TITLE: "UNHOLY ALLIANCE"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/D'ARGO

RATING: NC-17. M/M. *SLASH*

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "PARTING GIFTS"

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

"UNHOLY ALLIANCE"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

Crichton could not bear to look at him, knowing that Scorpius was gloating as he was strapped back into the Aurora Chair. He tried to hide his fear but knew he was fooling no one. The half-Scarran waved his men away and walked slowly around him. When they were alone he paused behind the chair and leaned close to Crichton's ear. "How do you feel, John? Happy? Relaxed?"

"Just get on with it, Scorpy. I didn't come here for my health."

Scorpius smiled and carried on walking until he was facing him, his eyes fixed on Crichton's face, wanting to see his reaction. To miss nothing. "Did you like your gift?"

Crichton frowned. Puzzled. "Gift?"

"The Luxan. Did he please you?"

Blind fury soared through his veins. If he had not been securely strapped into the frelling chair he would have ripped the vile half-breed's mask off his face and shoved it down his throat with his boot on the end of it. "You did that? You sick twisted bastard!"

The smile slowly grew into a pleased grin, savouring the human's outrage like some especially exquisite dish. He listened to the diatribe of insults peter out, leaving nothing but pure hatred glaring back from the human's eyes. He could see how much the realisation hurt Crichton, his
impotence ringing through him like a bell. Unable to stop the reverberations rocking him even as he fell into a morose silence. Scorpius watched his face intently, waiting for the inevitable questions. The need to know. He could afford to wait, to indulge him. After all, few beings had proved as eminently entertaining and enduring as this human. The pathetic creature was
constantly surprising him. He liked that.

"How...h...how did you do that?"

The voice was still thick with anger but quieter now, contained. The fury cold and hard as granite. The white heat of unfettered rage had been reined in the better to hone the focus for a time when he could use it to better advantage. Scorpius approved the change in tactic. "Your mind, John, is such a..." He paused a fraction of a microt as if searching for the correct word. "..fertile place."

Crichton's heart sank. What the frell had he done now? "The chip was removed, Scorpy. Remember?"

"Yes. Yes, it was, wasn't it?"

Something about the way Scorpius said that sent icy chills up his spine. He was playing with him again. Cat and mouse.

"Cut the crap Scorpy, just tell me okay?"

Scorpius stopped grinning, his look considering, thoughtful even. He tilted his head to one side as he watched his prey. "Did you really think that once the chip was removed I would not keep an eye on you? Monitor your whereabouts?"

"My thoughts?" Added Crichton softly.

Satisfaction blossomed on the half-Scarran's face. "You are not nearly as simple as you appear."

"Okay so there's another chip inside my brain but how did you get to D'Argo? That *has* to be a first."

"I did not put a second neural chip in your brain, John." Said the half-Scarran softly. His words slow, measured, almost as if talking to a dear but confused friend. One who had to be handled gently to prevent breakages. Crichton frowned as the words sank in. What the frell was he
talking about?

"Quit with the games, Scorpy, you don't need them any more. I'm here."

"It is no game, John, I assure you. At least, not in the way you think it is." He paused. "The last time I had the Luxan in my power I was impressed by his strength and rage. Very intense. And to easy to provoke."

Crichton was shocked, his mind scanning backwards, trying to slot all the pieces into place. "You...*you* did this to....D'Argo?"

Scorpius smiled slightly. "His *potential* interested me."

Outrage threatened to ride roughshod over Crichton's ability to reason. "*Interested* you? What kind of sick son of a bitch are you? He frelling *raped* me!"

Scorpius dropped his genial pose and leaned close to him, his voice descending to a deep malevolent echo of pure evil. His sneer so close to the human's face he could smell the rotting stench of his breath before he spoke. "My mother was a Sebacean, human. A Sebacean! *Raped* by the Scarrans - producing me!"

He recognised the voice now, the Scarran half of Scorpius. The half he most often tended to overlook. To his cost.

"How does it *feel*?"

As Scorpius said the last word he switched on the chair, sliding the control up to its' highest setting, cutting through Crichton's memories like a hot knife through butter. He did not stop, fed on his victim's screams, urged on by memories nothing could erase. He did not ease up until he
scrolled to the memory he wanted, the one where D'Argo had first raped him. He slowed the images down and made the human relive them one by one, his screams and sorrow bouncing off the walls as tears ran down his cheeks and phlem flew from his mouth. Trembling, shaking, jerking, pain his only companion. Crichton wept and in his heart he raged. Impossible dreams did not live long enough to emerge whole but were fragmented and torn to subatomic dust the instant he tried to form them. Not even the outline of a plan would take root, for there was no soil for it to grow in. Everything he had, all that he cherished, was being torn from him. His soul ripped from him, his spirit rent assunder in a hideous torment that went on and on. He felt again every touch of the Luxan's hand, his tongue, his fingers, his long hard shaft impaling him. Rammed into his navel drawing blood and creating an entrance to his stomach so the Luxan could fill him with his and Chiana's fertilised seed. It sickened and apalled him. The lips now kissing him, proferring love and affection. A sick parody that broke his heart. The images speeded up to the next encounter when D'Argo had him trapped in Moya's ducts. Trying to fix a problem and finding himself with something far more serious to contend with. The free flowing secretions frelling with his mind while the Luxan stripped then raped him. Over and over the images played and he relived them all.

He was pleading now, begging Scorpius to have mercy, to stop. But his words were incoherent, his throat bubbling with fluid flung in an uneven erratic spray as the chair shook him so hard he almost lost his fillings. The images slowed to the present. Focus now moved to his parting from
D'Argo, the costly misunderstanding of that last kiss. The shock of having it all happen again and himself falling for it. Never would it have occurred to him that Scorpius had engineered that. His heart almost misgave him, his eyes now crying blood. His body wrecked, his spirit broken. He did not care what he did to him now. It did not matter. Nothing did. Fuck Scorpius. Fuck D'Argo.

Unaware that the chair had been switched off he just drifted off into a pain filled oblivion. Scorpius looked at him for a long time. Watched the tortured gentle face, expressive even when unconscious. A look that might have been regret stole like a thief across the half-breed's face. He reached out and touched the tears, disturbed that some were red. He stroked the stained cheek, strangely drawn to this man's pain, his agony. Almost as if he envied him the ability to feel sorrow and loss. Yet even in his extremis, part of Crichton cried for D'Argo. Knowing they were both victims. Finding it impossible to imagine how the Luxan could cope with what he had
done still less understand why he had done it. He wished he could speak to him. Explain. Wished he could kill Scorpius and wipe out everything the abomination had put them all through. But dreams were for children. Not for him. Dreams were the places where other people played in their sleep. For him there were no more dreams, only nightmares...

* * * * *

D'Argo felt more than uncomfortable. He felt deeply disturbed. While he had been with Crichton he had been unable to control his passion for the human. It both excited and frightened him. As if he was changing into someone he no longer recognised. Guilt framed the passing arns since his friend had left. Guilt kept his mouth closed when worry began to eat away at him. He checked Moya's controls, had Pilot extend her senses, but they could find no sign of Crichton. No transmission from his module. It was as if he had simply disappeared into thin air. But that was impossible, wasn't it? D'Argo frowned, his concern deepening and overcoming his reluctance to admit any part in what had happened. Suppose Crichton had not simply gone for a *spin* in his module? What if he had been trying to escape? From him? The thought terrified D'Argo. Shoved daggers through his selfish hearts, made him tremble with reaction at the possibility that he may have lost the human forever. All because he could not keep his hands off him. What in hezmana was he thinking?

He stood staring at the controls, not seeing them. Not aware of anything but the darkness of his own thoughts. It was a shock when Rygel spoke to him, shattering the dark path he was walking. He had not heard the Hynerian enter command.

"Did you hear what I said, Luxan? What the yotz is the matter with you now?"

His head jerked up, anger flaring in his eyes. "What do you want, Rygel? The mess hall is the other way."

"Very funny, I was looking for John."

His hearts stopped. "John?"

"Yes," Said Rygel sarcastically. "The human. You can't miss him, he's a head shorter than you, pasty white skin, always talking."

D'Argo made a face. "That's not even funny."

"Have you seen him?"

His eyes narrowed. Suspicious. "What do you want with him?"

"That's none of your business. Just tell me where he is and I'll leave you alone to sulk."

"I am *not* sulking."

Just then Zhaan appeared. She looked well rested and serene. She smiled when she saw D'Argo. He gave her a wary nod back. Rygel was getting even grumpier, more impatient with the Luxan. "As I was saying, have you seen him?"

"Seen who?" Asked Zhaan innocently.

Inwardly D'Argo groaned. Knew he would have to tell them sooner or later.

"John," Said Rygel. "I wanted to talk to him and for once I can't seem to find him anywhere."

D'Argo took a breath and told them. "He wanted to take the module out for a while. Said he needed to feel space beneath his feet and stars all around him."

Zhaan frowned, concern shattering her calm. "How long ago was that, D'Argo?"

"I do not know, Zhaan."

Rygel was watching him closely. "You're lying, Luxan. What are you hiding?"

Anger errupted. "I am not hiding anything! Ask Pilot. John wanted to take the module out and made me promise not to wake anybody. He said he would be right back."

Zhaan felt even more troubled. "Pilot?"

"Yes, Zhaan."

"When did John leave Moya in his module?"

There was a slight pause. "Four arns ago."

Rygel's mouth dropped open in surprise. Four arns!

"Pilot, does Moya have John on her sensors?"

"No, Zhaan."

Alarmed looks from both Rygel and the Delvian homed in on D'Argo. "What have you done with him, D'Argo?" Said Rygel darkly.

Zhaan put a hand on Rygel's thronesled. "Rygel, D'Argo has not done anything. Moya and Pilot confirm John took the Farscape module out. You can hardly blame D'Argo for that."

But the Hynerian's expression said only too clearly that he did not believe Zhaan. He could tell the Luxan was hiding something. Could smell the reek of guilt on him and was furious he had not acted earlier. "Where did he go, D'Argo?"

"How the frell should I know?"

Just then a voice they all recognised floated to them over the com. It was Aeryn. "Has anyone seen John? I can't find him anywhere and his module is missing...."

Three pairs of eyes looked at each other. Each reluctant to be the one to tell her.

* * * * *

Chiana finished feeding the baby, his blue eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that made her reluctant to look away. She tilted her head and smiled at him, such love overflowing from her heart that the baby smiled in response, loving her back as naturally as breathing. He was so
beautiful. So perfect.

"Do you know how much I love you, Rion? How precious you are?"

The baby gurgled at her but his intense blue eyes were strangely serious. That was absurd of course. He was just a baby. She saw a look of distress float across the blue expanse of his eyes and her heart lurched. She lifted him out of his cradle and hugged him to her breast, suddenly upset for him and not knowing why. She rocked him as the baby cried. Hushing him and getting more distressed as the baby's cries rose in a sorrowful wail that hurt her more than any physical blow. She did not know what was wrong, how to calm him down. She kissed his cheek, cradled and rocked him, but nothing worked. His little face was creased in sorrow, distressed, as if he was in great pain. Was he ill? Had he picked up some virus? Chiana knew little about babies. She had a sudden thought. Zhaan. The Delvian priestess was hundreds of cycles old. She would know what to do. Quickly she picked up a wrap and put it round the baby to keep him warm.

"Pilot?"

"Yes, Chiana?"

"Where's Zhaan?"

"Zhaan is in command."

She thanked him and hurried out, the baby's cries muted but no less heart rending. By the time she got to command, everybody was there except Crichton. Chiana did not notice, her whole concentration on the baby. Aeryn looked concerned, frowned down at the tiny child. Zhaan carefully checked him over. "There is nothing physically wrong with him, Chiana."

Chiana was frustrated, anxious, eyes flicking everywhere. D'Argo went to pick his son up but the wails got louder. He hesitated. Zhaan picked the child up instead. "It may be something no more serious that a stomach pain, D'Argo."

"Why would his stomach hurt?"

Chiana thought about that. "I just fed him. Maybe the milk went down the wrong way?"

"It's possible," Soothed Zhaan though she did not think that was the answer.

Aeryn looked at the baby, wanted to touch him but forebore. Chiana was distressed enough without her saying what she was thinking. She raised her eyes and caught Zhaan looking at her. She had the strangest feeling that Zhaan was thinking the same thing she was. The baby was very sensitive. Especially where Crichton was concerned. And Crichton was missing.

* * * * *

He lay crumpled in a corner of the cold cell. Oblivious to the passing arns, his body wracked with painful reaction. He trembled and shuddered almost uncontrollably. His mouth dribbled and stained the concrete. No words passed his lips. He did not wake. Something odd stirred in
the far corner. Where the shadows were darkest. It looked at first like some kind of bug. Like a cockroach but rounder. It moved by stealth, only the tiny echo of minute servo motors giving away the fact that it was a biomechanoid construct. It was no more than half a hand's width and about a hand long. The rounded casing was dark, almost black. It had no lightstalks but a single central light set in the front of its' casing. The light had a swivel joint and cast a very distinct beam of light in whatever direction it chose to look. Right now the bug was looking at Crichton.

When the human did not wake the bug rolled closer. Carefully it did a slow circle of the heaped up body, tiny little muted sounds like paper rustling on a fire emitted in an odd array of clicking anxiety that mimicked emotion. Had Crichton been awake he would have been surprised then
fascinated. Full of questions about what it was and where it had come from but Crichton was not awake. And from the bug's point of view it was hard to tell if he would ever regain consciousness.

* * * * *

It was always dark in space. The soft whisper of Talyn's glide through the Uncharted Territories was strangely intoxicating. Crais smiled, enjoyed the freedom of being able to come and go as he pleased. The bonding with Talyn bringing out a side of him never formerly explored. If he had a son, he would wish he were like the young leviathan. The gunship had many amazing qualities. Talents he did not as yet appreciate as such. Crais took his time teaching him, wanting him to get it right first time though even leviathans made mistakes. He wanted this to be perfect, no cobbled together alliance of biomechanoid and organic lifeforms but a truly unique bonding. He could tell that Talyn felt the same way and the knowledge made his heart sing. For the first time in his austere life he felt real joy. Real accomplishment. An achievement that was all his own. His and Talyn's. The idea of never having to bend his neck to another man's command was exhilerating. It was also at times, incredibly lonely. Though he would never admit as much to anyone. Not even Talyn.

They had emerged from starburst several arns ago. Crais meticulously entering the details of their passage into Talyn's memory bank. You never knew when such information would be needed in the future. He was not a man who liked to operate on guesswork. Most plans failed not because they were bad plans but because someone had failed to do their homework properly. Sloppiness was something he would not tolerate, either in others or himself. The rigid framework he gave to Talyn was identitcal to the one carved out for himself. It was part of the reason they worked so well together. Now that harmony was piqued by a strange transmission. Something on a very low frequency only picked up because Crais was scanning for as much information as he could find on this new section of the Uncharted Territories. Had he simply been passing through this section he would never have found it. Whatever *it* was.

"Talyn. Increase magnification and see if you can make sense of the signal. What it is and where is it coming from."

For a moment there was silence, then Talyn's lights faded in and out, transmitting his surprise direct to Crais.

"What? A DRD?"

<No, similar. Smaller>

Crais thought about that. What could be smaller than a DRD? And what was it doing out here in the middle of nowhere? "Are you sure you are reading the signal correctly, Talyn?"

The irritated response made Crais grab his neural interface to steady himself. Upsetting Talyn was getting a more and more foolish thing to do. The leviathan was growing rapidly now and as he was reaching maturity he had less and less patience with anything that resembled criticism from Crais. Crais hurried to insist he was not questioning Talyn's accuracy simply showing surprise. Mollified, Talyn amplified the link so Crais could hear it too. It certainly sounded like a biomechanoid of some sort. He asked Talyn to make contact and waited with mounting curiosity for his response. When the reply came, shock registered on his dark face. The little biomechanoid quickly appraised Talyn of his situation and what he needed from him. At no point did it occur to the tiny construct that Talyn would not help. Crais listened in stunned silence to the translation. Talyn asked him what he wanted to do.

For several microts Crais made no reply. Crichton! Why did everything in the Uncharted Territories have to begin and end with the human? He closed his eyes momentarily and held his face in his hands. Just when everything had been going perfectly. Talyn gave him a few microts then asked for a decision. The tiny droid was persistent and impatient for their response. Already downloading co-ordinates and instructions to Talyn like some miniature general planning a battle campaign. Talyn neither accepted nor refused the information. He was waiting for Crais to make a decision. A man's life hung in the balance.

* * * * *
END