DISCLAIMER: Same old stuff, I don't own them, those other guys do. They're the ones making all the cash. I just get to borrow them for awhile and have fun.

ACKNOLWEDGMENTS: Thanks to Kelly for Beta Reading! My first time to have someone Beta. I never knew how many mistakes I made till now! (LOL)

YOU MUST READ THIS BEFORE DIVING INTO THIS STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!

OK, this is an experiment. Having no real life, I have this story (this incredibaly long, detailed, EPIC story) filling up my head and I have no room for anything else. To make room for other thoughts (non Farscape ones), I decided I needed to write this down. SO....this is the first part, the Prologue. This story MUST be read to understand any of the stories that will follow. And oh boy, will there be stories to follow. Each story will start in this 'future' and then travel back to the 'past'. Each story will answer questions that you, the reader, will most certainly have. With me so far? Trust me that there will be no important details left dangling. If you have questions or helpful hints, please email me and let me know. I can't guarantee to answer questions (it might spoil the next story!) but I can try.

ENJOY!!!----Speedy

He was alone.

He was alone, and thus the discovery was his alone. He savored it, relished it. All sensors tolhim that what he was seeing was indeed reaoul, that the images before him were not false. His emotions and memories screamed the opposite. *Impostor! Liar!* But no, he new the truth when he saw it, and this was truth in spades. As impossible as it seemed, the view from command was terribly familiar.

Earth loomed before him like a radiant star, bejeweled in lights and an ambient glow all it's own. As improbable and impossible as it seemed, John Crichton was home.

It was Pilot who broke his reverie. "Captain Crichton, shall I attempt to make contact with the planet? It doesn't seem to be a commerce planet, but we still might..."

"No, Pilot, don't contact them. Let's stay out of sight for now. Keep us stationary, don't get much closer, that should be good enough." His words sounded odd to him, stilted, awkward. His conscious shrieked *coward!* but he ignored it.

"As you wish." Pilot said amicably enough. "Should I wake the others?" he asked.

Crichton studied on that for a microt before answering. "Not yet. Time enough to tell them in the morning." He wanted this all to himself for now. The glory was his and his alone. As silence again reigned in command, he savored the view of home that by all rights he had never expected to see again. Home, earth, Dad, DK, pizza and beer, chocolate, football and MTV. So much he had longed for and given up. So much to think about. It had been so long, so long.

It had been more than eleven years.

Morning on Moya was often turbulent. Not that Moya's flight was inhibited in any way, but that the flights of her crew were impeded by the flotsam and jetsam of the beginning of a new day. The crew bustled from breakfast shifts to quarters to wherever their posting was for that day, slipping past each other with a murmured "morning" and a nod. Things were always particularly frantic in the section of crew's quarters set aside for the Captain and his family.

"Mom! Tell Garryt to leave my stuff alone!" a small voice shrilled. Muffled exclamations and hisses of anger were interspersed with incoherent shouts. From the main room, Aeryn Sun pulled her hair back and began to fasten it quickly, ignoring the ruckus from the next room. Her hair done, she donned her boots swiftly, firing questions at Pilot as she did.

"You say it seems to be a primitive planet, no regular space flight or higher technology?" she asked. A shriek of rage from the next room made her glance sideways, but not for long.

"Yes, there are some orbital satellites and a space station that looks abandoned, but nothing more."

"And you say John has Moya stationary well out of range?" Howls of pain erupted from the next room, and Aeryn frowned.

"That is correct."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to go down there and see what's happening," she said matter of factly. With no further word, she flung herself into the next room.

Two small children wrestled on the floor, both redfaced and spitting fluent curses in several languages. A third child sat quietly on the bed, out of the way but with a great vantage point. Upon seeing his mother enter the room, he sat back and waited, a smile on his face.

"Garryt, is there any reason you are trying to choke your little sister?" she said calmly.

Instantly the fight broke up. Sheepishly, a sturdy dark haired boy disentangled himself from his younger sister and looked up at the stern face of his mother. Looking away from his current enemy proved fatal, however, for she landed one final kick of her small bare foot square in his stomach. With a surprised "oof!" he fell back, hands clutched tightly to the offended spot. Aeryn shook her head sadly. "Never drop your guard," she said bluntly.

"He was messin' with my stuff," the defiant little girl said.

"Why is your stuff in Garryt's room?" Aeryn asked.

"But he was *touching* it..." she wailed. Aeryn shook her head.

"If you brought it in here, you were asking for them to mess with it. Put your things away and get ready for breakfast, Cat." Cat stomped away, clearly put out by not getting her way.

"Mom, she's always doin' stuff like that, trying to get us in trouble..." Garryt began.

"Remember, Garryt, and you too Griffyn, you are older. Cat is only six, she needs you to help her, not beat her up." Here Aeryn smiled. "But it looks like Cat can take care of herself pretty well. Maybe you two should start paying better attention in self defense classes."

Looking sheepish, Garryt glanced at his twin, Griffyn. Identical in temperament and looks, the boys were difficult for even their parents to tell apart. They were so similar that they had all the same favorite foods and games, spoke the same, dressed the same, fought the same. The only reason Aeryn knew one from the other this morning was that Garryt had just yesterday skinned a small patch of skin off his nose while trying some foolish stunt down in the maintenance bay.

"Get ready for breakfast, you two. I have to go up to command. Chiana's on her way to make sure you don't get ambushed by Cat."

Ignoring their protests of independence thwarted once again, she left the room.

Chiana was in the outer room running a brush through Cat's dark curls. Six years old and dedicated hellion, Cat Crichton slid her amazingly blue eyes to her mother.

"Can I come with you, momma?" she asked in her best little girl voice.

Aeryn wasn't fooled for a minute. She tweaked her daughter's nose and shook her head. "No, you need to go to breakfast with Chiana and your brothers and stay out of trouble. Think you can manage?" Chiana snorted a laugh, but the little girl wasn't pleased.

Cat's eyes narrowed. "I'm gonna put a dentic in Garryt's breakfast," she declared hotly.

"Keep an eye on her, would you,Chi? She's in a mood." Stooping to kiss her daughter on the top of her head, Aeryn left.

John stood where he had stood for the last few arns, legs about shoulder width apart, arms resting lightly on the console in front of him, eyes locked on the viewscreen. So beautiful, so beautiful. Three crew members, all Sebacean, monitored different consoles and occasionally glanced his way. No one said anything as Aeryn strode in. Studying the image on screen, she frowned in concentration. Now why did this particular planet seem familiar? She went to John, letting her right shoulder and hip rest comfortably against him. He looked over at her, and she felt a shock go through her system. All these years, she thought, and a simple look makes me knees turn to jelly. She smiled, and he returned it.

"See that, Aeryn?" He asked calmly. She looked at the blue green planet rotating slowly on the screen and nodded. A different light came to his eyes, something she had never seen before.

"It's Earth, Aeryn," he said simply. Aeryn could only look from the screen to him in wonder, seeing the exultant look in his eyes, the pain, the sorrow. Now, after eleven cycles of searching, he had found his home. Or at least, she reasoned, his home planet. Home, she knew, was here, with her and the children. Home would never again be that planet spinning slowly.

"I'm not even going to waste my time asking if you're sure," she said. "It's pretty evident you are. What do you plan to do?"

"Nothing, yet. Wait till everyone has eaten, then have Pilot call them in for a meeting. We need to discuss our options. Pilot's monitoring transmissions now."

"Fine. Why don't you come eat too? I need some reinforcements to keep Cat from beheading her brothers."

John smiled as he slung his arm around Aeryn's shoulders. "She's at it again, is she? Who'd she try and pulverize this time?"

They wandered off in search of breakfast and quality time.

The most senior of Moya's officers met in command after breakfast. John, as Captain, and Aeryn, as first officer, stood facing their friends and comrades. Zhaan, as blue and serene as a Delvian moon, waited patiently. She smiled contentedly as she gazed around. D'Argo was as always a presence, shadowed by a slighter and darker presence, his son Jothee. Chiana had sent the kids to their respective classes and joined them, along with several of the newer additions to the crew. Merryc was an ex PeaceKeeper like Aeryn, a hard bitten man, disillusioned and expatriated. The others found him to be a solid and welcome addition to the crew.

Challis was a younger woman, also a PeaceKeeper, charged with being irreversibly contaminated for saving an alien's life. The parallels and irony of the situation were far too glaring to pass up. She was one of the most adamant crusaders for equality on board ship. Aeryn both liked and admired her, even if she couldn't understand Challis's preference for women lovers.

Aeryn stole another look at John from where she stood, always at his left. John had joked that on Earth, someone who was the most trusted member of an association was called the "right hand man", but that in their case, he would have to revise that to ‘left hand woman’. She had at first cringed whenever he referred to her place at his side in this manner, but she had adjusted. After all, if it didn't bother him, why should it bother her? From here, she could protect his blind side. She studied his profile, knowing he couldn't see her and wanting to judge his mood and his plan. His jaw was set in a way she knew well. Whatever he had to say, she knew from past experiences it wouldn't go over well.

Time, that curse of all species, had been kind to John. He aged gracefully, despite the crush of cycles. The roadmap of scars only added to his rugged good looks, she thought. John said, when someone told him it had been a tough span of cycles, that it wasn't the years, it was the miles. Aeryn hadn't understood that at first, until he explained it. But she could appreciate what he was saying. Time didn't mark him, but all the stops along the way had. There was the small curving scar on his jaw from a knife, from who knows what planet. Miscellaneous nicks and burns and healed broken bones were John's legacy. And then, there was his left eye. Aeryn remembered the portable frag cannon's explosion, the concussion knocking her down and stunning her momentarily. Her mind skittered from the parts she hated to acknowledge and instead remembered John, the left side of his face a bloody mess, roaring his rage and hate and spitting blood at his enemy. The scars were still there, a scattering of gouges with spiky tendrils like frozen tears, streaking forever backwards towards his left ear. He had recovered, but his sight in that eye was forever gone. Sometimes, he could see a glimmer of light, but that was getting to be a rare occurrence. Knowing Aeryn was always on his left, always there to back him up, was one of the strongest parts of their relationship.

He turned, as he always did when he felt her eyes on him, and smiled. "Ready for some fireworks, Sunshine?" he asked quietly. She returned his smile. "I don't know what you have planned, but I have a feeling someone won't like it."

"You always could read me like a book." he replied. Then he turned to the crew.

D'Argo jerked his chin towards the planet glimmering on the screen. "Why aren't we in orbit around this planet?" he asked. "If it's not a commerce planet, we should leave."

John nodded at D'Argo's straightforward approach. He could always count on him for cutting to the chase.

"We aren't in orbit because as you guessed, it isn't a commerce planet." He paused, glancing once more at the jewel on the screen. Now he had to tell them, and take the consequences of his decision. "It's Earth, my home planet."

A short stunned silence was followed by congratulations, exclamations of happiness, and whoops of amazement. D'Argo cut short his congratulatory slap on John's shoulder when he saw the look in his eye. There was more. He settled back, casting his eye to Zhaan and seeing his thoughts mirrored there as well. Ahh, better to sit back and wait for John's decision, whatever it may be.

"John, I am happy for you. The Goddess must surely be smiling upon you to return you home." Zhaan smiled sweetly, her eyes alive with tears of happiness. "When will you be going down to the surface?"

He smiled serenely and shook his head.

"Never."

He was right. All hell broke loose.

"I don't need to justify my decision, D'Argo. I'm not going and that's final." John settled into the chair gratefully, his bad knee singing softly. He rubbed it absently.

"You don't know what you are doing, Crichton! You are *home*! The others see you throwing away your chance at what they themselves can never have and don't understand it. You are Captain, for better or worse, and they, *your* crew, deserve an answer." He stopped in front of John, towering over him and crossing his arms angrily. "You owe them."

"I don't owe them *shit* when it comes to Earth." John said furiously. "It's my decision. I'm not going down there."

"WHY?" roared D'Argo, flinging his hands up in frustration. "Is it that false Earth we encountered cycles ago? Surely you don't think that's what would really happen? You must want to see your father again! What is your reasoning?"

John contemplated for a long moment, his eyes distant. Finally he turned back to D'Argo, waiting impatiently for an answer. He shook his head slowly.

"I would give almost anything to see my father again, but I don't belong there, D'Argo. Not any more. Am I really human, now? After all these years of being one of the galaxy's most wanted, dodging the bullet day after day, marrying a Sebacean, raising half breed kids...what would humanity think of me now? I'll tell you what they'd do. They'd lock me away and cut me open to see what makes me tick. They'd call me a renegade, a traitor, a killer. They'd turn on me like a mad dog." He shook his head sadly. "I won't go down there, D'Argo, and that's final."

"You are none of those things," D'Argo said quietly, reassuringly.

"Sometimes, I'm not so sure," John answered with a pained look. "You have done no worse than I, these last years," D'Argo said with conviction.

"And that on its own would be enough to convict me as a bloodthirsty savage on Earth." John shook his head again. "I'm not human anymore, D'Argo, I don't belong there. I'll contact them, speak to them, but I won't go down there. It's not worth my life, or the lives of my family."

D'Argo nodded his head then, not entirely understanding but accepting his friend's decision. He turned to leave, but offered one last piece of advice. "If, in time, humans decide to accept you as you are, if you feel you can safely walk upon your home planet, do so, John. If not for your sake or the sake of your family, then for your crew, for all of us who can never go home."

John nodded slowly. "I will, D'Argo, if I can."

D'Argo left him then, alone and contemplating the one desire he could never hope to attain.

"Captain, we have those transmissions you wanted. Should I pipe them down to you in your quarters?" Young Kaben Tahll broke John's reverie. He stirred himself and answered. "Yes...no, no wait, I'll come up there." He stood then, allowing himself to wince as his knee popped alarmingly. He was alone, no one was there to ask, 'Are you ok?' and hover over him. God he was tired of that, hovering. At least he never had to worry about Aeryn playing mother hen unless he was really hurt. She allowed him his one vanity, hating to be seen as crippled or damaged. That she could understand. He flexed his knee again and decided it would be ok. A voice coming from the doorway surprised him.

"You really should let Zhaan and Mlippa scan your knee again, it's getting worse."

He wasn't surprised to see Aeryn leaning casually against the door, her voice dry but her concern lingering in her eyes. She crossed the room to stand in front of him, impeding his progress.

"It's fine, Aeryn, just stiff," he said gruffly. She cocked an eyebrow at him and shook her head.

"You are as stubborn as you are bizarre," she said fondly. "Your daughter takes after you more than any child has a right to."

"Well, at least she comes by it honestly," he quipped, grinning at his wife. She shook her head and kissed him lightly. He returned it, lingering there for awhile.

"I'm going to listen to some transmissions, want to come? Who knows, might be something interesting. At the very least I might learn who won the Super Bowl for the last eleven years." He caressed her jaw and kissed her again.

"John, why won't you go home? You have the chance," Aeryn said softly, returning his kiss.

He shook his head, rubbing his nose against hers. "This is home, Aeryn." He kissed her again, letting his tongue probe her mouth gently. "This, you, me, the kids, Moya, all of it. This is home."

She sighed, knowing better than to push him further. It never worked, to push. He resisted and resented being pushed into something he didn't want. Truth be told, she did also, but she was nowhere near as stubborn as he was. So she told herself, that is. "Let's go listen to Earth, shall we?" she asked him, taking his arm in hers. If he wouldn't get his knee looked at, she would coddle him a little. That usually worked. A few days of her attempting to assist him and he'd run to Zhaan for a scan. Men were like that, she decided, especially this man.

Command was moderately busy with crew members manning consoles and running errands. John and Aeryn crossed to the communications array arm in arm. He noticed that more than a few of them observed her arm through his and knew what they were thinking. Damn, he'd have to go let Zhaan scan his knee and see what was up this time. He stopped by the array and nudged Kaben Tahll with his elbow. "What do we got, Kaben?"

Kaben, a hybrid of two humanoid species, had ropy blue dreadlocks and pale skin. His eyes were amber, cat slit with purple irises. He had retractable claws not unlike a cat and a fine downy fur in a soft shade of the same amber as his eyes. He was both beautiful and intimidating, with those unfathomable eyes and dangerous claws. His teeth were filed to fine points, reminding John of long ago tales of vampires. Kaben had little or no sense of humor and stayed pretty much alone, but his loyalty was unquestionable. Whenever the children went planetside, Kaben insisted on coming along as a body guard. John never refused him.

"There are military, domestic and commercial transmissions. I am assuming you were more interested in the military so I have those queued for you." He turned those haunting eyes to John and waited.

John nodded, deciding he could find out about the Super Bowl later and thus not lower himself in Kaben's esteem any further. "Go ahead."

Static spit through the air and cleared. John listened to news reports on military movements throughout the Middle East, China, and Africa. Some drug lords in South America had made a bid for running their own country and were still fighting the rebel guerillas, those opposed to rule by drug kingpins, in the jungle. And lord have mercy, they were still fighting in the Balkans. The more things change, the more they stay the same, John thought bitterly. Maybe he would fit in better than he thought. He stabbed at the controls, shutting off the droning voices. "Let's try for something different," he said. "Can you locate any orbiting flights? Shuttles?"

Kaben ran his surprisingly delicate hands over the console with a speed John admired. Presently he answered, "Yes, there is one shuttle in orbit. It seems to be doing repair work on a satellite."

"Great, let's try and cut in on their conversation, shall we?" John said calmly. By this time, both Zhaan and D'Argo, followed by Jothee, had entered the room and stood attentively listening.

"Here, I believe I have it," Kaben said. A sudden squeal of static and then a tinny transmission filled the command.

"Canaveral, it's a go. We have Transcom One in tow. Going EV now to commence repairs."

"Roger that, and good luck."

"Thanks, Canaveral. Looks like a simple job, in and out." There was a pause, and then the voice came back, laughter tingeing his words. "All that education and training and all I am is a glorified cable repair man!"

"Oh man, there he goes again, quoting movie lines..." someone groused.

"Just make sure the picture is clear, guys. I don't want to miss the NFL draft tonight!"

John interrupted this with, "Oh, man, the draft! Damn!" Even Aeryn looked at him with questioning eyes, but he ignored them all.

"Sure Canaveral, rub it in," came the mocking reply. "Ok, we're almost out the door, we'll let you know how it goes."

"Roger that, Canaveral out."

"Roger, Paxton out."

John cut the transmission and turned to Aeryn with a gleam in his eye. "I have an idea."

"And why does that fill me with dread?" she responded.

"Because you have limited vision," he laughed, squeezing her arm before turning to the rest of the crew. "Pilot, take us into orbit, but further out than the shuttle. We don't want to shake them up that much."

"Moya wants to know if we will be assisting the crew from Earth with their repairs? She is concerned that they aren't technologically prepared for this sort of work," Pilot said as Moya swung into orbit.

John laughed. "Oh, they can do the repairs all right. I just thought we could drop by, you know, be neighborly, say 'hey'." He grinned. "They're gonna shit their pants."

The astronauts aboard the IASA shuttle performed their duties easily, with no fuss. After all, they had trained for this moment for years. Going EV was just part of the job. Dave Meier was a veteran of three shuttle flights, a commander and father of two. His partner today was Willy Chen, a third generation Chinese American from Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Willy was a wizard with satellite repairs, everyone wanted him included when the mission called for repairs like this. Dave chuckled when he remembered Willy's joke about being a glorified cable guy. It was true, and sad, in a way, but it was still funny.

"Hey Willy, if we turn this just a little bit, can we get re-runs of the Simpsons?" he joked. Willy laughed good-naturedly, then suddenly stopped. Dave turned to him slowly (you did everything slowly when you were EV, a fast move could be fatal), wondering what had shut him up so fast. By the look on Willy's face, something bad was coming down.

"What? Willy, what's wrong?"

But Willy could only point, not trusting his voice. Dave turned around to look over his right shoulder, and almost fainted from the shock. He didn't know what he was seeing, but whatever it was, it was enormous. Bigger than a football stadium, he was sure. He'd been to see the Seattle Seahawks play in the old Kingdome when he was a kid, and he remembered how awed he had been at the size of the building. And it was one of the smaller stadiums, but as a kid it had loomed larger than life. Kind of like this...whatever it was bearing down on them.

"Spaceship, it's gotta be a spaceship," Dave muttered, and completely by reflex, he crossed himself.

"Wha-what Dave? What did you say?" came Willy's voice.

"I said, let's get the hell inside before *that* gets here." Dave replied, finally finding his commander's voice. "Peiter, Charles, you guys on the ball in there?"

"Roger that, Commander, is there a problem?" Peiter came back instantly.

"Look out your starboard view and you tell me," came Dave's terse reply as he and Willy hurried back to the shuttle. God, whatever it was it was getting closer.

"Holy SHIT!" This was Charles. "Jesus, Mary, Mother of God, look at the *size* of that thing!"

"Shut up and start filming, Cabbot. Do your job." Dave was sweating now in his EV suit, not a comfortable proposition.

"Commander Meier, I have Canaveral, they are requesting a visual." Darlene Wright was as cool as a cucumber. Meier envied her that.

"Give them all the visual they can handle, Darlene. I want their take on this anyway," he puffed as he followed Willy through the airlock. "We're in. Tell Canaveral I'll be right there."

"Roger that, Commander."

Inside the shuttle, Jenna Paxton and Pieter Menshikov were waiting. They both helped their commander and crewmate to slip out of the cumbersome EV suits. Dave noticed that both of them were sweating profusely, and casting nervous glances towards the window. The monstrosity they had seen was not in that view, but it was only a matter of time. Dave felt Pieter's eyes on him.

"What do you think it is, Dave?" Pieter asked softly.

"Hell if I know, but I can venture a guess as to what it *isn't*, and that's an asteroid or a meteor. “And I can also guess it ain’t from around here. Take it from there, maestro."

They hurried up to the cockpit, faster than was deemed safe in normal circumstances, but desperate times called for desperate measures...or so Dave told himself. One glance out the viewport told him that whatever it was, it was closer. And bigger. Hell, Dave thought, the Kingdome would have fit into that thing a dozen times over with room to spare. And it's *flying*, in space. Amazing.

"Canaveral, are you receiving visuals?" Dave asked.

"Roger that, Commander. Any ideas?" came the dubious voice. Dave rolled his eyes.

"Negative, Canaveral." He paused. "Can you get any impression of its size?"

"That's another negative, Commander. It looks big though." This time the voice was clearly stating, I don't know how damn big it is, but I am sure glad I am here, on the ground, not up there, in space. With that.

"BIG? Hell, this thing could swallow Kennedy Space Center and not even burp!" Charles Cabbot burst out impulsively. The others grinned.

"Canaveral, we're going to take some readings..." Dave paused when he realized something was changing on the huge...anomaly. An opening appeared on one side, down low. Before he could comment on that, a different voice broke into the transmission.

"Hey guys, how's it goin'? Just happened to be in the neighborhood, saw you out here changin' your flat, thought, what the hell, I'll be neighborly and stop and say 'hey'. So, 'Hey'!" The voice was cheery, friendly, and even slightly familiar. Dave Meier found himself at a loss for words. The guys from Canaveral, thinking one of the shuttle personnel was playing a joke, asked for a repeat. Dave barely had time to form an answer in his thoughts before the strange but familiar voice broke in again.

"Canaveral! Long time no see, how's it hangin'? Lost any good space ships lately?"

The pause was definitely pregnant. Both Dave and Canaveral were speechless.

"So anyway, I was thinkin', you bring the steaks, I'll supply the brew...no wait a minute, we're out of any decent brew...hmm, well, I'll supply the grill, such as it is, and we'll have an old fashioned bar-b-que." The maniacal voice paused again, and the others had the impression he was talking to someone else. "You're all invited, of course, and we'll even help you repair your satellite. Free, in a heated, gravity enhanced maintenance bay."

Dave Meier finally found his voice. "Who the hell are you? And what is that...ship?...you're in?" His voice shook with anticipation and not a little fear.

That half crazed voice came back, sounding not a bit surprised that they didn't recognize him. "Me? Oh, allow me to introduce myself." He paused, and the gleam of madness backed off just a bit. "I’m Captain John Crichton, of the Leviathan Moya."

The burst of confusion from Canaveral sounded like static. Dave and his crew sat in stunned silence, contemplating. Crichton! Hell, he'd been gone more than eleven years! And that ship, it was amazing. Once again, it was Dave who found his voice first.

"Say again, did you say, Commander John Crichton?"

"No, but I'll give you brownie points for getting it half right. It's *Captain* John Crichton. Call it a...field promotion, of sorts." Dave could almost hear the grin in his voice.

"And the Farscape 1?" Dave asked.

"Oh, I traded it in on a roomier model. You know, more head and leg room, better stereo, room for the kids. It was time to get rid of the sports car and settle for a mini-van. Or something like that."

"O-kaay..." Dave said, digesting what he'd just been told. "Umm, well, Com...I mean, Captain Crichton..."

"Call me John." he came back cheerily.

"Yeah, sure, John. Well, uh...where the hell have you been for the past eleven years?" Dave managed to spit out.

The pause was electric. Dave found himself gazing with something between longing and fear at the Leviathan...whatever the hell that was. If that was really John Crichton over there, where had he been?

"Out there. Just...out there." The mad quality in his voice was gone again. But not for long. While Dave and Canaveral were digesting this information, John came back again.

"Hey! Who won the Super Bowl this year?" he asked excitedly.

There was a ripple of laughter, and then Charley Cabbot shouted out, "Green Bay!" An agonized groan from John answered them.

"Shit!"

Canaveral took that opportunity to break into the conversation, asserting authority. "Commander Crichton, this is Canaveral. What exactly is a Leviathan?"

"Well, loosely translated it means Big Ass Ship," John said conversationally. "And that's *Captain* Crichton, thank you very much."

They could almost hear the frustration from Canaveral. Dave and his crew were doubled in laughter by then. Just hearing a long lost hero yanking Canaveral's chain was priceless.

"Well then, Captain, is there any form of alien life that you have encountered?" the nameless voice was dripping with doubt.

That did it. Crichton burst out laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. "Hey, dipshit, I'm in an alien ship big enough to swallow Manhattan and you ask me if there's any aliens out here?" He howled, and the others thought they heard the sound of...other laughter. "I'm not exactly flying this thing alone, y'know."

The next question from Canaveral was asked by someone different. Someone with authority. Someone with a uniform. They could almost see the medals gleaming on his chest.

"Captain Crichton, this is Major General Hyde, United States Air Force. Do you remember me?"

"Sure! General Hyde, you and my dad used to go fly fishing in Vermont when you could get away."

General Hyde cleared his throat. "Well, do you remember the trip we took the summer you were 15?"

There was a pause. "Ah-ha, checking my memory, making sure it's really me." He chuckled. "Yeah, General, I remember what happened. Dad caught a batch of the hugest rainbow and brown trout I have ever seen, and you caught one tiny German trout. You were so pissed you threw about $600 worth of fly fishing gear in the lake."

General Hyde was quite possibly turning all sorts of shades of red. It was certain that Dave and his crew were, but not from embarrassment.

"Well, that wasn't the memory I was looking for. What happened that night?"

There was a pause. "That night? You and Dad got drunk, got nostalgic, told us all sorts of war stories and passed out. And I took an underwater flashlight out to the lake and retrieved all the expensive gear. Fished with that stuff for years."

By now Dave and crew were in hysterics. This was the best entertainment they had ever had, and all at someone else’s expense.

Apparently General Hyde was convinced of John's validity, either that or he was profoundly embarrassed, because he passed the conversation on to someone else.

"Captain Crichton, this is Walt Greely, BaseOps supervisor. We'd like you to come down to the planet and tell us all about what's happened in the last eleven years." He spoke pleasantly, but even Willy Chen stopped laughing and waited for the answer.

"No way in hell, Wally," John said cheerily.

For the second time that day, all hell broke loose.

John and Aeryn stood in the terrace, watching Earth rotate slowly in a vast field of stars. He stood behind her; she leaned back against him and his cheek was smooth against hers. She waited for nearly half an arn, but he didn't speak. Finally she could stand it no longer.

"Since you aren't going to go down there, just what do you have planned?" she ventured quietly.

He waited a microt before answering, and when he did, he spoke with conviction.

"Why, I'll invite them up here. We'll introduce them all to the crew, give them the grand tour of Moya, show off some technology, and voila! Invite them to be a part of the Colony." He nuzzled her hair. "Any objections?"

"You might want to run that by the Colony council first," she said dryly.

"I will." He returned to staring at the stars, but Aeryn wasn't satisfied.

"How long to you intend to stay here?"

"As long as it takes." He kissed her ear, blowing softly as he did. A shudder rippled through her body, and her eyes closed rapturously. "I just don't know. First things first though, I'd like to get permission to bring my dad up here. And DK."

"John, you didn't ask anyone, I mean, are you sure..." she halted, unsure about how to finish that thought.

"Am I sure he's still alive? Reasonably so. First off, no one said, 'Gee, John, sorry 'bout your dad', and second off, did you notice the name on the shuttle?"

"It's in Erp language John," she joked.

He laughed. "Yeah, sorry, I forgot. The shuttle's name is the Crichton." He laughed. "In the history of space flight, *no* ship has ever been named for a person, always ideals or planets or Greek gods. There were the Apollo missions, Gemini, Saturn, those were the early ones. Then the shuttles... Endeavor, Discovery, Challenger...that one ended badly, but still there have never been shuttles or space flights of any kind named after a person, living or dead." He shrugged. "Until now. The fact that no one said, 'hey John, we named this one for the old man' made me think they named it for me. Or maybe I'm just suffering from delusions of grandeur."

"Well I won't argue the delusions..." he nipped her neck lightly in protest, eliciting a squeal of laughter from her, "...but you should be prepared. I just don't want you to be set to see him and find out he's...gone."

John kissed her gently then, hugging her tightly to him. "He's alive, I can feel it."

They watched the blue green jewel among the glittering stars until sleep called them home.

"Let me get this straight, Captain. You won't come down here, but you expect us to come up there and visit you?" General Davenport had been talking to John for quite some time, and getting nowhere.

"That's about the size of it, General," John replied amiably.

"It stinks, Crichton. We won't go for it unless you give us a good reason."

"How's this for a reason." John paused, letting his thoughts form into a clear pattern. "If I came down there, I would have to bring someone with me. Coming down alone is not an option. What do you think would happen if I showed up with a real live alien? Would they welcome us with open arms? You tell me, General."

General Davenport was silent for a moment before answering. "Well, Captain, I imagine they would want to check you and your...friend for viruses and alien bacteria. That would be SOP you know. Then I suppose talks could proceed."

"Yeah, right. Viruses and bacteria. Well, I can tell you right now that it aint going to happen. You see, there's this little language barrier problem that people out here have managed to bypass. They inject everyone at birth with translator microbes. They colonize at the base of your brain and let you understand everything you hear. Well, almost everything. They can't get a fix on swearing or good ol' southern fried metaphors worth a damn. But the point is, I have 'em, and everyone on board Moya has 'em. The boys from the lab would have a conniption over that, wouldn't they?"

"Microbes?" Davenport said weakly.

"It all boils down to this, General. While I trust a few individuals involved, I don't trust the mindset of the agencies in charge. I will not be someone's lab rat. Ever. Hence, I will not come down to the planet. Is that simple enough?"

Davenport was silent for a long moment. "It doesn't have to be that way, Captain. I can make arrangements..."

"No, General, you can't. I don't care how high ranking you are, some spook will outrank and outflank you." John let his voice remain casual, but firm. "Let me tell you something else, General. I swore a long time ago that I would never be taken prisoner again. And I mean it."

"Prisoner? On your own planet? Come on, Crichton, you are being melodramatic!" Davenport scoffed.

"Am I?" John asked. "Think about it, General. Think about where I have been for the last eleven years and how much information I have, and think about the goons in charge. How many of them wouldn't think twice about dissecting a few aliens or holding me captive for the "good of the country"?" "It won't happen..."

"That's right, because I'm not coming down." John said again, and then changed tactics. "Now, about our negotiations for food. I'm going to give you the Farscape 1, with all of its modifications, but maintain the patents and copyrights on everything. Well, I'll hold the patents etcetera collectively with my wife and kids. Is that a go?"

"I think I can manage that one...wait a minute, did you say ‘wife and kids’?" Davenport asked.

"Yeah, pretty sure I didn't stutter."

"You're *married*? To an alien?" The outright disbelief brought a tired smile to John's face.

"No, to Elvis, he had a sex change on Alpha Centauri." he commented dryly. "Of course she's an alien. She's Sebacean, they look just like us. The only differences are minute biological and chemical ones. Most people out here just assume *I'm* Sebacean. Makes for some fun parties, I can tell you that."

"But..."

"But what? She's alien? So what? I bet you have a problem with interracial marriages too. Hell, I grew up in the south and that doesn't bother me. Damn, you'll die when you meet Zhaan, she's a Delvian. They evolved from plants." He was babbling happily now, enjoying himself immensely.

"...plants...?" Davenport managed weakly.

"Yeah, she's this really nifty shade of blue, absolutely gorgeous. Big chick too."

There was silence on the channel, and then Davenport managed to get himself back on track. "You mentioned a trade, Farscape 1 and access to it's new components in exchange for patents, copyrights, and food? Is that correct?"

"Couldn't be righter, General."

"How much and what kind of food?" he asked.

"Oh, enough staples to feed about 300 for a year."

"Three hundred people? Are there three hundred people on board your vessel?" Now Davenport was digging for information. John laughed chidingly.

"Ah-ah-ah, no fair, General! I won't say any more until you agree to arrange a meeting up here, on Moya, with whoever you think is necessary. The only stipulation I have is that both DK and my Dad are included."

"I just don't know if I can get that approved..."

"You can if you try. And it's the only way you'll get to interview me, talk to real aliens, visit a real alien ship, and gain access to Farscape. Cuz I ain’t sending it down. You will have to come up here."

They said a few banal pleasantries then and finally signed off.

The next step was to confer with the Colony Council. Actually, only nine of the twelve council members were present on Moya, so he needed all nine to vote for the addition of humans to the colony. He counted on his power of persuasion, and a little guilt. Every member on the council saw some of his or her own species represented in the colony. Every member except John. Now was the time to remedy that.

The meeting went as he expected, meaning that he was stonewalled for the first twenty minutes of debate until Zhaan, the council's Chairperson, reminded them that if they included Earth's human's in the colony, they would have a ready supply of raw materials, food, and labor. Hopefully, they would also be able to gain laboratories on Earth for geneticists and botanists to work in until such facilities were built on the colony itself. In the face of such unbridled enthusiasm, they agreed to include humans, on a limited scale at first, in the colony. Even though P'ell, a D'avarsh and hopelessly snobbish when it came to planet bound species, proclaimed humans far too provincial for her tastes. Present company excluded, of course. John ignored her.

The walk back to the family quarters was pleasant. Familiar halls, with familiar faces nodding greetings as he passed. He may have been the Captain, but no one placed him above themselves. He was simply the man in charge, not tyrant but a friend. John liked it that way.

As he approached home, he heard peals of laughter from within. He smiled, reveling in that happy sound. Home meant Aeryn and the kids, laughter and love. He ducked inside quietly, hoping to surprise them.

Aeryn sprawled on a wide couch, her long hair loose about her shoulders. Cat was snuggled in her arms, and it was her laughter that John had heard. She and her mother were watching the twins as they practiced some new move from self defense class. So far, John was unobserved, and he felt a mischievous smile tug the corners of his mouth. Garryt and Griffyn were circling each other in a fighting stance, arms spread, feet dancing. From Garryt's red face, John decided he had been thrown by his brother, who looked decidedly smug. That wouldn't do, John thought. The twins circled each other warily as John waited, hidden. When Griffyn made his move John pounced, sticking his leg out and tripping his son as he flung himself at his brother. A howl of protest from Griffyn and a yell of triumph from Garryt proved that John's sneak attack had been fruitful.

“That was no fair!" Griffyn raged at his father as he disentangled himself from his brother and glared. "You tripped me!"

John sauntered casually over to the couch and settled in next to Aeryn. "Who said life was fair?" he asked as he stretched his legs out. "Do you think shouting 'no fair!' will stop a PeaceKeeper from attacking?"

"I didn't know you were *there*..." Griffyn said weakly.

"You should have. You should have kept your ears and eyes open and been ready for anything, anything at all. It's all fun and games here, but there will be a day when it isn't, and you have to be prepared."

Griffyn sulked, and Garryt began to gloat. John quickly cut him down to size. "Don't get all high and mighty with yourself there, Gar. You didn't see me either. You were so damn mad you let yourself focus in on only Griffyn. What if I had been his ally instead of yours? Always, always, be prepared for the unexpected. Don't get so pissed off that you can't see straight, it will get you killed." He became aware that he was rubbing the scar by his eye and stopped.

The boys knew when they were being given The Lecture that there was a reason for their parent's obsession with self defense, but just what it was remained a mystery. Their father never went anywhere without their mother present to back him up (or was it the other way around?), and that was understandable. Somewhere along the line he had made powerful enemies, everyone on Moya had. The boys and all the other children on board looked upon it as a source of pride. Their parents looked on it with a great deal of irritation. It was hard to settle down and create a life and a family with a galaxy full of bounty hunters sniffing at their heels.

"Daddy, can I go down to the planet?" Cat asked, all sweetness.

John didn't even hesitate. "No way in hell, sweetheart," he said as he tweaked her nose playfully.

"But I *want* to..." she began, but her mother cut her off quickly.

"Catherine Crichton, you will stop that whining this instant," she said forcefully. "I can stand a lot of things but I will *not* listen to a child of mine whine."

Pouting, Cat crossed her arms and moved away from her mother just a bit. Finding herself closer to her father, she snuggled with him, turning her baby blues up into his.

"Please, daddy?" she said softly.

The boys rolled their eyes in annoyance, then nudged each other, waiting for their sister to get in trouble.

"No one is going down, Cat. Not you, not me, nobody," he said firmly. Before Cat could demand his attention again, the boys took over.

"If no one is going down, Dad, why are we staying here?" Griffyn wanted to know.

John glanced over at Aeryn first, wondering if she had told the children anything. From the subtle negative shake of her head he knew she had waited for him. He sighed deeply and looked at his children, all three of them with their mother's dark hair, their father's blue eyes. Beautiful children, bright children, his reason for existence for the last ten years or so. Here they were at his home planet and he didn't dare take them to meet their grandfather, their uncle. It was a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare, he thought.

"Well, we're staying here because we are negotiating for supplies. We also just voted to accept some of these people for the colony." He was hedging and he knew it.

"But how can we do that if we aren't going down to the planet?" Garryt asked.

"And why?" Griffyn added. John rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed again.

"The planet is Earth, my home planet," he said slowly. "I don't want to go down there because they just might not let me come back. So, I have invited some of them to come up here, to meet with us."

Cat turned around to look at her father, and the boys both looked at each other in confusion. Why didn't their father want to go home? It was all a part of the bigger mystery that they weren't privy to. As usual, it was Cat who asked the questions the boys had better sense than to ask. Mostly because she was the youngest and could get away with it where they couldn't.

"How come you don't want to go home, daddy?" she asked innocently. "Don't you wanna see your daddy?"

"That's a tough one, sweetheart, and of course I want to see my father. But you see, I'm the only person from my planet to travel out of our solar system. They have never seen someone who wasn't human, never traveled any farther than the planet's atmosphere, except for a few lucky space travelers. Most people on my planet don't believe there is any intelligent life out here at all." He grinned. "Of course, sometimes I wonder about that one."

"You mean they've never gone to another planet?" Griffyn asked, eyes wide.

"Exactly, bud. Never seen a Luxan, or a Delvian, not even a Sebacean. Only other humans."

"So why aren't you going down, daddy?" Cat persisted.

"Because, honey, I don't know how they would react to your mother or any of our friends. They might think I have some sort of disease that they could catch. I do know for a fact that they would lock me up until they were sure that I wasn't a threat to the population, and that I won't stand for."

The boys thought on that one for awhile. Their father's declaration that he would never be taken prisoner again was well known, but they still didn't know why. More mystery. Cat seemed to be out of questions, so Garryt took over.

"Are they going to come up here?" He asked. "I mean, do you think they'll do it, join the colony and everything?"

John looked over at Aeryn, and reached his hand out to her across the back of the couch. He held her hand even as he held her eyes, and smiled sadly.

"I hope so, I really do."

The tarmac at Canaveral Space Center was hot, and the tension was thick. It had taken more than five weeks to secure an agreement with all the nations participating in Operation Space Summit. Representatives from the United States, Russia, China, United Kingdom, Japan, the South and Central Americas, East Asia and Europe all clamored to be included. In the end, one representative from groups of conglomerate countries was allowed. Europe divided itself into north/south lines and sent one representative for each section. South America and Africa sent one each, as did Central America and China. The disputes and aggravation involving some countries could have gone on indefinitely if word hadn't come down from above (meaning from Moya) that they had only three more weeks to decide or the Big Ass Ship would be bugging out, permanently. Compromises were made, delegates sent, and now on the day of departure, forty men and women stood ready to face the unknown and all it held. Many were smoking, some were staring nervously at the sky, and all were in a state one could only call excitement. Why not? It wasn't every day that ordinary people got to travel into space.

Off to one side stood two alone, an older gentleman with gray hair and a younger man with boyish good looks and a brush of a moustache. They might have been nervous, but if they were they hid it well. Or maybe it was because they were only excited, not frightened, of what lay ahead. The younger man turned from his hawk-eyed vigil of the pale sky and spoke.

"What time is it?" He asked softly.

"About two minutes later than the last time you asked," his older companion commented dryly. The younger man grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, gimme a break, I'm excited," he said.

"So am I, D.K., so am I." Colonel Jack Crichton gazed at the sky too, waiting for that first glimpse of a space craft. He knew of course that John wasn't going to be piloting the shuttle, he had already been informed by Canaveral of that. The pilot would be a Sebacean, one of the human looking crew members, and he (or she, as it turned out) would be separated from the passengers by a locked door. After launch, the door would be opened, but not until then. And when they landed on Moya, he would see his son. After eleven years of grieving and wondering what went wrong, he would see his son.

They hadn't even let him talk to John. Not once. Wanting to keep a hole card, so to speak, the powers in charge (some yahoos in the NSA) refused to let Jack talk to his son. He could wait, they said, until they met in person. Bastards. But neither Jack nor D.K. were going to screw up this meeting. Once they got on board Moya, he was thinking of simply staying. It wasn't like he had anything here to come back too. His life was his son, and for the last eleven years his son had been dead to him. And now he was here, alive, and they would see each other in only a short time...

"There it is!" D.K. shouted, pointing his finger at a rapidly approaching black speck. The rest of the waiting crowd spoke rapidly and excitedly, some crossing them selves, some shaking their heads as if they were doubting their own sanity now, when it was far to late. Jack merely watched, gazing in admiration at the craft as it landed in a gust of air and a flash of some sort of repulsors. It was not a large craft, but according to Canaveral John promised them it would have room for all of them. At least for as short of a trip as they were making. Jack chuckled. Short trip? Only two months ago this would be considered a major undertaking, not something to be taken lightly. Travel into space without provisions? No food, EV suits, no trained astronauts? But John assured them that it was safe. Safer, he insisted, than driving a car.

A door opened in the side of the craft, and suddenly no one wanted to be the first to move. All cast sidelong looks at their fellow passengers, their excitement replaced by outright fear. D.K. and Jack rolled their eyes in annoyance. Greenhorns, their look said. Even though D.K. had never been on board a space flight, he considered himself above the rest of his travel mates. After all, hadn't he designed the Farscape 1 and subsequent shuttles, including the newest and the best, the Crichton?

Jack was the first to move, and D.K. followed him briskly, as confident as if it were only a puddle jumper flight from Canaveral to Tampa Bay. The rest of the herd followed meekly, casting nervous glances over their shoulders. There was a sprinkling of military personnel in the mix, all in their appropriate uniforms bedecked with medals and ribbons. They attempted to keep an air of casual self confidence, but failed miserably.

The interior of the craft was spartan, neat, and definitely alien. Curves and ribs and odd looking geometric writing glared out at them from all fronts. There was just enough sitting room for everyone, but you had to be chummy. Up in front was a door, locked to them and containing the pilot, they assumed. All were inside now, and Jack took a quick look at D.K. sitting next to him. The young man was barely able to contain his anticipation, actually bouncing in his seat. Feeling Jack's gaze, he turned his head.

"Ain’t this grand, Colonel? This is a *real* alien shuttle, and we're going to land on a *real* alien ship. It just about boggles the mind." His grin was contagious, and Jack felt himself respond.

"Yeah, it does at that. But you know what's more mind boggling?" Here he grinned with pride. "My son is the Captain of that ship!"

They were still laughing when the shuttle took off from Earth and pierced the pale blue sky like a bullet.

John shifted uncomfortably in his uniform. He wore the confiscated PeaceKeeper uniform when he needed to impress anyone or try to pass as an officer, but he still hated it. The everyday PeaceKeeper attire was fine, at least it was functional, but this was maddening. He pulled once again at his collar, cursing softly as he did. Aeryn stood next to him, dressed similarly in an officer's uniform and looking as she always did: calm, cool, and confident. She slapped at his hand fussing with his collar, frowning.

"You've gone and made it crooked again," she muttered. "Stop mucking about and act like an officer!"

"Oh bite me," he grumbled back. "Pilot, what's the shuttle's ETA?"

"The shuttle's ETA? Oh, yes, estimated time of arrival." Pilot never did remember all of John's earth phrases, sometimes one caught him off guard. "They should be here in less than 180 microts."

"Great, they're gonna be here in three minutes four minutes and I'm sweating like a pig in this fucking uniform," he groused. Aeryn stopped straightening his collar and held his shoulders firm in her hands, forcing his gaze to meet hers.

"Why are you so nervous? You are in charge here, this is your ship." She paused. "Well, It's not really, Moya is her own ship, but the crew, including Pilot and Moya, made you captain. So act like it. Quit acting like a nervous Ellie."

"Nellie." John corrected automatically, and then laughed. Aeryn had made the mistake just to shift his mood, something she had gotten quite good at the last eleven years. "But ok, I'll be a kick ass captain, I promise I won't let you down. Want me to send someone to the brig just to impress 'em?"

"Honestly John, sometimes you are too bizarre. Just be yourself, that's who they came to see anyway, isn't it?"

He sobered suddenly. "But who am I now Aeryn? Who am I really? I'm not the same guy that blasted off from Canaveral all those years ago, I'm a very different person. I'm not so sure they're going to like what I've become."

"Well, it's not like they have a choice," she said grimly. "Just be your charming self and let them deal with whether or not they like you."

"When did you get so wise?" He asked quietly, giving her one quick kiss before Pilot broke into their conversation. "The shuttle is here, Captain."

They turned to wait, their expressions unreadable.

Jack felt the landing as a soft jolt, barely noticeable. The others hardly stopped their conversations. He gave D.K. a knowing look and they both gathered up their flight bags in preparation. Others, seeing the two experienced flyers (or so they presumed anyway), began to talk excitedly and gather up their own possessions. Gasps of, "We're here already?" and, "Wow, I barely even felt it land!" changed the chatter from a mutter to a loud buzz. As the shuttle came to a slow stop, Jack and D.K. waited patiently. The door between the passenger cabin and the pilot's chamber was unlocked, they knew, and now it opened. A young woman, human in looks, entered and looked briefly at the assembled people before her. Her hair was blonde and tied back severely, her gray eyes were cool, confident. She stopped her gaze on Jack, smiling briefly. Jack raised slightly startled eyebrows, but said nothing. She nodded, and opened the door, indicating that Jack should go first.

A general officer from the United Nations bustled to the front, demanding he get to deplane first. Jack paused, watching to see what the woman would do. She waved the man on with a barely concealed grimace of disgust. Her glance at Jack said all too well that she was accustomed to officers who thought of themselves as above and beyond all the rest.

Several other officers pushed ahead as well, so it was not until the female pilot physically stopped several excited passengers that Jack and D.K. were allowed to leave. Jack smiled in gratitude at the woman, and she returned it with her own smile and a nod.

So much for my first alien, Jack thought. She's young enough to be my daughter and I'm smiling at her like a jackass. No pun intended, he thought somewhat hysterically.

Once outside the shuttle, he stopped, floored by the immensity of the room. If this was a hanger bay, it was huge. Big enough for a few football stadiums and room to grow. The shuttle, large in his minds eye back on earth, was dwarfed by the vastness of the room. The rest of their entourage stood ahead of him, blocking his view. They seemed nervous, like they were waiting for something, or someone. Jack pushed his way to the front, followed by D.K. As he shouldered his way between two officers, he didn't even notice that they made no comment on his rudeness. They were, in fact, speechless. Jack stopped in front of the General, and felt his mouth go dry.

There was John, dressed in a red and black uniform that looked to be made from leather. Beside him stood a woman, dark haired, stern and beautiful. On John's other side stood...something. An alien, seven feet tall if he was an inch, with what appeared to be tentacles and long braided hair. He carried, of all things, a sword, strapped to his back. Jack let his gaze go back to John, and the amazing woman beside him, and he realized that they were both armed with hand guns of some sort, secured in holsters at their waists. From the looks of John, this was one tough universe. There were scars, a few gray hairs, and unless Jack were mistaken, John was blind in one eye. It made no difference to Jack, this was his son. All this went through his mind in the blinking of an eye. He wanted to say something, but formalities were getting in the way.

The general was replaced in the front of the pack by a formidable looking Rear Admiral who saluted John crisply.

"Permission to come aboard, sir!" he said with great admiration. John, hearing the sincerity in the Admiral's voice and seeing it in his salute and stance, saluted back and gave the ages old appropriate response.

"Permission granted. Welcome aboard, Admiral." he cast his eye to his father, and grinned. Not able to stop himself, and certainly not seeing any reason to do so, he broke ranks and headed for his family. Damn, it had been eleven long years. Jack Crichton met him halfway, and they shamelessly embraced in front of all and sundry. Wonder of all wonders, Jack remained dry eyed. He was not in the least surprised to see that John did too. But the emotion in that one long embrace was something Jack Crichton would remember forever. Feeling his son's arms around him once again, hearing his voice; those were things he would carry to his grave willingly. He could go out happy now.

"I never thought I would see you again, Dad," he heard John say softly.

"I thought you were dead, after so long..." was all Jack could think of to say.

John pulled back a bit and grinned, that old devil may care, patented John Crichton grin, guaranteed to make grown women swoon.

"Dead? Takes more than a galaxy full of disasters to kill a Crichton!" he declared.

"Sure looks that way," D.K. muttered from John's left. John turned abruptly, almost running into his best friend in the process. D.K. looked a bit shamefaced when he realized John hadn't seen him. Deciding to make a joke out of it, John laughed.

"Damn D.K., you always could blind side me!"

They hugged, slapping each other on the back and grinning like fools. It felt good, damn good, and he hated to break it up, but the rest of the family reunion would have to wait. He had a shit load of Earth ambassadors to impress. He winked at D.K. as they pulled apart, and headed back to stand with his shipmates.

As quickly as that, he changed. From long lost son and brother to ship's captain, he turned to face the entourage, his expression neutral, his stance commanding. Wow, Jack thought, where did that come from?

"We welcome you to Moya. This is our first officer, Commander Aeryn Sun, and our Battle Commander, Ka D'Argo." He paused to let the introductions sink in, and then nodded crisply to a row of Sebacean and non Sebacean crew standing by the hanger bay door. "Your baggage will be taken to your quarters. I thought that a tour of Moya would be an...interesting way to start the day."

He said 'our' Jack thought, not 'my'. Most ship's captains referred to the ship as 'my'. He wondered at that as they wandered down the curving, ribbed hallway. It was all so alien.

They went from the hanger bay to command, the mess, and finally the ship's quarters, which as John said, left quite a bit to be desired. They were converted jail cells, he said. The Earth ambassadors looked at each other askance. Jail cells? Someone asked why there were jail cells on Moya and why they lived in them. John turned, that slow smile playing across his face.

"Because Moya was a prison transport. When I went through the wormhole I ended up in a battle, and it was the escaped prisoners on board her who saved me. We ended up saving each other, more often than not, in the next eleven years." He cocked his head to one side, more amused than anything else. "Does anyone have a problem with that?"

The blustering general spoke first. "Well, speaking personally, I have a real problem dealing with escaped felons. I'm surprised that you do, Captain." There was rebuke in his voice, but John merely widened that smile and even laughed.

"Hell, General, you're talking to the most wanted man in the galaxy! Jesse James ain’t got *nothin'* on me!"

The ambassadors buzzed with consternation, some at what John was implying, others asking who the hell was Jesse James? Jack watched John closely, realizing several things at once. First off, he wasn't lying, he was serious, only making light of it to make it easier to take. And second, he was proud of what he was and who he had become. Underneath it all, though, Jack could tell John was worried that he would be seen as something foul, someone to be shunned. Maybe this was why he didn't want to come down to earth.

"Captain, I think we need to understand this a little better," the admiral said. "How is it you came to be here? And who are your shipmates? I think we would all feel a bit better once we understand where you have been, and what we are dealing with."

"Bravo, Admiral, bravo!" John bowed. "Right this way gentleman, ladies. Let me finish my tour here, in Pilot's chambers." He gestured to the door with a flourish, and Aeryn opened it up for them.

The dimly lit room buzzed with scurrying DRDs doing their business. Pilot sat enthroned at the far end, his four arms moving in complex patterns. He looked up at the human ambassadors briefly before turning back to his constant movements. In his typical serene voice, he directed his first comment at John.

"Have any of them been injected with translator microbes Captain?" Of course, none of the ambassadors understood a word.

"No, Pilot, not yet." John looked around at his entourage, noting his father's intense interest, D.K.s amazement, and the range of fear and loathing he saw on the slew of ambassadors. "I was just about to ask for volunteers."

"Volunteers for what, Captain?" the general who had attempted to put himself in charge asked tightly. The Admiral who had greeted John frowned at the aggressive stance of his contemporary.

"Volunteers to be injected with translator microbes. It really will be easier if I don't have to translate everything you hear, trust me." John said with feeling. He wasn't looking forward to spending the next few weeks translating every single word.

"You can hardly expect any of us to be injected with foreign....*alien* microbes Captain!" the general fumed, his neck turning an alarming shade of red. "I will not authorize it nor will I allow anyone from this flight to take part. Is that understood?" He let his gaze wander over the assembled crowd, most of whom seemed most appreciative of his stand. Again, the Admiral frowned, this time shaking his head.

Jack grinned and glanced at D.K. The younger man shot back with an equally excited grin and they both stepped forward. "Shoot me up, bro, I'm ready!" he quipped. Jack merely nodded his assent to John. Nodding briskly, John gestured at the nearest DRD, who happened to be Blue, the very same DRD that John had fixed with electrical tape eleven years before. The tape was gone, replaced by a new antennae, but John still knew it was him.

The General made to bluster again, but Jack Crichton stopped him. "We aren't part of your ambassadorial team, sir. If we want to shoot up with alien microbes, it's our business." Reluctantly the general backed down. Jack looked at his son expectantly, a half smile on his face. "Ready when you are."

"Right." John grinned. He nodded affectionately at the patient and said, "Do your stuff, Blue."

"Blue?" he heard the general officer mutter nervously, echoed by stilted laughter. Undaunted, Blue whistled his way to the two new men, his injector extended. Somewhat nervously, D.K. looked askance at John. "Are you sure this won't hurt?"

"No more than any other shot you've ever had." John quipped. "But then I forgot, you always were a sissy about shots."

"I am not!" D.K. fumed. "I seem to remember *you* almost fainting the first time you gave blood, while I..." his tirade was cut short by a sharp jab in the foot. D.K. looked down to see the DRD (Blue, he thought hysterically, he called it Blue) pulling the needle out of the leather of his boot. He looked back up at John, ready to resume his argument, but instead began to laugh. Trust John to distract him just enough to relieve his nervousness. Jack chuckled next to him, then stifled an "owp!" as Blue needled him too. Both men glanced up at Pilot, silent through the entire tirade. As if waiting for their attention, Pilot spoke.

"I trust the experience was not traumatic?" He queried. Jack and D.K. gawped in awe. Not only could they understand the huge purple guy, but his English was, well, very English. No, maybe more Australian, or something. But certainly pleasant, and clearly understandable. They both grinned like teenagers.

"Wow, too cool!" D.K. crowed. He slapped John on the back and spun around to the others. "This is trippy! I mean, he sounds like an extra in a Mad Max film!"

Jack nodded affirmation. "I don't think there'll be any harm, General, but if you feel more comfortable about it, you can keep an eye on us to make sure we don't grow new heads or something."

The general huffed noisily, but said nothing. Nevertheless, Jack noticed several of ambassadorial staff looking expectant, as if they too wished to try the injection. Then, wonder of all wonders, the Admiral stepped forward, looking nothing but firm in his resolution. "You can inject me, Captain," he said calmly.

John nodded at Blue, who made quick work of the Admiral as well. Frowning and wiggling his foot (it did sting, a bit anyway), the Admiral looked up at Pilot, waiting.

"Welcome to Moya." Pilot said. "I trust that your shuttle flight up was comfortable enough?"

"Y-yes, it was fine," he replied in wonder.

Deciding it was time for action, Aeryn stepped forward. "All right then, who's next?"

Even though they couldn't understand her words, most of them knew what she was asking. Surprisingly, all but five came forward for microbes. The general refused out of pride, with his four most loyal toadies out of fear of recriminations from the general. Everyone else was overcome with the idea that they could understand each other as well as the aliens. Russians conversed freely with Chinese, South African with Bolivian. It was a carnival atmosphere for a few moments until John called for their attention.

"All right then, now that most of you have conversational capabilities," here he cast a pointed look at the general, who managed to look both embarrassed and steadfast all at once, "let me take you to your assigned quarters." He led the way, flanked by Aeryn on his left and D.K. and his father on his right.

It was a somewhat noisy crowd who descended upon quarters then, everyone jabbering excitedly at his neighbor, some casting their eyes about for an alien to test their new microbes on, to no avail. With the exception of Aeryn, no other aliens were in sight. In groups of four, John dropped his entourage off. Each group was given instructions to be at the mess hall in ninety minutes. A general announcement would be given, of course, but for the sake of those who had not indulged in microbes, he figured a set time would help.

John left his family for last. Their quarters were situated across the hall from John and Aeryn's. He gave them a perfunctory tour of them before inviting them over for a chat. Once inside the home he and Aeryn had created, he was suddenly nervous. What if they were horrified at his marriage to Aeryn, an alien? What if his father was repulsed by his half Sebacean grandchildren? He licked his dry lips and swallowed as his father admired a sculpture from some backwater planet and D.K. studied the lines of the blueprints to a refit of Farscape. They were both so engrossed in what they were looking at that they never noticed that Aeryn was still standing next to John, now in a more aggressively possessive mode. John cleared his throat, and both men turned to look at him.

"Um, dad, there's more I need to tell you," he began. He glanced into the hall as he heard a high pitched squeal from down by Chiana's room. Chi would be coming in shortly with the kids, so he had better get it done now. He let his left hand slip into Aeryn's as he brought his gaze up to meet his father's. "Aeryn is my wife. We've been married for almost ten years now." He swallowed again, fighting the fear of rejection and plunging on ahead. "And we have three children. Two boys and a girl. You're a grandpa." He couldn't help grinning at the last one, and was astounded and overjoyed to see his father smile widely. D.K. gaped and gawked in amazement.

"Grandpa? I'm a grandpa?" he said excitedly. "Where are they? How old are they? Why didn't you tell me before?" the questions came out rapid fire, and John felt Aeryn squeeze his hand in a sort of, 'see, I told you he wouldn't be upset' squeeze. He grinned once again, laughing.

"Slow down, slow down. They'll be here in a minute, they're with Chiana now. She's sort of become their nanny, in a matter of speaking. And if you knew Chi, that would blow your mind. But anyway, Garryt and Griffyn are eight and Cat is six." He shrugged dismissively and added, "I didn't tell you before because I wanted it to be a surprise. One of the generals at Canaveral that I first talked to knew about them, I kind of let it slip, but he was the one who started that closed session thing, not letting me talk to you." He frowned. "Asshole! He was using access to you to try to get me to give him more information. I never did give in to him, I knew I'd get to talk to you sooner or later. Guess I proved to be more stubborn than him."

Aeryn snorted with laughter at the stubborn comment, and at D.K.'s look she jerked her chin in John's direction. "He is the most stubborn creature I have ever met," she said, but with a smile. "Cat is just like him."

John turned to Aeryn quickly. "Oh she is, is she? Seems to me she has a touch of her mommy's temper too. I vividly remember having to shave Garryt's head when he was only six because a certain four year old sister, in typical PeaceKeeper tradition, decided she needed to throw a tantrum and squirt Bandor honey all over him. Tell me *that* little trait was passed on in my genes!"

Before Aeryn could reply, Jack spoke up, barely controlling his laughter. "I remember you getting mad at me for something when you were six or seven, and you took my favorite fishing pole and threw it on the highway. I never did find all of it, it was smashed to pieces, and you couldn't sit down for a week." Jack was laughing now, and D.K. was howling alongside him. Aeryn grinned, sensing an ally in Jack.

John threw up his hands, knowing full well he was whupped. "I give up. OK, I'm the stubborn one, they get it from me."

Their howls of laughter were interrupted by the sudden presence of Chiana and the kids. Curious about the merriment, the boy's eyes glittered and they grinned from either side of Chiana. Cat perched on Chi's shoulders, heads above everyone. Her little hands had a firm grip in Chiana's white hair, and her feet kicked enthusiastically. Her gimlet eyes aglow, Cat laughed.

"Who's them, daddy?" she said, pointing. Chiana absently pulled the little girl's hand down, saying, "Don't point Cat, it's not polite." Cat scowled menacingly, but of course Chiana couldn't see it.

"Faeries from outer space." John growled. Aeryn elbowed him none too gently and turned to Cat.

"Cat, boys, this is your grandfather Jack, and your uncle D.K." She turned to them and said, "Jack, D.K., this is Garryt..." Garryt moved from Chiana's side to get a closer look at his new family members. "...and this is Griffyn." Griffyn moved to his brother's side, smiling shyly. "And this one," she pulled a fidgety Cat from Chiana's shoulders, "is Cat."

"You my g'anpa?" she asked with feigned innocence. Before Jack could reply, John intervened. "None of that, Cat. No baby talk." She shot her father an injured look and turned back to her grandpa, looking up at him with sapphire eyes. "Do you live on that planet out there?"

Jack knelt down in front of her and included the boys in his long look. "Yes, I do live on that planet down there. So did your father, before he came out here and got lost."

Cat thought on that one for a minute, working her mouth into a line of distaste. "He isn't *lost*," she said vehemently, "*I* know where he is!"

The boys broke up at that one, falling over each other in their hysterics. Even the adults chuckled, although they were more sensitive to injuring Cat's feelings. But it *was* funny. Unfortunately, Cat turned on her favorite targets, her older brothers. With single minded six year old determination, she launched herself at them with a bloodcurdling scream of rage. Within moments, the cheerful reunion turned into, quite literally, a Cat fight.

"OUCH! Quit it, Cat!"

"MOM! Call her OFF!"

"Dammit, Cat that HURTS!"

"DAD! DAD! Pull 'er offa me before I get mad an' HURT HER!"

The cacophony of angry squeals from Cat and indignant protests from the boys was cut short when John reached in and lifted Cat out of the tangle by her flailing feet. He held her at arm's length while the boys scuttled to their feet and began to assess damage. With a shake of his head, John addressed his daughter.

"Nora Catherine Crichton, you are your mother's daughter," was all he could think of to say.

"C'n we trade her in for something housebroke?" groused Garryt.

"Or somethin' we can play with that don't bite," added Griffyn, sucking on his injured thumb.

Jack and D.K. were working hard at restraining their laughter. Aeryn scooped up Cat from her father's grasp and tucked her firmly under her arm. "Behave, Cat, or there will be no dessert for you tonight."

As soon as her rebellion has started, it was over. Cat settled into her mother's grasp compliantly, wrapping her arms and legs around her and eyeing Grandpa and Uncle D.K. with hungry speculation.

Jack and D.K. looked at each other with eyebrows raised. It was going to be an interesting ride, that was for sure.

Dinner was a tense affair.

The food was Earth food, prepared by Chiana to John's specifications. Steaks done on a makeshift "grill", potatoes baked until fluffy and served with sour cream and chives, broccoli and squash with mild seasonings, and apple pie for dessert. There was even a vegetarian dish available. All agreed it was done just right. John never looked up from his plate. His first taste of Earth cooking (even if it was done by a Nebari onboard and alien spaceship) was not going to be sullied by stilted conversation. Besides, the ambassadors were all too busy talking to the alien crew.

John had made sure that each table of Earth ambassadors had their own small group of aliens to converse with. Some aliens had begged off, Kaben in particular, but there were enough willing participants that John had no fear of how it would go. He had made sure to put General Obnoxious (John knew he had a name, but Obnoxious fit so deliciously) with Admiral Fleer (he was one of the good ones, John thought) and the other high ranking military personnel. Seated with them was D'Argo, completely in his element. His Earth counterparts were awed.

Zhaan sat with a more political mindset, those persons involved with lengthy and tangled disputes planetside. John figured her soothing demeanor and uncanny insight to other's problems would work well there.

Other crew members were scattered throughout the room. Merryc, Challis, even Mlippa, Zhaan's protégé and friend, smiled and told stories to their new friends. It all started out so well...

It was at their own table that tensions began to rise, just after dessert had been eaten and taken away. John sat back, full and content, thinking that the only thing missing was a nice, strong, hot cup of coffee. He smiled at the sight of Aeryn, thoroughly engaged in conversation with Jack and DK. Chiana sat with the kids, but wisely made sure that Cat was seated next to her father.

A middle aged diplomat from England sat across from John. He put down his fork and pushed his dessert plate aside, wiping his mouth with his napkin, and smiled at both Cat and John.

"You have beautiful children, Captain. And well behaved. You are to be complemented."

John nodded politely. "Thank you Mr. Cranston. Discipline is pretty important here, as you might imagine."

"Oh yes, I would think so," Cranston replied. He smiled indulgently as Cat dove into her apple pie with childlike abandon. John handed her a second napkin and pulled her plate a little closer to her, both such mundane fatherly images that Cranston smiled anew. "And it would seem that being a husband and father has come naturally to you as well."

"I guess so," John said lamely, wondering where Cranston was going with this. The man was digging for something, that was for sure.

"You were a scientist and a pilot, and an athlete, when you left Earth, were you not?" Cranston asked.

"Yes, I was all of that," John replied carefully.

"You had no military training, at least, not that would have secured you a captaincy, correct?"

"That's correct," John was getting a glimmer of where Cranston was going with this line of questioning, and he didn't much like it.

"So one must wonder how you became, in a span of eleven years, the captain of such a large, impressive vessel, crewed by felons and pursued, if I am not mistaken, by some sort of military force?" Cranston kept his tone light and disarmingly mild, but John was not fooled. "And one must also wonder, are you a military force or scientific? Are you in search of conquests or in search of help? What, exactly, is your mission, Captain?"

John took his time answering, letting his mind simmer and seethe until he could think more clearly. Then, his hands flat on the table and his voice steady, he leaned forward.

"I am captain, Mr. Cranston, because my crewmates elected me. We are crewed by political prisoners and ex-patriated soldiers for the most part, but some were felons for other reasons. We are a small force, we can't afford to be picky. And we are a military force only when our survival depends upon it. The rest will be told to the Ambassadors after dinner, in a more formal arrangement. I trust this will be satisfactory?" Hell, he could play the game well enough, just polish off a few rough edges.

"But tell me, Captain, who is pursuing you and have they too found their way to Earth? Are we in any danger?" Cranston had raised his voice fractionally, but it carried to others seated at their table. The minister of the conglomerated peoples of South America joined in.

"Yes, please Captain, are we in any danger? Are there others out there," he gestured expansively with his hands to indicate space, "...others who would try to subjugate humanity? Is there danger?"

John sighed. Aeryn, seated as always at his left, now turned her attention to John. Jack and DK listened eagerly.

"Yes we have been pursued, but we haven't seen them in almost a cycle...year. We've gotten pretty good at eluding them. As to who they are, like I said, we'll be discussing this shortly. But danger..." his voice trailed off as he stared into space. Danger? Of course there was danger, they were in space, danger was part and parcel with exploration. Didn't early American settlers live with danger? "Danger is an inherent part of space travel. We live with it." He almost but not quite glared at Cranston.

"Yet you bring your children along with you." Here he pointedly looked at Cat, so innocent looking, so serene, as she greedily finished up her slice of Earth. "I find that reprehensible."

John threw up his hands. He was getting tired of this, but Cranston wasn't going to go away. "Where would you have me leave them, Cranston? I would rather raise my children the best I can than not raise them at all. Besides that, it's none of your damn business how we raise our children."

"And expose them to danger?"

"There's no danger on Earth? Gimme a break, Cranston. People die every day from car wrecks and serial murderers, there are no guarantees in life."

"Neither are there reprieves if you make a mistake." Cranston countered.

"What is your point, Cranston?" John asked icily.

"My point, Captain, is that if you are this unconcerned about the safety of your own children, how can we trust you with our own safety? Or the safety of our planet?"

The room had grown quiet. Aeryn fumed, but held her tongue and watched John. This was his battle, she would do well to stay out of it. Jack and DK looked angry as well. Garryt and Griffyn had caught the drift of what Cranston was trying to say, and their dark blue eyes were narrowed in anger. No matter the outcome, the day was ending badly.

"Mr. Cranston, if I were unconcerned about the welfare of my children, I would have landed on Earth instead of going through all of this. If I were unconcerned about the welfare of my planet, I would have simply taken what we need, rather than bartering. Mr. Cranston, if I were unconcerned about the safety of the ambassadors, I would have simply shot you for being stupid, instead of sitting here arguing with you."

The silence was impenetrable. John's steel gaze never wavered, and Cranston eventually averted his own gaze. Aeryn nudged John gently, gaining his attention, and motioned with her eyes to the rest of the room. Most if not all of the diners, were startled at John's speech, but none seemed overly upset. Probably, John said to himself, they think I was kidding. As voices gained volume, Aeryn leaned closer to John and suggested they retire to the conference room. His mood in shambles, John agreed.

They assembled before him, a small group of humanity facing the future of their planet. The survival of their planet. The survival of their species. Operating under no pretenses, John decided to be honest about the chances of a colony's survival. It would be better to face it now than later.

"We have a proposition for you," he began. The room grew silent. Cranston, seated at the rear of the room, glared. Jack and DK leaned forward expectantly. "Several cy....years ago, our numbers here on Moya grew to around a hundred. Housing that many is no problem for her, but feeding them was. We simply couldn't keep our cash flow strong enough to feed that many mouths. So we made the decision to colonize."

A soft buzz filled the room, fading as quickly as it began. "One of our friends, one of our former cell mates, was a deposed ruler of a large empire, dethroned by his cousin. We found our way back to his planet, helped him regain his throne, and as a reward, he gave us colonization rights for a planet in his possession." It was really far more complicated than all that, but time required simplifications. He gazed about the room, noting as he did that most of the ambassadors seemed to be enthralled with what he was saying. General Obnoxious attempted disinterest and disdain, and Cranston still stung but the majority were in a state of excitement. "We left eighty colonists there, and over the years have added more. We number almost two hundred now, from more than a dozen different planets. Men, women, and children." He glared pointedly at Cranston.

"And we would like to ask Earth to join our colony." He paused, watching his father's reaction. The elder Crichton's eyes lit up. A colony! He had lived to see the day when Earth colonized space. Both he and DK were grinning like madmen.

"Captain, are you serious? A colony? This is....well, this is amazing!"

The admiral was grinning widely. General Obnoxious had sat forward in anticipation.

"Yes, we're serious. But it's not going to be easy, and there's always danger involved in colonization." He thought back to Aquarra and their fledgling colony, settled on a different continent from the original Aquarrans. So small, so fragile. One PK marauder could end it all.

"What about the military presence that you have referred to that is searching for all of you?" This was from Cranston, of course.

"Yeah, the PeaceKeepers." John frowned. "Now there's an oxymoron if I ever heard one." He gestured to the handful of Sebaceans sitting behind him, Aeryn included. "PeaceKeepers are Sebacean, they are the military force behind most of the charted galaxy. Most of our Sebacean crew are ex-PeaceKeepers, including my wife, Aeryn. Think of PeaceKeepers as space Nazis on steroids. Racial purity, total supremacy, any resistance met with annihilation." He paused to let that sink in, then continued. "There is *NO* negotiating with them, they will not keep any bargain they make. To them, the ends *always* justifies the means."

"But if humans are so similar to them, wouldn't they be interested in a truce of mutual interest?" one of the European ambassadors asked.

"They hate humans simply because we are so similar. The thought of a race out in the galaxy that is nearly impossible to distinguish from their own is repulsive to them."

"But why? I mean, they don't know us, you are the only human to travel beyond the..." The ambassador stopped, suddenly realizing where his train of thought was heading. John smiled grimly.

"What did you do, Crichton, to make them so mad that they hate all humans?" General Obnoxious asked, fuming.

"What did I do? You are assuming I did something, General, assuming that I had to *do* something to piss them off." He leaned forward over the table angrily. "General, my very *existence* was all it took. The existence of humans, of Earth."

"Is there anyway we can protect ourselves, Captain?" the Admiral asked.

"For now Earth is safe. As far as we can tell, the PeaceKeepers haven't penetrated this far into the uncharted territories. We intend to keep it that way indefinitely. There are beacons we can position in strategic locations around the perimeter of the galaxy to warn us of approaching ships, and if we get started as soon as possible we may be able to build a fleet of war ships or defense shields for protection..."

"Wait a minute, war ships? Defense shields? Come on, Crichton, isn't this a bit melodramatic?" someone else called from the back of the room.

Before John could reply, a different voice answered.

"If anything it's not dramatic enough," Aeryn said, standing at John's side. "The PeaceKeepers will search for Earth, even if it's not their top priority, and some day they will find it. That day may be hundreds of cycles...years, in the future or it may be next week, but it will come. And when it does, you must be prepared."

"By preparing a military fleet? I think I would prefer sending a diplomatic mission to them soon, as an offering of peace. Stave off a military conflict when one isn't necessary," Cranston said.

"Your diplomats would be tortured, their minds dissected for any and all information, and then disposed of. Once the PeaceKeepers had the information they wanted, they would bring the appropriate force to Earth and destroy it. Utterly." Aeryn said succinctly.

"Torture? I believe you are trying to scare us, Miss. But it won't work, humans are a bit tougher than you think..."

"Take a good long look at me, Cranston, and tell me the average human wants to be subjected to PeaceKeeper torture." John said softly. Silence filled the room. John saw his father pale, and silently asked for his forgiveness. This was not how he wanted to break that particular tale.

"You are insinuating, Captain Crichton, that you survived torture by these PeaceKeepers?" Cranston said frostily.

"I'm not insinuating anything, Cranston, I'm saying. No way in hell would I want that for anyone, even a toady like you. There is *no* negotiating with the PeaceKeepers. Ever."

The room buzzed quietly as the ambassadors consulted with each other. Jack and DK murmured together, making John wonder what they were saying. Aeryn sidled up to him, slipping her arm around his waist.

"Guess I could have done that better," he said glumly.

"You did fine," she responded firmly.

"I'm not so sure..."

"Captain, if I may?" the Admiral asked, standing. John nodded his assent, curious.

The Admiral turned so he was half facing both John and the rest of the ambassadors. "Let me see if I can put this all into perspective. You and your crew have a small colony on a planet that is deeded to you, the PeaceKeepers have found neither the colony nor Earth as of yet, and the PeaceKeepers are not to be negotiated with. But with proper precautions and forethought, we can stay hidden long enough to develop some sort of protection for the planet *and* develop a strong colony. And am I right in assuming that Earth and the colony will be mutually beneficial in that we have laboratories and manufacturing plants and they will have some raw materials?"

John smiled gratefully. "That's about the gist of it, yes. As for labs and materials, we are going to attempt to keep Aquarra pristine, no strip mining or pollutants if possible, that sort of thing. But there are organic materials we can ship back, as well as trade goods from commerce planets. That and technology will be our trade goods with Earth at this point."

"Beads and trinket for the Indians," Cranston snorted disdainfully.

"How about a propulsion system for ground vehicles that runs off water and produces no harmful emissions? One with enough power for long haul truckers to use? And that's just for starters," John retorted.

"I am wondering, Captain, how can you assure us that no PeaceKeeper ships are close by now? Than none have followed you thus far?" the Admiral asked.

"Simple. Our second ship is on patrol and has seen no indications of PK interference in this section of the galaxy, and they have seen no long range PeaceKeeper movements headed this way. So far, so good."

"Second ship? We didn't realize you had more than one ship," General Obnoxious said huffily.

"Yeah, Talyn. He's due here in another few days," John said.

"He?" the Admiral asked.

"Yeah, he." John paused, realizing he had never told them about Moya and Talyn. Well, no time like the present. "Moya is Talyn's mother."

This time he shocked everyone. The Admiral nearly fell into his seat; General Obnoxious seemed to be choking on his water. John saw DK and his father turn to each other excitedly, and then start casting their eyes about the room as if looking for clues. The overall feeling was one of fear mixed with awe. John sighed. "Hey Pilot? Feel free to jump in here anytime," he said.

"You seem to have created a disturbance, Captain," Pilot responded mildly.

"Captain, this must be some sort of a prank, this ship *can't* be alive!" the General shouted.

"On the contrary, General, this ship is very much alive, and I must say she is amused at the behavior of some of you," Pilot said quite distinctly. There was a murmur of voices as some translated to those without microbes. "Moya is a Leviathan, a biomechanoid ship, capable of traveling between galaxies at speeds exceeding the speed of light. She was held as a PeaceKeeper prison transport for many years until the prisoners rebelled and freed both themselves and her. And myself as well. We are eternally grateful for them, and have willingly become part of the crew and colony."

Pilot's voice was the voice of reason. All listened carefully. "Moya has one offspring, a son named Talyn. He was born of a PeaceKeeper experiment, and is the only Leviathan equipped with weaponry. He has no need of a captain, but does have a small contingent of crew aboard to monitor his systems and help watch for PeaceKeepers."

"H-how big is he?" asked the Admiral.

"He is nearly the size of Moya now, though he is only ten cycles old. We anticipate he will grow much bigger than his mother."

"*Bigger*?" gasped the General and several others.

"Yes, males are usually larger than the females. Is this not so on your planet?" Pilot asked rhetorically.

John stepped back in then. "It's not that big of a deal, gentlemen. Moya's just a Big Ass Ship, like I said. She just happens to be alive." He stuck his foot out and halted the progress of one of the DRDs. "The DRDs are a part of Moya, they do maintenance and repairs. They are also her eyes and ears. Pilot is her voice, and part of her central nervous system. We, the crew, are her hands, if you will." He raised his eyes to the room. His father was beaming with pride, DK looked like he was going to burst with questions. John let the DRD scuttle on about it's business.

"And who gives the orders? you or the ship?" General Obnoxious asked.

"Well, me, mostly. But this isn't your normal captaincy, I was elected by the crew, and by Pilot and Moya."

"Why you, Crichton?" the General asked. Pilot answered for John.

"It was Moya's suggestion, really. Officer Sun is a great tactical leader when covert missions are called for, or fighter ships. General Ka' D'Argo is our expert at battle plans and execution. P'au Zhotoh Zhaan is our mediator and diplomat, our ambassador, if you will. And we have others with similar or varying talents. But it was Crichton who possessed the talent for putting it all together...for seeing the big picture. It was that talent that made him captain, that and the fact that he listens to his crew's suggestions."

"I find it hard to believe that an earth scientist has, in eleven short years, become the captain of a space ship! It's ludicrous!" the General spouted.

"Call it the ultimate field promotion, General, and leave it at that, shall we?" John drawled. There was scattered laughter, and the meeting progressed without further incident.

Aeryn watched the stars. It had always been her favorite pastime, even more so since John had come into her life. He too had a fascination with the universe, and watching the stars glitter and glisten had a large appeal. Besides, the terrace made such a great make out place. A voice filtered softly into her thoughts.

"I hope I'm not intruding?" Jack Crichton asked.

Aeryn smiled as she turned to face him. "Never," she replied.

Jack came to stand next to her, his presence a familiar comfort to Aeryn, even though he was a near total stranger. He reminded her so much of John that having him stand next to her was second nature. She resumed watching the stars whirl by.

"Quite a day," Jack commented dryly. Aeryn chuckled.

"Well, one thing you can say for certain, Colonel, John knows how to stir things up," she answered.

"He most certainly does," Jack replied fondly. "But please, call me Jack."

"Jack then, " she smiled. "Is it inherited, I wonder? That knack for causing a comotion?" Jack laughed and slung his arm around her shoulders. Aeryn found that comforting too. My how things have changed, she thought with a laugh.

"I'm pretty certain he came by that one honestly," then he glanced at his daughter-in-law and added, "...and it looks like he's managed to pass it on as well."

Aeryn rolled her eyes at the thought of her children and their tendency to incite a riot. In that short exchange, Aeryn and Jack set the foundation of a strong relationship.

"What the hell is this?" DK mumbled to John from under Farscape 1. He had been going over 'his' baby with a fine toothed comb, torn between amazement and outrage at the modifications and dings it had acquired in eleven years.

John, sitting complacently on a packing crate, took a swig of a nice, cold beer. Ahh, now that was heaven. He glanced at the spot DK was referring to and gestured expansively with his beer. "Oh, that's a landing repulsor. No more water landings for me, bro. I can hover like a Harrier." He grinned at his witty use of alliteration. DK, not quite so taken with John's literary prowess, scrabbled his way from beneath the ship and shot John a quick glance.

"And this?" he asked in a quieter tone.

John peered at the attachment DK was looking at. He shrugged. "It's just what it looks like, it's a gun. A modified personal frag cannon, to be exact. Not much use unless I get right on top of my target, but then beggars can't be choosers."

DK was silent for a moment, then looked up at his old friend. "Why? Why would you arm Farscape? It's a science vessel, an experimental toy. It's not an X-wing, and you ain’t Luke Skywalker."

John laughed softly. Hell it sure was nice to hear some old Earthisms coming from someone other than him. "I know that DK, but it was an emergency situation. We didn't have much choice."

"But the module, it's..." he paused, "...it's tainted now. It's not a science machine, it's a killing machine." DK thought it sounded lame even in his ears, but it was how he felt. Nonetheless, he wasn't prepared for John's reaction.

"Which would you rather have, DK. Farscape modified with defensive capabilities or me dead?" John said coolly.

"OK, OK, I get the picture." DK responded. He glanced up at his best friend, hardly able to reconcile the man he knew with the man in front of him. His childhood friend had never been this touchy, this easy to set off into anger. This new John was scarred inside and out, that was for sure. It was going to take some getting used to.

As quickly as John's anger flared, it abated. He took another swig of beer and began to ask questions about the last eleven years worth of football statistics. DK answered as well as he was able, all the time distracted by that strange feeling that John wasn't who he appeared to be. There was something radically different here, but DK wasn't sure what it was. Finally, he stopped John in the middle of a question to ask one of his own.

"What happened to you, man?" he said softly. "What changed you?"

John turned his eyes on his best friend, and realized sadly that they had nothing in common but their mutual childhood. How in the world could he explain the last eleven years of his life to DK? How could anyone on Earth relate? They couldn't, he realized, there was no way. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Life happened, DK, life in the Uncharted territories. It ain’t a walk in the park."

DK watched John's reaction, worried. "How...how did you lose your eye?"

John seemed to go so still that DK was concerned that he was angry, but his reply, when it came, was soft and sad.

"Let's choose a different topic, OK?"

"OK, fine." DK was at a loss. John used to tell him everything. "Why do you always carry a gun?"

John sat up at that, looking DK in the eye. He chose his next words very carefully, his voice edgy.

"Because there was one time when I didn't carry it that almost cost the lives of my family. Ever since then it goes where I go." DK waited for further explanation, but John remained silent.

DK nodded solemnly. "What kind of a weapon is it?" he asked. "Is it like the one on Farscape?"

"No, that's a frag cannon. This is a pulse gun, it emits a pulse of energy that's deadly as hell. More accurate than a projectile weapon. It's getting hard to find chakan oil cartridges to reload with though."

"Can I see it?" DK figured if weapons were a large part of the Uncharted Territories and, consequently, his best friend, he had better get to know them. Almost reluctantly, John handed the gun over, grip first. Safer that way, DK thought. It looked like something from Star Wars, with a huge six inch barrel and a contoured grip. He held it in his right hand, getting the feel of it, testing the heft. The grip seemed to be rough, scored or scratched. He turned it over to see what was wrong, and his breath stopped.

There were over a dozen lines scored into the grip, cross hatched tally marks, like those used to keep score in a game. DK ran his fingers over them in horror. Please tell me, he thought hysterically, that the gun came to John in this condition. He looked up at John, seeing the same reluctance in his eyes that he had seen when John handed it to him.

"Did you make these marks?" he asked. Please, lie and say no, he thought.

"Yes," was John's reply. He didn't drop his eyes at all, merely watched, sadly, as his best friend recoiled in distaste.

"You keep track of the people you *kill*?" DK gasped.

John shook his head. "Only the PeaceKeepers."

DK looked down at the gun again...ten, fifteen, four more...."Nineteen PeaceKeepers? You've killed nineteen PeaceKeepers?"

John nodded slowly.

"My God, John, that's sick."

John cocked his head to one side, wondering how to approach this one. There was no way to be delicate, he had to jump right in.

"Remember how much we liked that line from Star Trek II? The one Khan says about revenge being a dish best served cold? Well, that's a crock of shit." Here his face turned ugly with hate. "Revenge works best when it's really, really hot. PeaceKeepers want one thing, to kill anyone who opposes them. And I oppose them, with all of my heart. They've done enough damage to me, to my family..." here he stopped, and DK realized he was almost choked with rage and grief, "...to my family and my friends. So I kill them, whenever I can, however I can. And I feel no remorse, none at all." He was absently rubbing the scar next to his left eye, and DK shuddered. He didn't know this man before him, he was a total stranger.

"You can't try to reason with them? Talk to them, I mean, you *married* one..."

"DAMMIT, DK! Haven't you listened to a single thing we've been saying?" John sat up suddenly, looming over his friend sitting on the floor below him. "There *is* no reasoning with them. Do you want to know why Aeryn is with us in the first place? Because she spoke up for me to her captain, who then decided she was irreversibly contaminated and scheduled her to be executed! For defending *me*." He stayed that way, leaning forward, until he realized that DK was leaning backwards, as if in fear of his life. And just that suddenly, John changed. Again.

"They are Nazis, DK. They have power and they won't relinquish it. The only thing left to do is fight. And that I can do." He took one more long swig of beer from the bottle, emptying it, before tossing it deftly into a trash receptacle.

DK licked his lips nervously. Slowly, he stood up and gauged the distance to the door. Then he spoke, his words bitter in his own mouth.

"I don't know you, John. And I don't think I want to know who you've become," he looked down at his feet, and then back up, into John's eyes. The pain he saw there didn't stop him. "I'll be leaving to go back to Earth on the first shuttle. I don't think there's anything else you and I have to say to each other." He walked off slowly, as if he expected his friend and brother to shoot him in the back.

Behind him, on the packing crate, John Crichton buried his face in his arms and cried. His worst fears were justified, his best friend thought he was a monster. What then, would his father think? Alone in the echoing maintenance bay, John feared the answer.

Please take a moment to rate the story you just read
Thanks,
-RedBeard