understand me, Crichton?"

"No, Zhaan. I don't have time to explain now but the other member of their group is still down on the planet, sitting on a bomb. We have to do something to get him out of there."

"A bomb?"

Crichton nodded. "A missile. We were trying to defuse it."

"Why is he sitting on it?"

"It's an expression Zhaan. I'll explain on the way to see Pilot."

Hobbes looked at Crichton curiously. "I don't know how you can understand them."

"I've been implanted with translation microbes. Aeryn can do the same for you if you want to understand what everybody's saying."

Florence was shaking her head in alarm but Hobbes looked intrigued. "Is it safe?"

Crichton laughed. "It didn't do me any harm."

Hobbes and Florence exchanged a look that seemed to imply they were not too sure about that.

"It's a simple procedure, they just insert the microbes and that's it. Instant translation. We have nothing like it back home but then your friend knows all about that, right?"

"Pinocchio?"

"Yeah. I mean he can understand Stark, Aeryn and D'Argo. That's two Sebaceans and a Luxan. I'd love to know how he does that."

"It's in his programming."

Crichton nodded. "Yeah, you're gonna have to explain that to me some time."

They arrived at the control centre and Aeryn and D'Argo started to check Moya's instruments. Crichton called up Pilot and an image appeared on an oval screen in front of him. "Yes, Crichton."

"Pilot, I need you to make some calculations for me about the planet below."

* * * * *

Pinocchio was stiff. His back, neck and arms ached but he did not dare to hurry. He would only have one chance at this. The only consolation was that despite his words, Waters seemed to be sweating more than he was. Carefully he removed the casing and paused, familiarising himself with a device he had not seen since Afghanistan. Waters was watching, caught between panic and fascination. Even his men had stopped what they had been doing to watch. Everybody knew that it did not matter where they stood. If it detonated it would take all of them with it. When Pinocchio finally defused it, the collective sigh of relief was palpable. He sighed and momentarily closed his eyes. When he opened them again he noticed the men were regarding him with a grudging respect. All except Waters. Waters indicated for the parts of the missile to seperated and then had Pinocchio dragged to his feet.

"Now you're going to tell me what happened to Hobbes and Florence."

"You were there, Waters, just tell Santiago what you saw."

"You know what I mean."

He shook his head. "Sorry, I was too busy trying not to move a muscle to see what happened."

Waters glared at him, shoving his face inches from Pinocchio's. "Where did they go?"

Pinocchio looked up and smiled. Unable to contain his anger and frustration, Waters punched him in the gut. A couple of guards grabbed him as he doubled over and held him upright.

"I'll ask you again. Where did they go?"

"How the hell should I freeking know? You were there, you tell me."

This time the blows came thick and fast and only stopped when Waters started to get winded. He was breathing heavily now, his face red and suffused with anger. Pinocchio glared back at him, one eye started to close where it was that swollen.

"You will tell me!" Waters screamed at him.

"I can't tell you what I don't know."

Waters looked at one of his soldiers. "Tie him up and let's get moving. We've wasted enough time here. We can carry on this conversation back at Sanitago City."

* * * * *

Sam Foster had no trouble getting to the warehouse and knew his pass would get him inside. Once the deed was done he would have to make sure the record of his entry was erased along with any other trace evidence. Santiago would have every expert he could lay his hands on combing the debris to find out what had happened and who was behind it. He eased the straps of his backpack and lowered the pack to the ground. It was dark now and he would need to spend another hour or so just watching, timing the guards to establish their routine and getting the explosive mix just right. He could not afford to use any kind of accelerant beyond the explosives contained in the warheads. He knew how to make them unstable and intended to use that to cause a massive chain reaction that would totally anihilate the whole warehouse. Trouble was it would take out the entire base too. Himself included. He gave a wry humourless smile. Who wanted to live forever anyway?

* * * * *

Hobbes felt wierd but unharmed. He looked up at the others and wondered how long it would take the translation microbes to work. Had it even been successful? Aeryn tilted her head. "How do you feel?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. "I can understand you!"

Florence frowned, having heard only gibberish. Stark was grinning. Crichton looked pleased. D'Argo said nothing but glowered silently before leaving them to it.

"I should warn you," Said Crichton. "Sometimes the exact meaning of what you're hearing gets lost in the translation."

Hobbes frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He means the microbes can't always make sense of some of the references so they will approximate what they 'think' you mean." Explained Stark with a slight smile.

Hobbes looked at Crichton in surprise. "The microbes can think?"

Aeryn made a noise that could have been a muffled laugh. "Just be grateful they work."

Hobbes looked at Florence. "Are you sure you don't want to...?"

Florence shook her head vehemently, stepping backwards as she did so. Stark looked at her with compassion. He could understand how she felt. She did not want anyone messing with her mind. Hobbes might trust unknown alien technology but Florence had learned to beware of messing with things she did not understand. She just hoped they knew what they were doing.

* * * * *

The journey to Santiago City was nowhere near as bad as the arrival. Something had happened to Santiago's supply line back in the Real World and the General was more than pissed off about it. He was after blood. Waters was extremely glad he had not killed Pinocchio himself. It gave Santiago someone to vent his anger and frustration on. Santiago was pacing when Waters arrived. He stopped as his eyes lit on Pinocchio, hardly noticing that he had already been worked over by Waters. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. His glance moved to the Major and stayed there. "Where are the others?"

"They escaped, sir."

"Escaped?"

Waters swallowed. "They had some kind of craft sir, I've never seen anything like it before."

"What kind of craft are we talking about?"

"The aerial kind, sir."

"You mean a helicopter?"

"No, sir. Not a helicopter."

Anger flashed in Santiago's eyes. "Then what *exactly* do you mean, Major?"

Waters actually flicked a glance in Pinocchio's direction but if he expected help from that quarter he was mistaken. Waters licked his lips. "If I didn't know any better sir, I'd say it was a space craft."

Santiago did not laugh at him or berate him. For a moment he did not say anything at all. "Describe it."

"I don't know that I can, sir. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before and I didn't get a good look. As soon as we reached the site it took off."

"Took off?"

"Straight up, sir."

He nodded. The craft had vertical take off abilities, then. That could be useful. His anger seemed to dissipate as he considered the possibilities. "What about the occupants, Major?"

"I just saw Hobbes and Florence run inside the craft sir. I think I saw two maybe three other figures but it all happened so quickly."

"Figures?"

"Yes, sir."

"Human?"

"I think so, sir."

"Then we are *not* dealing with an alien craft, Major. They are not extra-terrestrials. This has to be some top secret technology that has fallen into the wrong hands."

"Yes, sir."

"It will our duty to liberate it."

"Yes, sir."

Santiago looked at Pinocchio now. Noting his hands were tied behind his back. Taking in his battered appearance, the left eye now completely closed, his lip cut and bleeding, the colourful contusions on his face. He knew there had to be other bruises he could not see. The injuries on the prisoner said more about Waters' loss of control than effective torture techniques. Waters needed to learn to control his temper. Use it like a fine scalpel not a club. Pinocchio could feel his skin crawling just looking at Santiago. The man was thinking, plotting, scheming and that meant nothing good would come of it. Especially when the focus of that attention was aimed in his direction. He tasted the blood in his mouth and resisted the urge to spit it out or to wet his cut lip with his tongue. He waited and wondered what would happen now. Would this be the day Santiago ended it all with a bullet through his brain? Something flickered in the General's eye and Pinocchio almost gave a sigh of disappointment. Not today then.

"Your friends are nothing if not predictable, Pinocchio."

He did not reply. A feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

"We both know they will come for you. Try to rescue you."

Santiago started to walk slowly around him. "The question is, will they be bringing their new friends with them." He paused as he completed a circle and came to stop in front of Pinocchio. He looked closely into his open eye. "Who are they? Where did they come from and who are they working for?"

"Like I'd tell you."

The General's voice was mild. More chilling than if he had shouted. "You will tell me, I guarantee it."

He looked at Waters. "Fetch the chair."

Waters' face actually paled. What the hell was he up to now?, Pinocchio thought. Santiago was smiling thinly at him, like a cat playing with a mouse. His moustache twitched slightly then the smile vanished. He noted the concern Pinocchio tried to hide, betraying his unease as Waters left the room. Two guards staying just inside the door in case the General needed them. He was looking at Pinocchio, savouring what he was about to put him through. Enjoying the fact that even in his darkest nightmares he would not be able to imagine the scenario that would soon unfold. By the time he finished with him, Pinocchio would tell him anything he wanted. A man like Pinocchio could resist and stand countless beatings and still tell him nothing. He was after all a soldier. It was time to be more subtle. More refined. Time to put away the club and use the scalpel.

When Waters returned Pinocchio was suprised to see him and another soldier carrying a heavy armchair. A white coated technician followed them into the room carrying a metalised case. He felt a shiver of apprehension run through him. He frowned at the chair. It was heavy with thick arms and legs and appeared to have thousands upon thousands of tiny holes pierced in it. The holes were not everywhere though but looked to be concentrated on the arms, back and front legs only. On the right and left sides a wheel, eight to ten inches in diameter, was fitted. It had a high back so that the head could be supported but to what end he had no idea. It chilled him imaginning what use Santiago might put it to. The wood looked like highly polished mahogany so it was no cheap construction even here in this virtual realm. The whole thing looked incongruous and out of place. It confused him. He looked for a plug but could not see one. Not an electric chair then, that was a relief.

He looked up to see Santiago watching him carefully. He frowned. Waters turned to leave but Santiago called him back. "Take a seat, Major. I want you to observe. Watch. Listen. Learn."

Waters tried to hide his unease and took a seat as far away from the centre of the room as he could. Santiago looked at the guard who had brought the chair in with Waters. "Untie him."

The soldier nodded and untied Pinocchio's hands then took up position behind the chair. Pinocchio rubbed his wrists to bring back the circulation. He looked at the chair behind him. "What's that for?"

Santiago smiled. "It isn't for you, it's for Hobbes."

A terrible chill ran down Pinocchio's spine. Santiago was watching his reaction closely. Enjoying it.

"What does it do?"

He knew he should not have asked. Wished the instant the words had left his mouth that he could somehow snatch them back but it was too late. The glitter in Santiago's eyes confirmed that his worst fear was about to be realised. He felt like the condemned man mounting the steps to the gallows and asking if the ax was sharp.

"Seeing as how you've asked, you will be the first to try it. A test run if you like. After all, we want everything to be perfect for Hobbes."

"I don't understand why you want to do this. Torturing us won't achieve anything except to make your nice clean carpet all bloody."

"You and Hobbes seem to be labouring under the misconception that you can win. You can't. Hobbes is a thorn in my side but that's all he is. I want you to know firsthand what will happen to those who continue to oppose my rule. In a way, you are the ideal candidate to try it out."

"You think killing me will stop Hobbes? Think again."

Santiago shook his head slowly. "I don't intend to kill you." He indicated for the soldier standing behind the chair to remove Pinocchio's jacket. He carried on talking while his victim glowered at the soldier. "This device can prolong the agony of torture for days, even weeks. There are many ways to die, but this is not about death. This is about refining the process to get what you want."

Pinocchio said nothing. He looked across the room at Waters. They were not friends but enemies, yet something in his eyes made Pinocchio's heart miss a beat. Something he never thought he would see. Pity. It looked odd on his face as if somewhere under that mean and twisted exterior hid the remnants of a human being. Not a particularly nice one, but human all the same. If what Santiago intended to do to him was just the warm up act, what did he have planned for Hobbes? And how the hell was he going to find a way to warn him?
 
* * * * *

Hobbes could not believe his eyes. He could not see how a pile of vegetables was going to save his friend. "I thought you had a plan?"

Crichton nodded. "This is a plan."

They were aboard the leviathan, Moya, and Crichton had tried explaining to Hobbes what he wanted to do. Predictably, Hobbes was not impressed. "Jeez Crichton, if I wanted to thow something at Santiago I would at least have picked rocks not vegetables."

Aeryn Sun grinned, appreciating the humour. They were in the hold passing the large round vegetables from Crichton to D'Argo to Aeryn then Chiana and stacking them carefully on a sled. Aeryn tried to explain. "You don't understand. These are tannot root."

Crichton nodded as he passed another to D'Argo. "We extract a substance from them called chakan oil."

Hobbes frowned. "What does that do?"

D'Argo's deep voice rumbled a monotonal reply. "It fuels our weapons."

Immediately Hobbes expression started to brighten. "You mean this is ammunition?"

Crichton nodded. "Oh yeah. Believe me when we're ready Santiago won't know what hit him!"

* * * * *

Omar Santiago looked at Pinocchio thoughtfully. They had removed his jacket and shirt so he now stood in his vest and pants. Behind him was the chair. An incredible and ingenious method of torture in its' own right. To Pinocchio's mind it looked like something that had come right out of the
private apartments of the Marquis de Sade.

"You're probably wondering what is so special about this piece of equipment. What it does. The Chinese had some very effective and imaginative methods of extracting information from people. One of which was to stake a man out on the ground where bamboo had been planted. Bamboo grows several inches a day. It is one of the fastest growing plants. The shoots are small narrow canes, incredibly sharp and strong. I am told the pain is quite excruciating as they slowly inch their way up through the flesh, piercing the vital organs and even growing up through bone. You can imagine the agony. In rare instances where the subject still would not talk they would be left staked out to die. You cannot imagine a more agonising and drawn out death."

Santiago paused, watching Pinocchio's reaction. He shrugged as if in apology. "We don't have bamboo so my people have come up with a modern alternative that I am sure you will appreciate."

Pinocchio tried unsuccessfully to mask the horror on his face. "You don't need to do this, Santiago."

He smiled disingenuously. "That is not why I am doing this." He paused a moment to let that sink in. "I could have killed you dozens of times, you know that don't you?"

"Then why didn't you? Why the endless charade, Santiago?"

"Because you're more useful to me alive."

"I'm touched. I didn't know you cared."

"Personally I don't but I know that wherever I find you I'll find Hobbes."

For a moment everything went quiet. Waters would not meet Pinocchio's eye. He glanced at the chair behind him and frowned. "What's the deal with the chair?"

Santiago smiled and gave a nod. Two of his men stepped forward and made Pinocchio sit in it, taking care to get him seated exactly as they wanted. That was when Pinocchio noticed the wierd armrests were sculpted so that the forearms, elbow and upper arms hugged the wood. It looked wierd but made a very tight fit. He frowned, it gave him the creeps. They strapped him in place with leather straps positioned so he could not slide his arms forwards or back. He was effectively locked in place. To his surprise they did not strap his legs in except to secure him with two ankle straps.

"I know that a mere show of brute strength will not break you. Neither will it break Hobbes. This is more 'subtle'." He paused. "More efficient."

Pinocchio did not like the way he said that. The technician now stepped alongside the chair and checked the restraints, making sure he was fitted into it properly. Then Santiago gave a nod and the technician adjusted something on the left side of the chair and started to slowly turn the metal
wheel. Santiago was now watching Pinocchio closely, like a hawk. At first nothing seemed to be happening then gradually he became aware of a sharp pricking sensation all along the underside of his left arm, left elbow and upper arm. It was like dozens and dozens of very sharp needles piercing his skin. They did so very slowly and at first it was uncomfortable but did not trouble him. However, the needles did not stop there. As the technician continued to turn the wheel, the needles probed slowly deeper and deeper, penetrating through soft tissue, muscle and now piercing bone. The pain was incredible, the reaction of his muscles was sheer agony. His left hand twitching and spasming as the pain radiated up and down his arm. He gritted his teeth but as the agony increased it brought tears to his eyes and he cried out.

Santiago did not bat an eyelid nor did he take his eyes off Pinocchio's face. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his mouth clammed shut. Tried not to give the General the satisfaction of seeing just how much it hurt him. God, if this was what it felt like just on his arm what the hell would it
feel like to have his whole body impaled in this horrendous and slow torture? Blood was now leaking down the left side of the chair but Pinocchio did not notice. He was trying to hang on for all he was worth. Then he felt the pinpricks start along the underside of his right arm. Oh God, no. He was not sure he could stand this. At some stage he must have passed out because when he came round he found himself lying face down on the cold floor of a prison cell. Someone had put his shirt and jacket back on. They had even done up the buttons. He had no feeling in his hands or arms. Nothing besides pain. His muscles seemed to have been reduced to a jelly. As he regained consciousness the agony returned. He felt sick and dizzy. He tried to roll onto his back but just brushing an arm against the floor was utter agony. New spasms of pain shot through his system and made him tremble with little painful aftershocks even as tried not to move in a fight to stay conscious.

Christ, thought Pinocchio, this went beyond torture. It was cruelty pure and simple. He had not even been asked any questions. Just then Santiago ordered him to be dragged to his feet. He cried out as they touched his arms to lift him and nearly passed out again. He was swaying badly, in danger of falling down again so the guards held him upright. Everything swam before his one good eye. He felt sick, sure he would throw up any minute. As his focus started to return he recognised Waters hovering behind Santiago like a good little lackey.

Santiago stepped closer so that Pinocchio could see him. "I'm letting you go now."

Pinocchio said nothing. Santiago raised an eyebrow. "Nothing to say?"

Still no response. Santiago leaned in closer. "I have a message for you to take back to Hobbes."

Somehow he managed to respond. "I don't know where he is."

"Doesn't matter. When you find him or he finds you tell him this is just a fraction of what I have in store for him."

"Leave him alone. You have me, do what you have to do but leave Hobbes alone."

The General tilted his head to one side, noting the agony on Pinocchio's battered face. Even beaten and bloodied he was still unbowed. "Why so protective? He left you behind to get captured while he escaped. What does that say about friendship, loyalty?"

Pinocchio was slurring now. "It shows he's smarter than I am."

Santiago's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "You'd really give your life to save his?"

He said nothing but yes, he would do it in a heartbeat. Santiago already knew that, he just wanted to hear Pinocchio say it. Predictably he stayed silent. After a few moments he stirred slightly. "Why are you telling me this, Santiago? What do you hope to achieve?"

"The application of terror."

He was not sure he had heard him correctly. Pinocchio tried hard to focus on Santiago's face. "You're doing this to me just to frighten Hobbes?"

Santiago smiled slowly. He looked incredibly smug. "You're not as stupid as you look, Pinocchio."

He still did not get it. "This won't stop Hobbes opposing you. If anything it'll make him more determined."

The General ignored his last comment and stepped aside. He looked at Waters. "Take him back to where you found him then set off the flares. We don't want Hobbes to miss him."

Pinocchio tried to shake his head. "He won't fall for anything that dumb."

"He will if he thinks you lit the flares. Even if he suspects a trap he wouldn't be able to ignore the flares without checking first."

"Let me guess," He said thickly, the words starting to blur into each other as his vision swam. "When he does you'll capture him." Pinocchio paused and managed to focus again but now his head was beating like a brass drum. "What happens if he doesn't fall for it?"

Santiago shrugged. "You die."

Pinocchio cried out as the guards manhandled him out of the door, the pain clearing his head as nothing else could. He realised that not being able to use his hands and having no strength in his arms Santiago was right. If no one came to help him he would starve to death. That was if he did not freeze first. Twinges of pain still shot up his arms relieving the heavy numbness that was all the feeling he had left. "You sick, twisted bastard Santiago."

Waters' struck him hard across the right ear, the blow making his head ring and causing him to stumble. His swollen eye started to bleed again and he almost passed out. They dragged him upright again then pushed him forward. Waters wanted to get this over with. The drive back out to the landing site was uneventful. The weapons fire was a lot less now, hardly any shells at all lit up the sky or the horizon. The occasional sounds of gunfire came from small arms fire and that was only sporadic. Half hearted. As if no one really had much stomach for fighting any more. Pinocchio could not blame them. When they got back to the site, Waters had Pinocchio dumped where they had picked him up. He lay on the ground, head swimming, everything hurting except his legs. Waters leaned over him just long enough to straighten him out and rest his back against a rock. Semi recumbent was the best he could do without Pinocchio simply rolling over on to his face. He wanted him upright enough for Hobbes to be able to spot him.

"Don't do this, Waters. Walk away. Leave me. Ditch the damn flares."

Waters fussed with his jacket, not wanting to catch his eye. "You'll die."

"That doesn't matter."

His hands stopped for a moment, the voice quiet. "You'd really do that for Hobbes?"

"He's my friend."

Waters hesitated. "I'm sorry, Mike. I have to do this. I have no choice."

He could hear the disgust in Pinocchio's voice. "Then you're no better than Santiago."

The Major turned away and nodded to his men then watched them light the flares. Satisfied that anyone in the vicinity could not possibly have missed them, Waters waved his men back and they hid from sight to await the arrival of Hobbes. Pinocchio leaned back on the rock and closed his eye, silently reviewing his deep shit life.

* * * * *

Meanwhile back on Moya Hobbes was watching D'Argo, Chiana and Crichton extract the chakan oil from the tannot roots. It was slow laborious work and he was getting impatient. Crichton tried to assure him that it would not take much longer but Hobbes had started pacing. "This is taking forever, Crichton!"

"Just be patient, Hobbes. It'll be worth the wait, I promise you."

Just then Aeryn called Crichton over his com. He wiped his hands on the back of his pants and nodded to D'Argo and Chiana to continue without him for a moment.

"Crichton, you'd better come up here. Something's happening!"

A look of alarm passed over Crichton's face. D'Argo and Chiana stopped what they were doing. Crichton was already breaking into a run. "I'm on my way!"

When they got to Aeryn they could see that she and Stark looked worried. "Something's happening down on the planet surface."

"Let me see."

Hobbes looked over Crichton's shoulder as Aeryn gave them visual. "Looks like flares," Said Hobbes.

Florence looked worried. Crichton was frowning. "Isn't that where we left Mike?"

Hobbes nodded. Anxious. Florence frowned hard at Hobbes, wishing he could read her mind. They did not have any flares. What could it mean? The same thought seemed to have occurred to Crichton. He looked at Hobbes, knowing the young man was straining to get back down there. "It could be a trap."

"Or it could be Pinocchio trying to find a way to tell us he's okay. We have to check it out."

Aeryn looked at him for a moment. She had a bad feeling but resisted the urge to tell him. The human was strung out enough already and as she knew from her experiences with Crichton, human's could be quite fragile emotionally at times. "Then we'd better be careful."

Hobbes, Florence, Crichton, Aeryn and Stark elected to go down to the surface in the pod. D'Argo and Chiana remaining on board Moya with Pilot, Zhaan and Rygel. Watching the pod descend, Rygel looked at Zhaan as if they were all mad. "I knew it was a mistake to allow more humans on board." Chiana tilted her white face and looked at him. "Is that why you made yourself scarce when they came aboard?"

Rygel did not dignify her question with an answer but grumbled nonetheless, wanting them to have no illusions about what he thought. "Having Crichton on board is bad enough. What happens if they find the other human? We'll be stuck with FOUR of them. Can you imagine that? FOUR like Crichton?" Rygel shuddered to emphasise his point.

Zhaan looked thoughtful. "I liked them. Especially the one called Florence."

"Ah," Said Rygel in a calmer tone, nodding. "The one who doesn't talk. Now there's a good evolutionary improvement in the species."

D'Argo looked across at him. "I can think of another species that would benefit from being born mute."

Before a quarrel could break out Pilot interrupted. "You'll be happy to know they've landed safely on the planet's surface."

"Come on," Said D'Argo mobilising them. "We have work to do!"

* * * * *

As soon as the pod was settled and the door opened, Hobbes and Florence jumped out. Crichton paused and looked at Aeryn. "Stay here. If it looks like a trap be ready to take off in a hurry. With or without us."

She nodded. Stark watched them walk away from the pod and hoped they would find Pinocchio quickly so they could take off again.

Hobbes led the way in the direction they had seen the flares. Florence felt keyed up, senses taut and on edge. Crichton looked around carefully. Pinocchio saw them first. He wanted to scream to them to keep away, to get the hell out of there, but knew Waters was watching. He could not see him but he could smell him. How the hell could he warn Hobbes without alerting Waters? He had to do something and do it fast. With an effort he forced himself to his feet. Using the pain as a focus he managed to stagger a few steps away to the right before Hobbes spotted him.

"Pinocchio!"

Pinocchio swore under his breath. He had hoped to get a little further away before Hobbes saw him, at least far enough to lead him away from where Waters and his men were hiding. He turned painfully, still walking to the right, hoping Hobbes would get the hint and move off to the right as well. "Get the hell out of here, Hobbes! It's a trap!"

Hobbes was running towards him. "Not without you!"

He was so damn frustrated he wanted to cry. Annoyed that Santiago's plan had worked, that Hobbes was so predictable, that he was so freeking helpless to do anything but yell and rage at him. Fortunately Florence was with him. Pinocchio used all his might to send her a warning. <Get Hobbes back, back to the pod! It's a trap, Florence>

He saw her head jerk up and then spotted Crichton. God, if Santiago got hold of Crichton's technology the whole freeking Realm would be doomed. For a moment Pinocchio hesitated. Trapped between two nightmare visions of hell. That was when he caught Florence's eye and the whole world seemed to disappear around him. There was only Florence. <Get Hobbes out of here!>

She shook her head. <I'm not leaving you>

<It's a freeking trap>

<I know>

That got his attention and got it good. <You mean...?>

Before he could make sense of what she was trying to tell him all hell broke loose. Waters and his men opened fire, something took off and swept above their heads, then the sky burst into a thousand balls of fire. Pinocchio landed heavily on his side, agony wracking his body where his useless arms had impacted with the hard unyielding earth. A tear of blood ran down the side of his face then Florence was with him. He closed his eye and sighed. If he died here in her arms he could ask for nothing more. She shook him and was alarmed to see him cry out, his agony ripping right through her mind and wringing out her heart. <What have they done to you?>

"It's my arms, Florence. I can't use them, the only thing I can feel is the pain."

He lay his head back wearily. She cradled his head in her lap and looked anxiously at him. "I'm so God-damn tired."

She frowned and put out a hand to heal him. He shook his head and for a split second they just stared at each other. <No time. Look after Hobbes>

<He's with Crichton>

He nodded. "Yeah, and he could use a babysitter too."

That brought a smile.

<This whole place is crawling with Waters and his men>

She nodded and pointed up. He looked baffled then followed the line of her finger and an amazed look stole over his face ending in a stunned smile. The wierdest looking thing had descended below the clouds and was dropping something that exploded in flames on impact with the ground. Waters and his men had broken cover and were being routed by Crichton, Hobbes and Aeryn Sun. He tried to sit up but could not make it so Florence lifted him carefully. He bit back the pain and wished he could ease the frown of concern from her face. Watching Waters run for all he was worth was a sight he would cherish for a long time. The man was in total panic. Several of his men digitising round him as he finally reached one of the humvees. He jumped in and raced off without waiting for any of his men leaving them to follow in the remaining vehicles if they could. Once Waters and his remaining men had been driven off the pod circled and landed nearby. Hobbes, Crichton and Aeryn Sun joined Florence and Pinocchio. Hobbes knelt beside his friend. Pinocchio was scowling at him.

"That had to be one of the dumbest things you've ever done, Hobbes!"

Hobbes grinned back at him. "You're welcome."

"You could have been freeking well killed." He noticed Crichton and Aeryn standing a couple of paces behind Hobbes. "You *all* could have been killed." He said to include them in the admonishment.

Crichton smiled. "Speaking of almost being killed..."

Aeryn nodded. "We should get out of here. Before your friends come back and bring their friends."

Pinocchio nodded. "Yeah."

He sounded so weary that Hobbes shot Florence an anxious look. She nodded and carefully Hobbes and Crichton carried Pinocchio over to the pod. Once the pod took off, Florence took a closer look at Pinocchio's wounds. She healed his eye and the cuts to his face first then tried to peel back his jacket and shirt but the sleeves were stuck to him where the blood had dried and just touching him caused him agony. Stark held out a hand to stop Florence. "Hold on, we have something that might help."

She frowned not understanding what Stark had said, but knowing he wanted to help. Pinocchio was hovering on the edge of consciousness now. She gently stroked his face to soothe him off to sleep. When Stark came back he had some of the gel with him that he had used on Pinocchio after he had got shot. He also had a bowl with warm water in it and a cloth. Florence frowned at him but when she saw him cut the sleeves all the way up to the shoulder then gently wash the dried blood off so he could peel back the blood encrusted cloth she nodded, approving of his solution. Crichton swore when Stark cleaned enough blood off that they could see all the needle holes in his arms. Hundreds of deep angry puncture wounds. Fresh blood was starting to ooze out of the wounds. Pinocchio was unconscious now. Florence laid her hands gently over his arm and Aeryn held her breath when she saw the light under her palm. She looked at Florence but Florence had eyes only for Pinocchio. Concern written all over her face but also something else.
Something Aeryn was beginning to recognise from her time spent with Crichton. Affection. Caring. Florence cared. Aeryn looked at Crichton and understood. When she looked back she was amazed to see that Pinocchio's left arm was almost healed. Florence was now working on the upper arm. A few minutes later she had healed his right arm too and he was sleeping comfortably, still cradled gently in her arms. Crichton smiled at Hobbes, inordinately pleased with the outcome.

Hobbes was bursting with questions. "What happened?"

Crichton grinned. "What do you mean?"

"You know. The explosions."

He laughed now. It was a clean, wholesome good-natured sound. Hobbes liked it. "I told you about the chakan oil."

Hobbes nodded.

"Well, while we were making our way down to the planet surface in the pod D'Argo, Chiana and Zhaan finished making the oil and devising a few exploding 'bombs' of their own. To sort of even up the odds."

Hobbes smiled, eyes bright and sparkling. "I'm impressed! I apologise for what I said before."

Crichton shrugged then looked at Florence. He loved the look on her face, a look that was totally unaware that she was under any kind of scrutiny. It was such an open, loving look. He watched her gazing down on Pinocchio sleeping in her arms as she gently stroked his face. Crichton looked up to find Aeryn's eyes on him. Impossibly she gave him a little fleeting smile. He felt his heart lift then the look was gone and Aeryn's expression had closed up again. Had he imagined it? He liked to think not.

* * * * *

Santiago was furious. Not only had Waters lost Pinocchio, he had failed to capture Hobbes and failed to lay hands on any of the advanced technology. He ranted and raved at him like a man insane then demanded the chair be brought in only his men could not comply with the order. The chair it seemed had met with an unfortunate accident which had completely destroyed it. As it was
the only one in existence the likelihood of Santiago getting his hands on another was slim. Incandescent with rage, Santiago stormed off to find out what was going on. Once he had left, Waters allowed himself to breath out and a tiny smile played across his lips. With everything else that had happened over the last couple of weeks the chair would soon be forgotten. He remembered when Santiago had first got it. He had insisted on trying it out, ostensibly to make sure it did in fact work. Waters had very clear and very painful memories of that little demonstration. No. He would not miss that piece of equipment. The secretive smile became a grin.

* * * * *

No one liked the idea of splitting up but it was time for them to go their seperate ways. Crichton had managed to get them to stay aboard Moya for a few more days, just so that he could spend some time getting to know them a little better and give them all a break from the unremitting slog of Harsh Realm. Zhaan got her wish and took Florence off to her quarters. Even though they could not speak to each other, Florence had a way about her that was totally compatible with the Delvian's philosophy and lifestyle. Hobbes and Crichton could not stop talking, much to the amusement of everybody. Prising those two apart was going to take major surgery. Aeryn though was more amused by Rygel's reaction. Seeing the Hynerian getting in a panic at the thought of the humans perhaps becoming permanent additions to the crew was enough to amuse the former PeaceKeeper for arns.

Pinocchio spent a few arns with D'Argo and Aeryn then wanted to go and talk to Stark. The Sebacean was happy and touched to see him. Stark took him to his quarters so they could have a little privacy.

"Have you thought about what I said?"

"I'm alright, Stark, honest."

"I can still help you. I'd like to help."

He received a rare smile as a reward. "You've already helped me more than you could know. I wanted to thank you."

Stark shook his head. "Not necessary."

They sat comfortably and Pinocchio asked him about his homeworld. Gently Stark told him about his family, about life on his home planet. A peaceful existence that he had not truly appreciated until it had been taken so cruelly away from him. Seeing him upset, made Pinocchio sorry but Stark would not let him apologise.

"It's alright."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

Stark looked for a long minute into those vivid blue eyes, remembering glimpses of Pinocchio's past. The things that had hurt and warped him. Chains that bound him even now. "Let me help." He whispered so gently that the words seemed barely audible. Yet Pinocchio heard them clearly. He started to shake his head when Stark touched his face and watched the soldier freeze.

"I can help, Michael. I can give you peace."

Pinocchio fought to keep the emotion out of his voice. "The only peace I'll get is in death."

Stark slowly shook his head. "No. You have carried so much hurt inside you, it is time to let it go."

"I don't know if I can do that."

He nodded and sat closer to him. "Let me show you."

"What do I do?"

Stark smiled. "Open up to me." He then removed his mask and a healing, loving light flowed and enveloped him. Visions too beautiful for words, images so vibrant they carried him to other places, emotions so pure it brought tears to his eyes. And the music. It touched and moved his soul on a
thousand levels of awareness. He did not know how long they sat there but it was the most incredible and peaceful experience of his life. As the light faded, Stark replaced his mask and looked at him. Waiting for Pinocchio to find his voice. Knowing how moving the experience could be.

"That was incredible." He said softly. "What was it, Stark?"

He leaned forward and gently brushed the tears from Pinocchio's face. He was too stunned to notice. "The only gift I have to give."

Pinocchio shook his head gently. "I don't believe that."

"The effect will last a few weeks, perhaps a couple of months, but it will gradually fade."

"I won't forget it. Ever." He paused. "And I won't forget you."

A big gentle smile blossomed slowly over Stark's face. <You don't know how happy that makes me feel, Michael>

<Will you be coming this way again?>

Stark shook his head. <This was an aberration, Michael>

Pinocchio nodded. <A lucky one for us>

They looked at each for a while in silence, communing on a level beyond words. Sharing the peace and the silence. It was enough and more. At last the time came to part and Pinocchio got up and gave Stark a hug. A rare show of emotion but one he would not have given in front of the others. He was not even sure he could explain this connection he felt. The only one he felt would understand was Florence. Somehow Stark had made him feel complete. As if something that was missing had been returned to him, making him whole. "Take care, Stark."

He nodded. <You too, my friend>

They rejoined the others and Pinocchio was amused to see that Florence was wearing a beautiful blue gossamer scarf. Strangely enough it did not look out of place with her battle fatigues. He grinned at Florence. <It's nice. I like it> She started to glare back then saw that he meant it. A smile flashed on her face, white teeth glimpsed briefly before the smile was hidden under lock and key. She glanced at Stark. <Thank you>

His eyes widened gently. <What for?>

<You know>

He smiled back.

Hobbes and Crichton made noisy farewells and everyone seemed to have someone they did not want to leave behind but at last it could not be put off any longer. Just before they were about to leave in the pod, Pilot politely interrupted them to tell them a ship had been detected. It was Crais.

Pinocchio frowned. "Do you want us to hang around, help with anything?"

Crichton shook his head but he had lost some colour out of his face. "No. Thanks. Pilot, is Moya ready to starburst?"

Pilot nodded on the screen. "Yes, Crichton."

He nodded then looked back at the others. "You'd better go now. As soon as you're back on the ground we can starburst and get out of here before Crais arrives."

They agreed and made their final farewells. Aeryn took the pod down and dropped them off on the planet surface, removing the translation microbes from Hobbes before returning to Moya. Crichton looked at Aeryn as she rejoined him ready to go to starburst.

"You know," Said Crichton softly, a wistful look in his eyes. "I'm gonna miss them."

Aeryn gave him a little smile as they went to starburst. "I didn't think I'd say this Crichton but so am I."

He looked at her and smiled as he put an arm around her. She leaned in to him and allowed a rare moment of closeness to bind them. Enjoying the moment for what it was. A moment of affection. Of caring. He kissed her forehead and held her close. For the moment, it was the only place in any universe that Aeryn wanted to be.
 

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