Crichton landed the transport pod at what passed for a spaceport in the largest city on Cierra. "Okay, we're down and safe," he said, conversationally, making sure all the pod's systems were shut down.

"Right, let's go," said Aeryn, opening the door with the air of someone who had been on too many wild goose chases recently.

Without comment, Jool stood back to let Crais be first down the stairs, then scurried along behind him. John and Aeryn brought up the rear, closing up the pod behind them.

The four walked nonchalantly through the spaceport towards the entrance to the town. They planned to rent a local ground transport to continue their search for some trace of a legendary Leviathan Cloaking Collar -- emphasis on legendary, as far as everyone except John was concerned. One of the prisoners they had taken when they attacked Scorpius' command carrier a quarter cycle earlier had told them of the experimental device's supposed existence. According to his story, the device had been lost when the Leviathan being used to test it had broken free and had to be destroyed in this general area of the Uncharted Territories. John was determined to have it for their final assault on the Gammack Base where Scorpius had fled after the assault.

"Hey, this is just like Earth," John said as they walked through a semi-secure area. "Airport, customs, car rental.... I hope you brought the maps this time," he added, glancing at Crais.

Crais grimaced slightly at the reference to the fiasco while following up their previous lead, but he didn't rise to the bait.

John frowned, but said nothing more. Somehow he and Crais had never quite come to be comfortable with each other, despite everything that had happened since Talyn rejoined Moya. They worked together well enough, but John didn't think they'd ever be friends.

"These people look near enough like us, but their clothes! If this spaceport is anything to go by," Jool announced, gazing around the area, "we're not exactly going to blend in here."

She was right. All four of them were clad in their customary black leather, though Aeryn had on a long-sleeved shirt under her vest, a concession to the cool weather Talyn had warned them about, and John, Aeryn and Crais were all wearing the long black coats favored by Peacekeepers. Jool herself had found a more stylish pelt to go over her short outfit. But the locals all seemed to wear more homespun clothing -- for the most part, they favored light-colored woven fabrics, and they didn't seem to mind the weather. No one seemed to be wearing any kind of overcoat.

"That's okay, we're tourists," said John. "Tourists always stand out. All we need are some fanny packs and a couple 'a cameras!"

Aeryn shook her head at him and said, "We are not tourists, we're frelling idiots," but her expression was affectionate. Whatever the actual state of their romantic relationship -- and no one on Moya or Talyn would have dared to hazard a guess, except that they didn't seem to be sharing quarters -- she and John seemed to have at least put aside the worst of the problems between them, and were a comfortable team.

Aeryn and Jool kept watch discreetly while John and Crais arranged for the transport. Crais collected maps of the local terrain, John collected the chip that allowed them to use the vehicle, and they all trooped across something John would have sworn was asphalt to pick up what he delightedly kept calling their "car." He even kicked what would have passed as black sidewall tires on Earth, causing the others to wonder about his mood.

Their main goal was to get out of town into the countryside, searching for the area where Talyn's sensors had suggested there was crash debris from a Leviathan. John and Aeryn took the front seat. She insisted on driving, and he let her, seemingly puzzled by her resolve. John rode shotgun with the maps, and Crais and Jool took the back.

"Crais, why don't you tell Junior he can go now, and pick us up in a couple days," said John, tossing a careless look behind him in the general direction of Talyn's captain.

Without bothering to acknowledge Crichton's order, Crais spoke aloud, reaching Talyn through the sensor implanted in the back of his neck. "Talyn, we have arrived safely on Cierra. We have procured transport, and also have obtained local maps to supplement the ones you prepared for us. It is time for you to leave this planet to avoid the beltron rays coming from its sun."

He paused for a moment, listening, and then responded, "Yes, Talyn. You need to retreat from this planet and hide among the asteroids in a more distant orbit around the sun. We agreed. You will check back in one solar day to see if we are ready to leave."

Aeryn listened to Crais' part of the conversation with Talyn with interest. The Leviathan gunship seemed to have matured somewhat, after everything that had happened while they were separated from Moya. The one time she had talked about it with John after their return, he had explained to Aeryn with a straight face that human offspring were always surprised to discover how much their parents had learned, after they themselves had grown up. Maybe that was some of what was going on with Talyn. Or maybe it had something to do with Talyn having some of Crais' psyche. Whatever it was, Crais and Talyn seemed to be on much better terms now.

"Talyn, we agreed. Yes. Thank you. One solar day," Crais said firmly, which seemed to end the conversation.

Jool looked nervously at Crais. "You didn't sound very positive he's going to be there when we need him."

Crichton twisted around, draping his arm over the back of his seat, evidently curious about the answer.

"When we need him is not the issue," Aeryn said, not taking her eyes from the road. "It's when we don't."

"Dam-ba-da," agreed Crais.

John and Jool exchanged a look and decided not to pursue that line of discussion.

"He'll be there," sighed Crais, and they all lapsed into silence.

* * * * * * * *

As they got farther from the spaceport and into a more congested area of the town, John started feeling uneasy. The streets were narrow here, with very few side streets. It made him feel hemmed in. "Does anyone see anything odd?" he asked the group in general, turning back and forth and looking out of the various windows.

"Like what?" Jool asked, peering out the window next to her.

"Like that," Aeryn announced, pointing to a barricade being rapidly assembled in the street about fifty metras in front of them.

"Frell," they all muttered under their breath in a chorus.

There was no where to turn off or around, and even if Aeryn had been more experienced with driving a ground vehicle, no amount of fancy maneuvering was going to get them out of this one.

"Well?" Aeryn asked, throwing a glance at John without slowing down, attempting not to arouse suspicion.

He looked at the map he had spread all over his lap and the panel in front of him. So close. If they had managed to drive only a thousand or so more metras, they would have reached the turn for the main road out of town.

Sighing, he said, "Well, I can't think of any real reason they'd have a beef with us. Guess we should stop and see what they want. With a little luck, they'll wave us through."

Aeryn laughed at that, but decreased her speed as she approached the barrier.

One of the people at the site looked down at some kind of hand-held information device, then back again at their vehicle. He pointed excitedly at them.

"That looks like a wanted beacon of some sort," Crais said unnecessarily.

"And it looks like they want us," Jool added.

Aeryn and John exchanged annoyed looks, and John appeared to make up his mind. "Drive through," he decreed, adding, "Step on it!"

Aeryn tried, increasing their speed as much as possible, but the barricade was stronger than it looked, or the transport more fragile. They came to a sudden smashing halt, thrown hard against their seat belts as the front of the vehicle crunched in.

When the movement of the collision stopped, John looked at Aeryn, Aeryn looked at John, silently assessing personal damage, and then they both looked in the back seat. "You okay?" they asked Jool and Crais simultaneously.

"I'm going to be horribly bruised across the chest," Jool said, "but I think I'm all right."

"Fine," Crais reported succinctly.

When they looked around them, it was clear they were surrounded in a very loose circle by half a dozen law enforcement officers of some sort, whether civilian or military. They wore a dark uniform in contrast to the light colors of the civilians scurrying from the street, and all carried weapons, though none were currently pointed at the group.

"Out on the right," Aeryn said, and Crais and Crichton grunted approval on their way out the doors. For the time being, while they had no idea what this was about, there was no point in splitting the group. Aeryn and Jool followed, and the four of them formed a back-to-back-to-back-to-back circle, warily eyeing the officers who were approaching them cautiously from a distance.

"What seems to be the problem, Officer?" John asked smoothly, choosing one at random to be spokesperson.

It was an impossible attempt to charm their way out of the situation, especially considering they had just tried to run through an official roadblock.

"Hands away from your weapons," growled the officer John had spoken to, and gestured to the rest of his squad to move in and search the "suspects."

Automatically, four hands, even Jool's, reached for pulse pistols, which only made matters worse. One of the officers immediately opened fire, dashing any hopes of a standoff. John, Aeryn, Crais and Jool scattered to find cover, as a general firefight broke out.

John and Crais dove to the right, while Aeryn and Jool headed left, around to the other side of the ruined vehicle.

Improbably, the local constabulary seemed to be very poor shots. Aeryn made it to the rear of the motor vehicle and stopped briefly to see what was happening, Jool scrambling along behind her. Jool was cringing every time a pulse blast rang out, but she grimly kept her small pistol up and was looking for possible targets.

Crichton and Crais weren't so lucky.

Although neither one of them had been hit, and between them they had taken out three of their attackers, Aeryn could see they were boxed in in an entryway to some kind of store. She could only guess they hadn't called for help because they didn't want to attract attention to her and Jool, hoping to give them a chance to get away.

Frell that.

She motioned to Jool to help her pick off the officers and give John and Crais an escape route. Aeryn's first shot hit the target she was aiming at, but rather than taking him down, it only seemed to make him angry, and he turned in her direction. Jool's shot went wild, but at least it missed the men they were trying to protect.

Then a piece of stone blasted loose by a shot fired at her hit Aeryn in the head. She dropped like a rock, hitting her head on an edge of the vehicle as she went down.

From his vantage point across the street, John saw her fall out of the corner of his eye. "Aeryn!" he screamed, tensing up his body in preparation to dash across the street to her aid.

"Crichton," Crais hissed at him, ducking as another blast just missed him, and then firing once more. "Crichton! Stay where you are!"

John gave him a frantic look, then tried to see what was happening where Aeryn was. The car was in the way, and he couldn't tell a thing. Reluctantly, he gave Crais a sharp nod.

At that moment, the local cavalry arrived, and John and Crais realized they were totally outnumbered. Reluctantly, they threw down their weapons, allowing the newcomers to storm in and roughly search them.

As they were led away, John tried to see if Aeryn and Jool had been captured as well. Of the two women, there was no sign.

* * * * * * * *

Jool was very close to panic.

Somehow, she and Aeryn had managed to crawl away from the melee without being followed. Well, not "somehow." Aeryn had been conscious then, if woozy and obviously in pain, and had led Jool across the street, into a shop and out the back way, down several alleys, and finally into a shed in back of a building that appeared to be abandoned.

"Frell Crichton and his plans," Aeryn muttered, catching her breath, and laid down and closed her eyes. "Make sure we didn't leave a trail."

Jool made haste to do as she was told. When she got back, much to her dismay, Aeryn was unconscious.

The time she'd spent on Moya had given Jool more experience as an emergency medic than she would have liked, so she tried to stay calm as she crouched down and assessed Aeryn's condition. She found she was talking to herself, a nervous habit she thought she'd outgrown cycles ago until she woke up on Moya.

"Trust the Peacekeeper to pass out in a filthy place like this," she complained as she started her exam. "Okay, her breathing's regular, that's good, that's a start." She pulled back Aeryn's eyelids and had a look. "Pupils seem normal, too."

Jool wiped at the trail of blood on Aeryn's cheek, where she'd been cut by the sharp edges of the flying stone. "No more blood on her head, anyway. I guess that's good."

Feeling around the skull, looking for the injury sustained when Aeryn fell, Jool grumbled, "There's got to be a lump here somewhere.... Frell! It's as big as a plovek's egg!" she gasped loudly when she found what she'd been looking for on the back of Aeryn's head, hidden underneath her Peacekeeper braid. Then she stuffed her other hand in her mouth briefly to remind herself to be *quiet*. "What I wouldn't give for a scanner," she murmured softly, probing the mound with care. Jool decided that it probably wasn't a depressed fracture.

"Well, that's good news, anyway," she said with relief.

"Aeryn," Jool said softly, tapping her companion on the side of the face. "Aeryn, wake up." She hit Aeryn a little harder, and then harder still, hoping for a reaction. "Well, it's not like she has a good bedside manner...." But, though Aeryn stirred slightly, she remained senseless. "That's not good with a head injury, well, not in Interons and humans, anyway," Jool worried, but so far Aeryn's condition seemed stable.

Wishing again for a scanner, Jool did a superficial check for other injuries. Aeryn hadn't said anything to suggest any other damage from the battle, but Jool felt she should be as thorough as possible. "Not that I'd expect Officer Aeryn Sun to complain about it if she had been hurt," she huffed.

Check-up finished with negative results, she removed the lining from her coat and folded it up, placing it under Aeryn's head. "There, that's better," she said in satisfaction, then took a deep breath and sat down next to her patient.

"All right," Jool said, "think about the situation." The shed was dirty -- well, dusty, anyway -- and dark, but it seemed safe enough to hide in for now. They had been dressed for cold, and being in the enclosed space would probably help keep them warm if they had to stay here for long.

Not that she wanted to, but she had to face the possibility.

Crichton and Crais had definitely been captured, she'd seen that before Aeryn dragged her off. Maybe they were even dead. Wherever they were, there was no way she was going to be able to help them by herself, and she couldn't expect them to find her.

Talyn was out of range, and wasn't due to make contact for nearly a full solar day. If Crais was dead, and Aeryn didn't wake up, Jool wasn't at all sure the gunship would even acknowledge her comms.

"That's all there is to it," she said aloud again. "I've got to make Aeryn better. Then we can go find the others and get out of here." She began to think about everything she knew about treatments for head injuries....

* * * * * * * * * *

After being divested of every weapon either of them carried, John and Crais had been escorted to a small holding facility and thrown together into a single cell. It was almost more like a basement storeroom than a jail, but the walls were thick, there weren't any windows, and the door seemed unbreakable. There didn't seem to be anything they could do at the moment but wait and see what was really happening here.

They were searched again and stripped of their comms, and one of the guards tore out Crais' interface link with Talyn. At least neither one of them seemed to be seriously injured, just a few scrapes and bruises from guards who seemed to have a personal grudge against them.

All questions were met with silence, and as the soldiers left the cell, John, in frustration, hollered, "Hey, what about a lawyer? Don't I get a phone call? Come on, guys, what are the rules around here? You can't just lock us up for no reason!"

This too, was ignored, and he leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, hands around his knees, and stared balefully at the door.

Crais regarded him curiously.

After a moment Crichton asked, "Crais, did you see Aeryn at the end there? Is she okay?"

As if considering his words carefully, Crais took a moment to answer. "I saw her fall, as you did," he finally said. "I do not know how badly injured she may have been. I hope," he admitted, "as you do, that she is alive." He paused again, and then said, "I believe you had better focus your energies on our predicament here and now. Whatever her fate, you cannot help her from this cell."

John was taken aback by the concern he heard in Crais' voice. He chose to concentrate on the practical. "You're right. We have to get out of here. And we need to be able to contact Talyn."

"One of the comms would do, but my transponder would be better."

At that moment, the door to their cell opened and a young man they hadn't seen before entered.

"My name is Trinh," he said. "I'm told you asked for counsel?"

John and Crais looked at each other. "Uh, yeah, I did," Crichton said, rising to his feet and examining the new arrival. He looked so youthful John might have called him "pimply-faced" if he'd been human. "You the public defender?"

"Why are we being held here?" Crais demanded. "We are being detained for no --"

Trinh cut him off. "Oh, my friends, you are in very serious trouble indeed. Our planet has very strict laws about pulse weapons. I'm told you were carrying at least six between you." He raised an eyebrow and waited for them to deny it.

"Well, more or less six, I guess," Crichton said. "For protection. We're strangers here. We didn't know."

"Irrelevant."

"Ignorance of the law is no excuse," John muttered. "What's the penalty?"

The lawyer looked at them sternly. "One weapon is considered possession. The penalty is five cycles hard labor. More than one, and the presumption is that you intend to sell them. If convicted, that charge carries a life sentence."

Crais sputtered, and John laughed sharply. "I'm inside a Turkish Prison! Anyone for 'Midnight Express'?" he all but giggled.

"This is serious," their counsel told them. "Our legal system particularly dislikes offworlders."

John struggled to regain his composure, then ducked his head and waved his hand placatingly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just crazy. Where we come from, it's just plain safety to carry weapons."

"I presume we were scanned at the spaceport?" said Crais.

"All incoming visitors are scanned for weapons," Trinh confirmed.

"Well, why the hell didn't they just tell us there! We could have left the guns behind on our ship," John asked reasonably.

The lawyer shook his head. "As I said, the presumption is that you intended to sell them. You were allowed to enter the city in hopes of leading the militia to your contact. When you neared the open road, you were stopped."

"Hell of a way to run a police state," John muttered. He asked, "All right, so what can we do about this?"

"Right now, nothing," Trinh told them, looking between the two, apparently taking the measure of them. He seemed to feel somewhat sympathetic towards them, and John risked a request.

"Look, if we're going to be here for the rest of our days, could you see if you could get my friend's transponder back?"

Crais looked at him sharply, but said nothing.

John continued, "He needs it. It's a medical device. It fits in the socket in his neck and regulates his insulin level." He hoped to god that translated into something that sounded like a Sebacean might need regulated....

Trinh looked at them again and Crais turned to show off the socket, trying to look ill. "I'll see what I can do, both on the charges, and your device," the lawyer told them.

"Thank you," said Crais quietly, and this time it was Crichton who looked at him in surprise.

When their lawyer left the room, Crichton and Crais followed him out the door with their eyes, and then looked at each other.

"Well," John said, "this does not sound good."

"I take it you don't trust him," Crais said neutrally.

"Do you?"

"Perhaps," Crais said. "But we would do well not to rely on his legal expertise. We may not stand a chance if their system is as inflexible about weapons smuggling as it appears."

"We weren't smuggling weapons," John said petulantly. "But I know what you mean," he added.

They both sat down, this time each on one of the two separate cots that lined opposite walls.

"If we get the transponder back," John began, "or if Aeryn is okay...we may have some help getting out of here."

Crais looked at him appraisingly. "If Aeryn is free, she will tear this building down to get you out."

"Don't go there, man," John said softly. "Just don't go there. I'm not him. You don't know me like you think you do, so just shut up."

Crais grunted acceptance, and they settled in to wait for further developments.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Aeryn," Jool said urgently, "I need you to drink this!"

The Sebacean was still unconscious, but Jool had wrestled her inert form up against the side wall of the shed, and was hoping not to have to attempt to pour the concoction she had procured down her throat.

"Aeryn," she whispered again. "The apothecary said this is good for swelling."

After thinking about her options, Jool had decided that her best bet, short of finding a real doctor -- and she could just imagine what Aeryn would have said about that -- was to find some kind of pharmacy where she could get a drug to help reduce the pressure she assumed the blood-filled nodule was putting on Aeryn's brain. She had reluctantly left her unconscious patient behind and marched bravely into the streets.

Fortunately, the apothecary she found had accepted her story about a friend with a sprained ankle, and had sold her a packet of medication intended to reduce inflammation, as well as a cup to mix it in.

Dirty and cluttered as the shed was, Jool had breathed a sigh of relief when she returned unhindered and found Aeryn safe. She might have wished for consciousness, but unchanged would have to do.

"Come on, Aeryn," she wheedled once more, hoping to rouse her, but to no avail. She heaved a martyred sigh and whined, "What kind of soldier can't take a little bump on the head?"

Jool carefully set the cup down so she wouldn't spill it while she tilted Aeryn's head back somewhat, and forced her mouth open. "It's easier to get a pill into a Vorlag puppy," she complained, but she finally felt she had a chance.

She picked up the cup in one hand and carefully poured a small amount of the liquid into Aeryn's mouth, leaning her head slightly with the other hand so the thin mixture would trickle down her throat. "I'm sorry this is so nasty," she said, even though she knew Aeryn couldn't taste it.

Jool got a couple more mouthfuls into her patient before Aeryn choked and began coughing. Jool almost dropped her while trying to keep from dropping the medicine. She managed to set the cup well out of the way, and leaned Aeryn forward, patting her on the back.

"Aeryn? Aeryn? Are you all right?" she repeated several times, hoping the ex-Peacekeeper would come to and take all this responsibility off her hands. But though her breathing settled down, Aeryn remained dead to the world.

"That's it, drown her why don't you," Jool scolded herself, settling against the wall next to Aeryn so that her shipmate was leaning against her shoulder.

As Jool spoke, Aeryn twitched, and her eyes moved behind closed lids. Belatedly, Jool remembered that Aeryn had actually died by drowning and been brought back to life shortly before Jool had found herself in this unwelcome exile.

"Hezmana!" Supposedly, unconscious people could hear everything you said. Who knew what THAT was going to stir up in Aeryn's mind?

Jool reached for the cup again, intending to estimate how much of the potion she'd managed to get inside Aeryn, but found she couldn't reach it with Aeryn's inert body weighing her down. "How am I supposed to do anything under these conditions?" she whimpered in frustration.

She seriously considered just dumping Aeryn on the floor, injured or not, and having a good cry, but then she remembered that she needed Aeryn to get out of this hideous mess. Well, maybe the best thing to do for now do was to wait and see if the medicine helped. She pulled Aeryn into her lap as if she were only sleeping, and tried to doze herself.

After a fairly short time, Jool was startled to alertness by Aeryn's voice calling sharply, "Crichton!"

It took only a moment to see that Aeryn wasn't yet awake, but she seemed to be stirring, and called Crichton's name several more times with varying degrees of alarm.

"Shhh," Jool said, encouraged by the fact that Aeryn seemed closer to consciousness. "Shhh, Aeryn, it's okay. It's okay. Crichton's fine, I'm sure of it. We'll get him out, you'll see, and you two will have a long, happy life together!"

Aeryn settled down then, perhaps comforted by the soothing words.

It was only then that Jool was struck by the thought that she'd possibly put her foot in her mouth again. "Frell! I hope she wasn't talking about the other one," she sighed.

Jool was too wide awake to sit any longer, so she retrieved the make-shift pillow and settled Aeryn down on the floor again. Nervous, Jool paced the shed, wondering how long she should wait before trying something else or actually fetching a physician.

After about a quarter arn, Aeryn abruptly opened her eyes and sat up. "John?" she called quietly, sounding confused.

Overjoyed, Jool ran across the room and knelt down in front of her. "It's me, Jool. Easy, don't move too fast, you've got a lump on the back of your head the size of a plovek's egg. It's all right, though, I think. I've been taking care of you."

Moving sore muscles carefully, Aeryn reached up and felt the lump. "I've had worse," she said vaguely. "Did they get John and Crais?" she asked, and then paled suddenly and leaned to the side, emptying her stomach of whatever small contents it might have had.

Jool was too surprised to even try to help, not that Aeryn would have let her anyway.

When Aeryn sat back up again, her color was better, but she still looked slightly disoriented. She asked, "What did you give me?"

"Tagalog root extract. For the swelling."

"Does it cause hallucinations?"

"What? No, I don't think so, the only side effects the apothecary mentioned were dry mouth and possible drowsiness," Jool said. "Why?"

"No reason. I had some very curious dreams."

"What kind of dreams?" Jool asked clinically, fully expecting to be rebuffed.

But Aeryn actually answered, in her own way. "Dreams about...dying. And dreams about living to be an old woman. Very old, with a granddaughter, and...." She shook her head as if to clear it. "If it's not the drug, it must be the injury. How long have I been unconscious?"

"About five arns," Jool answered promptly.

"Do you know where Crichton and Crais are? Were they captured?" Aeryn asked, carefully moving and stretching, checking herself to see what the damage was.

"I saw them captured," Jool told her, "but I don't know where they are."

"All right," Aeryn said, "then the first thing we have to do is find them." She gave her former nurse a hard look and asked, "While you were out buying that poison, I don't suppose you thought to get some analgesic or raslak, did you?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Crichton and Crais were bored and trying to cope with the boredom and the uncertainty, each in his own way. No one had entered their cell since Trinh had left several arns earlier.

"I'm surprised they haven't interrogated us," Crais commented out of the blue.

"Probably think they have us dead to rights," Crichton said from the corner of the cell where he was shadow boxing. Crais had been steadfastly ignoring his activity.

"You mean they don't care if they have any evidence," the Sebacean said.

"Yup," John grunted, continuing his exercise. "Just like PKs."

Crais ignored that, too.

"Maybe we should ask about the girls," Crichton said finally, straightening up and looking at Crais.

"Is it wise to remind these people about them?"

"They scanned us at the spaceport, Cap'n, they already know Aeryn is armed to the teeth, and even Jool's got that cutesy little pistol of hers. They'll be looking for them just for that. This way, maybe we can find out something."

"Perhaps..."

John dropped his hands to his side and walked over to stand in front of Crais. "If Aeryn's hurt," he began, "they might need medical help."

"If Aeryn is injured badly enough to need professional medical help, they've been captured already," Crais said flatly.

When John looked at him without understanding, Crais cocked his head to one side and said, "Jool doesn't like Aeryn, but do you really believe she would let her die needlessly? If Aeryn needs more help than Joolushko can give, that girl will turn them in to the authorities if she has to in order to get it."

John's expression lightened a little despite the implications of the latter for their own situation, and he shook his head. "Point taken. All right, assume for now they're free, they're okay, and they'll be coming to bust us out of here. The question is, what do we do in the meantime?" He made it clear the question was rhetorical by tossing the pillow from his cot back and forth between his hands. "Damn, I wish I had a basketball."

Any response from Crais was forestalled when the door to their cell creaked open, and the two men turned their full attention to their new visitors.

To their surprise, it turned out to be several guards bringing a hot meal, which they accepted without comment. As the guards started to go, one of them turned and held out something to Crais. "Here," he said. "We were told to give this to you."

Startled, Crais set his food down on his cot and took it from him. "Thank you," he said.

When they were alone again, Crichton looked at him. "Hot damn, is that what I think it is?"

"Yes. My link with Talyn." Crais put the device into its socket, and stood for a moment, evaluating. "I don't believe it's functioning," he said with disappointment.

Equally disappointed, Crichton said, "Well, Talyn's out of range, isn't he?"

"Presumably," Crais acknowledged. "However, the transponder has its own feedback which I can sense. And right now, I'm getting nothing." He reached back and fiddled with the device, removing and reseating it several times, obviously without result.

Crichton held out his hand. "Let me see it," he said.

Wordlessly, Crais removed the neural link and handed it over.

"Well," Crichton said, turning the device over and examining it from several angles, "it looks like they might have been trying to take it apart to see what it does. See this wire here?" he asked, showing Crais the damage. "It looks like it's been broken. Or I suppose it could have happened when they pulled it out."

"Either way, it doesn't help us if it doesn't work."

"Eat your food while it's hot," Crichton said, gesturing to Crais to sit down. "Maybe I can do something with this."

Crais sat back on his bunk and ate, watching in silence as the human checked his pockets, examined the utensils provided with the meal, and eventually ended up working a few small wires and pieces of wood free from the support structure of the cot to create a set of tools.

"You should eat too," Crais observed at one point. "You never know when they're going to feed us again."

Crichton gave him a sharp look, but from then on occasionally paused in his work to scoop a spoonful of whatever it was into his mouth.

Crais watched him thoughtfully.

Eyes firmly on the work he was doing, John asked casually, "So, what was that back in the transport about Talyn and Dam-ba-da?"

Talyn's captain narrowed his eyes and considered. Finally, he said, "When we were attacked by the Charrids, Talyn disobeyed my direct order, and Aeryn's, and came to our aid, rather than staying out of harm's way, with the result that both he and I were blinded. He believes things would have gone....differently....without that handicap."

"Dad's gone, so it must be my fault," John said, looking up.

Crais shook his head, puzzled.

"Human children, when one of the parents leaves, they tend to think it's something they did." Crichton paused, then added, "I don't mean...I mean, I know you're the dad, but..."

"I understand, that's close enough to how it was for Talyn. He learned a lot from observing them." Crais grimaced, realizing how that sounded.

John waved his hand to show he hadn't taken it wrong, and went back to his work.

They sat in silence, John working, Crais watching from across the room, until John announced, "Ah-ha! Got the bugger, I think!" He stood up and walked across the small cell and handed the transponder to Crais. "Try that."

Crais reached back and plugged the device into its socket and stood for a minute, evaluating. "Yes," he said. "I believe you've done it. Thank you."

John eyed him speculatively and said, "Talyn. He learned about....?"

Crais frowned at the question, but grudgingly accepted the implied debt. "He learned about.... teamwork. And sharing." He hesitated a moment, then continued more clearly, "Talyn saw what it is to need, and to love."

Crichton's face was blank, waiting.

After another pause Crais added quietly, "And he learned about real happiness. Pure joy." His expression made it clear he wasn't going to say anything more.

"That's good," John said huskily. "Those are good things for him to know about."

"Yes," Crais agreed curtly. "They are."

But John turned towards his side of the room and knuckled his eyes.

When Crichton took a deep breath and turned back, Crais drawled, "And he *also* discovered what it means to behave like a drannit."

"Oh, well, I'm sure he already knew that," John smirked, grateful that he'd learned that particular insult from D'Argo during their cranky phase. Then he added carelessly, "So, what's the plan, then? We wait for the girls, or we try to find a way out of here?"

"Both, I think," said Crais. "If we can retrieve our weapons --" He cut off abruptly as the overhead lights turned off.

"Looks like the library's closing," Crichton said. "I guess we should try to get some sleep and be ready for anything in the morning."

"Yes," replied Crais.

John couldn't resist. "Good night, John-Boy," he quipped.

"I don't want to know what you mean by that, do I?"

"No," Crichton agreed.

"Good night."

* * * * * * * * * *

As it turned out, Jool had purchased a pain killer, and Aeryn popped a couple of pills, more to help her focus her thoughts without distraction than because she was really bothered by the injuries she'd collected on this frelling planet.

The two women dusted off their clothing in preparation for leaving their hiding place. Jool ran her fingers through her hair, removing tangles and incidentally a number of long orange strands. Aeryn quickly re-did her braid with practiced hands. There was no point in looking like they'd been in an accident.

Night had fallen, and Aeryn was anxious to make use of the cover of darkness to find out where John and Crais were and whether they needed rescuing. "Knowing Crichton," she muttered, as she opened the door quietly, glancing around the area, "of course he needs rescuing."

Jool wasn't sure how to take that, and she said nothing.

She led Aeryn back to the scene of their run-in with the local law. It seemed as good a starting place as any. It was still early in the evening. Some of the shops and eating places were still open, and there were other people on the streets.

While standing in the shadows, examining the site from across the street, Aeryn was amazed to realize how near to the place they had actually been hiding without any apparent pursuit or building-to-building search. "What kind of soldiers let a wounded prey get away so easily?" she asked the universe at large.

"Ones who don't believe females are a threat," Jool answered her. When Aeryn looked at her askance, she elaborated, "I took a class once in cultures with a division between the sexes."

Aeryn snorted.

Jool held her ground. "They weren't paying any real attention to you and me, just Crichton and Crais."

Aeryn thought back to the confrontation, and decided perhaps Jool just might be right. "That could help us."

"How?" Jool asked, more to keep hearing another voice than because she wanted to know the answer.

"I don't know yet. Come on, we need to find the nearest detention area. And we need to find out why they stopped us in the first place."

Jool solved the first problem. She shook her head and fluffed up her hair, then screwed up her face to look distressed. Once prepared, she chose the nearest small shop that appeared nearly deserted and rushed in. "Please," she asked the shopkeeper, lip quivering, "can you tell me where the local law enforcement station is?"

Aeryn followed her in, frowning, but allowing her to take the lead.
 
"Can I help you? What's wrong?" the merchant asked with concern, flicking his eyes nervously towards Aeryn.

Green eyes shining, Jool told him her sad story. "We're on an interplanetary tour" -- and here she gestured to include Aeryn -- "and we're here on Cierra on a three-day layover, waiting to catch another ship." She sniffed. "And while we were walking down the street out there," she continued, gesturing out the door, "some horrible cutthroats robbed me and took all my currency!"

"That's terrible," exclaimed her target. "Let me call the militia for you, they can be here in 50 microts! We can't be having visitors to our planet assaulted," he added gallantly.

Aeryn interrupted briskly. "They ran away, they're long gone, but we need to go to the base to report it anyway."

"For the trip insurance," Jool sniffled.

In the end, with some wheedling and a few more tears from Jool, the shopkeeper gave them very precise directions to a facility only a few thousand metras distant, and sent them on their grateful way.

As they walked to it, Aeryn asked out of curiosity, "What made you think of that?"

Jool shrugged. "I WAS robbed once, when I was traveling with my cousins. People were very helpful."

"It would have been less obvious to just ask someone on the road without all that nonsense," Aeryn replied, scanning the streets.

"You don't have much fun, do you?" Jool said, and regretted it instantly, under the circumstances, but Aeryn merely ignored the comment and kept walking.

The station, when they reached it, proved to be a small, sturdy-looking building which appeared to house not only a detention area, but other official services. There seemed to be only two entrances or exits, and no obvious windows, but by Peacekeeper standards, it looked primitive. Aeryn thought they might be able to simply storm it and get Crichton and Crais out, IF they were in there in the first place.

She stationed Jool to observe one door, and took up her own post near the other, waiting for the shift to change. Aeryn had chosen for herself the door she felt was more likely to be used by members of the force, and positioned Jool as back-up.

As it got later, the temperature dropped, and the cold made her injuries ache. She ignored the discomfort, and waited, crouched in the shadows, hoping that Jool would have the sense to stay quiet. And awake.

After several arns, Aeryn's patience was rewarded. Men dressed in the dark uniform they had seen that morning at the roadblock began arriving in ones and twos, entering the door she was observing. She stood, still keeping to the shadows, and stretched, warming up muscles that had been ill-used almost from the moment they landed on the planet.

Now men began straggling OUT the door. Good. The ones going off-shift wouldn't be missed as soon as the ones arriving. She chose one and followed him out to a lot filled with ground vehicles much like the one she had been driving when things went pear-shaped. For a soldier of any sort, he was woefully unprepared.

In only a few microts, she had her arm tightly across his throat, and was saying grimly, "Tell me. Do you have two Sebaceans in there? Have they been harmed?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Crichton and Crais slept fitfully, each burdened with his own worries. John would have given anything to know Aeryn was safe, and she haunted his dreams all night, everything from cartoon-like silliness to a wistful vision of the two of them together, gray-haired and happy in old age. Crais, on the other hand, would have been hard-pressed to put his concerns into words. But they both tossed and turned, and woke early.

Though the lights remained out, they could hear movement outside their cell which suggested night had passed.

"Do you suppose they'll feed us breakfast?" John asked idly in the dark, massaging his eyes with the heels of his hands and wondering if he could get up without groaning.

"A chance to shower would be welcome," Crais replied, sounding tired himself.

The lights came on, and indeed, they were brought a morning meal.

"I'm going to have to rethink the whole Turkish prison idea," John remarked, savoring something green and purple that might almost have passed for ham and eggs if he closed his eyes. "They're feeding us, they're letting us sleep at night, they haven't really even roughed us up much."

"I believe this is a holding facility," Crais ventured. "We'll have a better chance of getting out if we can do it before they move us."

"Mmph," John said, "or *while* they're moving us."

"Yes," Crais agreed. "In thinking about our capture yesterday, I do not believe most of these soldiers are experienced with weapons."

John waved his spoon in the air. "Stands to reason if they don't allow weapons here. It's like London Bobbies, they only carried nightsticks, not guns, till too many criminals had guns. These guys probably don't get much practice." Without waiting a response, he continued, "If there aren't too many of them, we could probably take 'em before they shoot us..."

"Probably," Crais echoed.

"It would be nice if I could get Winona back, though," Crichton said, thinking aloud.

"How can you be so attached to a perfectly ordinary pulse pistol?" Crais muttered.

Before Crichton could protest that Winona wasn't ordinary, the door opened again, and Trinh, the public defender from the previous day, appeared.

"Hey, F. Lee," John said cheerfully. "What's the word?" A full stomach had helped make up for the lack of sleep, and he was feeling a lot better than he had when he first woke up.

Trinh's sour expression suggested he took John's good humor as continued evidence that his clients did not understand the seriousness of their situation. "I'll be brief," he said, looking between the two of them.

Crais spread his arms expansively and said, "By all means."

"I did try yesterday to get the charges dropped, however the six pulse weapons confiscated from you, and the fact that you fought with the special squad sent to apprehend you requires that you be arraigned immediately. In all probability, you will be sent to Burber Prison without trial."

The prisoners exchanged guarded looks; good, they were being moved. Opportunities abounded.

Trinh looked at them suspiciously, and John said hurriedly, "Isn't there some way we can appeal? Something?"

Apparently frustrated by his inability to help them, the lawyer was less sympathetic today. "Do you know where your females might be hiding?"

Crichton could see his own stifled laughter mirrored in Crais' eyes. The ex-Peacekeeper said, with his most innocent expression, "Are they hiding?"

"They may need help," Trinh said severely. "The reports from your capture indicated at least one of the women was injured." His manner suggested he didn't think they could take care of themselves.

This time Crichton answered, trying to stifle his fears and take the fact that Trinh was asking about them in the first place as evidence that Aeryn and Jool were all right. "Well, to be honest, I wouldn't have thought your fine officers would have had any trouble tracking down a pair of unarmed women."

"We know they have pulse weapons," Trinh said in a tone which left no doubt he was extremely disappointed in the lie. "Will they go to your contact for protection?"

"I told you yesterday," John exclaimed, "we don't have a contact!" But there was no point in prolonging this discussion. "Look, just leave if you can't help, okay? We'll take our chances at the hearing."

As Trinh turned to summon a guard so he could leave their cell, the sound of running feet echoed outside the door. The unmistakable report of pulse pistols could be heard echoing down the hall, followed by the clamor of alarms ringing out.

John's face brightened and he said with satisfaction, "Aeryn!"

"Undoubtedly," agreed Crais, reaching out and putting their erstwhile lawyer on the floor in one quick motion. "Thank you for obtaining my transponder, by the way," he said, twisting Trinh's arm behind his back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Aeryn had learned a considerable amount from her prisoner. She hadn't even had to hurt him much, which was almost a disappointment. He had quickly confessed that two Sebacean males matching her description of John and Crais were indeed being held inside this facility, though he swore that they were unharmed, which brought a grunt of satisfaction from Aeryn.

In a few more microts she had learned the general layout, the number of men on guard, and what the charge was. "Guns?" she asked incredulously. "No, don't answer that," she said in disgust when he tried to explain.

When Aeryn had finished with him, she walked him at gunpoint to a nearby alley, used the butt of her pulse pistol to knock him unconscious, and immobilized him with his own restraints. She smiled grimly imagining him trying to explain that to his superior officer. After a search of his pockets, she removed his ident chip and another chip she thought would operate his vehicle. Then she went to find Jool.

Jool was still at her post, awake and shivering. "No one's come out," she reported, and Aeryn nodded curtly.

"I know. They use the other entrance. Come on," Aeryn said, leading Jool to a place where they could talk.

By the time it was light they'd worked out a plan between them. If it worked, they should have Crichton and Crais freed and be on their way to the spaceport about the time Talyn was due to return to check on them.

Based on Jool's success with the shopkeeper the previous night, they had decided to continue the "traveler in distress" routine to gain access to the building. While Aeryn assessed their weapons supply, deciding to leave her pulse rifle in the vehicle she had acquired, Jool assessed their appearance. There wasn't much to be done about the leather clothing overall, but she managed to talk Aeryn into removing her vest and just going with the shirt she'd been wearing underneath.

"There. That makes you look less like a threat," she told Aeryn, turning her attention to her own appearance.

Aeryn glanced at her own reflection in a window, and shrugged. "Well, you never look like a threat," she told Jool without malice. "Come on, let's do this."

"Can you do something with your hair?" Jool asked as they prepared to enter the building. "That braid just screams 'tight-assed bitch,' and that's not what we're after here."

"Isn't that what I am, though?" Aeryn asked, amused.

"Well, yeah, sure, of course," Jool said. "But you're more than that. Aren't you." It was a statement, not a question.

Aeryn went still, and for a moment, Jool regretted her big mouth.

But Aeryn simply said, enigmatically, "Well, that remains to be seen," and set about undoing the plaits and putting her hair in a softer ponytail, leaving a few wisps along her cheeks to frame her face.

"Much better," Jool told her approvingly.

Aeryn actually smiled. "John liked it," she confessed. "Likes it, actually, I suppose." She shook her head, loosening up the ponytail even further, and they entered the building together.

At the front desk the trooper glanced up at them. He eyed Aeryn with less suspicion than the shopkeeper the night before had, so perhaps the costume change had helped. His attention was quickly diverted by Jool, and Aeryn let her take the lead.

Jool had her replay of the robbery story down pat, embellished this time with fluttering eyelashes as well as tears. Aeryn tried to look harmless, which was hard since a scowl kept trying to appear on her face.

"And they just pulled everything out of my bag and when I begged them not to take it, they threw the bag back at me, empty," Jool wailed and leaned forward over the desk, holding the bag upside down to prove it was devoid of contents.

The trooper was completely captivated, first by her story, and then by her cleavage, which was now positioned in front of his face. He kept trying to look, while not looking like he was looking. Aeryn was hard-pressed not to snicker, but she had to admit, it was distracting him.

He finally tore his gaze away from Jool's assets, and ushered the two women into an open room with several desks, where he began entering the information he'd been gathering from the "victim" into a computer.

Aeryn continued to let Jool do the talking and matched the reality of the base to her reconnaissance. It was all she could do not to show her disgust. She couldn't believe they hadn't been searched for weapons, and there was no automatic scanner. She could have brought the pulse rifles in as well as her smaller weapons, and this lot would have been none the wiser. This was going to be easier than she'd dared to hope, which was just as well, because she would have made the attempt in any case.

Perhaps because it was early in the morning, there were only two officers in the immediate area, one of whom continued to take Jool's eminently creative report. Once Aeryn had her bearings, she brought up a pulse pistol, gesturing with it towards the wall, and announced loudly, "Right! Over there! Both of you!"

The officer who was helping Jool looked up, mouth gaping in astonishment.

Jool screwed up her courage and pulled out her pistol as well. She smiled at him sweetly and said, "You heard her. And I wouldn't argue with her if I were you. She's a very good shot."

Aeryn acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

In the face of two forbidden weapons, the men did as they were told.

Knowing they only had a few microts before the surprise wore off or more officers arrived, Aeryn became all business once more. "The weapons you confiscated from the Sebaceans. Where are they?"

When the officers hesitated, any softness the change in clothing and hair style might have suggested completely vanished. She jammed her pulse pistol against the neck of the nearest officer and snarled, "I want the weapons, and I want the Sebaceans. Now."

The two men exchanged glances and led them to a storage locker from which they extracted the firearms. Each weapon was neatly labeled with an identification tag, but they appeared to be intact. Aeryn grabbed a pulse rifle and slung it over her shoulder, handing the other rifle to Jool.

Trying to loop the rifle over her shoulder, Jool held out her bag to the officers. Aeryn gestured for them to put the smaller weapons into it.

They did, and then things started to get more entertaining.

The man putting the guns in the bag shoved at Jool hard, but tried at the same time to yank the bag away from her. She held on for dear life, while Aeryn kicked him sharply in the knee. He crumpled, moaning in pain, and Jool pulled the bag to her chest.

The other officer took off down the hallway, and Aeryn got off a couple shots at him. One hit him in the side and he fell to the ground, effectively removed from the action, but the alarm was sounding now.

"Frell," Aeryn said. "Move it," she said to Jool. "Down here," she added, heading down the hallway to the small group of holding cells, which, gratifyingly, were exactly where she'd been told they would be. She had to keep a couple of grunts back with a well-placed pulse blast.

Jool followed rapidly, carrying the bag which now contained all of the hand weapons that had been taken from Crichton and Crais.

Speed was more important than subtlety at this point. "John," Aeryn called loudly. "Are you in there?"

"I'm here, Aeryn!" he shouted, pinpointing his location for her as the middle of the three cells on the outer wall. She could hear the pleasure in his voice.

"Stand away from the door!" she ordered.

"Crais is here, too," he called.

"Well, he should stand away from the door, too!" she snapped, reaching down and getting the cartridge of chakan oil she had stored in her holster for this part of the plan. She set the cartridge down in front of the door and asked once again, "Are you standing away from the door?"

"Yeah," came Crichton's voice, sounding muffled. "We're away from the door."

"Around the corner," Aeryn ordered Jool, who happily scurried away from the cell. She knew what to expect.

Aeryn followed Jool to cover, and then leaned back around the corner and took rapid aim at the container of oil. The resulting explosion blew the door off its hinges.

Behind them, Jool fired at a guard who had come running at the sound, and Aeryn hurried to the doorway.

There was smoke, dust and plaster everywhere, and through the haze, she couldn't see the men they had come to rescue. "John?" she called, concern evident in her voice.

What she had assumed was a heap of rubble at the back of the room moved, and John and Crais stood up from behind a mattress they had evidently propped up for protection. Leave it to John to guess exactly what she was up to!

"Hey, Baby," he said cheerfully, brushing plaster off his leathers and stepping across the room.

************

"Are you all right?" Aeryn asked briefly, touching John's arm. A small puff of dust floated off his coat.

"Yeah. I'm fine," he assured her, sneezing as the dust reached his nose.

"Crais?" she asked.

"Fine," Crais said, heading past them towards the door.

Trinh the public defender chose to remain cowering against the wall. One glance told Aeryn he wasn't going to be any trouble.

From outside the door Jool screamed, "We have company!" A squad of the special weapons control troops they had encountered the previous day came into sight, but halted some distance away, apparently assessing the situation.

"Here!" Crais shouted, and Jool tossed the bag of weapons into his waiting arms. Crais pulled a weapon out of the bag and then Aeryn grabbed the carrier from him.

While Crais rushed up to stand beside Jool, Aeryn reached into the bag and briefly sorted through the guns. With a glint of satisfaction in her eye, she pulled a pulse pistol out, tossing it to John.

He hefted the gun briefly and smiled. "Winona," he said with contentment.

Aeryn looked at him as if to say, "And your point is?"

He frowned then, wondering how she'd picked his gun out with just a glance, but said only, "What now?"

Aeryn cocked her head at him, grinned, and said, "We go out. Through them, if necessary."

"Sounds like a plan," he said. "Shall we join the party?" he asked, gesturing to where Crais and Jool stood at the end of the hallway.

Aeryn nodded and the two of them rushed off to join their shipmates. Crais had appropriated the pulse rifle from Jool and was taking shots down the crossing corridor at the troops stationed there. Much to his annoyance, they appeared unharmed, though he was hitting his targets. He grunted in frustration.

Observing his displeasure, Aeryn noted, "The same thing happened to me yesterday. It looks like the pulse is absorbed somehow."

John took it all in quickly and suggested, "Bullet-proof vests."

"What?" Crais asked.

"Some sort of personal shield," Aeryn proposed.

"Exactly," John said, taking aim experimentally at a leg in case the apparent protection actually was limited to something like a vest-area. No such luck. "Damn," he said.

"Doesn't matter," Aeryn said. "The regular troops don't seem to have them. Let's just go back out the way we came." A quick glance at Crais and Jool confirmed their agreement. Aeryn took point, John following her and Crais bringing up the rear with Jool squeezed in between the two men.

Unfortunately, the special squad troops appeared to be better-trained than the locals, and a portion of the group had already circled around towards the entrance, cutting off the front door as a way out of the building.

"Great," muttered John as they holed up in the office area. "When you came in here, you didn't have a plan for getting out?"

Aeryn glared at him, and said, "The other side of the building isn't a secure unit, there's more likely to be some way out from there."

John grunted his assent, as did Crais, and Jool went along without objection as the four of them moved further into the building, searching for a corridor that led into the civic offices. They occasionally paused to let off a round of fire to discourage pursuit.

"I sure hope you know where you're going," Jool muttered to no one in particular as they hurried past offices where various civilians were hiding behind desks. In her haste, Jool slammed into someone who was trying to rush past them to get out of the line of fire. She screamed, and Crais grabbed the local before she could get away.

"Are there any other ways out of this facility besides the doors?" John asked.

When the woman hesitated, Aeryn brought up her pulse pistol and snapped, "We're not going to hurt you! Just tell us now!"

Jackpot!

The terrified woman, evidently a civilian secretary, led them to the opening for a trash chute which led to the service entrance of the building, giving them a back way to reach the door Jool had been observing the night before. They took the secretary with them as they went one at a time through the chute, Crais and Jool followed by John and Aeryn.

One by one they landed in the trash collection area, and briefly assessed the situation. They could hear troops nearby, but no one was actually in sight.

"Well, here's hoping they're not guarding this door from the outside," John said, motioning Crais and Jool ahead once more.

As soon as Crais opened the door, another alarm sounded, joining the cacophony that had been going on the whole time they had been trying to leave the building. John and Aeryn abandoned their hostage, diving through the door right behind Crais and Jool and slamming the door shut behind them.

With a glance behind her to make sure no one was following them yet, Aeryn said, "This way," and immediately dodged into an alley. She had left the vehicle she had appropriated from her earlier captive only two streets over, and the four fugitives gratefully threw themselves and the weapons they carried inside, panting from the exertion.

As she had the previous morning, Aeryn drove the vehicle, John in the passenger seat beside her, Jool and Crais in the back, weapons at the ready in case of pursuit. "Our pulse rifles are on the floor back there," Aeryn said, and Jool retrieved them, handing one to John in the front seat.

"Don't go too fast," Jool said. "We might make it to the spaceport if we don't attract their attention."

The others ignored the comment, keeping watch out the windows as Aeryn continued to drive at a steady pace.

John stretched one arm out along the back of the seat, alternating between resting his hand lightly on Aeryn's shoulder, and tapping his fingers nervously on the seat. When they had put some distance between themselves and the detention center, he commented to the group at large, "You realize they're going to be waiting for us at the spaceport. They'll have the transport pod staked out."

"How soon is Talyn due back in orbit?" Aeryn asked, taking a corner carefully while avoiding several pedestrians.

"Within a quarter arn," Crais answered promptly.

"Remember Dam-ba-da?" Aeryn asked.

"Yes, that could work," Crais agreed, and elaborated for the benefit of Crichton and Jool, "Talyn came in on a strafing run to help keep the Charrids off of us. If I can contact him, he could do something similar here so we can reach the transport pod."

"Or anything else that will fly," Aeryn added.

"Crais, my man, batter up," John told him.

"Do it," Aeryn translated.

"As soon as I have contact with Talyn," Crais agreed.

Jool simply hefted the pulse rifle riding in her lap and hoped for the best.

Aeryn parked the transport in a quiet street with a view of a side entrance to the spaceport. Although it was mostly undeveloped land opposite the port, there were many vehicles parked along the street, so they weren't too conspicuous. They collected their weapons and other belongings, and waited impatiently for Talyn to make contact with his captain.

Crichton, arm still along the back of the seat, casually rubbed a few strands of Aeryn's ponytail between his fingers as if for good luck.

She smiled at him ruefully, and they both scanned the street, hoping it would stay quiet.

"Isn't he here -- " Jool began, only to be cut off by Crais' firm voice.

"Hello, Talyn," he said. "We need your help."

At that moment, a squad of soldiers came around the corner, standing between them and the entrance to the port.

"Frell," four voices said simultaneously, although the squad appeared not to have noticed them yet.

"As soon as possible, Talyn," Crais said, giving the rest of his instructions to the Leviathan gunship silently. After a moment, Crais said, "All right, Talyn's coming in."

"Let's move, kids," Crichton said, and they exited the ground transport, weapons at the ready.

They rapidly crossed the street and pushed their way through the small crowd waiting to enter the gate, followed rapidly by the soldiers. Since both groups were reluctant to fire on civilians, it was only after Talyn's crew made it onto the landing field that their pursuers really began to take aim and fire at them.

As they had expected, there were troops on the field between them and the transport pod. Pausing briefly under cover, Crais and Aeryn made a quick survey of other "available" craft while Crichton and Jool fired at those soldiers who seemed to have better aim than the rest.

"What do you think?" Crais shouted to Aeryn.

"I can fly most of them," Aeryn yelled back, "but I don't think they'll be fast enough if there's air pursuit! They're too old!"

"Transport pod it is, then," Crichton interjected loudly.

Crais nodded and said, "Talyn! We need you to clear the area between my position and the transport pod! Now!"

The soldiers on the field looked up at the noise as Talyn swooped in, then scattered as the gunship began his strafing run. Some of them didn't make it, and their comrades struggled to pull the injured to safety. Several ground vehicles or fuel storage tanks were hit and exploded, adding to the confusion.

As soon as the strafing stopped, the four members of Talyn's crew took off at a run, zig-zagging across the field and heading for their transport pod. Jool screamed once when a shot barely missed her, but for the most part, Talyn's diversion was a huge success. They reached the ship without injury and raced up the steps.

"Let me fly," Crais said as Aeryn started to step into the pilot's seat. When she looked at him in surprise, he said, "It will be easier for me to coordinate with Talyn if I'm the one who is flying. He can read exactly what I'm doing."

Aeryn nodded and stepped back, falling into a seat next to Crichton while Jool took the seat next to the pilot. The transport pod took off at a speed and an angle which were probably just barely within tolerances, followed by several pursuit craft.

"Hey, Crais," John yelled over the noise.

"Yes?"

"Can Talyn keep them off our backs for a few microts? We could try to fly over that wreckage zone and see if it looks like it could have been a Leviathan."

Aeryn glared at him and Jool looked like she was going to let out one of her metal-melting screeches, but Crais merely said, "I believe he can." He began a banked turn towards the site they had been headed for on the ground the day before.

"Thanks," Crichton said.

But it soon became obvious that although the wreckage belonged to a ship of impressive size, it had not been a living ship. Disappointed, they retreated to Talyn and safety.

* * * * * * * * * *

Back on Talyn, Jool and Crais both headed to their individual quarters to clean up. John and Aeryn, however, remained in the common area for a time, sitting side by side with John's arm across her shoulder, looking out at the stars.

Aeryn turned to John at last and said, "Isn't it time we rendezvoused with Moya?"

John tightened his mouth and looked away from her, then reluctantly admitted, "Yeah. If they haven't had any better luck than we have, I guess we need to just move on to planning an attack without the cloaking collar."

She nodded, satisfied, and they lapsed back into silence.

John reached out and touched a wisp of her hair for just barely long enough for her to realize he had. When she turned towards him he said, "Your hair looks nice like that. It's been a long time since I've seen you without the braid."

Something that flickered across her face made him realize she must have worn the ponytail for the other him. But before he could react, the expression was gone, replaced by a twinkle in her eyes. "It was Jool's idea," she told him.

John was flabbergasted. "You're taking fashion advice from Jool?" he asked. "In the middle of a raid?"

She laughed at the expression on his face.

"It all made perfect, logical sense," she explained. "Jool noticed that they didn't seem to be taking females very seriously, and she thought it would help if I looked less like 'a tight-assed bitch.'"

John winced elaborately. "She said that?"

Aeryn merely said, "Mm-hmm."

"Our friends were male chauvinist oink-oinks, huh?" John said, trying to distract her. "Did it work?"

She laughed, then, and said, "Yes, actually. They were extraordinarily careless."

After a few more microts he said, "Thanks for getting Winona back."

"You're welcome."

He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip momentarily, then asked, "When you handed me the pulse pistol, in the cell. How did you know it was Winona?"

Aeryn looked at him carefully. "I just knew," she said. "The same way you do, perhaps." She arched her neck backwards then, stretching, and the back of her head jarred painfully against his arm.

He felt her flinch, and asked anxiously, "Are you okay? How badly did you get hurt?"

"It's just a bump on the head," she reassured him, and repeated what she'd told Jool. "I've had worse."

"You sure?"

"Jool would have dragged me off for an exam before she took the time for her shower if she'd thought I was in any danger," Aeryn pointed out.

"Yeah, she takes this Marcus Welby thing pretty seriously."

"I was unconscious for a while, though," she conceded. "I had some very strange dreams."

"I doubt you can top one of mine," he grinned. "I dreamed you visited me in jail and brought me a cake with Winona baked inside!"

She laughed. "Why would I do something like that?"

"It's traditional on Earth," he told her. "When your loved one is in jail, you bake a cake with a file hidden inside and bring it to them. That way they can break out."

She appeared to be contemplating that one, and he stayed silent, watching her bite her lip. "I dreamed about drowning," she finally said. "About dying."

"I'm sorry."

She wrinkled up her face, thinking. "Mmm. I was frightened. But then the dream changed. And I was very old. Living on a very boring planet." She looked at him, as if she was waiting for something.

"With me," he said flatly, going very still.

"Yes."

He looked in her blue eyes, wondering what was happening. "And a daughter. Or a granddaughter. Someone like that," he added.

Aeryn sighed, letting out her breath. "I thought you might know that. On Valldon, he knew," she trailed off. "It was the same dream."

Watching her face, touching her cheek, John saw her push Valldon aside and return to now, to him.

"Did we live that life once, do you think?" she asked. "Or will we?"

"It's damned peculiar that we both had that dream," he said. "But I don't believe in reincarnation." He hesitated for a moment and then plunged on. "And I'd like to hope we could grow old together in some much more interesting place. Probably in space."

John held his breath and waited.

Aeryn smiled. "Me too," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

John kissed her hair and smiled. "Well, when we finish blowing up the Gammack base, we'll have to see what turns up," he told her lightly.

"I think I'd like that," she said, and he turned and smiled at the stars in front of them.