SUMMARY: "Crais and Crichton have more trouble on their hands with solutions thinner on the ground than hen's teeth

SUMMARY: "Crais and Crichton have more trouble on their hands with solutions thinner on the ground than hen's teeth."

Rated: 'R'.

The SEQUEL to "PURSUIT".

The usual disclaimers apply. No infringement of copyright is intended.

Comments to: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

"ESCAPE"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

* * * * *

Scorpius was furious. "How could you lose them?"

"The ship starburst."

He gritted his teeth in his death's head mask and the Captain quailed inside but did not dare show any sign of weakness. "I can see that, I am not blind. You were too close, the leviathan must have detected us."

She was about to correct him then thought better of it. Angering Scorpius by accident was dangerous enough. Angering him on purpose was suicide. The half-Scarran's eyes narrowed with a promise of death. "You will find the leviathan. I want that ship but I want what is aboard it even more. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

* * * * *

He was in so much pain. His whole world was a wasteland of searing agony. Everything hurt him. On every level it was possible to feel, to sense, he burned. Flames licked his heart, melting the muscle walls and disolving flesh. His eyes burst, the fluid evaporating with the intensity of the heat that consumed him. How the frell could he still be conscious let alone draw breath? Did he even have lungs any more? At the thought he felt his breath solidify into walls that would not move, the bellows set in concrete preventing the lungs from inflating just microts before they charred into ashes and floated through the space where his chest cavity had been. He was disassociated, mind reeling on chaotic trajectories as it was bounced from thought to thought with nothing to guide it or provide any frame of reference. His body gone how could he feel such agony? Where did all these sensations come from or was this hell? Hezmana?

He fancied he felt something. A deep dark vibration that was oddly soothing but completely out of his reach. Or was it? Why did it feel familiar? The rumble repeated, varying in length and intensity. It seemed to take arns before he realised that the sensation was rising and falling like waves, then more arns passed before the air around him started to take on physical form again. It was as if he was remaking his universe from imperfect memories, the thoughts jumbled and out of sequence but blessedly real. If you could have an illusion this good, what price reality? Then everything started to fragment, the vibration breaking off into bite size pieces that made no sense. His mind became a mirror that could not see, only reflect. Tears like icy opals turned irridescent as they fell into darkness. He wanted to follow them into oblivion. To unmake himself and slide into the painless void that beckoned. Or did it lie? He no longer knew a damn thing any more. It was all crap. The ravings of the worst lunatic in the whole asylum. Why the hell should anyone listen? He should show some backbone and take his death like a man.

The image shimmered and danced. His thoughts a gossamer thread so fine that a single breath could break it. <Who are you?>

<Crais>

<Crais? I'm dead, right?>

He felt something, not sure what it was but it helped him to focus. Just a little. <No John, you are not dead>

<Oh>

Crais was having trouble keeping the connection. They had come so close to losing Crichton completely. The moment they found the chip, a whole host of evil failsafes activated and his body had started to shut down. It was so quick, each area of his body going out like someone dousing the lights before leaving. House in darkness. Nobody home. Christ, he hurt. Even thinking was torture but life was a sick little puppy. Clung to every last vestige of existence with a passion disproportionate to the value of that life. Now he was being told he was not dead after all. Crichton tried to work out how he felt about that but it was too difficult. He could feel himself slipping again.

<No! Hold on, please. Listen to my voice, John. Listen>

He paused in mid-stream. Could hear something, like a siren's call but less distinct. Remembered caresses touched off a desire for home. He could smell trees and the warm scent of flowers wafting on a summer's breeze. Light lifted the shadows that smote his spirit with darkness. Shadows turned tail and fled as he painfully opened eyes that streamed with tears just to
see the light. He sensed strong emotions and mentally recoiled. Crais touched him so gently it was more a hint of a touch. One hand cradled his tear stained cheek to ensure their connection would not be broken while the other hovered over him as if it wanted to help but did not know how. Only the hand on his cheek gave him any kind of reference. It was tenuous and
could be a lie but if it was, it was his lie. Memories started to leak back to him and at first he was not even sure they were his. Who was John Crichton any way?

<John. Can you hear me?>

Shapes warped and swayed before him. He was confused. <I can *see*? How come I can see?>

He felt what could have been a smile touching his torn thoughts. <No. What you *see* is formed in your mind's eye by your connection with Talyn and I. We feed your mind with what is around you to give you a sense of presence, so you can relate to us and follow what is going on. We give you the illusion of sight but we can only do so while there is a physical connection joining us. When we three are one>

<A neat trick if you can pull it off> He thought with more than a touch of awe. <Why can't I see with my own eyes? Did my eyes melt in the fire?>

Crais was confused. He gently stroked Crichton's cheek, careful not to lift his fingers away from his face for even a microt lest he lose the connection. It had taken arns to get back to this point and this had been a backward step. To lose even more ground was not an option. He could lose Crichton completely and he was not willing to give him up. Not now. <No,
your eyes are intact, John. They just will not function>

<Why?>

A strange emotion crept into Crichton's thoughts. An intruder Crais could not quite identify. It could have been dread. <Are you saying I'm blind?>

<Yes>

Crichton fell silent. Stunned. Amazed that he was not more upset, just in mild shock. <What the hell has been happening, Crais?>

<Oh?>

<No. We are being pursued by Scorpius. Talyn tried to lose him by going to starburst. Even if we did manage to shake him off we cannot afford to underestimate him>

A pause. <You>

Surprise. <Me?>

<Yes>

<Why?>

To Crais's consternation, Crichton started to laugh. Quietly at first, then a deep lusty laugh which wracked his body and swamped him in agony. For a moment the joke was so good it blocked out the pain. <Merry Christmas, Scorpy! Every good boy deserves favour, so how much more do we give a bad dude?>

Crais could not understand a single word. Crichton picked up his confusion and smiled through his pain. That single act made Crais's heart ache. "Sorry, Crais, I was forgetting. 'Every Good Boy Deserves Favour'. It's a Moody Blues album."

<Album?>

Crichton followed his lead and dropped back into conversing by thought. It was easier, more automatic while linked to Crais and Talyn and did not tire him so much. <Yeah. Album. Record. You know, music>

He was silent, mulling over Crichton's words before pushing them to the back of his mind. <We have to get you back to Moya>

Moya. Thinking of the leviathan actually made him feel homesick. Homesick. That was a joke. He was not even in the same universe any more. Yet Moya was home. In every way that mattered.

* * * * *

It was hard at first to tell what was wrong. The leviathan pitched and rolled slowly before turning from the course Zhaan had set. D'Argo woke out of his sleep cycle. Rygel was in the canteen. He stopped eating and watched his plate of crackers slide across the table. "What the yotz is going on? Zhaan, what is happening?"

In command Zhaan was asking Pilot the same question.

"Moya thinks she knows where Talyn is." Said Pilot slowly, four arms operating independently of each other as he multitasked. His eyes raised from Moya's control systems to look at Zhaan. "She is altering course."

Zhaan smiled. "That's good, Pilot. How long does Moya anticipate it will take her to reach Talyn?"

"Six arns if he keeps to his present course."

"Can we get a message to Crais?"

"Moya has been trying to contact Talyn but is getting no response. Moya is worried."

"We share Moya's concern Pilot. We will try again when we are closer."

Aeryn arrived in command. It was obvious to Zhaan that while the others had slept Aeryn had not. Her eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep. "Zhaan, why is Moya changing course?"

Zhaan smiled. Happy for once to have some good news. "Moya has detected Talyn and has changed course to join him."

A look of surprise then relief crossed her face. "What did Crais have to say? How is John?"

The Delvian priestess shook her head. "We don't know, I was not able to get a response from him but we will keep trying."

Aeryn nodded. "How far away is Talyn?"

"About six arns."

Chiana, Rygel, D'Argo and Jothee now joined them. Rygel powered his thronesled ahead of the others. Impatient for answers. "What the yotz is going on?"

He was so grumpy that a large smile broke out on Aeryn's face. "Moya has found Talyn."

Rygel just looked at her, mouth open. Areyn enjoyed the brief stunned expression on the Hynerian Dominar's face. D'Argo looked so relieved that Aeryn wanted to hug him. She did however manage to resist the urge with commendable ease.

"At last!" Said D'Argo. "Some *good* news."

Jothee said nothing. He glanced at Chiana but she gave him a blank look, her thoughts not on Moya at all. She was thinking of Crichton. Hoping he was alright. Jothee looked at his father's hope-filled face, the look mirrored on the faces of the others and admitted to some private bafflement. All this fuss over a mere human. It was not as if the human was even sane. He held his tongue. Knowing that his father considered Crichton his closest friend, was in his debt for bringing him back safe and alive. Safe. That was a joke. But as cynical and unimpressed as he felt something vague stirred in his hearts at their reaction to the news. He would be glad if they could recover their friend for their sakes. He just was not sure it would do any of them any good. Chiana spotted the strange look on his face, tilted her head at him in a question. Jothee cleared his face of all expression and watched her frown slightly. Then Pilot's voice commanded all their attention.

"Moya is receiving a message from Talyn. It is Crais."

Aeryn nodded, a look of satisfaction settling on her face. "Put it through, Pilot."

Crais's voice floated across the airwaves to them. "Talyn has picked up Moya's transmissions and we have altered our course."

"We are glad to hear from you. When you disappeared we were worried."

"Yes, yes I'm sorry about that but it was necessary."

D'Argo frowned. "Necessary? How?"

"Allow me to explain when we meet. We are tired."

A stab of fear touched Aeryn's heart. "Where is Crichton?"

A familiar voice spoke. "Hey, Aeryn, it's okay. We just had a little *problem*."

Aeryn broke out into a happy grin. D'Argo and Chiana shouted for joy. Even Rygel was beaming like someone's favourite grandfather. Zhaan smiled serenely. "It is good to hear your voice, John."

"Yeah well it's good to hear you too, Zhaan."

Zhaan tilted her head. "Is there some reason why we cannot see you, John?"

Crais's voice floated back at them. "We will explain shortly, Zhaan."

D'Argo looked alarmed. "Were you attacked?"

"No, no, not exactly." Said Crichton.

"What do you mean, *not exactly*?" Aeryn asked, suddenly suspicious.

They all heard Crichton sigh. "Just.....just cut us a little slack here, Aeryn. Okay?"

She heard the weariness in his voice and relented. "You are unharmed?"

He paused. "I'm okay, Aeryn. See you all soon."

The connection severed and they all exchanged stunned but happy glances. For a moment too overcome with joy to move. Jothee looked at them and wondered why they had not been more suspicous. Not detected the false tone. Was he the only one who realised something was not what it seemed?

* * * * *

Scorpius listened to the update with satisfaction. When she had finished he favoured the Captain with a pleased smile. "You have done well. Make sure the carrier stays beyond detection range."

She nodded and watched him leave command. Scorpius went into the landing bay where the two Nebari technicians were putting the finishing touches to their latest creation. As he approached, Zarok the elder paused and bowed. His long flowing robe brushing the ground in a silent curtain. His face was placid, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes glittered darkly like a still but stagnant pool, not even reflecting the light that fell upon it. Scorpius walked around the collar, his expert eye taking in more than it appeared. "You are sure this will work?"

Zarok gave a slow graceful nod. His companion Orla stood patiently and said nothing as befitted her station. "It has been designed to your exact specifications, Commander."

Scorpius looked around it then looked at Zarok, head tilted on one side as if by listening carefully he could count the microdenches between any lies. "I need to know it will do exactly what I wish it to do."

Zarok nodded serenely. "It will."

"You know the price of failure."

"It will not fail, Commander."

Scorpius ran a calculating hand over the gleaming surface of the collar. It really was an exquisite piece of bio-engineering. "What is it's range?"

"Two hundred and fifty-five decca."

The half-Scarran nodded. Impressive if true. "How will it find the leviathan?"

A small smug smile tugged one side of Zarok's mouth. This after all was his area of expertise. "We will input the Sakman of the leviathan along with its' energy signature." He shrugged casually as if these were basic things that should not need explaining, but he was also aware that Scorpius would not tolerate too much of a superior attitude in this respect. Well earned though it might be. "The collar is ready to be deployed when you wish, Commander."

This time when Zarok bowed so did his aide, Orla. Scorpius felt pleased, a spike of excitement stirring the chill in his breast for the first time in cycles. Anticipating the thrill of the chase, the capture of the prize.

* * * * *