Part II : Strange Days

"Penny for your thoughts?" John looked at her over the angle of the overseer's console. 

There was nothing worthwhile seeing on the viewer anyway. His hopes were as flat as the brownish-green sickly planet beyond. Abandoned cities and dried riverbeds on all the pod's sensory horizons. The comms remained dead on all known channels. No discernable habitation. Atmospheres poisoned to Sebaceans by a terrifying Scarran weapon decades ago. This was the third in a system of four planets that comprised the Drakkor mining cooperative, each appeared more disappointing than the next. 

"What?" She said, turning only her face toward him. Her eyes remained fixed on the viewer. 

"It's an expression--" He began. 

"Yes. I know, John. One you've explained before." Her tone was hurried, as if the readings on inter-stellar dust and radiation spikes held her enraptured. Much of their journey had been like this: Question. Answer. Silence. Proving as enigmatic as ever Aeryn had not spoken to him unless he initiated the conversation.  

"Okay." He exhaled, sharply. "Aeryn.. what is with you?" 

"I'm fine." 

"No." He returned. "Fine is not a monosyllable conversation. That's the opposite of fine." 

"Perhaps I have nothing to say. You place too much importance on conversation." 

"Fine. Let's just have sex then." He said sarcastically. 

She looked at him, sneer flitting across her generous mouth. "Alright. Would you like to know what I'm thinking?" 

"Yes." 

"I am thinking of you. I am wondering how you shall receive this... disappointment. " 

"Oh? Sounds like you've made up your mind how this ends." 

You must be prepared for the possibility that nothing will come from this… at best." She spoke quickly, even after all this time such discussions made her ill-at-ease. "The recording was nearly a cycle old. She was very ill and most likely to be dead now. But if we did not do this, you would constantly question your motives. That is another guilt I refuse to see you bear, John. There has been too much for you .. already." 

"So… you're patronizing me. Is that it? This isn't about Ellie at all? Is it?" 

Aeryn drew her chin up and returned her attention to the viewer. "What I think is irrelevant. I am doing this for you. Not her." 

The knot in his jaw tightened. And he looked back at the dead planet on the view screen. The only sound was the hum of the Biomech's engines. 

#

"Please…help me." The voice was a blood-wet groan. He was thankful for the darkness that hid the nameless woman's face. 

"The Scarrans… " 

There were other shapes. Forms. Some of the women moved. Others didn't. There were rattles of weak protest as the stronger ones tugged against their restraints. 

Heart racing in his ears, stomach tightening into a sick knot, he wandered between the rows. As he passed close to one of the operating tables a desperate hand clutched at his thick armor, seeking purchase. He pulled away, revulsion and fear eating through his body like slow acid. Their pleas became a thick chorus of agony.   

"Let me go. Please. Before they return." 

The room was warm still, even hours after the bunker's power cells had been killed. Sweat trickled down beneath his faceplate and into his eyes, stinging. The monsters had kept the room hot, not enough to kill, not enough to bring the living death… but enough to keep the Sebacean woman weak, defenseless. 

"Velka twelve. Report?" He startled at the sound of his sergeant's voice in the headset of his helmet.  

He hesitated. They could not all be contaminated…could they? He knew what the orders would be. Once more he looked around the dimly lit suite, the red lights giving harsh shapes and lines to everything. 

"Velka twelve. Respond." 

"Korbyn here, sir." He swallowed. "No survivors on this sweep. The bunker is deserted." 

Asher snapped awake, the nightmare memory of Hedas dissolving to tatters. The unreality was slow to leave. Eyes still closed he ran a hand over the smooth sheets, assuring himself that they were real. He held his breath. There were no sounds amiss. Finally he opened his eyes. In the milky pre-dawn light he could make out the empty space beside him. He pushed up on one elbow and looked around the small room. He knew where she would be. It had been the same thing every night. He rose from their bed, wrapping the blankets over his shoulders as he went to find Ellie. 

She was a pale profile beneath the dark hood of her hair, eyes staring blankly at the dying glow of the hearth's fire. Her voice was a low hurtful whisper. "Everyone leaves, Korbyn. Everyone." 

Asher decided not to wonder what that said about him. This was the longest any woman had held his attention. He was no priest. There had been other women before her. They were all a blur of awkward, hasty couplings seldom connected by tedious farewells. Yet there was something annoyingly elusive about Ellie that bound him to her. 

She was not beautiful in his own accepted sense of the word. And she seemed to excel in being a genuine pain in the eema. What this strange attractor was, Korbyn did not truly care. Instead, he found himself worrying about her. She had been so quiet since Northway's departure, more so than usual. Even an insult would have been a good sign. 

"Stop it." He said flatly. "Now." 

"Stop what?" Green eyes narrowed on him in the dimness. 

"You know what I mean." He waved a hand at her, a nebulous conjuring motion. "This… thinking. Stop it." 

"I think…because I'm not a brainless mound of muscle that's only concerned with himself!" She hissed. 

That was better. Now he had something to work with. 

"Alright… Do you think Northway would want to see you behave like this? All this… self-pity?" 

Her mouth pressed into a bitter line. She looked away from him, guiltily. "But she is not here… is she?" 

He folded his arms. "Elenor Crichton. The dread Peacekeeper… sulking like a child over her lost human pet…" 

She turned on him, her ferocious temper at a boiling point. "Shut up! Leave me alone, Asher. Just leave already! You're going to anyway. That's what everyone does." 

"No. That is not what everyone does." He pushed away from the doorway and moved to her side. He stooped to the height of her chair, leaning close. "Stop it, Ellie." 

"I begged her to stay." She drew in a ragged hitching breath as new tears came. The girl sank against him, hair falling to obscure her features as she turned her face into his shoulder. 

"She wouldn't listen, Asher. How can she be so blind? So stupid?" 

"Northway would have gone no matter what. It's why she came back here." He heard himself say. Later he assigned it lack of sleep and the influence of his healing ribs. "She's smart. She can take care of herself." 

#

 "I still don't understand." Jool turned her pout onto Pilot's upturned gaze. 

"If Commander Crichton and Officer Sun felt it best to not provide an explanation, then I must respect their wishes." Pilot repeated. An edge had entered his words. She had taken to interrogating him every few arns, employing every additional ploy and bribe. Her brief history with Pilots had taught her that they wanted for nothing aside from the well-being of their symbiants. Undaunted, she did try. Her tenacity was commendable, however tiresome. 

"I know very little beyond helping chart their course using Moya's available datastores." 

"But…" 

"I believe I have been quite clear, Joolushka." Pilot interjected. A brief silence fell as he simultaneously adjusted the gravity bladders on four decks and did a cursory check of Moya's orbit around the dirty icy world of Acheron below. "Have you completed the required maintenance to the cortical adjunct cells?" 

"Fine then." She uttered an exasperated growl and pivoted to pick her way carefully down the catwalk. "I can take a hint." 

"Joolushka…" 

"Yes, Pilot." She turned, garnering hope. 

"It would be appreciated if you restricted your visits to the den." He held up a claw gesturing to a DRD near by. In one of its tiny pinchers was wound a sizeable mound of her hair. "It took three DRDs an arn to disengage your shed follicles from the trim rod." 

#

"So… technically. You haven't been born yet." Asher said. 

"Right." Crichton nodded slightly. She looked nervously around at the crowd. 

He could tell it made her uneasy to talk about it. He laughed. As if these grimy drunkards cared what cycle they currently resided in, let alone her. 

"I can only imagine that it had to do with local radiation and proximity to new star formations to the wormhole event. My father seemed to think it had to do with the signature of the frag cannon fire." 

"Oh." He nodded sagely. It looked terribly unconvincing. 

Asher Korbyn was formulating what was quite possibly one of the best ideas of his life. And immediately saw the problem with it. The girl would never go for it. She could be incredibly tiring that way. But still it never hurt to try. 

He stretched his most charming smile at her. "So…. You would have certain insights into everything that's supposed to happen for the next thirty cycles or so." 

"Forget it, Korbyn." Not fair. He had even asked. 

"Forget what?" He feigned a hurt expression. 

"I know what you're thinking." She turned a wicked green gaze on him. "And the answer is no." 

"But…" 

"No." Crichton renewed her course, picking her way through the crowded market. 

"You haven't even heard what I was going to ask." He fell into pursuit. She was bound to wear down… sooner or later. 

"No." She said over her shoulder and to punctuate stepped up her pace. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Asher collided with her back. It brought a merry swatch of pain to his injured ribs. 

"What the Hezmana are they doing here?" He heard her hiss. It was part surprise and part loathe. 

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, rubbing dolefully at his side. 

"Him." She pointed at rather imposing looking Luxan. The crowd seemed to part as he trundled past. In his wake bounced a bloated little Hynerian on a hover sled, clearly enjoying the passage cleared by his Luxan counterpart. 

# 

"What are you doing here?" D'Argo snarled. 

He folded his arms and glared down at the half-breed girl, keeping his surprise to himself. This was not the same ill young woman from the data recording. She was healthy and vital. There was a faint bronze to her skin. And there was something else: she smelled more like Crichton… more human. But it was muddied by the scent of the tall bulky Sebacean male at her side. The two reeked of each other. They may as well have been wearing placards indicating their mating status. 

"And… who is this person? He smells like a Zenetian… amongst other things." 

The male sneered. "Incredible. Someone taught a Luxan to talk--" He stepped forward, in an unwitting desire to have his appendages ripped from his body by said Luxan. 

L'Tan pushed him back. "Korbyn. I'll handle this." 

"Who the yotz cares?" The Hynerian interjected. "If she is here, then what the frell are Crichton and Aeryn wasting our time for?" 

"What are you talking about, Dominar?" She was swift, grabbing the Hynerian's robe in one elegant fist. 

"What his Royal Flatulence is trying to say…" D'Argo spouted, reluctantly freeing Rygel from the girl. "Is that your mother and father have been in the Drakkor system for the past two solar days looking for you, according to the coordinates you gave him on that frelled recording." 

The one called Korbyn flinched visibly at the mention of the datachip, but it went unnoticed by the girl as her glare turned into bewilderment. 

"Frelled? I don't understand." She looked from D'Argo to Korbyn. "You said you gave him the datachip nearly half a cycle ago." 

"The datachip was heavily damaged." 

"Apparently not enough."  Rygel added, straightening his rumpled robes.

"I've … um… been meaning to tell you about that, Crichton." Korbyn muttered.

#

"Fellip nectar!" 

"I said I didn't know it would do that! How should I know it would do that to a datachip!" 

Something heavy and metal hit the deck with a hollow clatter. D'Argo did not turn around to investigate, knowing the answer may send him into a spree of rage. 

"What the frell were you doing? It's just like you not to tell me!" 

"It was an accident." There was another thud as the rest of their belongs were surrendered to the deck. 

"Look! You're here now aren't you? You're going to meet them aren't you?" 

"Yes… despite your best efforts!" 

D'Argo rolled his eyes and groaned as the argument between L'Tan and Korbyn continued in the passenger area of the Luxan craft. Their bickering had been a constant since the pointless revelation about the datachip, through the hike to their dwelling to claim their gear and to the present. Grumbling wordlessly, D'Argo punched through the remaining sequences for the pre-flight. 

"It's not too late to leave them here," the Hynerian whispered at his elbow. D'Argo shoved him back toward the co-pilot's side, more annoyed that he had not thought of it first than with the tiny despot's suggestion. 

He activated his coms. "Pilot." 

"Yes, Ka D'Argo." 

"We're leaving the planet now. We will head for the rendezvous with Aeryn and Crichton as soon as we're on board." He did not mention his two passengers. Part of him still remained wary of a Peacekeeper presence where the girl was concerned although she had displayed valor to the contrary. It was the other one, Korbyn, that he did not trust. 

"We are six arns early. Is there some emergency?" 

"No. But if they don't shut up soon, I'll make one." He snapped of the coms. 

There was the screech of metal dragged across the floor. Then a painful yelp. "Frell!" 

Patience spent, the Luxan erupted from his seat. He yelled into the back. "Do not make me come back there!" 

#

"No. Allow me." Elenor growled. She purposefully nudged Korbyn in his ailing side to get him out of the way before snatching up the heavy bundle from the deck that contained the Ciax spheroid. 

Most of her fury with him had subsided and she was content to provide him with the occassional glare and the well-timed snide remark. "Who knows… there might be a large vat of fellip nectar you can drop this into." 

"Crichton…" 

The girl did not turn around. She stomped angrily down the gangplank, her braid swinging along her back, leaving him in the hollow of the Luxan craft. 

The Hynerian drifted past on his way out the passage. "Poor boy. Gotcha by the mivonks, doesn't she?" 

Korbyn swatted at the diminutive pest, missing him completely. Muttering to himself, he followed him down the plank into the humming presence of the leviathan's bay. 

At that moment, his frustration was overwhelmed by the incredible sight of the living ship. For all of the troop transports and stations he had known in his decade in the Peacekeeper mobile infantry, Korbyn had never been on a Leviathan. The massive unarmed vessels were for the "specialized ranks" and prison transports, not for carting around grunts on their way to the slaughter. 

"Her name is Moya." The Luxan's rough voice said at his back. It dawned on him that he was referring to the ship itself. 

"Her name?" He asked, craning his neck to see were the spines disappeared into the dimness overhead. "They have names?" 

"Typical Peacekeeper." He huffed, turning away, realizing they were short one nuisance. "L'Tan! Where are you going?" 

She called over her shoulder as she strode purposefully down the winding corridor. "I've waited long enough. I want to see Zhaan!" 

"Oh. Hezmana." The Hynerian whispered. 

"L'Tan!" D'Argo growled. "You're to wait in the bay until John arrives." 

There was no answer. Even if she had heard him, he knew that would not stop her. 

"Stay here…." D'Argo commanded, pointing at Korbyn, as he thundered off in pursuit. 

"Who is Zhaan?" Korbyn asked. 

"It's a long sad story. Not one that's meant for you to hear… or understand… Peacekeeper." Rygel said solemnly.

#

Zhaan's chamber was an empty shambles gutted by fire. Entire decks still held the odor of charred inner scales regardless of the signs of healing. She turned away from the horrid site. With each step through the blacked rooms on the habitat level, her outrage, her anguish grew. The familiar path to Pilot's chamber had been blocked by a door that seemed charred into position, hopelessly immoveable. She chose to cross through the annex bay and around to the central core to reach his den. At least Pilot must still be alive. He had to be. 

She understood now why the Luxan wanted her to wait in the bay. Something horrific had happened. Everything seemed to be etched in the same tell tale signs of chaos. In the shadows of the annex bay she paused. Equipment had been moved in here. It looked like some sort of jury-rigged medical bay. 

Ellie lingered near the diagnostics bed, looking vacantly at the rows of meaningless technical trinkets and jars. Behind her there was a surprised gasp. 

"Aeryn… you're back." 

Ellie whirled. Emerging from the recesses of the small bay was an alien female. It was a species she had never seen: bronze skin, vivid green eyes, wide forehead above which was perched an absurd amount of reddish blonde curls. 

"You're not Aeryn." The newcomer took a wary step back, the motion exaggerated by the sway of her ridiculously wide garments. She moved and spoke with a haughtiness regardless of her obvious surprise. 

"Who are you? What happened to Moya? What happened to my home?" Ellie seethed. "I want to talk to Zhaan." 

Her expression faltered into puzzlement. "Your home…" 

Sensing the woman's weakness, Ellie made a half-serious lunge at her. The bronze-skinned woman gave a brief but painful screech of surprise. She skittered away, to hide behind the safety of a storage bin. With a vicious smile, Ellie rattled the large container. The alien shrieked again. The little game had already grown tiresome. She wanted answers not damaged hearing. 

"Answer me! Where's Zhaan? What did you do to Moya?" 

"Me?" She whined. "I didn't do it!" 

Behind her, Ellie heard someone else stir in the shadows of the cargo hold. She caught a blur of gray and black. Certain to keep the cargo container between her prey and the door, she looked around the dim suite. 

"Where's the Nebari?" She shifted her weight from foot to foot and canted her head in an imitation of Chiana, realizing that the little tralk was hiding nearby, watching. 

"I don’t know!" 

"I know you're there, you thieving little whore." Ellie called out over her shoulder. "I was about to see if I could fit all of her majesty in a cargo box." 

She swiveled her head around, eyes narrowing. "Or maybe you'll need two. One for the hair." 

"Now just one damned microt. Who the Hezmana are you--" 

"Who the Hezmana am I? Who and what are you?" She barked. 

"I asked you first." The alien challenged. Her eerie green-yellow gaze darted to the shadows. 

There was another rustle. Closer. At her left. Too late she turned to see the gray and white blur barreled into her. Ellie fell back into a winded rush, the Nebari's shoulder connecting with her in a tackle. 

Recovering quickly, Ellie lashed out with her legs, seeking to undercut the lithe opponent, but her kick was ill-timed. She met only air. With a clever acrobatic skill, Chiana was upon her again, twisting Ellie's arm behind her back and squeezing a forearm to her throat. Powerless, she lay pinning to the floor, gasping curses at Chiana. 

"Hi, L'Tan. Long time. No see." Chiana said with an evil giggle. It was obvious she was enjoying the outcome of this particular rematch. Looking over Chiana's shoulder, she could see the alien approach with new found bravado. 

"Not long enough." Ellie hissed. With a ferocious lunge she pushed up and away from the deck, upsetting her captor. Both girls scrambled back on their haunches, panting and wary of moves from the other. 

"You know her?" The other woman asked. 

"Yep!" Chiana called. She tapped her coms. "D'Argo… she's in the medical bay." 

"Can you keep her there?" 

"You're joking, right?" Chiana returned, watching Elenor bolt out of the bay and into the central core. 

"Am I frelling invisible?" Jool asked, offering a hand to pull Chiana to her feet. "Who was that?" 

"That… was John and Aeryn's daughter." Chiana chirped, slapping Jool on the back. 

"Daughter…" Jool frowned, uncertain. Questions formulating she looked up to see Chiana leave in pursuit of the curious young woman. "But… Chiana! Wait!" 

#

"Will you wait?" Jool tottered after D'Argo as he thundered past, the second to join the strange pursuit through Moya. 

"No." D'Argo snarled. They rounded the corner that lead to Pilot's den. 

"Who is she? Why would Chiana say John is that girl's father?" She pressed, trying her best to keep up with him. 

"Because he is…. Might be… will be." D'Argo said briskly. He paused, to pivot at a junction in the corridor. The move surprised her and she collided with his solid frame. He placed firm hands on her shoulders and moved her bodily out of his way. "Listen. It's complicated." 

"I don't understand." 

"She is the daughter of John and Aeryn. But from one possible future." D'Argo said slowly as if talking to a child. He marched past her again, heading down the Hammond fork in the passage. 

"Possible future." Jool repeated, falling in place behind him. 

"I said it was complicated…." He paused at the door to the den only long enough to trigger the door. It swiveled open on its central axis and D'Argo lumbered in before it could open the entire way, Jool in tow. 

"I told you to wait in the bay!" He growled. His tremendous voice echoed in the giant space as he strode menacingly down the catwalk. The strange girl was perched onto Pilot's console, as if she had every reason to be there. She did not shrink away from the Luxan's gruff voice. 

"Why? It doesn't matter now." She drew her chin up, turning her accusing glare on each of them. She slipped down from her seat. "Tell me what happened! Where's Zhaan?!" 

"Zhaan… Zhaan… " Stark muttered watching the tense exchange. It was still a painful jab to hear the name of his beloved spoken aloud. "Gone… gone." 

She was instantly upon him, bullying and fearful. "What did you just say?" 

"You do not belong here." He replied quietly, but he was reluctant to lift his gaze to meet her. It troubled him with the souls like this, even after so many cycles of guiding others over into death. The betrayed souls were the most fierce to look upon. There was anger in her that burned with the cheated brilliance of a dying star, as though it knew its days were ending and sought to destroy space around it out of sheer vengeance. 

"What?" She hissed. 

"No… no no…" His hands hovered near her face. The move surprised her and she took a faltering step back and was cornered against the console. "So… very very pale… very very pretty….much like.. her… like Aeryn. But you don't belong." 

"Shouldn't your Banik be on a leash?" But her voice was uneasy as she leaned away from him. She looked back to the others that stood in a grim-faced semi circle before the great console of the Navigator. 

"So sad. So much pain. But your place…your time won't come. Scorpy will never take you. You must find comfort in that… Yes." He nodded in complete agreement with himself before sinking back into a quiet dark corner. 

"What is going on?" 

"I'd like to know that too." Jool huffed. 

Chiana and D'Argo exchanged a guilty glance. Rygel sank into his throne sled, slowly shaking his head. 

"Ka D'Argo. I should like to explain what happened." Pilot said. 

#

Ellie sat in the warm echo of the terrace hugging her knees to her chest as she watched the blur of stars. Roughly she swiped at her eyes, impatient with the emotions that claimed her. As a child she had feared this room. It had always seemed enormous, as if she could fall right off the skin of the leviathan into the black yawn of space, a tiny little lost girl in the cold, jealous stars. 

Now she sought it because it was the only room that did not smell of the taint of charred leviathan or carry the echo of times that would never come. The prospect was suffocating and frightening at once. In essence she had been cheated of a life if everything Pilot had explained were true. Somewhere the time lines had diverged, sending them all careening into a new unknown. She would never be born. Her mother would not yield her own life for her daughter. The Peacekeepers may never murder her father. But then what? 

She knew nearly nothing of temporals, distortions variables. Her own knowledge was tiny in the face of it, only slightly more than the average tech. What had once been a firm course in future histories had gone askew. What now? 

"Crichton." 

She cleared her throat and turned away from a sky that was mad with stars. Asher was a dark silhouette in the entrance. 

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now." She said. 

He sauntered in to the room, looking around the brilliant star scape before stopping in front of her. "No one ever really knows, Crichton. Where's the fun in that?" 

She paid him a wan smile. He brought a hand up to her jaw and ran his thumb along her cheekbone. 

"How long?" she asked after a long moment. 

His hand dropped away. Asher jerked his chin over his shoulder. "They're docking now. If it's all the same to you… I'll stay here."

#

Aeryn thudded down the rungs of the transport pod's ladder, heavy gear bag thrown over her shoulder. She tossed it to the floor with a weary grunt and paused to stretch her back. All she could think of was spending about the next two arns in the shower. Her patience was spent. John's mood had been taxing at best. She was grateful Moya had arrived early. 

Nice shower. Food. Sleep for half a cycle. And then think about the situation with a fresh perspective… As she bent to retrieve her bag, she saw the others gathered in the hangar's doorway. Their faces were grim, pensive. A cool hand ran the length of her spine. Something was not right. Aeryn straightened, her hand instinctively going to her thigh for her sidearm. Moya had arrived early. 

"Yo. D! What gives! You are half a day early, my man!" Crichton called in his usual obviously plodding manner. He was busy slipping the duster from his shoulders, only noticing from a cursory glance that the Luxan was nearby. 

But he must have sensed it too. Signature furrow of confusion on his brow John looked at Aeryn and then back to the others. They lingered in the doorway, even the usually cloistered Rygel. "What gives? You're lined up like the Rockettes." 

The girl moved from behind the eclipse of the hulking Luxan.

"Oh my God." John said beneath his breath. 

Elenor moved closer, her steps eager yet wary. Aeryn watched, uncertain. A strange ache formed beneath her heart. 

She was no longer dressed as Aeryn remembered her in the slick leather garments meant to emulate Scorpius's. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly into a dress regulation plait. The rest of her attire was weathered and careworn. A battered prowler pilot's jacket, the clasps missing or tarnished. Boots that had seen better days. There was a fresh pink scar along her temple and another one along her jaw. She looked so much older. Tempered was the word that came to mind, as if she had been through Hezmana and survived, somehow stronger for it. 

"John, don't--" Aeryn heard herself say. Her hand fell on his shoulder, staying him. 

He looked at Aeryn. The expression on his face made her stop. She meant to caution, to warn him. Allow him this. Just let him have this one moment of peace. 

Instead she paid him a curt nod. Her hand slipped away. She looked back to their estranged daughter walking toward them. 

"You're ok." John said quietly. 

Elenor nodded. A small cautious smile formed on her face. "Yes. I'm ok." 

Whatever paralysis that claimed him ended. John was suddenly striding to the girl, sweeping her into a fierce crushing embrace. "You're ok. You're ok." 

Elenor released a brief laugh as he lifted her off her feet and set her back down. 

"You're ok." He repeated, his face buried against her hair. 

Aeryn remained motionless, abandoned by her Peacekeeper training and devoid of any life lessons she had acquired on her own. Instead she watched, a spectator to this impossible reunion of never and now. 

Slowly the girl broke their embrace and wove toward Aeryn, John in tow. Elenor opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped. 

"You've survived." Aeryn said, straightening. It was such complete unreality. One part of her analyzed the scene, knowing what a tactical disadvantage it was to bring her on board. After all, she had sabotaged Moya before… 

Then there was that niggling dull ache that sat just beneath her heart. It was a need, a want without a voice. And it filled her with fear. She looked at John. 

"I'm going to unpack." Aeryn said briskly. She pushed past them, gaining speed with each step. 

#

"Rygel cheats. I hope your friend knows that." John nodded at the end of the galley behind her. Korbyn was having a loud boastful exchange with the Hynerian over the tadek table. The peppery smell of the Dominar's pipe wafted through the air. The tension had eased a great deal in the few arns since her mother and father returned. 

But it did very little to quell the knot of dread sitting in her stomach. Aeryn had remained sequestered. The Luxan declared he had work to do elsewhere. The curious Jool made no excuses and hovered nearby, being very blatant about staring at Ellie. Chiana lingered, pretending not to help Rygel cheat. 

"As if Korbyn doesn't," Ellie smirked, turning back to face her father. "He can take care of himself." 

"So… what's the story… with um… him?" 

"Story?" 

Well… I mean." He stammered, clearing his throat. "You and him…" 

"Oh… that." She said abruptly, realizing the course of his awkward inquiry. She looked down at the half-finished food in front of her. Ellie felt the blood rush to her neck. Her ears burned. 

"That's ok, I'll just ask him." John said, casually. He made a motion as if to stand. She lunged across the table and grabbed his wrist. 

"What are you doing?" She squealed. 

He grinned at her and held his hands up, surrendering. "I'm joking! Joking!" 

Slowly he sat back down, quietly shaking with laughter. "Believe me… I'm probably about as weirded out by this conversation as you are."

"Can we please talk about something else?" She pleaded. 

"Ok. Fine. Something tells me this isn't a social call." John said, his mood sobering. He reached inside the inner pockets of his vest and pulled out the familiar folded yellow fabric from Rachel's flightsuit. He placed it carefully on the table between them and slid it across the table to her. 

"DK. That hard head. He came out here after me… somehow. And dragged this Northway with him." 

"Yes. That's how it started." She nodded. "But there's a lot more. And not a whole lot of time." 

"Color me surprised." He grimaced. "I'm not gonna like this, am I?" 

#

She could not sleep. But for Chiana that was not common. There were times when she had gone weekens without rest. But this was different. 

L'Tan, or Ellie as she insisted on being called now, had triggered Chiana's insatiable curiosity. But not from the aspect of her past clashes with John's daughter. There was a vague unease that seemed to pepper the very living air on the leviathan. It was nearly electric in Ellie's presence, as if the space around her were somehow… altered. 

Despite her own anxiety about the strange thoughts and premonitions that she, until now, had been able to shrug off, Chiana felt an overriding desire to test them. And, as ever, her curiosity ruled her actions. 

She slid into the habitation corridor, at first uncertain of her course, but on some precognitive level knowing where she'd end up. Soon she was part of the blackness of the hallway. A tireless DRD trolled by, oblivious. Stealth was such an inherent part of her nature, it was not even a consideration that she would be discovered. 

Chiana hovered outside the lattice of Ellie's door. The privacy curtain was down. The steady deep drone of Korbyn's breathing filtered out into the hallway. She suppressed a small giggle. Some things never changed. John had been obvious about giving the former commando quarters on the opposite side of the ship, yet he had managed to wind up Ellie's room anyway. 

But she knew the girl was not there. Chiana continued down the corridor and into the portion of the leviathan that was still scared by the fire. She felt the sullen guilt pull at her. She seldom came down this way if she could help it. Too many bad memories. Too many ghosts even for a thief and a liar by trade. 

At the junction for the next tier riser, she paused. Faint yellow light spilled out of the room that was once Zhaan's. There. That's where she would be. 

"You're spying on me, Nebari?" If it were not for the human drawl, the voice could have belonged to Aeryn. 

Chiana despite her surprise, almost found herself admiring Ellie's stealth. Somehow she had doubled back and approached her from behind in the darkness. 

"I've got to know how you do that." Chiana breathed. 

"I could tell you. But I'd have to kill you." Ellie said with flat sarcasm. "What a pity that would be." 

Disinterested in their usual sparring, she walked past and into the empty husk of Zhaan's chamber. After a moment, Chiana followed. Cautiously she peered around the corner.

Ellie sat on the floor, her knees hugged against her chest. 

"What do you want?" Ellie said quietly. It was if the hatred had been drained from her. 

"I'm not sure." Chiana said. "But I don't think you belong here." 

"Thank you. Is that all?" 

"No. I mean…" She stammered, tilting her head. "I didn't mean it that way…" 

"Oh? You meant it was a compliment? I have to brush up on my Nebari culture." She returned, sarcastically. 

"Just frelling listen to me for one microt." 

"One microt." Ellie held up a single slim finger. 

"What do you remember about Moya that's different?" Chiana said. 

She looked up at her, incredulous, as she gestured at the charred and melted walls. "You're joking, right?" 

"No… I mean other than that. Little things. Maybe about me… about Aeryn… or your father." Chiana felt her own resolve begin to wane. Perhaps the things she had felt were wrong. 

Ellie rose. She took a menacing step forward, her head lowered. "If this is some prank…" 

"What else about your memories from this time… seem wrong to you?" Chiana said quickly. She gave her a nervous grin, but still kept near the doorway. 

The expression on her face seemed to fall flat. "There's a scar over father's eye. He never had that." 

"What else?" 

"The Interion. The Banik. Moth--- Officer Sun's prowler is gone. Zhaan… is gone." Her voice caught and her gaze lost its injured softness as she looked once more at Chiana. "What are you trying to do to me?" 

"Look. I think that Stark was onto something, but not the way you think." 

"Keep talking." It seemed to snag her interest, but for reasons she was not about to reveal. She began to circle Chiana, slowly, an unconscious imitation of her once master. 

"You know why her prowler was destroyed, right?" 

"Pilot did not say."

 Chiana turned to follow her. "From what you remember, how did John lose Scorpius's neural chip?" 

She did not even flinch at the mention of Scorpius's name. "Zhaan discovered its presence when she shared unity with father, during the time that Maldis reappeared. Soon after she was able to find a healer to remove it. Scorpius never reclaimed it." 

"I really wish that was what happened." Chiana said sadly. 

#

"My theory had been that my very presence here over a cycle ago had altered time, somehow distorted the natural course of events. But there are things that have been effected before my first arrival on Moya." The young woman's voice was protracted in thought as she paced back and forth before his great console. 

Pilot looked up at her. He said, somewhat doubtfully. "There have been instances with leviathans that enter StarBurst in unstable portions of space, making temporal anomalies possible." 

"No, Pilot. I not only entered the wrong time, I entered an entirely different reality." She stopped suddenly and approached his console. "I need to know the exact time signature." 

"Central Command Date is at 23902-03-01-29 standard cycles." 

At this she seemed to slump, either with relief or grief, he could not tell. All non Bio-mechs were curious things. She said, quietly. "Then I am lost. I was born in the year of the Liberation of Hedas." 

"Elenor?" 

"In my time… my reality, Pilot. I would have been born by now." 

"And, as a consequence, Officer Sun would be dead." Pilot added. 

She nodded, eyes wide glimmering pools. "And I exist here still which means I am somehow protected. And that--" 

"There are parallel conduits of space-time. And this reality is not connected to yours." He finished her thought. 

There was a long droning silence, as if even Moya were mulling over the possibilities in her millennia-old consciousness. 

"If that is true, Elenor, then how would this be corrected?" Pilot asked finally. 

"I was kinda hoping you could tell me, Pilot."

Part 3

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