Season of Death (R)

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:18 PM

Rating: R for violence, harsh human language, drug use, and non-explicit sex (Standard Owlman stuff)
Spoilers: All of Season 1 and 2
Disclaimer: The characters from the series are owned by The Jim Henson Company. All the others are owned by me.

Silence. Silence was the only companion of John Crichton, as he lay strapped to the operating table. His eyes were no more fortunate than his ears; all they had was the blinding bright light from a surgeon’s lamp, and the icy walls of the operating room. He could not see it, but he knew that the body of the doctor, Tocot was sprawled on the ice-floor to his left. Victim of the same man who left him here; Scorpius. And in Crichton’s eyes, the doctor was the lucky one. Scorpius had killed the doctor just for the hell of it, one single bad breath in the creature’s face.

Crichton’s heart had skipped a beat when he heard the Star Spangled Banner being whistled in the icy hallway outside the OR. Scorpius was the only one who knew that tune. After Scorpius fell the doctor, he snatched up the neural chip that contained the very key to the universe. As the half-breed stood over him gloating, Crichton waited for his well-deserved deathblow. Would in come in a broken neck, a simple pulse blast to the head, or would it be a Texas style lethal injection? Crichton starred blankly into Scorpius’ eyes as the PeaceKeeper told him his fate. The words seemed to last forever in the cold air:

“I condemn you John Crichton… to live. So that your thirst for unfulfilled revenge, will consume you!”

As Crichton remembered the words he screamed an inhuman howl, much like he did when he first heard them. The brutal cry spread throughout the rows of frozen corpses, including one near to Crichton’s heart.

The entire remaining crew of Moya jolted with ever pulse blast that impacted on the Leviathan’s makeshift defense screen. Every hit that the D.S. took, the generator in control sparked a little more. Crichton’s “Serious rig job” of wiring was beginning to crumble, along with the defense screen. The fire was coming from a squadron of Prowlers that were circling the still injured Leviathan. She could barely keep Hech 2, and even then she was moaning in pain. The great beast could not take much more punishment. The crew knew that they had only one option, retreat.

“Pilot!” screamed D’argo into his comm. “Any luck on raising Crais and Talyn?” he asked, bucking from another shot. “No” replied Pilot’s voice. “They must be out of range,” he added, going back to his duties. “Either that, or he doesn’t give a rantar’s ass about us”, replied Chiana. With his “love” Aeryn dead, and his hated rival Crichton out of the picture, Crais had no more use for them.

“If we can still Starburst, then why are we still here?” sniveled Rygel. Zhaan shot a fierce glance at him. “Because John is still on that planet”, she said in a rather angry voice. Rygel through back: “You saw a second Marauder go down there, he is either dead, or on his way there!” he replied. Zhaan looked away, she knew this in her heart. “And, what can we do to save him, hmm?” “Those Prowlers would tear a transport pod to pieces in microts” added the little despot.

A team of PeaceKeeper commandos had ambushed the crew as they were waiting for Crichton’s surgery to end. They had all been unarmed, and had barely made it back to the pod.

Just as he finished his statement, an ear-shattering rumble went throughout the ship. The crew, having experienced this before jumped from the defense screen generator just before it nearly exploded. The large black mass sparked, and threw the sinew like wires around command with a piercing shriek. It was a small miracle that the entire device didn’t explode and take out the entire crew with it. Chiana peered over the nav. console, cringing just in case it decided to blow Pilot didn’t even bother informing the crew that the D.S. was down.

D’argo snarled. He looked at his remaining friends, a circle that had gotten much smaller in the past few arns. “We have no choice, Pilot, Starburst now!” Zhaan screamed for Pilot to stop. The multi-armed controller wisely followed D’argo’s instructions. As Moya lurched forward into the blue vortex, D’argo wrapped his arms around Zhaan. “Its alright, we’ll be back for him” said D’argo, his voice nearly cracking. Jothee held Chiana’s hand as she cried.

(The Camera Cuts to the Opening Credits)

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica
(Download at http://home.eznet.net/~deck/fe/Neurotica_Ride of Your Life.mp3)
Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight
Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light
Drown yourselves in lakes of volume
Drown yourselves in the sound
Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride

The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life

Season of Death Part 1:
A Dish Best Served Cold

Crichton threw himself at his limb restraints. He was in his T-shirt, and the cold was quickly sapping his strength. If he didn’t break out in an hour, there was little chance that he would ever break out. This sudden thought stopped his movement. Just lay still, and go to sleep and his pain would stop. His thoughts of Aeryn would stop, his hatred would stop. Every thought in his head told him to do this, to just stop. If he would die, no one else could die because of him. No more torture, no more suffering, no more running. His inner voice seemed to tell him: “Sleep Johnny boy, sleep, next thing you know, your pain will end and you will find peace”. Crichton lay back to accept his fate, then it seemed to come to him. The voice inside his head wasn’t his, it was that of Scorpius.

“In-fucking-possible!” he screamed inwardly, outside this was only a mumble, his speech center of his brain had been sacrificed to free him from Harvey, or so he thought. “You’re gone Harvey!” he yelled inwardly. The voice answered him: “Oh, it is quite fucking possible”. “We have been too close for too long John, I am a part of your very consciousness now, you cannot be rid of me!” “We share the same soul if you will, the same life force”.

Crichton’s eyes darted around the room, making sure the voice didn’t belong to the real Scorpius. “Its just you and me John” added Harvey. “Do you really want to be stuck alone with only me to talk to?”. “I know you John, your only purposes for living; wormholes, and Aeryn Sun are now gone”, he said in his usual cocky attitude. “Don’t you ever mention her name again!” screamed Crichton.

Harvey faded into existence on top of him on the table. “Ah yes, the name of the woman we both murdered together”, replied the clone smiling from ear to ear. “That was your doing not mine!” screamed Crichton. Hate and adrenaline began to fill his veins. “You don’t believe that, I know you better than you know yourself!” replied the clone. “I know exactly what has been going through your mind since I got in here” “You could have killed yourself when you had the chance, that would have saved her, or you could have at least tried to overpower me, but you didn’t!” screamed the neural clone. “Your name was the last words to come for her pretty lips” he said.

A vision of her last moments popped up like a movie clip. Her screaming his name as she sank into the icy depths. The long trudge back to the module with her limp body, Crichton couldn’t believe how heavy she was, the unnatural flopping over her limbs and head. The very unfriendly greeting he got from his friends when he got back to the medical facility. The near beating D’argo gave him as he restrained him, throwing on the handcuffs.

The flashback cut to him standing next to her lifeless body, just as the diagnosian had declared she was beyond saving. The way he placed his face to her cold, frosty cheek, pleading: “Wake up… please!”. And then: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he had screamed as D’argo dragged him away from her.

His scream was overcome by the sound of Harvey laughing. The room and the non-existent Scorpius again appeared, Harvey’s mouth wide with laughter. “The great John Crichton reduced to a babbling wreck! What, no stiff upper lip like you had for your mother?” The clone had miscalculated; he had neglected to factor in a Human’s rage.

Adrenaline surging, Crichton simultaneously ripped both of the arm restraints from their brackets and threw his hands around the throat of his imaginary enemy. He rose to face the clone in the eye. “I plan on putting both of us out of or misery, once I’m done with Scorpy!” he screamed inwardly. He slammed the clone to the floor and using his adrenaline forced the clone out of existence temporarily. He threw off his leg restraints and quickly threw on his long, black PeaceKeeper coat, his exposed skin instantly tingling with the warmth. With all hope, Scorpius was still here, now, he needed a weapon.

Rygel’s eyes lit up with shock and fear when D’argo entered his quarters. The Hynerian had been busy with a large pile of random objects. D’argo looked at the pile and then locked on to Rygel. “These are John and Aeryn’s things!” D’argo bellowed. Rygel didn’t flinch from his pile of loot. “He was her beneficiary, she was his, their both gone, so I figured that their belongings would be divided amongst us equally” said the Hynerian holding up one of Crichton’s PeaceKeeper jackets. “Of course Jothee shouldn’t get anything, I don’t think he liked Crichton much” he added. “From the looks of it, neither did you” replied D’argo. “I liked both of them, they both saved my life several times and were valuable crew members”, came back Rygel. D’argo leered at him. “That’s all they were to you, just valuable crew members!”. “What do you expect me to do Luxan, cry them a river, I’m mourning them in my own way” he replied, focusing back on the clothes. “They don’t even fit, what do you want with them?” asked D’argo. “Actual Crichton memorabilia is one of the most sought after commodities in the Territories” he said smiling. D’argo snatched the jacket from the little creature, who gave a hiss in return. “You have an entire chamber filled with treasure, be content with that and leave their stuff” said D’argo grabbing the pile.

He threw the pile onto Crichton’s bed. He saw the shattered mirror and the marks of bloody fists against the wall behind it. It was in this room that his best friend had asked him to kill him. He had again found Crichton here after his rescue, Winnona pressed against his temple. If it hadn’t been for the influence of the neural clone, Crichton’s brains would have stained that wall. D’argo somehow found comfort in the fact that his friend was probably dead. He hoped that it had been quick.

He looked over at the small table. Winnona sat there, just as he had left her before the clone had fully hijacked his mind. He wanted to pick it up, but he decided to leave it there, it was one of his most prized possessions. It would stay there, until its owner came back to reclaim it, or sit for an eternity waiting for his return.

Chiana was sick of this. Zhaan and Stark were already praying for Crichton’s soul, D’argo was talking about him in past tense, and Rygel was already stealing his worldly possessions. They didn’t seem to even consider the possibility that Crichton was still alive and free or in captivity. She couldn’t believe that they had given up so easily. She demanded to Pilot that they go back, but he said Moya was in no condition to travel. Jothee had not left her side, but she knew he was there for a reason other than consoling her. She took a hardy swig of some hard liquor

“Why are you so upset over this guy, he seemed a little insane to me”, Jothee said to her with false interest. Chiana rolled her eyes and took another drink. “Before he went insane, he was one of the best people I ever met” she replied. “He saved my ass so many times that I lost count, he was like a big brother to me”, she added. Jothee’s interest was peaked. “Did you and he ever…” he left it hanging. “No, but he rejected me once or twice” she said peering at the bottle, contemplating another shot. Jothee saw his opportunity. “He must have been crazy, he passed up on you” the horrible pick up line showed Jothee’s youth and inexperience. She ignored it. “Crichton and Aeryn were in love, he wouldn’t betray her”, she added. “They were the closest people on this ship, and the best team”. “Maybe Zhaan was right about them dying together, one couldn’t function well without the other, Crichton even tried to kill himself”. She chugged the equivalent of two shots from the bottle. Jothee smiled. “Can you function without him?” he asked. She shook her head. “I’m not dependant on anybody, but I wouldn’t mind waking up from my hangover in the morning with him saying “Pip, time to rise and shine” or anything for that matter”. She was so drunk and depressed that she didn’t mind his arm around her.

Crichton’s search for firepower had taken him to her coffin. He peered through the small porthole at her. Her beautiful alabaster skin was now a lighter color, the color of death. She looked unchanged from when he had pulled her from the icy depths. Carrying her back to the pod, he resized how accurate the term dead weight was. He found it hard to believe that Tocat, who could heal a leviathan and take out neural chips could not revive a Sebasceanera (what Crichton nicknamed Sebascean women) who merely drowned. The hypothermia should have preserved her. He guessed Sebasceans were different from Humans in that department as well. He placed his hand on the glass near her face. He almost felt unworthy to stand here. A lock of her hair was still in his coat pocket. He had since placed it in a sealed test tube. Unfortunately, it appeared D’argo had taken his Qualta Blade with him, leaving Crichton weaponless. As he placed his hand on the glass, he sung a song he had written for her after her death internally:

Memories are just where you laid them
Dragging waters till the depths give up their dead
What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?
Don't you remember everything I said when I said,

Don't fall away, and leave me to myself
Don't fall away, and leave love bleeding in my hands,
In my hands again,
Leave love bleeding in my hands,
In my hands,
Love lies bleeding...

The cold plastic polymer of a pulse pistol pressed to the back of his head before he could get to the second verse.

Stark and D’argo carefully prodded the burnt out defense screen generator. Neither of them could fix the toaster, let alone this advanced piece of technology. Stark ran the scanning device closer, trying to detect the problem. As he approached, the device connected with the DS somehow, and a bolt of electricity filled the air between them. Stark dropped the device, and the DS began to fluctuate and smoke. As the sound grew in intensity, Stark and D’argo took simultaneous diving leaps behind the nearest console. Both cringed as it the sound climaxed.

The explosion could have been considered a let down, if being small was a bad thing. A few wires or fuses popped and the sound disappeared. They carefully peek over their consoles at it. The both thought a like, but said nothing. They need John Crichton.

“Well, if it isn’t the legendary John Crichton” said a muffled voice behind the human. The voice carried a PeaceKeeper accent. He looked into some ice on the wall and saw a pair of PeaceKeeper marines behind him in full body armor and helmets. The other’s pistol was holstered. “Don’t know how you got free but Scorpius wanted you to stay here and suffer” commented the marine. Crichton was starring at Aeryn’s face when the marine mentioned that name. Crichton’s hate and rage were boiling his blood. Crichton would be damned if he let Scorpius or any of his goons leave alive. Crichton remembered a technique that he had picked up somewhere. If he executed it right, he would have his weapons. He waited for the marine to make a mistake, which came when the marine waved his gun in the direction he wanted Crichton to move.

In seemingly slow motion, Crichton spun around and grabbed the outstretched hand of the marine. He grabbed the free hand with his right and quickly forced the muzzle of the energy weapon up to the marine’s chin with his left. Before the PeaceKeeper could react, Crichton forced the pistol to discharge. Crichton quickly grabbed the pistol from the limp, falling hand and targeted the second marine, who had now just drawn his weapon. Before he could raise his weapon, Crichton fired three quick blasts into the upper torso of the marine, sending him smoking to the ground.

Crichton forced the cold air into his lungs and he gathered himself. He grabbed the pistol from the second marine’s hand and inspected the weapons. This was the one combat skill that Crichton excelled at over Aeryn, dual weaponry or akimbo. As he was relieving the marine of his spare clips, he noticed that his holster had jammed, giving Crichton a crucial second to beat the marine to the punch. As he snapped the first marine’s holster to his thigh he looked at Aeryn. “Thanks for watchin’ my back baby”. He kissed the glass and moved on.

Just looking at Grunchlk made Scorpius ill. He looked un-well and damn contagious. This man’s disgusting appearance sealed his fate with Scorpius. Any doubts that he had about killing him disappeared when the corpulent, wheezing mass demanded more money for his “services”.

Braca stepped forward and half tossed the duffle bag to Grunchlk, who quickly tore the zipper open. “This bag is pretty small, I though this guy was worth 30 million” Grunchlk complained. Upon looking in the bag, he realized that it contained only a few tins of field rations. He didn’t even raise his head. “Frell you Scorpius” he said quite calmly. A single blast from one of Scorpius’ 6 marines smashed into his large body, sending him to the ground. Scorpius waved one of them forward to inspect Grunchlk’s vital signs. The gooey reds eyes blinked once as he stared up at the black armored Sebascean. “He’s still alive” reported the muffled voice of the marine. “Finish him” ordered Scorpius as he and Braca walked for the exit. “Wait for Betra team, then take the second Marauder to help the search for the Leviathan” ordered Scorpius. The marines stood at attention as their commander left.

D’argo sat on his knees, his eyes closed. He talked out loud, his voice filling the empty room.

“Lola…” he paused to think of the words. “I know it has been a long time since I reported to you, I’ve been busy”. “In the past few days I have lost two friends and regained a son”. “Jothee has grown so much, he has your eyes and his father’s temper”. D’argo swallowed hard. “I’ll do my best to watch over him, even with Crichton gone, I doubt we have heard the last of the PeaceKeepers”. He paused, realizing that he had gotten ahead of himself. “My friend Aeryn is dead, and her… lover and my best friend John Crichton has most likely joined her on the other side. If you see them, make sure Crichton stays out of trouble” he said with a smile. “They’re good people Lola, I hope they share our afterlife”. A tear had now formed under one of his closed eyes. “I’m thinking of asking Chiana to marry me. I don’t know if it is the right thing to do or if it is okay with you, but it just seems right, especially with what has recently happened. I’ll await a sign from you, I love you”. He gave a traditional Luxan prayer motion and stood up.

Grunchlk laid on the icy floor dying. Every breath was becoming harder to complete. The remaining marines were arguing over who would get to kill him. The argument was finally resolved when one of them out bid the others for the right. His life was worth 75 credits apparently. The marine pressed the muzzle of his rifle to Grunchlk’s head. He closed his eyes and waited for the final shot. He could hear the trigger being pulled. He braced himself. The rifle’s blast smacked harmlessly into the icy floor.

Grunchlk opened his eyes and looked up to see Crichton with a choke hold on the marine, a pistol in each hand. Crichton let a shot fly from his right pistol, which struck a marine in his well-armored chest with a crackle of flame. The others instantly began firing, regardless of their comrade.. The wave of red blasts smashed into Crichton’s Sebascean shield, throwing sparks and pieces of armor flying. Despite the screams and thrashing of the marine in his grasp, Crichton methodically fired on the five others. He no longer cared that they were living people. All he knew was that they were obstacles in the way between him and Scorpius. He quickly placed three shots in the torsos of the first two marines. He then released his now limp shield and simultaneously blasted the two marines that had positioned themselves to shoot around their former comrade. They both instantly crumbled to the ground. He then crossed his guns at the wrist and locked onto the final marine. He screamed like a bezerker as he unleashed countless shots from both guns into the marine’s chest. The marine jerked with every flaming impact, and fell to the ground dead several times over.

Crichton stood there for a moment among the dead, his breath steaming out in a rapid pace. A downed marine to his right gasped and gurgled from a lung shot. Crichton knew he was done for. The man attempted to crawl to his weapon. A few months ago, John Crichton would spare his life. Now, he wasn’t John Crichton, he was Eric Draven, out to make Scorpius pay for his pain. With one quick trigger pull he released the PeaceKeeper from his pain. Ignoring Grunchlk’s cries for help, Crichton kicked open the door to the outside. He raised his weapons as snow blasted his face.

A Marauder was standing in the snowfield, shut off and locked down. Crichton saw a spot where the snow had been recently melted, most likely from the engines of the Marauder that was now disappearing in the clouds miles from the medical complex. Crichton heard pathetic cries from the interior of the building. He took his time getting the Grunchlk. There was no doubt that this fat bastard had led Scorpius to him. Crichton pointed his right gun at Grunchlk’s head. The big alien began to twitch wildly and Crichton took a step back from the ever-growing amount of yellow snow around Grunchlk.

“Please don’t kill me!” begged Grunchlk. “I know you can’t talk, but you can listen”, he added. Crichton shrugged and began to pull the trigger. But, Crichton’s adrenaline had worn off by now, and his conscience was now coming into play. He placed the pistol in his right scavenged holster. Grunchlk eagerly took Crichton’s outstretched hand. Crichton walked him back into the body chambers. “Thank you Commander, I…”. Before he knew what was going on, Crichton hurled the big man into an empty cryo-pod and slammed the door shut. His screaming mouth was instantly frozen open. Crichton waved good-bye and walked back to his battlefield. He quickly grabbed a pulse rifle and ejected the clips from the others. These would come in handy.

D’argo yelled again as another jolt from the busted control panel traveled up his tool and into his arm. He wasn’t accustomed to tech work, Crichton had done it for over two cycles for him. He had even caught himself trying to comm. Crichton when he first saw the panel. Much like it had been with his wife, D’argo seemed to see Crichton everywhere. In the mess hall, in a corridor, and by his module. He had even heard him and Aeryn flirting/fighting one time. Anyone who lost someone they cared about can sympathize with this. Now, D’argo had to come to the harsh fact that they would have to deal with the practical aspect of the loss of Aeryn and Crichton.

Chiana sauntered in, she and Jothee had been missing for several arns. She smelled heavily of cleansing liquid and bathing. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Thinking about him too?” she asked. D’argo nodded. “He’s not dead you know” she added. “We both know he’s not the kind to just lay down and die”. D’argo just nodded.

The white clouds quickly turned to the blackness of space as the Marauder left the atmosphere of the icy planet. Crichton sat silently behind the controls. The PeaceKeepers had been nice enough to leave the location of their bases and patrol patterns on the ship’s database. Crichton had calculated that the planet of Nadris was his best bet.

There was little PeaceKeeper presence on the planet, and there were no picket lines between this planet and that one. Plus, it also had a city called Koorong with a population of 8 million. Even the infamous John Crichton could blend in there. Plus, he could probably find a doctor to treat him and maybe even Aeryn there. After getting cured, he could try to find Moya again, or failing that, find Scorpius.

Crichton remembered Harvey quoting Shakespeare: “Revenge is a dish best served cold, and you like revenge don’t you John”

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:19 PM

Part 2

Crichton blew a half-assed sigh of relief when the Marauder finally began its descent into the atmosphere of Nadris. The planet was about half the size of Earth, but could have been mistaken for its twin at this distance. Crichton had feared that his fuel would not hold out over the long flight. As his ship entered the planet’s gravitational pull, the low fuel warning buzzer had sounded. He was running on fumes, and he still had a large planet to cover. The PeaceKeeper navigation system told him that he could not reach the city off Koorong. The computer then suggested a small town in the far north. The city description called it Tarin, and said that the settlement had only a few hundred people. It was nestled in the mountains, and finding a landing spot would be tricky.

The large PeaceKeeper transport was about to cut into the clouds when a blaring siren broke into song. The fuel had been totally depleted. Crichton knew by its design that a Marauder glided like a rock doesn’t. Crichton felt his stomach drop as his downward velocity left his control. The Marauder plunged into the fluffy cloud layer in a screaming dive. Crichton gave one last tug to the controls, then gave up with an inaudible profanity. He grabbed up the pulse rifle from the co-pilot’s seat and thrust it between his chest and his dual seatbelts.

He had only ever practiced ejection back on Earth during pilot training, and that was on the ground. He confessed, that even then, it sucked. Mentally bracing himself, he reached under his seat for the ejection handle. He came up with nothing. As panic set in, he searched the dashboard for an ejection button. The translator microbes seemed to take an eternity to translate the Sebascean labels into English subtitles. Periodically he spied out the windshield to see the snow covered terrain come rushing up at him. Finally he discovered a large bump of metal on the left hand side of the console. He held his breath as the caption read in English: Ejection. He pulled on the metal casing and it didn’t move and inch. He saw that a key hole one the side of it. He screamed yet again, pounding the object with his fist. Now objects below him were beginning to take shape. He could see the small village of Tarin, some rolling snow cover hills, and his computer projected “landing area”, a frozen lake. Out of desperation, he set the rifle to its lowest possible setting, and aimed carefully. The small red blast blew the metal covering off, but thankfully, the button was still intact. He took half a second to ready himself. This was going to hurt like a som’bitch and he knew it. At the last second, he checked the PeaceKeeper knife that he scavenged from one of his would-be assassins. If his seat went down in the lake, he wasn’t pulling an Aeryn. He took three deep breaths, and jammed the button.

His body had never felt an impact like this. His motorcycle crash seemed tame to it. His chest seemed to be trying to replace his spine in his back. As his head bounced back against the chair, he blacked out.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 2:
Professor Dumb Ass, I Presume

The world once again appeared as Crichton regained consciousness not even a second later. The freezing air tore at his exposed flesh like a wave of tiny claws. The thrusters under the seat were already beginning to slow his descent. The dead Marauder screamed back up at him as it plummeted towards the frozen lake. The lake and the Marauder collided, and not surprisingly, the lake won. The metal beast shattered into thousands of pieces, throwing them in all directions. In return, the ice around the crash area fractured and swallowed the entire smoking mass within a second. Except for the flowing wound, it was like the Marauder had never existed. At least he didn’t have to worry about any tracking devices now. Not even a black box from hell could have survived it.

Below, he could see the people of Tarin scrambling around like small ants. He wondered how they would react to a man falling down from the sky in a Lazyboy. These were people from an advanced society, so they probably wouldn’t bow to him as a god or burn him at the stake for witchcraft. Well, the first was probably true anyway. Hopefully they weren’t up with current news, at least not enough to have a wanted beacon of him in the town square. Even if they did, the most he would have to deal with would be Andy Griffith and Barney Fife.

He looked down at his landing spot; it was not far from the bank. He was now 100 or so feet from the ground. Already, a large group of townsfolk were starting to leave their homes and were closing in on his landing position. He hoped that they were friendly, even if experience told him otherwise.

He looked down once again to see he only had ten more feet to go. Already the ice beneath him was beginning to visibly weaken. Just before touchdown, he easily threw off his safety belts and hit the ice running. The chair landed with a splash right behind him. He raced away from the ice that suffered damaged from the chair. He did not stop running until he felt the ice under his feet become snow and hard ground. The townsfolk were now only a few feet away. All of their faces were a mix of surprise and fear. Crichton noticed that all of their eyes were fixed on his rifle. He wanted to explain himself, but he could not find the words. He held the rifle above his head with one hand, and then slowly placed it down in the snow.

The crowd’s intentions were mixed. Some carried stretchers and other medical supplies, other’s carried walking sticks that looked more like clubs. He also spotted the gleam of a few kitchen knives. After searching the crowd for weapons, he then noticed that the crowd was entirely made up of female and old male Sebasceans. A few children were also mixed in. Even with his weapon on the ground, the crowd still seemed to be waiting for him to start talking first. A rugged, middle-aged redhead woman spoke first.

“Explain yourself!” she ordered. Crichton recognized fear behind her tough talking façade. Crichton just stood there, unintentionally playing it Eastwood. The matriarch stared him down. While she and Crichton locked gazes, a small boy had ventured forth and was trying to pick up Crichton’s rifle. He threw a boot on the weapon, shocking the boy. “Jaxx, get away from that, its dangerous!” the matriarch screamed. Crichton didn’t know if “it” was the rifle or him. An old man behind her talked next. “Mister, what’s wrong with you, you deaf or mute or something?” Crichton nodded. He motioned to his ears trying to show that he could hear, but then made a slashing motion across his throat as he attempted to talk. The old man turned to the crowd. “This man is a mute”, most of the crowd rolled their eyes since they had already figured it out.

The crowd began to murmur among themselves. The old man spoke up. “We need to take him to the inventor” he said. The matriarch followed up on the comment. “You mean Professor Dumb Ass?” “Professor Dumb Ass?” Crichton said in his head. “I wouldn’t trust Bannon to fix my toaster, let alone this guy”, she added. While the crowd squabbled over his fate, Crichton decided it was about time to clear out. He grabbed the rifle by the carrying handle and started to walk off. He was about twenty feet away when the crowd finally noticed. The old man tapped him on the shoulder. “Son, we really are trying to help you, we just don’t get many visitors”, he said. “Bannon is a so called inventor, but most of his stuff is useless crap”. Crichton had so many catch phrases, comebacks, and insults in his head that it hurt. “But, the only invention that he has that did work is this automated voice box”. Crichton stopped in his tracks. The old man caught on and pointed towards a small, run down one possibly two-room house. The sign outside read:
Bannon, Inventor

Moya’s entire remaining crew, along with Jothee sat in Pilot’s den. This was the first time the entire crew had really been together since they were forced to abandon Crichton. Though everyone was still mourning, even if in a token way, Moya was no place to dwell on the past. Things still broke, and people still-hunted the Leviathan every microt of every day. It was time to get on with business.

“I called you all together, because we have to discuss the practical problems brought up by the loss of Aeryn and John”, said D’argo uncomfortably. The chamber stayed silent except for the hum of the various systems running in Pilot’s den. D’argo hated being the bad guy, but now he was the closest thing to a leader that the crew had. “First up, I will take on Aeryn’s recon duties, I’m the only real warrior here now, so I don’t really have a choice,” he said letting out a sigh. Chiana laughed. “You on recon?” “It would take a dead sentry .2 microts to see your big ass” she quipped at him. D’argo got flustered, but tried to keep his cool. “You want to do it Chiana, be my guest!” he replied. “I just might,” she said, sitting back in a hissy fit. D’argo rolled his eyes.

“Second, we need to all pitch in and do Crichton’s repair duties” he said, leaving space for the sure to come complaints. He cut off Rygel. “Before you say Dominars don’t do repair work, let me remind you that you are no longer a Dominar, and you WILL do repair work!” Rygel snapped back “We have millions upon millions at our disposal, we can just hire some tech or buy some slaves to do it for us” replied Rygel. Immediately, the two Ex-slaves in the room focused their attention on the little man. “Yeah, I’m sure that they wouldn’t turn us in for the huge bounty on our heads or anything”, replied Chiana sarcastically.

“Who cares about us anymore, we were labeled as the “Crichton Gang”, it was all about Crichton, I bet 90% of the bounty hunters out there don’t even know that we still exist or ever existed!” added Rygel. Zhaan finally broke her long silence. “You don’t kill as many PeaceKeepers as we did and just walk away!” “What’s this “we” dren, D’argo, Aeryn, and Crichton killed all the PeaceKeepers!” yelled the mini dictator. “By PeaceKeeper law, just forming or participating in an organized crime cell is punishable by death by torture, burning necklace, or explosive decompression,” replied the priest. After this, the entire crew, except for D’argo and Jothee broke into argument. D’argo motioned to his son, and they both existed the den, with Pilot looking on wishing he could be the same.

“Son, look, I’ve been thinking about settling down” D’argo began. “That’s great dad…” “With Chiana” finished D’argo. Jothee inhaled sharply. “Settle down, what do you mean?” Jothee asked. “You know, use my share of the money to buy a farm, raise crops, all of that crap,” responded his father. “And I want you to come with us”. Jothee’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. He tried to put it as delicately as possible. “I don’t want the quiet life dad, I want to live loudly, I want to have my name up there with the likes of A’dras the Great, or Kai Raith, or…” “John Crichton”, said D’argo with a disappointed voice. Jothee looked down. “From what Chiana has told me, you and him had some crazy adventures, it sounded like a blast!” said Jothee excitedly. “Sorry the press made him the legend and you just a sidekick”. He stopped. “Oh yeah, it was all fun and games except for the torture, the starvation, the killing, the dying, oh and the best part was when this life turned Crichton into an insane suicidal wreck!” screamed D’argo.

“Tell me something Jothee, have you ever seen someone laying on the ground gasping for life, knowing you put them there, knowing you may have stolen 60 cycles or more of their life?” asked D’argo. His son shook his head. “Only those who have never seen battle welcome it!” said D’argo walking off. His son too smelled of washing and cleansing liquid, a little too much.

Well, the house looked like ass on the outside, but was quite warm and cozy on the inside. In fact, snow was already melting off Crichton’s PeaceKeeper issue boots. The house had only one real room, with a small bathroom attached on the side. The inside was littered with circuits and wires. The smell of bad wiring was the places predominant odor. Crichton saw his best hope, Bannon, sitting at his desk sautering something. Bannon could have been the Tommy Chong of the Uncharted Territories. He had scraggily blonde hair and an equally messy beard. If glasses hadn’t gone out of use centuries ago in the Sebascean world, Bannon would have coke bottles. “Professor Dumb Ass I presume” thought Crichton in his head. The old man behind Crichton cleared his throat.

“Oh, Mayor, nice of you to stop by, what can I do you for?” he asked, not nearly as stoned sounding as Crichton imagined. He starred Crichton down, especially his rifle. “Whoa man, I’ve paid my rent and stayed within your guidelines, you can’t just kick me out like that!” he screamed. Crichton sincerely hoped that he didn’t have to see another grown man piss his pants. The apparent mayor interjected. “No damn it, this man is mute and needs to use your talking device”. Bannon smiled. “Oh, yeah, of course, of course”. He immediately went to sorting through his gadget pile.

The mayor explained Crichton’s arrival. “Oh, so that’s what that explosion was, I thought it was another avalanche”, said Bannon as he handed Crichton a palm pilot like device. “Alright man, just punch in what you want to say and the device will say it for you”. Crichton studied the device for sometime. The keypad used the far larger Sebascean alphabet. He stared at it a while, thinking for what to write. Finally, his translator microbes kicked in and showed him which syllable each character made. He didn’t trust the double translation, but he went for it.

“THANKS MAN!” said a rather loud voice that made Steven Hawking sound normal. Bannon responded. “What’s your name man?” Crichton pondered it. “Crichton, John Crichton” said the annoyingly loud CPU voice. He looked at both of them to see if they registered shock. Neither seemed fazed. Bannon continued. “Have you always been mute, or did you suffer some kind of injury?” Crichton punched the keypad and squinted at the message. “Operation to remove neural chip, had to remove speech center,” yelled the CPU. “Does this damn thing have volume control?” asked the CPU. “Sorry, no” replied Bannon. Crichton would have screamed just then. “Did the doctor who preformed the operation say that it could be restored?” Crichton nodded. “With donor sample” replied the CPU. Bannon thought for a second. “Your in luck, regeneration happens to be my specialty” he said. The mayor broke in “For God’s sakes Bannon, take this man to a real doctor”. Crichton waved him off. “Tell me more,” said the CPU.

“Basically I have a device that can regenerate certain parts of the brain simply by using a specialized field”. “It can’t regenerate memories or anything like that, but if any of your speech center was left, there is a possibility that the field can regenerate it back in a few minutes”. Crichton didn’t particularly trust this guy, but then again, he had little choice. “Let’s do this thing,” said the CPU for Crichton. Bannon shook his head. “The device is back in my main lab in Mobliz, it’s about a day’s train ride for here,” said Bannon. “Good, let’s get going” replied the CPU. “I can get to Koorong from there right?” he continued. Bannon nodded. “Let me get my stuff and lock up everything, then we can go” said Bannon, now happy beyond belief. Crichton sympathized; every scientist always wants to try out his new toy. The mayor tapped Crichton on the shoulder and motioned him to go outside.

“Mister Crichton, you said that you are going to Koorong, I was wondering if you would consider doing this town a favor” began the old man. Crichton didn’t like the sound of this. “As you may have noticed, there are no younger men here”. “After the mines shut down for the winter, the men went to Koorong to find jobs”. “At first, they sent back quite a bit of money to their families, but about a moonen ago, the money and letters stopped”. “At first we thought that maybe the drugs and the women got to them, but these were good men and we figured at least one of them would still maintain his duty to his family”. “They were staying in some slum called Dobie Circle, if you were to look into it, I and everyone here would greatly appreciate it”, finished the mayor. Crichton feigned interest, and then joined Bannon.

“What do you mean Crichton escaped?” screamed Scorpius in his deep, Scarren voice. Braca stepped back from his commander, trying not to show his fright. They were in Scorpius’ chamber onboard the Command Carrier. “Sir, he somehow broke free from his restraints,” reported Braca. “All of our marines were killed, and they’re Marauder stolen”. He added, bracing for some more Scarren fury. “What about the Marauder’s transponder, can we track him?” asked Scorpius sitting down. Braca reluctantly put said device on the table in front of Scorpius. “We found this in the snow just outside the facility sir” he reported. Scorpius crushed it with one powerful armored fist. He began breathing heavily, sign of the new for a new cooling rod.

Scorpius looked at the neural chip that dangled from his neck by a necklace. “Crichton no longer matters to me”, he said. “Update all the wanted beacons, Crichton is now to be killed on sight,” he ordered. “Yes sir,” said Braca leaving. “Braca, one more thing”. “Once we reach my new Gammick base, I will have no need for this ship”. “When I’m done with it, I want you to take this ship and hunt down Crichton and both Leviathans”. “Kill them all”, he added with a smile. Braca smiled himself and left for the bridge. But, Scorpius knew that hunting Crichton would be unnecessary. Crichton was going to hunt him down, and that’s when Scorpius would strike. Scorpius knew a lot about revenge, and his ultimate tool for it was hanging from his chest.

For the first time in a week, Crichton was standing in warm weather. Though Mobliz was only a few hundred miles south of Tarin, it was about fifty degrees warmer. The smell of saltwater and the call of sea going birds filled the air. Mobliz was a good-sized town on the southern tip of the north most continent. Here, hopefully his speech impediment would be cured. On the long train ride Crichton decided to forgo his back-story until after he was cured. Crichton walked a bit uneasy beside Bannon. Weapons were not allowed with in the city, and he had been forced to strap up his rifle to his back. He tried his best not let the blue uniformed Peace Officers catch a solid glimpse of his face. Normal people had been ignorant of him, but he would bet a million dollars that most of these guys had current issues of PeaceKeeper magazine on their coffee tables at home.

The duo had quickly made it to Bannon’s “lab” on the outskirts of town. The place was obviously once a warehouse. Bannon had converted the inside into a house, using the shipping office as a living room and an old storeroom as his bedroom. The main warehouse area had been stripped of its shelves and various workbenches strewn with equipment now occupied the empty pavement. Bannon pointed to a trap door in the back. “All the good stuff is down there”, he said. Crichton made a what the hell motion and went down the steps. When Crichton asked my Bannon would sit on a device that could repair brain tissue, Bannon explained that the key technology was banned. That and the fact that it had never been tested on sentient beings before.

As the lights flicked on, Crichton saw the device. Instantaneously the sight of the machinene brought back memories of pain and anger. The Device was an Aurora Chair. Crichton grabbed Bannon by the beard and jammed a pistol under his chin. Crichton quickly typed. “What, you didn’t think that I would know what that is?” asked the CPU. “You brought me all the way here to strap me into an Aurora Chair!” it continued. “The device is based on the same technology as the Aurora Chair yes, but it is a healing device!” screamed Bannon. “I was strapped into one of these frelling things for days, they are on the other end of the spectrum from healing” said the CPU. “Only the neural scanner is from an Aurora Chair the rest is a combination of my own design!” he begged. Crichton looked around and noticed that the chair lacked the large amount of gizmos that Scorpius’ did. Also, a bizarre symbol was all over the device; a black pyramid surrounded by a blue circle.

“Come on man, your people paid me and seven other doctors and scientists to make this thing to reverse damage done to the brain by Scarren attacks”. “But your government decided that it wasn’t worth the money and scrapped the project about a fourth of the way through like five cycles ago”. Bannon was now panting like mad. “My people, you mean PeaceKeepers?” asked the CPU. “Well, lets see, you are wearing PeaceKeeper clothes, armed with PeaceKeeper weapons, crashed in a PeaceKeeper ship, and have a bad PeaceKeeper attitude, so I deduced that you are either a PeaceKeeper or that you are a former one” said Bannon, running out of breath. Crichton placed his weapon back in the holster. “Close enough” said the CPU for Crichton.

“I’ve been tweaking this thing ever since, I have tested it on primates with good results, but I thought I would never get a chance to test it on a Sebascean for at least two more cycles”. Crichton flopped down in the chair. “Beam me up Scotty” said the CPU. Hell, he’d been playing test monkey for two years now, and now he had less to lose than ever. Maybe he’d get lucky and Harvey would get grilled out of his mind by the device.

“Alright, let me explain how this works, first it…” Crichton cut him off and began furiously typing. “When I first got here, all these explanations were fascinating and mind boggling, but now they just bore me, so please, just nuke my brain and try not to over cook it!” said the CPU. Crichton thought, “I sure as hell won’t miss this thing”. Bannon shook his head. “You may want to close your eyes”. Then, a blue field of energy surrounded Crichton’s head and instantaneously he began to scream.

The sound of Zhaan’s song reverberated around the quiet halls of Moya. In the mess hall, Rygel looked up with alarm as he devoured an entire plate of snails. Down on one of the lower tiers, Chiana and Jothee paid no attention to the sound as they enjoyed each other. D’argo rolled over and growled into his comm. “Zhaan, I am trying to frelling sleep, knock it off!” Slowly, the sound faded into the air.

Zhaan and Stark were sitting around Pilot in his den. “Thank you Zhaan, Moya feels much better”, said Pilot in his calm soothing voice. She smiled. “What do you think Moya meant by saying the rocks have eyes?” asked Stark, focusing his one good eye on Pilot. “Moya feels as if the asteroids in the field that we’re passing through are watching her,” replied Pilot.

A muscular arm worked a console under a monitor showing Moya. The monitor showed statistics and measurements of her and was comparing them to those on another screen. Both screens lit up at the same time as every number on each screen matched up. A small icon was at the top of the second screen’s data sheet. It was that of a PeaceKeeper flag. A deep voice laughed. “Our lucky day set a course for that ship”.

Crichton sat in silence as the blue field finally stopped flowing. Bannon walked over to him, with a half smile. “How do you feel?” asked Bannon with great apprehension. “FF… FFF… Frelling Fantastic!” said Crichton in a stumbling voice.

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:21 PM

Part 3

Bannon sat back pale and in disbelief. He did not know whether he should fear this man or feel pity for him. He was starting to regret asking Crichton to tell him his story, leaving out no details. It had taken almost seven strait arns for Crichton to reach the point that they were at now. A tale full of adventure, blood, pain, and loss. Compared to him, Bannon’s crappy life was perfect. Crichton had been shocked that he was unknown to Bannon or anyone else.

It had been nothing short of a miracle that Bannon’s device didn’t do serious damage to his neural tissue. The speech had taken a long time to totally recover. Crichton had felt some residual memories come back as well, but they were just flashes, things he could feel but not access. They were really unimportant to him. He still knew how to fire a gun, fly a ship, and dress himself, the basic necessities of life if you’re a man out for revenge. Most importantly, he still remembered his pain. That was always constantly there, no matter what he was doing. Even with his mind totally occupied with something else (which was rare), the hurt stayed on the fringes, slowly trickling in. He would be at peace, then, not five minutes later, it would come rushing back.

His anger had grown beyond just Scorpy and himself. Now, he felt resentment for the rest of Moya’s crew. They had abandoned him at his most helpless. He could sympathize with them, he killed Aeryn, therefore, couldn’t be trusted. Crichton couldn’t even trust himself at that time. The so-called inventor looked up at him from under his bushy eyebrows.

“How big is the bounty on your head?” asked Bannon. Crichton’s piercing blue eyes locked onto his face. It had been said in slight jest, but in Crichton’s case, it could have been dead serious. Bannon realized that this was the wrong thing to ask, or at least the wrong way. “What’s it to you?” asked Crichton with a cold voice. “Just curious man, I didn’t mean anything by it!” corrected Bannon. “Good, because a lot of people have tried to collect, and all of them are either dead or are doing their best Popsicle impression”, said Crichton sitting back. It was late at night and the warehouse was quiet and dark. His right side disappeared into the dark.

Crichton had neglected to tell Bannon that he had killed Aeryn, not Scorpy. This guy didn’t need to know, he figured that he would be done with him in the morning. Plus, this was painful enough for him to think about, let alone say. Hell, even Ted Bundy had murders he couldn’t talk about. Crichton turned to the bearded scientist. “How do I get to Koorong from here?” he asked. Bannon looked up. “Ships leave from Figro in the morning, from there you can catch the light rail to Koorong, about a day’s journey total” said Bannon. Crichton looked at Bannon’s frown. “Look, sorry about being such an asshole, I really appreciate your help”. Crichton extended his hand. Bannon quickly took his hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m going to try and find a doctor that can revive Aeryn, can you recommend a good one?” he asked. Bannon thought for a second.

“My mentor lives outside Koorong, I will give him a call, with out combined expertise we will work on a cure for her”, said Bannon, leaning forward. “But, unlike me, he won’t help for free” added Bannon with a downward look. Crichton looked up. “Tell the good doctor that money is no object, and as you remember from my story, there is quite a stash on my ship, enough to keep ya’ll inventing for the next few centuries” said Crichton. “Don’t worry man, if it is possible, we can save her”, he said. For the first time in a long while, Crichton smiled.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 3:
City of Darkness

Guest Stars:
Rob Van Dam
And
Angelina Jolie

Koorong seemed to actually be darker than the night sky that surrounded it. The city could have been any major American city on Earth, but somehow it seemed different. Pillars of light that were probably skyscrapers jetted from the flat terrain. The city looked like something Alex Proyas wet dreamed up on an acid trip. Crichton found it bizarre that there were no houses or farms outside the city. Quiet grasslands could be seen outside the window. He found it hard to believe that anyone would live in a crowded, crime filled city when they had an entire planet to live on. All of a sudden, the wild instantaneously disappeared into the urban sprawl. No outskirts, just green grass to strait black pavement. He could not make out the particulars, besides that most of the city was covered in dark brick. The black streets were filled with people, and Crichton could finally make out the bright windows of stores. This was probably the hottie-tottie part of town. But pretty soon, just like any other town, it would slowly distort into the crime filled hellhole that it was rumored to be.

Bannon had told him that the pimps, drug dealers, and other crime lords ran the entire city. Both the police and the government were little more than pawns for them. A place with a corrupt and incompetent police force was just what Crichton was looking for. The local populace was probably not inclined to watch their wanted beacons either.

Crichton was here to find both a doctor and a way off the planet. He did not have faith in Bannon. Trusting his life to the general scientific failure was one thing, but he would not risk Aeryn’s life in the hands of a man who had literally botched a goat warmer. His best guess was that the team that the PeaceKeepers had thrown together had done most of the work on the chair. Bannon was his last (and right now only) option. He would try and find D’argo and the others first, then try and find the best doctor that his ill-gotten money could get.

The people around him were all quiet now. Couples chatted, but others looked around nervously, the common thing to see on any form of urban public transportation, especially one headed for the slums.. The train was quickly slowing down now, and the cities features could be seen more closely. This part of town was not run down, but was far from upscale. The train station up ahead was white and glowing. He was bathed in light as the train pulled into the station and screeched to a halt. Two red uniformed officers stood guard on the platform.

The doors slid open and a rush of hot air filled the car. Some of the Sebasceans moaned with complaint as they filed out the door. Crichton tried his best to blend into the biggest group, keeping his face away from the pair of guards. One looked his way, his eyes focusing. Crichton let his hand slip to his side, feeling one of his pistols. He breathed a sigh of relief when the guard’s gaze switched to the backside of a rather attractive Sebasceanera. Seeing his opportunity, he quickly made for the stairs, his coat flowing as he ran.

A warm breeze was in the air, carrying the smell of chemicals and other wastes from the functioning of factories. The city was not much more advanced than the average American city; there were no flying cars like those of most commerce planets. In fact, there seemed to be no cars at all. Instead, a series of light rails covered the city like a circulatory system. This was the main station of the city, which was about half way between the jeweled outstretches and the corrupt core. To the southeast was the slum of Dobie Circle, which bordered on the industrial sector. To the direct east was what was called on Earth a red-light district. Drugs, strip clubs, and prostitution were all packed into this area. Crichton needed to find a place to lay low and get some rest. He only had a few coins on him from Bannon and they were not enough to purchase a room at any place here. Dobie Circle or one of the other slum areas was his best bet. It was about 2 in the morning or so by Crichton’s calculations, meaning that the streets would be filled with criminals. But, he had little reason to fear them. They were his “people”. He was probably the most dangerous man on those streets.

A wall tagged with graffiti marked Crichton’s entrance into Dobie Circle. The black walls of the abandoned building were adorned with crudely drawn crimson shields. Small purple flames were also painted everywhere. Under some read: “Fuel, the only way to fly”. Crichton guessed that Fuel was probably the drug of choice around town. Another tag in red read: “Little Blo is God”. It was surrounded by several red bucklers crudely made from spray-paint. He only hoped that this red gang didn’t mind intruders in there territory. He wasn’t looking for trouble, but it always seemed to be searching for him.

No matter where you are, every ghetto seems the same. Rundown or abandoned shops sat like unburied bodies in the moonlight, slowly rotting against the elements. Some were barely standing, others bearing the red bucklers were in much better shape, as if they kept the junkies away. This could have been Red Hook in NYC, South Park in Houston, White Chapel/Mile End in London, or any other long forgotten, often avoided area of a major city. A place where people would go for a short time until they had the money to move up, but most never made it to the next economic circle of town.

Several homeless people were wandering the streets between the abandoned buildings. The entire area shook as a light rail shot by on an elevated track. There were no stations in this entire district, but the populace was still bothered by the near constant running of the trains. Other than the homeless, the streets were virtually empty. Most of the inhabited buildings were dark, except for the lights around the entrance. A smattering of lights lit up the upper floors. A few addicts on their most recent trips sat next to each other laughing, purple squeeze tubes lay around them. One of them still had some purple goo under his nostril. Crichton saw one of them rise to his feet. He motioned for his two high buddies to join him. They blocked his way down the street and pulled out shivs.

“Your money!” screamed the first skinny addict. Crichton just looked at his eyes and smiled. “What the frell are you smiling at, give me the money!” screamed the addict. The other two shifted. Crichton laughed hysterically “I’ve got a better idea”, said Crichton. “You give me your money, and I’ll give you ten microts to get out of my sight before I kill you!” said Crichton, his smile disappearing. The leader and the right thug charged, shivs ready. Before they completed their first steps, Crichton’s pistols were already out. A pull with each finger sent both reeling back to the hard ground, sparks coming from their chests. The third, covered with piercings looked at his dead comrades, and then to Crichton’s little friends that were leveled at him. The other thug tried to turn and run, but Crichton fired a blast. He intended to shoot the ground, but it seemed as if his arm acted on its own, sending the red blast into the addict’s lower leg. Crichton could gain feel the adrenaline flowing through his body. He hated this piece of Sebascean trash almost as much as the marines that he slaughtered back at the medical facility. He kicked the shiv out of his hand and stood over him. Both his pistols were leveled at the slag’s head. Crichton breathed heavily, the pulse in his head pounding. The man’s screaming was blocked out by a voice in Crichton’s head.

“Excellent shot Commander, that will require medical attention” said the voice of Harvey. Crichton talked to the specter beside him. “You take that shot Harvey?” asked Crichton, ignoring the struggling man underneath him. “No, that was all you, your anger is quite refreshing” said the clone. Crichton frowned at him. “But, I do highly suggest that you finish him, he knows your face now” he suggested. Crichton looked down. “This guy?” “He probably has warrants out the ass, I don’t think he is the Police telling type”, said Crichton. His captive was a bit puzzled. “Your crazy man!” said the addict. Crichton smiled. “Leave your money, and crawl your happy ass to the nearest hospital or street doc or whatever”. The man laid down a few coins and began to drag himself away quickly. Crichton picked up the money and searched the two dead ones for a few more coins. Crichton looked at the crawling man. “I highly suggest that you forget me!” he screamed after the man, who only crawled faster. He heard the sound of safeties being disengaged behind him. “I highly suggest that you drop them!” came a deep voice for behind him. Before he could react, a rifle butt was smashed into his head, knocking him unconscious.

The shock of cold water drew Crichton from his impact-induced sleep. As the room melted into focus, his entire view was taken up by an incredibly small Sebascean. He wasn’t what humans politically correctly called a “little person”, but he was actually just a little person, probably five foot four. His blonde hair was cut like Crichton’s. He was not much younger than Crichton either. The first thing Crichton focused on was his red armband. He little man spoke.

“My name is Blo, I’m the boss around here” he said, in his meanest voice. Crichton lightly laughed. “You must be Little Blo” said Crichton. One of the guards behind Blo looked shocked. Crichton’s smile retreated when Blo’s fist collided with it. Crichton was instantly filled with rage. He tried to charge the little man, but was quickly forced to the pavement. He attempted to stand, but his arms were tied behind his back with tape. Blo placed his boot on Crichton’s head. “Nobody calls me little!” he screamed. “Sorry, I just thought you needed adult supervision to be around here” replied Crichton. Blo motioned to one of the guards behind Crichton. “Sit his ass up!” he ordered. A strong hand yanked him up by the scalp.

Crichton could see that a lithe Sebascean with an eye patch and a dull silver carbine strapped to his back was flanking Blo. His shock had worn off. He too had a red armband. Blo started over. “Your in Red Badge territory boy” began Blo. “You just drop out of the blue, and shoot three of Dobie Circle’s people, two dead!” he screamed. Crichton looked up. “First of all, they were trying to rob me…” another fist caught his face. “I don’t care, we are the only one’s here who are allowed to kick ass!” screamed Blo. The one eyed guard agreed with a nod. “What are you doing in Dobie Circle?” asked Blo. Crichton thought for a second. “I was just looking for a place to get some sleep and a shower, looks like you guys hooked me up, but the water is a bit cold for my liking” He looked around the room “And might I add that the staff is a tad hard on the eyes if you know what I mean” said Crichton with another smile. This time, he took a head butt to the nose. The little man drew back; hurt himself a little as well. “Thank you sir may I have another?” asked Crichton. Blo looked furious. He delivered a powerful boot to Crichton’s head, sending him to the ground back first. Immediately, Crichton felt several pieces of broken glass cutting into his T-Shirt, Blo had his coat. Crichton nimbly picked up a piece of the glass in his fingers and slowly nicked at the concealed tape. He managed to cut about two-thirds of the way through before he was sat up. The other guard was a towering combination of fat and muscle. Crichton felt the tape tearing. He needed to create an opportunity.

“Hey deadeye, how stupid do you have to be to loose a frelling eye?” asked Crichton. “I mean I can understand losing a finger, or a limb, but not a goddamn eye!” he laughed out. He looked up at the two thugs. “Oh, I get it, this was come kind of kinky accident between you two” “You might want to tell your boyfriend here to be a little more careful while your down there next time”. The one eyed man came trotting up, his face filled with rage. The big man was on Crichton’s left side, holding him up. When the Cyclops got in range, Crichton broke free from his tape and delivered dual Ric Flair style uppercuts to the groins of the two guards.

As Little Blo went for one of Crichton’s pistols on a table, Crichton grabbed the Carbine from the big man’s limp grasp. He leveled the weapon at Blo’s chest and fired. The barrel spat out a few blue sparks as it jammed. Shocked, Crichton threw down the useless gun and grabbed thug number two. He charged Blo, forcing “Dead-Eye” to backpedal at his small master. Blo aimed the pistol for a second, then lowered it as he lost his aim. Crichton thought this was the first bad guy that actually cared for his goons’ safety. He forced his shield into Blo and quickly grabbed the exposed pistol from his small hand. He then grabbed the Carbine on his shield’s back, and yanked it back, breaking the flimsy strap. Crichton kicked him in the back and pointed both weapons at his former captors. Little Blo looked up, with terror in his eyes. “Who the frell are you?” he asked, his voice quivering. Crichton again smiled, even though it hurt to do so. “Crichton, John Crichton” he said with a fakey accent.

An few minutes later, Crichton stood in front of his captors, who were all bound with tape. Crichton had not felt compelled to kill them. Blo just didn’t seem evil. Crichton was about to leave, when Blo made him an offer. “Mr. Crichton, I know who you are” he said, very respectfully. Crichton gazed at him. “Oh really?” asked Crichton, stepping towards the door. Blo rushed. “Any man who has ever committed a crime has heard of you, you’re like royalty or something” said the little man. “Strange way of treating royalty” said Crichton. “We didn’t know it was you, it must be your facial hair” said the one-eyed goon. Crichton rolled his eyes. “You can keep your ass kickin’ as a souvenir” said Crichton leaving.

“Wait!” called Blo. “I guess that you’re probably looking for a way off the planet” said the tiny mobster. “Do you have a ship?” asked Crichton. The gang laughed until his gaze compelled them to stop. “Hell no we don’t have a ship, but we’ve got enough money for you to buy a ticket for anywhere you want to go” said Blo. Crichton picked him up. “Alright, lets go get it!” said Crichton, cutting his leg tape. Blo looked at him almost cross-eyed. “I’ve got forty gang members upstairs that will kill you before your can leave this building” said Blo. Crichton checked his guns “I’m willing to risk it if you are” he said, shoving the man along. “No, I’m offering you a job”, said Blo. Crichton looked at him. “Ten minutes ago you were beating me down, now you want to hire me?” asked Crichton. “You’re a badass, better than anyone I got, plus I need an outsider for this one” said Blo. Crichton looked into his eyes. Blo might actually be telling the truth. Crichton cut his hand tape. “What kind of job?” he asked.

“A little urban renewal” said Blo. He pried open an old cabinet and threw a collection of papers, maps, and holo images on the desk. A small purple injector packet was also mixed in. Blo picked it up and showed it to Crichton. “This is Fuel, the newest and most addictive filth to hit the streets in recent memory” he said. Crichton nodded “Yeah, your local pansy version of Meth”. “The three guys I shot were all high on this” he said. Blo pointed to a holo image of a middle aged Sebascean with long, graying hair. “This is Lu-Ras, he owns the Blue Brothel, the most profitable business on the entire planet” said Blo. “He’s got hundreds of girls, most of them sex slaves forced into the business held up in his brothel at the heart of the red-light district”. “It’s the tallest building in the area, looks like dren on the outside, but the inside is a palace”. “Recently, he decided to move into the drug business, specifically pushing Fuel” . “He’s got those Black Wing pieces of dren giving kids free hits, in my territory no less!” screamed the little man pounding his fist. Crichton gave him a sick smile “Sorry they are beating you to poisoning the next generation, what do you want me to do about it?” asked Crichton. “Simple, we have located his Fuel lab in this building here (he pointed to a spot on the map) in the red-light district”. “I need you to head over there and destroy that lab!” said Blo.

Crichton rolled his eyes. “Just that easy? Go in and blow the lab to dren!” Blo thought nothing of it. “After your Shadow Depository job, this should be a piece of cake” replied Blo. “I have a few demolition charges, enough to blow that place sky high twice”. He grabbed two more holo images. The first was of a wrinkled, red-eyed creature. “This is Myron, creator of Fuel, destroying the lab without taking him out will only delay the production”. The second showed a well-muscled Sebascean man with his brown hair drawn in a ponytail. “This is Jud, Lu-Ras’s badass enforcer”. “He leads Lu-Ras’s mercenaries, the intergalactic kind of mercenaries”. “I think you got the ability to take him on, but you should avoid him if you can”. “Oh, I doubt you care, but civilian deaths should be light or non-existent, this area is pretty much abandoned”. Crichton coldly responded: “How much?”. “Ten thousand” replied Blo. Crichton nodded in agreement. “Better get some sleep and take it down in the day light, they will be distracted with production then” said Blo.

The city looked even worse in the daylight. Various types of litter covered the cracked streets. The rotting skyscrapers looked like they could fall down at any moment. The streets that had been filled with thugs at night had then been filled by the people of the slums going to work, and were now nearly deserted. Crichton continually looked up to see the Blue Brothel tower getting closer to him. Crichton crossed a street marked Dobie Circle. He was officially in the red-light district. Unbelievably, the quality of the buildings actually increased. The crumbling bricks were mostly clear of graffiti. The only marks were those praising Lu-Ras’s girls and occasionally a pair of black wings painted without a bird in the middle. As Crichton entered the main square under the tower, large billboards covered with pictures of beautiful Sebascean girls. Miraculously, all of them were clothed. Lu-Ras probably didn’t give away anything for free. He carried a duffle bag in one hand.

The square scattered filled with girls of varying beauty dressed in tight tops with either short skirts or tight pants. A few armed pimps in black stood amongst them dealing with a few perspective customers. Crichton guessed that the supermodel quality girls were probably upstairs and probably only worked at night. A gorgeous red head and a blonde looked at him from head to toe. One even blew him a kiss. As he past on his way by, he smiled at them. “Keep up the good work ladies” he said. He followed the map up a deserted alleyway. After he had left the group of hookers and Johns behind, a woman’s voice came from around a corner. She was yelling “no”.

He put down the duffle bag and crept around the corner. A small, grease haired man had a woman pined against the alley wall. “Shut up!” he ordered. “You’re not supposed to be out here by yourself!” he screamed. “If you give me a freebie, I won’t tell Lu-Ras that you were disobeying his orders” he said with a smirk. She slapped him hard, sending him back. “I’m Lu-Ras’s property, not yours!” she screamed. He drew back his hand to strike her. A pistol whip to his head sent him to the ground. Crichton could tell by the way he splashed onto the ground that he was unconscious.

“Never hit a woman!” screamed Crichton at the man. He looked up into the beautiful doe like eyes of the prostitute he had just saved. They were filled with fear. “Oh sorry!” he said placing his gun back into his holster. He studied her for a second. “You OK?” he asked. She shook her head yes. She was a gorgeous woman with medium length brown hair and beautiful pouty lips. Her body was a killer; firm in the right places, soft in the right places, and her tight blue top and mini skirt left little to the imagination. Her skin was a healthy tan, compared to the pale white of most of Koorong’s citizens. Even her perfume was mesmerizing. He recognized her from the main billboard. “You got a name?” he asked. She timidly gazed up at him. Her body, not even her lips could compare to the eyes looking up at him. It was the first time he had ever seen hazel eyes on a Sebascean before. The green orbs starred into his. “Hana” she replied quickly, in the slightly British accent of a Sebascean. Crichton saw she was anxious. “Well Hana, I’m…” he wanted to say Max, or Eric, or MacGyver, but it slipped out before he could think. “ John” he said extending his hand. She took it very gently, and shook it. “Why don’t you get on home, this guy won’t bother you again” he said.

“Why did you save me?” she asked. “I don’t know what you want, but…” he cut her off his a motion of his hand. “I don’t want anything from you, I just try to do a good deed once a day”. She smiled “You know what they say about good deeds” she added, her head cocking to the left. Crichton smiled “Yeah, they never go unpunished”. She shook her head “Never heard of that expression, it’s a bit depressing”. He nodded “Looking at our surroundings, it seems kind of fitting”. She looked back at her place of business “True, sometimes I think I died and went to hell”. He smirked at her “This isn’t hell” he knew hell “But, you can see it from here” he added, walking away.

“Hey, John, you want to know what quote I have for you?” she asked. He turned around “Sure”. “Everything that goes around comes around”. Before Crichton could move, she kept on talking “Did I thank you yet?” she asked. Crichton thought and shook his head “No, I don’t think you did, not that its necessary” he retorted. “I will” she replied, turning to walk down the alley.

Crichton couldn’t help but watch her walk away for a second. She peered over her shoulder at him and gave him a quick smile. He gave one back, and then turned towards the East, beginning his trek down the alley.

Crichton walked for fifteen minutes until the smell of chemicals caught his nose. The smell stung like a bee. Crichton could hear D’argo’s bitching in his ear. He didn’t need his map to tell him that he was close to the Fuel lab. He followed his nose to a rusting warehouse. He peered inside a small crack and saw what he didn’t want to see.

A long assembly line was set up inside. The line was manned by a team of slaves. Six guards armed with Carbines similar to those of the Red Badges. Almost fifty men from about ages twenty to fifty were hard at work. One group of men poured two kinds of chemicals from 50-gallon drums into a large trough. The red liquid then traveled through a small tube into another trough filled with blue liquid. Here it was mixed by another team and then poured through another tube were that liquid was mixed with a blue liquid and then the mixture fell into a pool at the end of the line where it was mixed with yet another chemical. As the chemicals were all stirred together purple goo formed on the surface of it. Then, more slaves used shovels to scoop up the goo and they placed it into trays, were the remaining slaves sucked the Fuel into small injector packets. The guards all wore gas masks while the slaves had to do without. He had to get those slaves out first before he could take out the lab. Also, Myron was absent. He was drawn from his thoughts when he heard a group of boots coming down the alley. He quickly ducked behind a pile of debris.

Jud’s ponytail bounced as he led the group of mercenaries down the alley toward the warehouse. He was not very tall, but his ripped arms showed his power. A weapon Crichton was not familiar with was strapped to his back. It looked like an AK mated with an M60. He wore a black T-shirt and a black vest similar to Crichton’s. Four leather-clad mercenaries armed with modern rifles flanked him. They were about to enter the lab when the man that Crichton had knocked unconscious came running up behind them. The entire group wheeled around to face him.

“Where the frell were you, you were supposed to be guarding the alley!” said Jud in a calm yet angry tone. “Somebody jumped me while I was busy with a one of Lu-Ras’s girls!” he realized that it didn’t come out right. Jud shook his head and walked away from the gangbanger. “You had a job to do, and you failed” Jud said calmly. Without another word, Jud turned, seemingly throwing an uppercut at the man from five feet away. Crichton watched as the gang member fell, a pair of three inch throwing knives stuck into his chest. The man fell to the ground gasping. The mercenary captain kicked the body and retrieved the blades. He nonchalantly wiped the blood off the silver knives on the man’s pants and replaced them under his vest. He turned to his men. “Told Lu-Ras that using the Black Wing pieces of dren was a bad idea”. He led his men into the warehouse.

Crichton watched as Jud yelled at the Black Wing guards and then collected the tubes of Fuel in several backpacks, spinning a throwing knife in his hand the entire time. Jud mentioned that Myron was on his way. Then, he and his band of hired guns left, going down the same alleyway.

Crichton laid in wait for over an hour, watching the patters of the guards. He hoped that maybe the guards would get tired and go take a nap or get a beer or something. For a bunch of street thugs they had a good work ethic. He guessed anyone would work hard to keep from becoming Jud’s pincushion. He was packing two pistols and he could take out two as soon as he entered the room. Then, the tricky part would be a gunfight in a room full of innocents and explosive chemicals. He hoped that the slaves would either help him or stay the hell out of the way. He would take out the door guard with ease. Then he would work his way up to the two guards watching the slaves at the final vat. He would have to wing the rest of the plan. He pulled out the tube that contained Aeryn’s hair. He gazed at the raven strands. Crichton was wrestling with a death wish and his quest for revenge along with his desire to cure Aeryn. He knew that if Tocat could not heal her, probably no one could. But, with the money he got from this job, he could find his friends and then try and find a cure for her. Failing that, he could hunt Scorpy and kill him. He placed the hair back in his coat pocket and grabbed his pistols. He checked their clips with a lick and then readied himself. He snuck up to the door and kicked it in.

The first masked guard turned around to catch a pair of blasts in his chest. He fell dead instantaneously. His comrades responded with a combination of obscenities. Instead of going for cover, the first two guards aimed their carbines. Crichton raised his pistols and fired. The right pistol blast hit its mark, striking the gang banger in the upper chest, sending him down. The left pistol blast went wide left and struck the wall a few inches from the guard. The blast however through off the aim of the guard, who’s blue blast widely missed Crichton. Crichton now focused his full attention on the left man, pumping two blasts from his left pistol into the guard’s chest. Crichton jumped and rolled out of the way as the Black Wings replied in a blaze of blue energy blasts. The blasts struck the first vat, and the contents instantly went up in an inferno. The slaves all hit the deck or ran. Crichton fired a series of blasts around the right side of the vat as he rolled to that side. The guard to that side took cover behind the next vat and shuttered at each blast that the flammable container took. Crichton rolled back as the guard took his shots. The carbine was slow recharging and it took a lot more time between shots than the pistols did. Crichton rolled back around and fired again. He took cover again from the blasts. Crichton could feel the guard on the left flanking him. He wheeled around and caught the guard in the chest with a blast from each pistol just as he turned the corner. Crichton now had free reign on the left side, so he broke for the left. He aimed over the blazing inferno of the first vat and shot into the top of the vat that the guard was using as cover. The surprised guard was compelled to run from the flash fire. As he rose, Crichton flung several shots in his direction. The guard was hit multiple times and he crumpled to the ground.

A poorly aimed shot went right of Crichton’s head. The final guard had climbed up to a raised area above the vats. The elevation offered him a vantage point that allowed him to target over all available cover. All Crichton could do was run. He sprinted and fired a few shots in the sniper’s general direction. Crichton noticed that the crappy wooden platform was held up by an even more crappy set of wooden beams. Using his left pistol as covering fire, he raised the power setting on the right one to near critical. He was running out of room and had only time for one shot. He threw down his left pistol and properly gripped the pistol in two hands. Crichton slid and fired a huge shot at the rightmost post. The wood splintered and the platform lurched forward in an awful groan. Crichton led the guard with his pistol as the guard was dumped into the second burning vat. The screaming man landed with a flaming splash, and was quickly silenced.

Crichton retrieved his pistol and holstered both of them. The slaves that had not fled the building now stood up and stared at their savior. Crichton walked towards them, matching their gazes. Just now, Crichton had noticed that they were all between twenty and sixty. He made a conclusion. “Y’all are from Tarin right?” he asked. An older one stepped forward. “Yeah, about a moonen ago these Black Wing assholes busted into our building and killed about ten of us” he said. “The rest of us were put to work here, making this dren”. Crichton looked around at the growing fires. “I was sent by the Mayor, I highly suggest that y’all hall ass back to Dobie Circle and find Little Blo, tell him I sent you, names Crichton” he replied. The group made a mad exodus from the building, running as fast as they can.

Crichton finally placed the explosives around the building’s key areas. He pulled out the detonator and set the timer for five minutes. He had to set them for that short of a time because most likely Jud and his crew would be on their way and he couldn’t risk the bombs being disarmed. Crichton turned to head out when the fire reached one of the charges. The explosion sent Crichton flying into the tin wall. His ears stopped functioning and he blacked out.

Next, his eyes opened and he felt himself being drug from the burning building.

The world faded into view again. This time, he was in an alleyway. The lab was still in view, only fifty yards away. He looked at the detonator in his hand. It read thirty microts. “Must get farther, explosives” he muttered out before the world once again went dark.

Myron trotted into the warehouse his jaw hung wide open. “Frell, frell, frell!” he screamed. His beady red eyes scanned the wreckage. He stood in the center of his masterpiece. His extra sensitive hearing picked up a humming sound. He followed it to a small black object. He stared at it for a microt. Then the humming ended in a click. “Dren”. He said calmly. He, and the entire lab went up in an inferno that could be seen for miles.

DVD Extras

Who is Rob Van Dam? Check out http://www.robvandam.com/

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:22 PM

Season of Death (DVD) Part 4

D’argo’s hypersensitive nose stung with the gritty pain of sand. More and more dust was sucked up as he ran at full speed over the smoldering desert ground. He slowed down, only to fire back at his pursuers. Jothee was well ahead of him; the boy only turned his head to watch his father’s situation. Behind them, a small army of bounty hunters were in hot pursuit. The Sebasceans had long since dropped out of the foot race due to the heat. But, the Blood Trackers, Charrids, and others were not so affected by the heat. A Charrid went down with a scream as a Qualta blast struck him in the chest. His comrades responded with fire from their various weapons. Luckily for D’argo, running while shooting is damn near impossible, and the rainbow of energy blasts missed him barely, turning the sand to glass. D’argo turned to see Jothee suddenly disappear into the sand, not twenty feet ahead of him. D’argo ran even faster now. Before he could stop, he was falling.

He fell head first into a gapping hole, splashing onto a hard concrete floor. Immediately, he jumped to his feet, checking on Jothee and then turning back to face his enemies. They were vulnerable here; no cover, and they only had his Qualta Blade. As the gang of footsteps approached, he spotted a hole in the concrete. He quickly shoved his protesting son into it, and then jumped himself.

His boots smacked once again on concrete. He quickly got his bearings. Jothee was nervously looking in every direction. The corridors of a bunker spread in three directions. As they heard the sound of boots dropping on the concrete above, D’argo motioned to his son to go right. They both sprinted into the artificially lit cavern.

Their skeletons were broadcast on a flat screen monitor. A scan ran over them, giving the reader detailed information on their species, weapons, and physical conditions. A gloved hand touched a comm. “We have intruders in the maze, I’m activating all defenses”, said a cold voice.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 4:
Tear Away
Guest cast: Tammy Macintosh

Chiana, Zhaan, and Stark watched the group of heavily armed Sebascean bounty hunters from the cover of the abandoned building. The bounty hunters were all dragging, drenched with sweat. They slowly made their way to their large black transport ship. As soon as the last one was aboard, the ramp shut behind them. Moya’s crew knew that they were now inside, cooling and getting their energy back. There were ten Sebasceans and at least eight of other races.

The bounty hunters’ ships had jumped Moya not long after they had entered orbit around the planet. Moya had grown uneasy inside the asteroid field, and she demanded to Pilot that they leave. This planet, Malleton, was the first planet they came across. D’argo had requested that they stop here. It was apparently the sight of an important event in Luxan history, and he wanted to show Jothee his Luxan heritage. The place supposed to be a town of three hundred, but now all the buildings stood vacant. There were signs of struggle everywhere. Burns marks and old splatters of blood stained the adobe walls. Pieces of the buildings were also blown off, apparently due to heavy weaponry. Strangely, no bodies were found, and the houses were filled with valuables. The group had split up to search for survivors. D’argo and Jothee were searching the far east of the town when Rygel commed from Moya to say that a pair of unknown ships had appeared with weapons charged. Moya fled, taking one of the transports with her. However, the other went down to the planet. Matching the crew of Moya’s general luck, the transport landed between the two parties.

The girls and Stark had managed to stay out of sight while the entire army chased down the two Luxans. They were in no position to help, D’argo was the only one with a weapon. They were still used to having Aeryn and Crichton (along with their guns) around with them. Chiana’s scrounging had not turned up anything remotely useful. The leg of a table was useless against the modern energy weapons of the bounty hunters. They turned from the window when one such weapon had its safety released behind them.

A petite, redheaded Sebascean woman had a crudely constructed pistol pointed at them. They all relaxed slightly when they matched eyes with her. They had starred into the eyes of hundreds of killers, and she wasn’t one. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with fear. She finally spoke: “Take me to your ship, and get me out of here now!” she stammered. The crew looked at each other. “Its kind of hard to leave when an entire army is between you and your ship!” yelled back Chiana. “Plus my dear, we can’t leave without our friends” added Zhaan.

“I don’t give a frell about your enemies or your friends, there are things here that are far worse than those troops out there!” screamed the woman. The crew looked at each other, then Chiana nodded at Stark. Stark smiled at the woman. He smiled. “Look at this!” he said in his usual insane voice. He lifted the mask, allowing his energy side to show. The amazed woman was stunned with surprise. While she was gazing at the energy burst, Chiana made the all time classic meeting of boot to face. Immediately, Chiana jumped on the sliding gun. The Sebasceanera jumped on her back, fighting for the gun. Chiana’s comrades quickly jumped on the woman’s back and threw her to the ground. Chiana cockily raised her new pistol at the woman. The woman’s eyes were now even more overcome with fear.

“Alright sister, tell us just what the hell is going on!” said Chi with a smirk. “What happened here?” asked Zhaan, extending a gentle hand to the downed woman. The girl took it. She looked around. “First, my name is Malinea, second, we don’t have time to sit here and gossip, we have to go now!” she almost screamed. Chiana shot back. “Talk now, go later” she demanded, her grip tightening on the pistol. “Now tell us, what is so bad about this planet?” asked Zhaan. Malinea began.

“This place was quiet and peaceful, until six monen ago” she said. “Then they showed up” she said with trepidation. “Who is ‘they’?” asked Stark, leaning in closer to her. “A bunch of Sebascean soldiers in some kind of super armor, they carried weapons that you usually find on vehicles”. “PeaceKeepers” said Zhaan. “No, these weren’t PeaceKeepers, they claimed to belong to something called The Enclave”. The group looked at each other. “I guess you never heard of them” she said. “And your alive, so I guess that you haven’t ever encountered them”. “They slaughtered every man, woman, and child here, those they didn’t kill they forced into the old bunker system” she said, nodding to the mesa at the center of the town. “They bring in transports about once every two weeks, each is filled with various races of people”. “I have yet to see any of them come out” she added. She looked at them. “Your friends, were are they?” she asked. Stark pointed to the hole far off that was surrounded by bounty hunters. “The Enclave has that entire area trapped, it’s a death maze” she said. “Your friends are already dead” she added.

D’argo snuck quietly in the semi-darkness of the bunker system. His sword in rifle mode. His son walked more loudly and clumsily behind him. D’argo’s nose was grateful that sand was all but absent here. It was strange though that the bunker was still powered, at least partially. The florescent lights above were mostly lit, a few were burnt out and a few were flickering. Jothee huffed and puffed behind him. “Stop please!” begged Jothee. D’argo, came to a quick stop. D’argo put his arm on his son’s shoulder and carefully listened to the bunker. Besides Jothee’s breathing, it was dead silent. More than likely, they were waiting back at the opening. They need to find a back way out incase they came in after them or if they decided to use poison gas. “Son, take a microt, then we have got to get going” he said, taking a step back. He turned to inspect the hall, and froze in mid step.

His foot was just inches above a small raised plate in the floor. The plate was only a fraction of a centimeter high, but it somehow stood out. Not wanting to take too much of a risk, D’argo fell backwards and rolled to his feet. Jothee looked at his father strangely. “What is it?” he asked. D’argo grabbed a broken rock. “We’re about to see” he said, tossing the rock onto the plate. The empty ceiling above the plate glowed green. Almost instantly, the glowing energy field slammed into the ground in a fraction of a second. The rock was turned into chalk like dust. Immediately, the green energy field dissipated. D’argo and Jothee shared a look. “Whoa!” they said simultaneously.

The biggest of the Charrids spoke into his comm. “Lenna, they have gone underground, looks like part of a bunker system” he said in a gruff voice. A female voice responded. “Leave two men at the surface, take the rest down, we need at least one of them alive to tell us were Crichton is”. “Alright” he responded simply. He motioned for a Charrid and a Blood Tracker to stay, and leap into the hole with five others.

D’argo and Jothee now crept, almost tiptoeing in the darkness. They had been forced to go a different route, and were now hopelessly lost. They could hear the bounty hunters closing in behind them. The skills of the Blood Trackers gave them an unfair advantage. By the speed of their advance, D’argo believed that they were probably not aware of the traps. Then again, they were following the Luxans’ path. D’argo slammed to a halt, extending his arm to stop his son. Ahead of them on the wall was a small disc. D’argo quickly picked up a clump of dust from the ground and used a trick Crichton taught him. He blew the dirt from his hand at the knee level disc. Immediately, the dust illuminated a small red laser. D’argo saw that there was only one. Before the dust could settle, he quickly stepped over the laser and motioned for Jothee to do the same. D’argo held his arm as he slowly stepped over the fading laser. Just as they completed the difficult task, the bounty hunters came storming around the corner of the hall. Keeping an eye out for traps, they trotted away from them.

The lead Blood Tracker charged ahead, firing her large rifle. A beeping sound took over the cave as she crossed the laser. Hidden laser emitters came to life, and four blue cutting lasers flew from the rocks at different angles. She only managed a slight howl as the lasers cut her. Her momentum carried her body forward, and she fell to the floor in multiple pieces. D’argo and Jothee ignored the grisly death and kept sprinting down the hallway. The large Charrid looked around and screamed as he led his team down a different path.

Maliena got more and more nervous as the sun began to sink from the sky. She had stated that once the temperature had dropped enough, the Enclave soldiers would come to the surface and kill anyone they found there. Being Sebascean herself, she was hiding in the cooler corner of the room. Stark kept his eye pointed out the window, watching the bounty hunter transport. Soon, the Sebascean bounty hunters would come out and join their comrades. Zhaan jumped when D’argo’s voice came over her comm.. “Zhaan, come in!” he barked. She looked at her friends and then responded to him. “D’argo, are you all right?” she asked, trying to hide her panic. “Yeah, but this frelling place is filled with traps” he responded. “We met a girl from the city here, she says that the Luxans build escape hatches in certain rooms during their time here, hopefully the Enclave haven’t sealed them” she said. “Enclave?” he asked back over the comm.. “Long story D’argo, just…” Maliena cut her off. “Don’t worry about them now, the Luxans should have left some arrows made of orange paint on the walls, these will lead you to the nearest emergency hatch” she said into Zhaan’s comm.. “They can only be opened by Luxans, I highly doubt the Enclave knows of their existence”. “Who the frell are…” a howl came over D’argo’s comm.. “Sounds like they didn’t see that acid trap, gotta go!” he yelled into his comm..

The Charrids stood back as the Blood Tracker’s face smoked and burned. The chemical stench was almost unbearable. As the Blood Tracker’s gurgling scream died with him, the Charrid sergeant turned to his men. “Frell, that was our last Blood Tracker!” he screamed. He looked at the body, and then at the smallest, weakest man. “You have point, lets move out!” he ordered. The young man seemed to hesitate for a second. The sergeant placed his rifle under the youngster’s chin. “Do it now!” he screamed. The team carefully moved out, leaving their comrade’s face to melt.

D’argo and Jothee hurried along the dark hallways, eyes constantly adjusting to the various levels of light. They had followed the orange arrows and had yet to encounter another trap. Possibly this “Enclave” had never bothered to trap passages that they thought were non-essential. This thought was dispatched when they turned the next corner.

The orange arrow had led to a large hallway cut into the stone of the mesa. This hallway was cut in two. The right half was a clean, almost marble like hallway. The other half was nothing more than sand. D’argo felt that the marble structure looked familiar somehow. It was clean and obviously new. It was also obviously trapped. The dirt was more than likely trapped too, but they had little choice. They could hear the remaining bounty hunters rumbling through the halls behind them. He pointed to the dirt-covered floor, and Jothee begrudgingly followed him.

The hidden fugitives flinched as the transport ramp fell to the sandy ground. Hidden, they watched as the small army of Sebasceans, led by an attractive blonde woman, marched from the ship. Their weapons varied in size, but were all modern. Their time was running out.

D’argo led the way through the sand, dragging his feet, trying to put as little pressure as he could on the ground. He heart skipped a beat when the tip of his boot hit a metal object and a beeping sound began. He could feel the object moving under the sand. Puzzled, the looked down, weapon ready. A glowing red sensor peered through the sand at him. A large disc shoved its way through the sand. Suddenly, six legs popped from the disc, forming a crab like robot. D’argo leaped as he saw the sensor light grow brighter. A pulse blast barely missed his diving body, smashing into the ceiling. The beeps rose all around them and more crab-bots began to surface from the sand. D’argo fired point blank into the first robot, disabling it. “Run!” screamed D’argo. Jothee had already gotten the idea, and both began running at full speed through the sand. The little warriors began throwing a flurry of pulse blasts at the fleeing Luxans. Jothee screamed as a pulse blast slammed into his lower leg, sending black blood flying. D’argo grabbed his screaming son and dragged him as fast as he could out of the way of the robots. He followed the next orange arrow to an open blast door. D’argo prayed that the door was still functional. He pressed the button, and the heavy door refused to slide. He heard the scurrying legs of the crab-bots right behind them. As the red eyes locked onto him, D’argo kicked the door. The mighty boot threw the door into action, and the heavy, thick door slammed up, leaving them in the relative darkness of the room.

The Sebascean bounty hunters were drawn from their search for the crew when the sound of a heavy door opening fractured the silence. The crew watched from above as the door leading to the mesa opened. The bounty hunters readied their weapons and focused on the door. Moya’s crew was about to get their first look at the warriors of the Enclave.

The four Charrids entered the crab-bot room. They immediately started taking fire from the little robots. Instinctively, all but the sergeant ran for the marble area to seek cover. The sarge jumped back behind the corner that they had just rounded. As his men crossed onto the marble floor, a series of electronic humming began. A force filed was suddenly erected at both sides of the marble hall. They all looked around in panic, calling for their comrade to save them. The sergeant was by now long gone.

The Charrids looked up as a wave of energy descended from the ceiling. Pain shot through their bodies and they screamed as the field enveloped them. Their streaming stopped, but not their pain. They were all frozen in their poses as living statues. The energy field had not killed them, but after the Enclave got a hold of them, they wished it had.

The sergeant ran quickly through the halls, the cries of his men fading behind him. Turning a corner, he saw daylight. With a smile on his face, he ran towards the light. He froze when he heard a click. He looked up to see a green energy field falling from the ceiling.

D’argo held his unconscious son in his arms. He would die from shock shortly if he was not treated. D’argo was no medic, and there was no sigh of this magical exit Zhaan had described. Judging from the screams he heard outside, the bounty hunters were no longer a problem. Jothee had begun to spout gibberish while slowly going into shock. D’argo paid little attention to it as he searched for the door out. He discovered an old Luxan marking on the wall. It read: Only the slayer of the Cretok can free you. A large whole was under the marking. D’argo could not believe that they came all this way to be stopped for not having a key. Then, he remembered his history. The Cretok was the title for a general of the Scorvian army. The Cretok Byraine was killed by a blast for the first ever Qualta Blade Rifle. D’argo plunged his sword into the stone, and rumbling shook the room. Immediately, the section in front of D’argo slid out of the way, letting in the last rays of sunshine. D’argo never though he would be this happy to have sand in his nose again.

As he picked up Jothee, the boy uttered a name. “Chiana” he said meekly. “Chiana, I love you, we need to leave before the old man catches us” he muttered. D’argo froze, anger shooting through his body. Maybe Jothee just fantasized about her in the shower, but D’argo doubted it. He fought back the Hyper Rage. He quickly slammed his comm.. “Chiana!” he screamed angrily. She responded. “Not so loud, what is it?” she asked. “Were out, get the transport ready, I think we are on the north side of the mesa”, he said trying to control his temper.

The trio of Enclave soldiers looked more like insects than Sebasceans. They were incased in thick, silver armor. No skin was visible at all; even the two eyeholes on their helmets were covered with energy weapon proof plastic. They were all massive in stature, all about the same relative height. Obviously, this armor was a one-size-fits-all kind of thing. Their right shoulders had a bizarre insignia. It was that of a black pyramid surrounded by a blue circle. What was far more impressive than their armor, was their weapons. Two were armed with what appeared to be full on mini-guns. The massive multi-barreled weapons were only slightly smaller than those used by the Scarrens. The armor must have certainly increased their strength a great deal, because no non-Scarren could wield such weapons. The leader appeared to be wielding a large sniper rifle almost the same length as his body. He spoke through is armor.

“Drop your weapons and surrender” he ordered. The bounty hunters looked at their female leader. She nodded and fired first, striking the enclave warrior dead in the chest with her pulse rifle. The Enclave trooper just looked at his unscathed armor and began to laugh. “Kill them” he said calmly. A terrifying whirling sound filled the air as the mini-guns began to spin. The barrels spewed an inferno of pulse blasts at the bounty hunters. The entire squad was cut down in less than a microt, along with most of the building behind them. The female bounty hunter had managed to avoid the hail of pulse fire and was running for the transport. The Enclave leader raised his rifle and pointed it at her back. As he watched through the scope, the rifle began to hum. He bucked slightly as the railgun fired. The metal “nail” traveling almost the speed of light smashed through her, sending her flying forward into her transport’s bulkhead. Well, her top half anyway. Her legs were still about thirty feet behind her torso. The Enclave trooper leveled his weapon at the transport and fired again. The streaking nail smashed into the transport and nearly ripped it in two. He did not flinch from the ensuing explosion. He then turned and picked off the two bounty hunters guarding the hole D’argo had accidentally discovered with ease. He turned to his comrades. “These tainted excuses for Sebasceans are barely worth killing” he said. They retreated back into the mesa and shut the massive door behind them.

Moya exited Starburst safe from the bounty hunters. Rygel had bragged how he and Pilot had given the second bounty hunter ship the slip in a debris field. Maliena was going to get off on the first habitable planet that they found. She was eternally grateful for the crew saving her from the Enclave.

D’argo sat alone on command, waiting for Chiana. She had been with Jothee who was recovering after a lot of help from Zhaan. She calmly walked in and stood behind D’argo. “Pilot says that you wanted to see me” she said with interest. D’argo didn’t have to say much. He just starred ahead. She grew impatient. “What do you want to say to me?” she asked. He looked her straight in the eye. “I know” he said calmly.

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:23 PM

Season of Death, Part 5

Jud peered through his sunglasses at the charred body at his feet. He couldn’t even remember how many dead bodies he’d seen in his lifetime. Of course, most were his doing. His face didn’t change as he tapped the black flesh with his boot. The burning hulk of the warehouse surrounded him, all its walls had been blown down, and the roof was littered over half the area. This was the work of a professional, one man, no more. He didn’t know why he knew this, but he did. His grip had never loosened on his heavy weapon. It probably wasn’t the best idea to stand in the middle of the burning remains of the drug lab without breathing protection, but he still had a job to do. His men had counted seven bodies, all Sebascean. It didn’t take him long to figure out who the seventh body belonged to. He spoke into his headset. “Lu-Ras, the entire lab is gone, and Myron is toast” he said coldly. A slightly agitated, yet still calm voice responded. “I couldn’t give two drens about Myron, what about my merchandise?” Jud looked around. “The entire batch is gone, and the slaves have disappeared,” said the mercenary. “Frell!” crackled the crime lord’s voice over the headset. “Find those damn bumpkins, and torture the dren out of them until they tell you who did it, then kill his ass!” he ordered. “Yes sir!” replied Jud.

Jud looked up at the approaching band of red wearing police. The lead policeman approached him. He looked at the fiery wreck of a building. He then turned to the longhaired mercenary. “Tell your boss it’ll cost ten thousand to have this forgotten about,” said the policeman. Jud’s eyes peered through the tinted lenses at the weakling he hated so much. “Tell the coroner to send me the cause of death” he said. The police sergeant looked at the body “What the frell are you talking about, they are burnt to a crisp!” Jud grabbed the cop’s hand and jammed it into a burnt wound. The cop screamed and proceeded to vomit. The mercenary captain looked down at him in disgust. “He was shot before he died, I want to know what kind of weapon killed him” he stated simply. He let the cop choke up some more of his dinner, and ordered his men to move out. They had people to kill.

Crichton and Aeryn locked lips again. They were in Crichton’s cell on Moya. She straddled his lap, in nothing but her bra and panties. They broke lips, and Crichton began kissing her neck. Her hair flowed back as she raised her head. With an extremely satisfied voice, she simply stated: “John, I love you”. He immediately broke from kissing and stared into her beautiful eyes. “I love you too baby” he responded, resuming working on her lips. He gently put her on her back and began to kiss her some more. A flash suddenly struck his vision.

Now, her eyes were fixed on his, but they did not blink. She did not make as much as a twitch. Her warm skin had become cold. Crichton sat up from her, feeling an odd, yet familiar substance on his hand. He brought up his hand to see it dripping with blood. He screamed and jumped back, tumbling off the bed. He looked at her, and saw a bowie knife stuck in her heart. Her entire upper body and most of the bed was covered in the sticky liquid. “No!” screamed Crichton. “Not again!” He backed away, and felt another cold body touch him from behind. He wheeled around to see the blank stare of Gileena. Her heart was also pierced. He backed away from her. “All I did was help you John,” she said. “And this is what I got for it!” she coldly added, pointing to the bowie knife. The scantily clothed Aeryn was now standing too. “All I did was help you John,” she said. They both then hit him in stereo. “We loved you John, and we died because of it”. “Your love is a curse,” they added. Crichton fell to the floor as a specter of his mother came in the room. She was in a hospital gown, also stabbed. “More like a death sentence” said his mother. “Who will be next John?” asked Gileena. “Zhaan, Chiana” said Aeryn. “Or possibly, even your cute little whore!” said his mother. They surrounded him, but thankfully, his dream ended.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 5:
Stealing Beauty pt 1: No Light

Guest Stars:
Rob Van Dam
With
Dee Snider
As
Lu-Ras
And
Angelina Jolie

The first thing he saw when he was jerked from his nightmare was his hazel-eyed angel Hana dozing in a shoddy folding chair. She was dressed in pants and an average white T-shirt; her blue outfit was in the corner of the room, covered in burn marks and soot. Crichton had no idea how her little self had drug him all the way away from the fire, but right now he didn’t care. His first instinct told him that maybe her employer’s mercenaries had found him and dragged him back here. He took a quick glance around the room. It wasn’t a cell that was for sure. The room was filled with cans of food and other cooking materials. Like most buildings, the walls of the storeroom were old and cracked. Crichton quietly sat up from his plain cot. His coat and weapons were laid on the concrete below his cot. There went the captured theory. His face hurt like hell, it was obviously burned. He reached for a pistol, but seeing that they were alone, he didn’t need alarm her. He gave a quick, fake cough and she stirred.

Her jade eyes immediately locked onto his face. She gave him a half smile. “Good to see you awake” she said. Crichton thought of something witty to say in front of the beauty, but he came up empty. “Nice to be awake” he replied. “Smooth man” he said sarcastically in his head. “How long have I been out?” he asked. She thought for a second. “About two arns, I had to drag you for about thirty minutes just to reach this place” she replied. “Where exactly is “this”?” he asked. “Freyna’s, it’s a small restaurant on the outskirts of the red light district” she replied. “I’m a friend of the owner, you should be safe from Jud and the Black Wings here”.

Crichton noticed that he had been rude. “Sorry I didn’t say it sooner, but thanks for saving my ass, that was very brave of you” he said, sitting up straighter. She gave him a broad smile. “I told you I would thank you later” she replied “And, as you see, I was right about good deeds”. “Ah, that was nothing, I can’t resist a damsel in distress” he came back. “I hope the only casualty was the dress” he said, nodding to the burnt pile of blue in the corner. He saw her clutching her hand. “You hurt?” he asked. He stood up gingerly and walked to her. He stuck out his hand. “Let me see” he said simply. She reluctantly extended her hand. He was a little shocked to see her blue painted nails, but continued to look for injury. There was a small blister on her smooth skin. He gently grabbed her hand by the fingers. She grimaced slightly with the pain. “Its not that bad, is there any Garamon Gel around?” he asked, inspecting the burn. “Only on your face” she replied.

He reached into what appeared to be a freezer and withdrew a small chunk of ice and held her hand while he applied it to the wound. She let out a slight cry as the ice touched her. “Sorry, I’m not trying to hurt you”. Crichton couldn’t believe that he forgot the medical kit on the Marauder. Even though he just met her, he felt like shit for causing pain to her. He would have been better off if she had left him to burn, but he didn’t want to tell her that. While they waited, he decided to start some small talk to take her mind off the pain. “You got a last name Hana?” he asked, looking up into her eyes. “Tuvari” she replied. “You?” Crichton snickered a little bit. “Crichton” he said. He looked into her face to gage her reaction to his last name. The name seemed to have no effect. Apparently he wasn’t a legend to hookers. Being anonymous was very good, for both of them. He reached into the old medical kit and pulled out a small roll of bandages and some disinfectant. She winced at the applying of both. She then withdrew her hand from his and inspected it.

“As you can see, I’ve done that once or twice” he said, finally picking up one of his pistols. He made sure to keep his finger well away from the trigger. “Do you mind if I ask why you saved me, I mean besides the karmic value?”. She looked up at him. “Why did you save me?” she reciprocated. “I can’t stand any violence towards women, I recently lost a woman I was very with to violence” he said. “I’m sorry” she said. Crichton half smirked “That feels nice” he said. She looked at him “To hear someone say that and actually mean it” he coughed “Your turn”.

“I was on my way here when I heard a lot of shooting and then some explosions, I followed them to the warehouse”. “I looked in an saw you unconscious in there, so I dragged you out” she said, as if it was a simple matter. Crichton smiled and shook his head. “You and I seem to have very different reactions to gunfire and explosions” he replied. She didn’t seem too amused. “And you hauled me all the way here by yourself?” he asked. She nodded. “Damn”. He looked into her eyes “I guess you figured that I was the one who took out that place” he guessed. “It wasn’t what it looked like…” She interjected: “I know what went on in that place, and I’m glad its gone, one of my friends was killed by a tainted batch of that stuff”. She pointed to his weapons. “Is this what you do, kill people and blow stuff up?” she asked. He hesitated, picking up his pistols and spinning them “I wasn’t always like this, I was a scientist”. “Were you any good?” she inquired. He thought for a second “Pretty good” he added. “I wish I still was, like that again”. “You’re a mercenary like Jud right?” she asked bluntly. “I’m a fighter yes, but I’m no mercenary, I work in space, I just happen to be extremely skilled with guns and I needed the money” he said. “This wasn’t out of greed, I need the money to save someone’s life. Plus, I got to rescue some slaves in the meantime” he said to try and balance out the violent act. She smiled at that “You rescue slaves too?” she asked with almost glee. “I have on occasion” he said. She smiled even more broadly “I know a slave or two that could use liberation”.

At one time, he would have found chatting up a beautiful woman worth his time, but he felt no need to validate his life to a prostitute. She opened her mouth and he expected to be chastised. “Anything that hurts Lu-Ras is fine by me” she said unexpectedly.

Crichton raised his pistol as the door to the storeroom opened. The old woman at the end of the barrel was not very alarmed. She walked in and closed the door. Crichton, of course lowered his weapon. “I second Hana, the destruction of that place may be the best thing to happened in this city in cycles” said the old woman. “It’s a shame the bastard wasn’t in it at the time” she added. “But, I suppose that he is too much of a big shot to do his own inspections anymore, now that he’s shelling out for Jud and his bad asses”. She paused. “I’m Freyna, owner of this place, John…” “Crichton” he finished. Too many people knew his name already, and Lu-Ras probably had feelers stretched out through the ghettos. She nodded her head. “Hana told me what you did for her, thanks from me as well”, said Freyna. “No problem, what she did for me was amazing, she could have been killed” he said. The old woman nodded. “Would you object to a hot meal, its not gourmet or anything, but it’ll fill you up” she asked. Crichton nodded. “I haven’t had a hot meal in almost half a cycle, you’ll get no complaining out of me” he replied. The old woman smiled. “Hana dear, I set out a couple of plates of the special in the back, could you grab them and bring them here, my back is killing me” she said. Crichton stood up before Hana. “I’ll get them, she doesn’t need to get up” he said. The old woman stopped him. “It’s empty right now, but Jud and his goons are searching the area, and those burns on your face are damning evidence”, she said. Hana walked out, and Crichton focused on Freyna.

“What is your relation to her, you an aunt or something?” he asked. “I’m her vocal coach, I teach her to sing” said Freyna. “Strange skill for a prostitute to learn” he said. The old woman slapped his burned face. The combination of the pain, Harvey, and almost constant anger almost made him snap. He focused his entire brain on staying calm. The woman starred into his eyes. “Don’t you ever call her a prostitute again!” screamed the woman. “She’s not some trelk selling herself, she’s a sex slave you asshole!” she added. Crichton felt shame wash over him. “Her own parents sold her to Lu-Ras when she was no more than ten cycles old, she’s been raped since she was thirteen!” she said, finishing her tirade. Crichton sat back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know” he said simply. The women turned to the door and then back to him. “Please, use what money you get from this job, and use it to buy Hana from Lu-Ras, you owe her that” replied Freyna. An angered Crichton responded: “Look lady, I need that money to save the life of someone I care about deeply, I can’t spare a dime right now”. Freyna became flustered. “Don’t you think she cares about you, she saved your life!”. “She doesn’t know me, and trust me, she doesn’t want to know me!” he replied. “Believe me the last thing I want to do is leave her in his hands, but I need that money to help a dear friend of mine”. “All you mercenaries are all alike, I was wrong to think you and Jud were different” said the old woman. Their argument was broken by the bell on the exterior door, and the voice of Jud.

“What the frell are you doing here, your supposed to be back at the Blue” he said in a bizarre combination of calm and angry. Crichton could see him through the crack in the door; he grabbed Hana with one of his muscled arms and flung her into the wall. Freyna reached out and blocked Crichton from drawing his weapons. She shook her head, and went out herself, closing the door behind her.

“Easy on her Jud!” demanded the old woman. The pony tailed mercenary turned his anger to the restaurant owner. “Listen bitch, Lu-Ras said that you weren’t to have anymore contact with her, you’re lucky I don’t kill your old ass right now!” he screamed. A blonde dreadlocked mercenary now held Hana behind him. Freyna laughed off the threat. “You’re good at intimidating two defenseless women Jud, mister Big Badass!”. Jud struck the woman with a clinched fist, knocking her to the ground. His dreadlocked subordinate laughed. Hana attempted to run to her friend’s aid, but Jud stopped her. “Look around this area, I gotta take this trelk back to the Blue” he ordered. She looked at Crichton through the crack in the door, as she was led away.

Crichton threw on his coat, and crept out the storeroom door, both pistols ready. He checked Freyna, who was just now picking herself up off the ground. She shook the cobwebs from her head as he helped her to her feet. Crichton exited the restaurant and turned right, the opposite way that Hana was being forced. Freyna chased after him. “Aren’t you going to help her?” she asked. Crichton kept walking. “Nope” he replied. “What about your conscience?” she added. Crichton stopped for a second. “Conscience?” he asked. “You know, the voice in your head that tells you to do the right thing!” she halfway screamed. Crichton kept on walking. “I have a voice in my head, but it ain’t no conscience” he said, not breaking stride.

Crichton walked as fast as he could out of the red light district. The sight of Hana being dragged away was still fresh in his mind. After his own misdoings with Aeryn, seeing any woman hurt in any sense of the word angered him to no end. But, he owed Aeryn much more than Hana, plus, Aeryn was the only thing in his life that he gave a damn about. After Aeryn was fixed (if possible) he would try and swing by again with his ship full of money to buy Hana’s freedom. Now, she wasn’t a priority. The buildings were gradually decreasing in quality, meaning that he was headed in the right direction. He didn’t know if this was going towards Dobie Circle or not, but it was putting more distance between him and the Blue Brothel. He was traveling the deserted alleyways, which were filled with trash and graffiti. In a second, a flash of blonde and black appeared before him.

Jud’s dreadlocked compatriot was blocking his route. He held a modern, almost AK looking carbine in his right hand. It dangled at his side, in a non-threatening way. He stuck up his left hand to halt Crichton. Crichton could feel the eyes behind the blue sunglasses scanning his burned face. “What happened to your face?” asked the merc. “Burned it sometime after a drinking game last night, what’s it to you?” asked Crichton. The merc only slightly smiled. “Been there, done that, go on your way” said the soldier of fortune quite happily. Crichton had had enough attempts on his life to know when someone was out to kill him. This guy was just waiting for a chance to shoot him in the back. As he walked by, Crichton turned to him. “Here’s some advice; never give your opponent an opening!”.

Crichton kicked as Aeryn had taught him just as the merc raised his carbine. The snubby flew into the air after discharging a burst of blue energy into the alley wall. Crichton immediately drew his pistols. The mercenary looked at Crichton’s guns and at his own. Crichton could read his muscles. “Don’t do it man, just run away” he said calmly. The merc expertly jumped and rolled, picking up his carbine. Before he came out of the roll, a pair of pulse blasts impacted on his upper chest. He crumpled into a pile on the dirty ground of the alleyway. Crichton looked at him and shook his head. “Should have run” he said simply.

He picked up the carbine and threw the strap over his shoulder, concealing the weapon under his coat. He searched the merc’s pockets and came up with a few spare clips, and a few hundred credit coins. In the last pocket he found a small, cell phone like communicator. This would come in handy he though. He then tried to put as much distance between him and the body as possible.

A single eye starred at Crichton through the opening in the door. Crichton was drenching wet and getting worse as the surprisingly cold rain fell from the night sky. “Let me in Dead Eye” he demanded. The opening closed and he heard locks popping off inside. The door to the tenement swung open and Crichton entered.

The building was filed to the brims with not only Red Badge members, but also the Tarin escapees. He acknowledged the former slaves with a nod. Lil’ Blo and his big lackey walked over to him. “Just the man I wanted to see, good job on the lab, but what the frell were you thinking sending me all these mother frellers?” he asked half angry. “I case you didn’t noticed, this is a place of organized crime, not a hotel!”. Crichton ignored the little man. “My money?” asked Crichton simply. Blo rolled his eyes and went to the back. He returned with a duffle similar to the one Crichton used for the explosives. Crichton opened it and examined the contents. “That’s a monens worth of protection” said Blo. “The trick is, getting these bumpkins on the train out of here without the mercenaries spotting them” he added. Crichton lifted his jacket and pulled out the carbine. “There’s one less merc out there” he said, handing the gun to Blo. The mini-mobster inspected the weapon, handing it back to Crichton. “I highly suggest you wait for those burns to heal and then grab the first ship out of here, Jud is gonna be pissed”. He looked into Crichton’s face. “And yes, you can stay here” said Blo reluctantly. Crichton smiled and felt the phone in his pocket. He had a call to make.

Bannon jumped as the warehouse phone rang. He staggered from the worn couch and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”. “Are you watching TV, you’re supposed to be working on a cure!” screamed Crichton’s voice over the phone. Bannon jumped back, holding his ear. “Listen man, there is a problem” said the inventor. “What do you mean problem?” asked Crichton, almost screaming. Bannon took a minute. “Look, me and my mentor have worked for the past few days on this, we’ve even consulted over twenty doctors and three Diagnosans, I just don’t know how to say this, but…”. Crichton slammed his head down. “Don’t be saying this Bannon, you got my hopes up…”. “Crichton, it is medically impossible to save her, I’m sorry man, it can’t be done”.

Crichton cut him off, putting the phone on the ground. He put his hands over his eyes as tears attempted to well out from them. He still wasn’t numb to the fact, even though he had accepted it long ago. His sadness quickly turned to anger as it always did. His small tenement room and its aging walls and furniture took the brunt of it. After everything was cracked, crushed, or destroyed, he collapsed in an almost fetal position. He pulled out one of his pistols and pondered it for a second. He slammed the muzzle under his chin, angling it at his brain. His finger stuck on the trigger. Harvey appeared to his left. “Yes, yes do it John!” he almost laughed. “Release us!”. Crichton almost obliged him. Then, he locked his eyes on Harvey’s mug. “Not just yet Harvey” he said with hate. “I’ve got a certain half-breed to kill first” he replied. The clone’s smile disappeared. “Do you really think that you can take down Scorpius, you won’t make it past the first line of defense!” said Harvey. “That’s why they call it a death wish Harvey” Crichton said, taking the gun from his chin. The clone disappeared as the cell phone rang. Surprised, Crichton picked it up, Bannon must have had caller ID.

“Yeah?” he said into the phone. “Who the frell is this!?” came Jud’s voice over the phone. “Where’s Rave?” he asked. Crichton looked around the room. “He’s not here right now, can I take a message?” he asked sarcastically. “Rave wouldn’t give someone his communicator, how did you get it?” asked Jud. “Maybe I killed Rave and took it, did you think of that genius?” asked Crichton, hanging up.

Crichton looked at the bag of cash at his feet. Maybe we could buy Hana’s freedom, at least get a little karma going for his side. Until then, he had to lay low until his face healed. It would take a day max with the modern healing gel. Once again, his thoughts went to Aeryn, and he slept.

The methodic beat of techno music filled the area surrounded the Blue Brothel tower. Outside, various men (and some butch women) made deals with the various ladies of the evening and their mercenary pimps. Crichton’s face had now healed completely, not even a scar on it. He pushed his way forward through the mass of people to the entrance of the Blue Brothel at the base of the tower. The techno music grew louder and was then accompanied by the strobe lights as he drew closer to the club entrance. Crichton learned from Blo that the club allowed no guns. He had stashed his pistols not far away. He greeted the mercenary guarding the door, who then searched his coat for weaponry. His eyes lit up when he checked the duffle bag full of money. The bouncer held open the door for him. “Welcome to heaven sir” he said. Crichton smiled and entered.

Crichton nodded to the beat of the techno music and made his way towards the back of the old hotel. The lobby was extravagantly decorated with expensive carpet, furniture, and well painted. Several barely-clad women worked the poles on stage, some bending down to collect money or to make a little love connection for later that night. A couple of mercenaries armed with carbines guarded the girls from the Johns. Crichton focused on the third big screen on the back wall.

It was a live video feed of Hana in a bathtub, was being broadcast on that particular screen. Two others were on the other screens. She moved around slightly, sloshing the bubbles around, revealing choice parts of her. Some men in the front cheered as she stood from the warm water, enjoying the brief viewing full frontal nudity before she threw on a towel. She awkwardly took a small green bikini from one of her co-workers and the screens went blank. On stage, the techno music had died out and the dancers had gone back stage, the Johns they won over were now haggling with the pimps.

The DJ came on over the speaker next. “Now, our top girls are taking the stage, so if you don’t have a lot of cash, move your ass!”. Crichton walked forward, sitting in one of the front row seats reserved for high rollers. Immediately, another, mores sensual techno beat came over the club and the high dollar girls came out. There were ten in all, the most gorgeous women he had ever seen in person. They all wore bikini tops, thongs, and high heels matching the color of their tops. A dark skinned girl went to take the pole infront of Crichton, but Hana all but fought the girl off from the spot. She gave Crichton a quick smile and locked her eyes on him. She did her thing with the pole, memorizing Crichton. Her tan skin was still dripping wet. She never broke eye contact with him. For the next few minutes, she gave her own show just for Crichton. She matched the other beauties behind her, sliding to the floor, legs crossed, then open. She displayed some yoga and gymnast like flexibility, making Crichton’s jaw drop. She did the splits and beckoned Crichton forward with a finger. They came face to face. He whispered in her ear. “I’m here to get you out” he said over the techno music. She smiled. She rolled to her feet and exited as the techno music ended, looking over her shoulder at him.

A pimp came up from behind Crichton. “I’ve never seen her actually interested in someone before, she’s normally a cold fish up there” he said. “You interested?”. Crichton nodded his head. “Mr. Lu-Ras negotiates the deals for them, I will take you to him, this way please”. Crichton followed the pimp to an elevator. They both starred upward as the elevator ascended. “Her name’s Hana by the way” he added.

Lu-Ras furiously threw himself at the pull up bar. Even though he was middle aged, his body was still well muscled. His long, blonde hair bounced with every rep. His bare chest and back were covered with tattoos. Jud watched his master take every rep, giving him a status report. “They found Rave dead, he was killed by a PeaceKeeper pulse pistol, his weapon, phone, and money were all taken” said Jud. “It had to have been our friend from the warehouse, no local boy could take Rave” he said. “Or have access to that kind of weaponry”. “The police matched the same guns to both fights” he said. Lu-Ras fell from the pull up bar to the floor. Jud handed him a towel to dry off with. “Good, you have extra motivation to find and kill this freller” said Lu-Ras. “I’ll have my pet pigs look into shootings using PeaceKeeper weaponry besides our lab incident” he added. Jud dismissed himself as Crichton and the pimp entered. The kingpin threw on a flamboyant purple shirt, leaving it un-buttoned. Jud looked over Crichton’s coat and moved on.

“Sir, this man wishes business with Hana” said the pimp. Lu-Ras smiled. “Send her up, I need to negotiate with our friend here”. The pimp left, leaving the two criminals alone. Lu-Ras smiled. “Hana, good choice, I broke her in myself, but I must warn you, she doesn’t really get into it, I don’t think she enjoys it to be honest” said Lu-Ras. “But this is about your pleasure, not hers, as it should be”. Crichton nodded. “Mister Lu-Ras, I’ve got money, I would like to buy this woman from you” he said bluntly. Lu-Ras laughed. “You in the business too Mister…” he asked. “Crichton” he replied. Hell everyone knew his name already. “No, I’m a, how do I put it, self employed adventurer, I go all over space looking for opportunities, and space gets damn lonely” said Crichton with a smile. Lu-Ras liked this arrangement. “It will cost you a cool million” he said flat out. He saw Crichton’s jaw drop. “I know it’s a lot, but she brings me in over a thousand a night” he said. “I would normally never sell her, but I had a certain expensive loss that I need to recoup, fast! If you can’t afford her, you can rent her for twenty four arns for one thousand he said”. Crichton felt hope hit rock bottom. He dug out a thousand from his bag and handed it to Lu-Ras. The mobster counted it. “Excellent!” he said. He looked at Crichton. “And don’t even think about trying to steal her, not only will I send my Death Corps friends after you, but I will kill three of her friends, just ask her if you don’t believe me” he said a bit cheerfully. Lu-Ras turned and looked out the penthouse window at the city he virtually owned. They both turned when Hana entered the room in a flowing black dress. “Enjoy” said Lu-Ras.

Hana looked depressed as she took another bite of her breakfast. He hadn’t meant to get her hopes up. They had wandered the city most of the night, talking about various things. He apologized numerous times for failing her. He told her basically all he had seen in his adventures, leaving out most of the details of his life. She didn’t need to know of his criminal lifestyle. He also shared his love story with Aeryn. She actually cried for him. She called it the saddest story she ever heard. “I would love to see space” she said. Crichton shook his head. “In my experience, there are far more horrors than wonders out there”. He replied.

They were in the middle class part of Koorong, a place Hana had never visited. She had remembered the food being sold at the restaurant from her childhood. They did all the standard date stuff, he took her to movie, dinner. He used some of his mercenary money to buy some high-class rooms in a fancy hotel with two beds of course. He walked her back as night once again fell. Before they entered the area beneath the tower, he turned to her. “If you want to, I can save you, I can take you away from here” he said. She shook her head. “I will not trade the life of my friends for my own” she said. He nodded. She turned and kissed him. “That was the best day of my life” she said. A pair of mercenaries greeted them. “Lu-Ras wants to see the two of you” one said.

The pair exited the elevator into the penthouse. Lu-Ras sat on his desk. “Welcome back mister Crichton” he said. Crichton turned to the sound of safeties behind him. Jud and six of his soldiers of fortune stood, weapons ready. Crichton saw the junky that he had wounded standing next to Jud. “That’s the freller!” said the junky. “Ah crap” said Crichton simply. Lu-Ras gave a crooked smile. He pushed a button on a wanted beacon. Scorpius appeared, offering the reward for his death. “Looks like you’ll net me more than a million” simply stated Lu-Ras.

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:24 PM

Season of Death DVD part 6

Lu-Ras’s angry gaze seemed to penetrate Crichton’s very soul, despite being filtered by blue sunglasses. He carefully spun a pistol in his right hand, not removing his gaze. He again spoke: “The infamous John Crichton, in my very own penthouse, I’m honored”. He noticed that Hana was clutching Crichton’s hand, looking around scarred out of her wits. “One of you, pry my property from his nut job” he ordered to his mercenaries. One of them forced Hana from his arm, hauling her back to his comrades. “Do whatever you want to me, just leave her alone!” said Crichton simply. Lu-Ras smiled. “She must have left quite an impression, don’t worry I’ll take good care of her”. Crichton gave him a blank stare. If he had to die now, so be it. He was unarmed, surrounded by seven armed, hostile criminals, and twenty stories up. Things didn’t look good, but he had been in tighter spots than this. Time for a little bravado.

“Lu-Ras, I’ve got no beef with you” he looked the ruler of Koorong dead in the face. “Let me and the girl go, and I will let you live!” he said, very calmly. Lu-Ras looked at his mercenaries with a belly laugh. “Quite confident are we?” he asked. “I think I’ll take my chances”. Crichton shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you have any idea of how much trouble you have caused me?” asked the kingpin. Crichton could only stare back. He suddenly noticed that he was not that far from the window. At this point, he could risk a leap of faith, hoping that there was a ledge close by. “I am going to be buried up to my neck is strung out junkies tomorrow when they find out that all the Fuel is gone!” Crichton realized that this might make his only opportunity to escape. Immediately, the junky went into overdrive. “What does he mean that there’s no more Fuel, he better be frelling lying, he better!” screamed the addict. He began screaming incoherently. Unfortunately for him, Lu-Ras could tolerate about two microts of it. He nodded to Jud, who snapped the man’s neck like a twig. As they laughed, Crichton tossed his money duffle at Lu-Ras, striking him square in the face.

Crichton bolted for the window as Lu-Ras threw down the bag. He rushed for the window, lowering his shoulders. Jud aimed first, but Hana kicked the big gun, sending the green energy blast smashing into a statue near the window. Jud dropped her with a quick back fist. Crichton speared his way through the flimsy glass just as the others began firing. As the glass and blood cleared from his vision, he saw nothing between him and the pavement but twenty stories of air.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 6:
Stealing Beauty Part 2: Payback’s a Bitch

Guest Stars:
Rob Van Dam
Mushroomhead
With
Dee Snider
As
Lu-Ras
And Angelina Jolie

Crichton fell ten feet before he smashed into the hard floor of a window-washing elevator. Crichton stood up, meeting the chunky window-washer eye to eye. Crichton smiled, and then punched him right in the nose, knocking him unconscious. He would have had no qualms about shoving a merc over, but this guy was probably just a working stiff. Crichton quickly stopped the lateral movement and set the rickety elevator to descend. Like most buildings in Koorong, the Blue Brothel almost totally lacked windows and Crichton wondered why Lu-Ras would bother to employ a washer. An energy blast smashed into the elevator not three inches away from him. Crichton looked up to see Jud aiming his huge weapon at the slowly descending elevator.

Lu-Ras turned to his head mercenary. “That thing is slow as hell, well take the main elevator”. Jud begrudgingly left his position and raced to the elevator. He motioned to one of his men. “Watch the girl,” he said simply, hopping into the plush personal elevator.

Crichton had since figured out that the bad guys were probably racing to the bottom floor via the interior elevator and would be waiting for him in the alley he was heading for. His mind raced as he tried to figure a way out. Below, he could see one of the few windows of the building moving up at him. He braced himself. As the window came up in front of him, he delivered a drop kick, forcing his way through his second pane of glass for the day. He rolled harmlessly as he hit the fine marble floor immediately; he was met by the hysterical screams of the prostitutes occupying the hall. He ignored them and sprinted for the emergency stairwell.

Lu-Ras and company raced into the alley, weapons ready. The kingpin smiled. “Got you freller!” he said with an evil confidence. Needless to say, he was a little disappointed to see that the elevator only held the unconscious window-washer.

Crichton reached into the dumpster two blocks away and pulled out his pistols. He didn’t have time to waste; the streets would soon be crawling with mercenaries.

Lu-Ras’s anger was multiplied ten fold when he finally reached the penthouse. Jud had grown accustomed to his tirades and readied himself. The kingpin looked that the smoking remains of the statue that Jud had accidentally taken out. He crushed what was left and hurled the pieces around the room. He threw his sunglasses on the pile and stomped them into the dust. He then focused on Jud. “First I lose my multi-million credit lab, then, thanks to your skillful brand of not killing him, I am out one priceless statue, and thirty-million credits!” he screamed. Jud did not wince. “I’m starting to think that I hired the wrong brother!” he added. Jud could have pointed out that he had Crichton in his sights when Lu-Ras ordered him onto the elevator, but he decided that he liked his job and life a lot better than his pride.

“I will kill him,” said Jud simply. His employer turned up his nose. “He’s already out of the district, you have little chance of finding him” replied Lu-Ras. Jud smiled. “I won’t have to, he’ll comeback for her” he said, pointing to Hana. “How do you know?” asked the kingpin. The merc smiled at Hana “The way he looked when we separated them, the fact that he had the mivongs to threaten you for her” he laughed “Plus, she had the guts to risk her ass to protect him”. “A man like that won’t leave her hanging”.

A small, hunched over Sebascean interrupted them. “Sorry sir, but should I cancel the concert for tomorrow night?” he asked. “I would advise this sir, I need all my men to be out looking for Crichton or staying here to ambush him, I can’t have them spread out doing crowd control,” added Jud. Lu-Ras shook his head. “No, I need the revenue from this damn concert to make up for the lab, hopefully some street doc has come up with a new wonder drug worth investing in” replied Lu-Ras. “Sir, if we take down Crichton, you will have thirty million to play with, plus, who would frell with a man that took down the legend?”

“By ‘me’, you mean you, don’t you? You and your little warrior’s honor and pride and all that dren!”. Jud looked up at him “Remember, you work for me, and no one tells me what to do!” he howled. Jud didn’t flinch. “You think you’re so bad, you watch Hana, if Crichton comes looking, you should be able to handle it right?” he asked. Jud gave a nod, tapping his rifle.

The Red Badge tenement was dead quiet when Crichton entered the tenement. The men of Tarin had now gone, but the gang bangers were solemnly quiet. He walked over to the one-eyed man. “Hey Patch, what’s the problem?” he whispered. A single tear was rolling down his face. “Blo’s sister is dead, looks like Lu-Ras’s doing,” he said. “He asked to see you when you got back”. Crichton nodded, and entered the door that the Red Badge man pointed out.

A pale blonde woman lay on the bed in the abandoned room. Blo sat in a chair beside the body. He acknowledged Crichton. His heart sank; he hoped that this wasn’t a reprisal. Blo read his eyes and spoke. “This ain’t your fault man, I knew that Lu-Ras had Tamara for some time, but I didn’t dare move against him” he said. “She ran away from home and got captured by some of his goons,” he said. “She called me every chance she got, telling me how bad it was, but I still did nothing”. “I didn’t do dren, and now she’s dead!” he began to cry. “He raped and beat her to death sometime last night because she had a break down and wouldn’t perform”. “Some of his mercenaries threw her on the door step early this morning” the little man cried.

Crichton had been there himself, fuck, he never left it. Blo turned to him. “Have you ever had someone you loved murdered Crichton?” he asked between sobs. “The woman I loved was murdered not long ago, she died protecting me” said Crichton. “You know man, there is only one thing I can think of doing” said Crichton. Blo turned to him. “What’s that?” he asked. “Killing the fucker that did it to her” he said bluntly. Blo’s tears stopped flowing. “Your right, Lu-Ras has got to pay”.

The silence in the room was quite disconcerting. The fifty or so Red Badge gang bangers looked around at their neighbors nervously. It wasn’t quite the response Crichton and Lil’ Blo were looking for. The statement from Blo that left them stunned was this: “Crichton and I are going to take down that freller Lu-Ras, now, who’s’ coming with us?” It was understandable, they were nothing more than simple people, and they would not last long against the mercenaries of Jud. Finally, the big gang man that had helped beat up Crichton stood up to volunteer. He was followed by the cyclops. Crichton had been introduced to them as Mug and Rono respectively. They starred back at their friends, who seemed to be counting the titles on the ceiling or the floor. Blo’s jaw was slacked in amazement and anger. “This guy has been terrorizing us, poisoning our kids, stealing our women, and killing our parents and you don’t want to take him down?” he asked. He threw up his hands. “Fine, get the frell out!” he screamed. The supposed tough guys and gals quietly walked out of the room, leaving Crichton, Blo, and his two good buddies.

“Shit!” said Crichton simply. The others looked at him. “It means dren,” he added. They shook their heads. They stood quiet for a minute. “You got a plan?” asked Blo to Crichton. Crichton sighed. “Four is a good number, it will make sneaking in a lot easier,” he said. “If we stormed in guns blazing, lord knows what they will do to Hana”. Crichton had been thinking about this since escaping the Blue. “I’ve seen a bunch of flyers around for some concert at the Blue tomorrow night, maybe we can use that to our advantage” he said. “Hopefully their security will be distracted by the concert goers and psycho junkies that they won’t notice us shooting our way to the penthouse,” he added.

Blo and the others blinked. “Did you say shooting?” asked the big man. Crichton shrugged his shoulders. “You don’t expect them to let us walk strait up to Lu-Ras do ya?” he asked. “Anybody got a problem with that?” he added. They shook their heads. “We need some better weapons than these carbines, anyone know a good arms dealer?”

Lu-Ras stood with his eyes closed as the massive bass from the metal band below flew through the red light district. He moved slightly as the drums, then the guitar like renarda entered, then the screaming lyrics: “Pain…Hemorrhage”. He smiled as the raspy singer continued. The sound was even deafening twenty stories up. He looked at the three new girls that he had just bought. Three olive skinned triplets. They looked at him longingly. He turned to Jud and a tied up Hana. “Me and the ladies will be indisposed in my room for a while, make sure everything goes smoothly” he ordered. Jud grabbed Hana. “Great, my favorite band live, and I’m stuck babysitting your ass,” he said angrily.

He dragged her to a ladder leading up to the construction area above the penthouse. He opened the trap door and shoved her into the night air. He tied her to a support pillar. Then, he stepped over near the edge and had a perfect view of the stage directly below him.

Crichton and his posse could hear the heavy base as the crossed into the red light district. The three gangsters wore tan coats similar to Crichtons. Each was now armed with far better weapons that Crichton personally picked out for them. Crichton was cool and calm, dying didn’t really matter to him, but the big man Mug had puked twice on the way there. Rono shook all over. Crichton was never one prone to nerves, even before he got the death wish. Strangely, his rattlers were absent and hadn’t made an appearance in some time. He could tell Blo was nervous too. But, he was focused on his task; a picture of his sister was stuck in his pocket, reminding him why he was doing this. Crichton wanted to do this quickly, and quietly, he didn’t want this to turn into a Scarface type situation.

Lu-Ras was beyond happy when one of the slave girls handcuffed him to his large bed. All three crawled into bed with him, quickly shucking clothes. “Ladies, I’m all yours!” he said with a wide grin.

“How do you think Crichton is going to kill you?” asked Hana to Jud. He fought the urge hit her. Instead, he focused on the lyrics. He mouthed the words along with the band’s front man. During an instrumental section, he turned to her. “Its more of a question of how will I kill him” he said simply. “He’s going through a lot of trouble for the most kissable lips in the Uncharted Territories” he said, forcibly planting a kiss on her perfect lips. He blocked a kick directed at his genitals. “You’ll have to kill me before I’ll ever work for Lu-Ras again!” she yelled. Jud laughed a bit. “It will be a pleasure” he replied.

Soon, he would not need Lu-Ras. Once HIS men took down Crichton, and collected the money, he could tell the kingpin to go frell himself. Retire to a good life on a cool planet somewhere; maybe take a couple of Lu-Ras’ girls with him. He always liked Hana, he had never frelled her, a little to expensive for his taste. He would definitely put a blade in her delicate throat after she was no longer useful.

Just as Crichton and company paid the gate man and entered the huge crowd, the band on stage went into the final verse. “Could it have been something I said” sung the front man as glass from the sampler behind him shattered. The band was made up of eight men in desert camouflage uniforms with khaki vests. All wore some sort of leather mask except for the singers, whose faces were covered in black and white paint. One of the singers’ eyes starred through the paint into the crowd, and immediately, the band behind him busted out in an explosion of both bass and renarda riffs. The painted man lifted the microphone:
Haphazardly, Tumbling Hard
Fall Right Down,
Laugh Out Loud
All In The Scheme Of Things,
We're All Looking Up Growing Tall
(he was joined by the larger singer, a man with a completely white painted face and black circled eyes who sang in a gravely yell)
It's Like Pulling One Hair
You Are What You Are To Me
With Wet Fingers
In My Eyes You're A Star
Petroleum Jelly
You're Something I'll Never Be
And Watch The Rain Dance
You're Something, I'm Frightened Of
I've Got To Get Clean
The Rain Will Cleanse Me
And I've Got To Wash These Filthy Hands
Because It's All Just A Futile Plan
That'd Mean I'd Have To
Believe Again
It's Like A Career To Breathe

As the song continued, he and his new friends made their way for the door of the Blue Brothel. Crichton beat off several moshers as he led the way. Ahead, a pair of mercenaries guarded the open door. Crichton nodded to Blo, who reached into his duffle bag and threw a clump of Fuel canisters to the crowd near the door. The crowd of junkies in the back rushed the area. The door guards left their post, charging into the rioters. As they beat down the junkies, Crichton and they others snuck through the unattended door.

The closed door behind them failed to stop a note of the metal booming from outside. The basement strip club was filled to the brims with patrons and pimps. Double the amount of girls were working the stage as usual. The guards however, were cut to nearly one-third strength. Crichton reached for his weapons, but suddenly, a drunken man hurled himself on stage. All the guards in the room jumped on stage, and began beating the holy hell out of the man. Crichton motioned, and they made for the staircase in the back. They had made it up and out of sight before the guards could get their bearings back.

They crept quietly up the red-carpeted stairs. Crichton knew that it would be much easier to take the elevator, but he also knew that it would be monitored. The staircase still pounded with the same song that they entered to. They hallways at the top of every other set of stairs were empty, except for the occasional sounds of squeaking bed springs. Crichton spotted the window he had broken at the end of one of the halls. Crichton thought that they might get through this with minimal violence until they reached the tenth floor. As Crichton turned the corner, a mercenary was doing the same. They matched eyes. Crichton raised his pistols to the mercs’ chest. “Drop it!” he ordered. Crichton kicked the man in the gut and fired at the mercenary that was behind him. The black clothed mercenary fell with holes burning in his chest. The one directly in front of Crichton fell dead too, his back sparking from his comrade’s weapon.

Behind Crichton, the mobsters drew their weapons. Blo held a mercenary type carbine, Rono wielded a PeaceKeeper pulse rifle, and Mug pulled a big, multi-barreled weapon, the same type that D’argo obtained at the Shadow Depository. Immediately, the sounds of boots came down from the stairs above. Crichton and Blo fired, taking down the three soldiers of fortune in three careful blasts. Crichton half ran, half snuck up the star case. Mug took up the rear, scanning the stairs behind them with his massive weapon.

Crichton pointed one of his “babies” toward the hall and the other to the next ascending staircase. The hit squad kept on moving up the stairs. Crichton rounded the next bend and saw a merc pushing a button to activate his head set. A blast from Crichton stopped him short, the headset only captured his final moan. As Crichton pushed the button to deactivate the headset, and heard Jud’s voice: “How many times to I have to tell you, turn your frelling headset off when your getting oral!” he screamed.

“Crichton is here!” screamed a voice from above them. A blast and the mercenary was tumbling down the stairs. He saw that the merc’s headset was active. They heard a large commotion of boots coming from the floors above. Outside, the band was playing some ear shattering riffs and the growler of the singers was snarling at the top of his lungs. It was almost for sure that the mercenaries outside didn’t here the message, but every mercenary inside, including Jud heard it.

“Fortify at the eighteenth floor, keep them back, search teams recall to the Blue at once!” ordered Jud through his headset. He pulled his weapon from his back and checked the energy cell. He quickly moved from his position on the roof, leaving Hana tied up. Crichton had killed six Black Wing men effortlessly, but these were his handpicked mercenaries. Plus, he knew Crichton was no match for him.

The spiraling array of stairs ended at the eighteenth floor, where it opened to a large, open area that used to be a restaurant when the place was actually a hotel. As Crichton’s head cleared the top of the stairs, he was met with a wall of blue and red energy. Ten mercenaries were fortified in the restaurant, most using overturned tables. The energy weapons ripped into the banisters and the fancy carpet. Crichton quickly grabbed an industrial grade flash grenade from his combat vest and tossed it over his head. He and the others protected their eyes as the device exploded in midair and flooded the entire floor with light as bright as the sun. Using the short opportunity, Crichton and Blo rolled to the walls on the opposite sides of the entrance to the room. Crichton fired, striking the only mercenary who had not gone for cover. Rono and Mug stayed prone on the stairs, using them as a kind of foxhole.

The mercs almost instantly returned fire, striking the walls Crichton and Blo used for cover. Their quick firing weapons with nearly bottomless magazines kept Crichton and company pinned down. Crichton stuck his guns around the corner, exposing only his hands. He fired wildly, forcing the mercenaries to ease up on their firing. Blo copied Crichton, as did Rono and Mug. Mug’s big gun barked to life and smashed into an old buffet table, shattering it and sending two mercs running. Encouraged, Mug let more unaimed shots fly. Tables and walls splintered as the massive energy bolts flew. As the cover was destroyed, the fire from the mercs dramatically decreased, allowing Crichton and Blo to get some aimed shots in. Crichton cut down two more, and Blo took one down as well. Another mercenary laid on the ground, dying of shock and blood loss, his leg blown off by the big gun.

The hit squad continued their barrage of fire. Crichton motioned and laid down cover fire as Mug and Rono advanced. Rono fired some decent shots for a man with one eye. Mug fired a carefully aimed shot at a merc fortified behind the bar. The wooden cover, and the man behind it were obliterated. Crichton ran ahead, blazing away with both pistols. A large mercenary covered in piercings fell dead, a pulse blast to the chest. A pulse blast from Rono picked off a merc who was gaining a bead on Crichton. Crichton nodded in thanks and continued firing. Blo hit a poorly executed roll, blue blasts missing him by an inch. For once, being Lil’ Blo wasn’t half bad. A blast from his carbine fell one mercenary, and a blast from Rono fell the last.

They stood in the center of the demolished restaurant, studying the carnage. They all panted, and all but Crichton shivered. “Anybody hurt?” he asked. Just after he got the words out of his mouth, the big gun in Mug’s hand exploded. The big man fell, a bloody nub where his right hand used to be. Rono fell too, his legs filled with shrapnel. Crichton and Blo turned to see Jud wielding his large rifle from the staircase across the room. Jud fired, his massive green blast barley missed Blo’s head, impacting on the wall. The plaster instantly melted into molten goo. Crichton fired his pistols, trying to buy the wounded some time to get to cover. Jud expertly rolled out of the way, firing back. Crichton hit a baseball slide, barley avoiding being gooified. Crichton surprised the mercenary commander, and squeezed off a round from each gun. Jud dodged one, but the other smashed into the gun. Jud turned the weapon on Crichton and pulled the trigger. Crichton winched as the gun malfunctioned. It almost gave a telephone error kind of beep. Jud tossed the damaged weapon aside and sprinted up the stairs towards the penthouse. Crichton turned to Blo. “Take care of them first, I’m going after Hana,” he said.

Crichton scanned the nineteenth story with both guns and move on up to the penthouse. He kicked open the double doors, weapons ready. The room was empty, except for the crowd below. Crichton heard a bed squeaking in a room down the hall, the moaning of a woman could also be heard. Below, the sample machine of the band below began to play an almost wind chime like sound in a steady pattern. The heavy bass and renarda riffs quickly kicked in, almost simultaneously with the growling scream of the second singer:

Locked Away In A Cage
My Rage Has Got The Best Of Me
Time Finds A Way Each Day
Of Leaving Less Of Me Behind
I Find This Fight Must Be Won
Inside The Mind
So Uptight And Confined
Often Blinded By The Light
(The singer joined him)
Taking It's Toll
On My System
Like Some Played Out Existence
Time Ticks Away
These Last Few Moments
Is There Anything
We've Left Unsaid?
I'm On A Quest
For Atonement
I've Got To Find Piece Of Mind
And A Place To Rest
Biding My Time
Until I'm Strong Enough
To Fight Back

Hana’s voice called over the music: “John help!” Crichton heard the voice coming from above the penthouse. He spied the trap door and rushed to it. He knew it was probably a trap, but he had little choice. He peaked through the trap door, lifting it with his pistol. He could only see her bare legs. He holstered the other and pushed up. He hopped up and joined her. As he walked to her she screamed “Behind you!”

Crichton wheeled around and aimed his drawn pistol on Jud. However, before he could pull the trigger, a throwing knife sliced into his bicep. He unwillingly dropped his pistol as he slid to the ground. He drew his other pistol and attempted to fire, but Jud easily kicked the weapon from his grasp. Crichton quickly rolled as another throwing knife barley missed his throat. Jud’s entire vest was covered in the knives. Crichton was still stuck on the ground, the knife wedged in his bicep. He leg tripped Jud, as he struggled to his feet. The martial arts master, however, easily jumped to his feet. Jud smashed Crichton with a jumping roundhouse, sending him staggering. “Oh hell, karate man!” said Crichton in his head. Though Crichton could have been considered a skilled street fighter thanks to Aeryn’s training, he was reduced to one functional arm. Jud smashed him in the face with his elbows. Crichton grabbed Jud by the ponytail with his left hand and drove his knee into his gut, trying to get the merc off him. Jud simply punched Crichton in the wounded arm, sending waves of pain through out his body. Crichton smashed back into a pile of various bits and pieces of construction materials. Another technical kick to the head and Crichton was spun around. The laughing Jud stood behind him, readying another knife. Crichton kicked backed, striking Jud in the knee. As he buckled, Crichton scooped up a piece of metal panel and turned around, cracking Jud square on top of the head. Before he had a chance to recover, Crichton decked him again. The strong metal slammed off Jud’s head, opening a deep gash. Crichton then came underneath his chin, slamming Jud to his back.

Crichton raised the plate over his head, ready to strike again. Before he could, Jud rolled to a crouching position. As Crichton swung, Jud leaped from the ground and hit the metal with a spinning wheel kick (come on, he is fightin' RVD for God’s sake!) slamming the metal back into Crichton’s face. Crichton collapsed to the ground, utterly beaten. The dazed Crichton could only look up as Jud pulled a pair of knives from his vest. The painted singer sang down below:

Condemned Man
Condemned
Convicted Man
Convicted
Could Not Save My Life
Cutting Strand By Strand

Jud smiled: “That’s what you are Crichton, a condemned man, but don’t worry I’ll take your life a little bit faster than one strand at a time”. He pulled the knives back, ready to throw. Unfortunately for him, he had ignored Hana, who was tied up behind him. He was reminded of this fact when her foot cracked him square in the genitals. Crichton saw his opportunity. Seizing the knife from his own arm, Crichton forced the small dagger into the powerful leg on Jud. Jud screamed as the knife cut into his thigh. Crichton grabbed Jud by his ponytail and his hip. He ran, shoving the mercenary along. Crichton locked his legs, and using Jud’s own momentum, tossed the merc over the side of the building. Crichton and Hana watched as Jud fell end over end toward the stage. The painted singer was finishing the song with one final chorus:

Condemned Man
Condemned
Convicted Man
Convicted

He was interrupted when Jud smashed strait into the drum set.

Crichton untied Hana, who instantly hugged him. He put his uninjured arm around her. He looked at her hazel eyes “Damn she’s beautiful!” he said in his head. He thought for a second, then said: “Excuse me one microt, I’ve always wanted to say this’ he said, holding her hand. He looked over the wall at the stage. The two singers were inspecting their drummer who was lucky enough to have been missed. Crichton smiled. “Yippee Kaiyay Motherfucker” he said simply.

Lu-Ras was on the verge when the door to his sound proof room was kicked in. The woman riding him turned to the intruder. Lil’ Blo staggered in, and ordered the triplets out. “What the frell?” screamed Lu-Ras. The photo of Blo’s sister was on the end of the carbine. He leveled it at the kingpin’s head. “Payback’s a bitch,” he said simply as he pulled the trigger.

Crichton scanned the penthouse with his left arm and pistol. His bleeding right arm dangled next to his holstered pistol, some of the red stuff trickling down his long sleeve. He followed the three screaming girls with his gun as they rushed out of the padded door. He motioned for Hana to stay behind, and he skulked up to the door. He strafed inside, ready to fire.

He saw Blo in his sights, and found himself in the gangbanger’s sights as well. They both lowered their weapons “Get her?” asked Blo. Crichton nodded “And Jud?” “Let’s just say, they are going to need a spatula and a vacuum cleaner to get him off the stage” replied Crichton. “See Mr. Lu-Ras got what was coming to him” he pointed to the lifeless body, enveloped in sheets that were quickly soaking with a small lake of blood. Crichton tried not to look at the brainpan shot, which was still smoking. The muscular body had been shot repeatedly. “It was too damn quick!” said Blo very coldly. He turned back to the body, his gun shaking. “I should have made him suffer for all he did to Tamara, and I know you wanted a piece of him for what he did to Hana, and the rest of these girls”.

Crichton saw he was getting close to collapsing, and he put his good arm around him. “Its alright man, the bastard is beginning his permanent stay in hell, and you took this entire city away from him” trying to be some comfort. The hard man was starting to breakdown “Why didn’t I do this sooner, just a couple of frelling days sooner!” Blo howled, firing into the body again. Crichton let the man collapse into him. They both had their bravado and machismo, but there sure was no shame in this showing of brotherhood. “She never hurt a frelling soul in her life!”. Crichton let him emote. He heard Hana coming in to check on the shot “John?” came her voice. “Give me a second buddy” said Crichton, rushing to beat her to the door.

He stopped her just as she entered “No Hana, don’t look” he said, covering her eyes. He pushed her out of the room “You don’t need to see that” he added. She struggled against him “Is Lu-Ras?” she asked. He nodded “Blo killed him, a couple of times over”. She shook all over. She almost fainted, and he guided her to the floor. “Lu-Ras is dead?”. He smiled, getting to her face level “Yeah, dead as a doornail”. She smiled “Then I’m free”. He didn’t know if this was a statement or a question “Yeah darlin’, you’re as free as a bird”. She latched onto him. “Thank you” she meeked out. “I’ve got some business with Blo, then I’ll be right back” he told her.

“Blo… Blo!” said the Human. Blo broke from his trance. “Yeah?”. “What about Mug and Rono?”. Blo thought for a second “Mug is in bad shape, he needs a doctor right away” reported the gang leader. Crichton nodded “What about all the mercenaries still out there, most don’t know Lu-Ras is dead”. Blo looked at a camera sitting on the nightstand. “I’ve got an idea”.

The stout, grey-haired mercenary officer got his men together. It had taken some work, buthe was able to ID his captain from his throwing knives. He looked at the dozen or so heavily armed soldiers of fortune. “All right, someone took out Jud, break into squads, and take out anyone you don’t frelling recognize!” he ordered.

The huge flat screen TVs used to broadcast the girls in the bath tubs came on. Except instead of naked beauties, it showed Blo, standing next to the mangled body of Lu-Ras. “This is to all of Lu-Ras’ men, I’m Blo, leader of the Red Badges” he pointed to the body “As you can see, your boss is no longer calling the shots”.

Several of the mercs struggled to get a good view. The tattoos on his hands were the only signs of identification “This is my operation now!”. The troopers looked at each other. “You can try and take me down, but know this; you will be fighting for free, and if you want to risk your lives for nothing, then I applaud your loyalty, not matter how misplaced it is. Now, if you want to fight the man who did Jud (he pointed at the camera), then by all means come up here”. The mercenaries looked at their boss. “But remember, when you frell with Blo, you frell with the best!” the TV cut off.

The officer looked at his men. “Lu-Ras was a dick” he said simply. The others agreed. “Let’s roll” he ordered. The mercenaries turned around, and walked out the door, leaving the Blue to its new owner.

Hana stood behind Crichton and Blo, as the series of boots came up the stairs. They readied their weapons, ready to take down whoever decided to avenge the pimp/drug lord. They lowered their weapons as a small group of red clad police entered the penthouse. Crichton instantly turned his back to them, to keep his face from them.

“What the frell happened here?” asked the lead officer. Blo smiled “There has been a change in management, this is a Red Badge establishment now”. He looked at the police. “Do you guys have a problem with that?” he added. They looked at each other “Have the money for your… business license at the station by midday tomorrow” said the lead officer. “How much did Lu-Ras pay?” asked Blo. The police talked it over. “Fifty thousand” they agreed.

Blo tossed two huge stacks of bills at them. He had found them sitting on the damn dresser. “That’s eighty, I’m a lot better tenant than Lu-Ras” said Blo. The old man laughed “And get some medics up here for my men down on the next level, I expect them to get the best care in the city”. The officer nodded, and called it in on his radio. He looked up at Crichton “Who’s the merc?”

Crichton thought for a second. “Scarface, Kane?”… naw. “They call me Top Dollar” said Crichton, in his best Eastwood voice, not turning towards them. “You responsible for this mess?” asked the cop. Crichton nodded “Much of it yes”. “Well Top, I hope to never meet you again!” he joked “Likewise” replied the criminal, again channeling Eastwood from Unforgiven.

As the police filtered out, Crichton coughed something fierce from his quick impression. His friends laughed a bit “Top Dollar huh?” asked Blo. Crichton nodded “Not bad, not bad”. Crichton looked at Hana. “Want to get out of here?” he asked. She nodded. “Okay, we’ll go back to Red Badge HQ and inform the crew what went down”. He motioned for Blo to follow him.

They looked over the “Dark City” from the window. Flames flew from far off industrial plants as they purged their gases. The high-class area glowed like a neon sign. Crichton felt like going into even more gangster pop culture. “Blo, the world is yours” he said simply, turning to Hana. Blo smiled for the first time in a while. What Crichton said was true, he now owned this city.

Crichton stopped Hana from going down the stairs. “You don’t want to go that way” he said. He guided her by the small of the back to the private elevator.

It was around 3AM, and the party had just gotten started in the Red Badge tenement. There was a lot of alcohol being drunk, and even a few slurred songs being sung. As the horrible electronic music pounded through the crumbling walls, Crichton and Hana sat next to Blo, and a large table, surrounded by gangbangers. Crichton and Hana tried to talk quietly with each other, but he was constantly being patted on the back “Sup Top, or you’re a bad bitch Top” were very common things said to him. He was glad he chose Top Dollar for his new name, and not Shoelace or Spanky. Blo had really picked up on the name. He had been officially christened with a toast to the man of the arn “Top Dollar”.

“Just got off the phone with the hospital, Mug is going to pull through, and Rono is already bitching about food” reported Blo. Crichton liked the news. He had really grown to like these guys. It turned out; Blo was much more of a night watchman than a gang leader. They ran gambling, and a few bars, and a small time protection racket that actually protected people. “You got any toasts Top?” he asked. “Yeah, I got some” he said. The new kingpin made sure the room was quiet.

He looked to his right “First, a toast to Hana Tuvari, the sole reason I decided to help you sorry bastards take down Lu-Ras” he said in a very joking manner. The glasses and bottles clanked together. She smiled at him, as their shot glasses tapped each other.
“Second, I would like to thank the Koorong Metropolitan Police for being the most corrupt police force in the known universe!” again, a good cheap pop. He looked down “And to be serious for a moment, a toast to all those who can’t be here with us now” he said. The room calmed down, and the glasses solemnly clanked. The room simultaneously downed their shots with him.

As the party continued, Crichton noticed Hana looking around the room a lot, her eyes darting ever two seconds. He noticed that the drunken, mostly male crowd had gotten a bit rowdy, and she was getting a lot of looks from the inebriated gentleman. None dared to approach her because she was “with” Top Dollar. But, he could tell she was still uncomfortable. “You okay?” he asked, putting his bad arm around her, very gently and slowly, in a platonic way. “Yeah, I’m okay” she said.

He could feel her shaking “No, you’re trembling, I think that translates into ‘not okay’” he said. She looked into his eyes with her doe like one’s. He had nearly forgotten her history. She had been nothing more than a plaything to Lu-Ras, and his scum of the earth clientele. She had spent half her life being exploited simply for being beautiful. “You want to take a walk?” he asked. She nodded, a tear in her eye. She wiped it from her cheek. “I don’t want to ruin this for you” she said. He shook his head “Your more important to me than this stupid ass party” he said. He had only had a few shots of the Rano 50, Jack Daniels’ pissed off alien cousin, but he felt the urge to kiss her. If he had heard Jud, he would have agreed on the “most kissable lips in the Uncharted Territories”, but he knew he could not. For one, it would scare her off, and second, he thought about Aeryn far too much. It hadn’t even been a month, and he was already attracted to another woman. What kind of person was he becoming? He chalked it up to alcohol, and stress, and finding that no cure could bring Aeryn back.

“Hey Blo, me and Hana are going to cut out of here, we’ll be back tomorrow, there is still the little matter of my payment” he stated. Blo nodded “Night you two” he said, giving him a crooked smile. He shook a few hands as they went to the door. They exited into the quiet hallway.

“I’m sorry John, it was just…” he cut her off “I know” he said. “How about we catch a train uptown to that all night diner, get you some of those breakfast things” he said. She smiled “I’m sure they will love us there, I haven’t bathed in two days” she said. She was still clad in the black dress from their date. “Your fine darlin’, I smell like crap” he said. He opened the door, and was greeted by lighting and pouring rain.

“Just our luck” he said. He took off his jacket, and held it over her head “What are you doing?” she asked. He looked at her “Being a southern gentleman” he said “Keep your dress and hair from getting ruined” he added. She hadn’t looked in the mirror, put her hair was a tangled mess, and the dress was torn. “Thanks” she replied as they stepped into the rain.

She looked over at him, as his black T-shirt and hair quickly saturated. An instant bleeding stopping bandage was on his arm. He would have to get a regenerator strip put on it tomorrow. “You look cold” she said, playfully. He shook it off, and kept on walking her. Besides the rescue, this was the most thoughtful thing a man had ever done for her. She leaned in a little closer to him as they walked.

Hana held Crichton’s hand as he walked through the Red Badge tenement. She was in a short, white dress, holding his black coat. His arm had a golden regenerator on it. Crichton walked into the room occupied by Rono and Mug. Their eyes lit up when they saw them enter. “Waz up my Dawgs” said Crichton in his worst rapper impersonation. Mug shook his head. “Looks like I’ll have to get a prosthetic hand thanks to that bastard Jud” said Mug. Crichton tried to put a positive spin on it. “He may have got your arm, but now he can fit in a shoe box” he said. Mug laughed. Crichton reached into his ammo pouch. “Here, got this for you, its one of the bastard’s throwing knives” he said, handing the tiny weapon to Mug. “One of his former men said that it was some kind of family tradition”.

He then focused on Rono. “Everything intact down there?” he asked. Rono nodded. “I lost one eye, I ain’t losing one of my little buddies” he replied. Crichton smiled. “How’s the arm?” he asked. “Oh, I won’t be doing any Big Poppa Pump impersonations for a while, but its good otherwise”.

The pair found Blo in his room, counting a large stack of money. “Can you believe how much loot Lu-Ras had, were still trying to find it!” he said. “Congratulations Blo, the world is yours” Crichton said with a smile at his little pop culture reference. Hana looked at him. “You’re the new Kingpin, you closing down the Blue?” she asked. He sighed. “No, but hear me out” he said. “All slaves like yourself are of course free, but any of the ladies that were willing participants can still be employed” he added. “Sorry, but most of them support their families by doing it, I’m a criminal, not an economist” he added. “But John boy, there is more than enough here to buy you a ticket to anywhere you want to go” he said. “You mean two tickets” interjected Hana. Crichton looked over at her shocked. “What did you say?” he asked. Her smiled faded a bit. “I figured that…” Crichton put a finger on her full lips. “Listen” he said. Engines roared overhead. “I’ve lived near a spaceport all my life, and I have never heard engines like that,” said Blo. Crichton shook his head. “Those are Marauder engines”.

……………………………………………………………………………………….
Lu-Ras’s band:
Mushroomhead
Featured Songs from their album XX:
“Epiphany” or “43”
“These Filthy Hands”
“Solitaire/Unraveling”

DVD Extras:
Check out Mushroomhead music at:
http://www.mushroomhead-music.com/

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:25 PM

Season of Death DVD part 7

(Yeah this is the worst episode of the series, and pretty much no DVD version can save it).

The very common sound of Chiana, D’argo, and Jothee arguing filled the halls of Moya. The constant fighting had begun shortly after the crew had escaped the clutches of the Enclave and the bounty hunters. D’argo had used every word for a promiscuous woman that he knew to refer to Chiana. She of course took great offense to this and thus did Jothee. D’argo then struck back that he had no son. Chiana then stuck up for Jothee, thus starting the cycle all over again. Stark, Zhaan, Pilot, and the new comer Maliena all felt to wrath of one of the fighting parties. Solutions ran anywhere from druggings to violence, but nothing concrete. The latest explosion had been going on for two arns now.

Chiana looked up at D’argo’s eyes. “We’re leaving, that’s final!” she screamed, rushing from the center chamber. Jothee followed her closely. D’argo turned his frustration to the various inanimate objects of the dinning room.

The two women watched the argument from the safety of a monitor, while Stark was turned to a view screen broadcasting an advertisement. Stark had bought the device from the planet they now orbited, called Rebmemer. The device allowed access to the planet’s many news and entertainment programs. He was currently enamored with the professional wrestling like (but for real) Extreme Combat Alliance. The show was hosted by a seemingly insane ex-prizefighter called The Duke and a large announcer. They had just watched the team of Darius and Mong defend their tag team titles in their specialty match, the table match. The main event was up next, challenger Pahn Javio versus the brutal and cocky champion Myren Jermico, who had apparently inflicted a career threatening injury to the challenger last season. The commercial break was unusually long, but Stark had never seen commercial television before and was amazed by the advertisements.

Zhaan came up from behind him. “Stark, quit watching the idiot box, and help us come up with a solution to this problem” she interjected. His eye never left the screen. Before he could speak, the screen went to a sea of white, and a Sebascean man walked onto the screen. He was dressed in an expensive black suit, had long brown hair in almost dreadlocks, a scraggily beard, and a pair of rings going through his chin. He had a large, bright, white smile. He began speaking in a soft tone: “Hello, I am Dosem, host of Coming Over”. “I am a motivational speaker, and a friend”. “I was the moral adviser to the King of Dracon for several cycles, but now, anyone of you can have the same advice and caring for free”. “Tune in every work day at four or every rest day at seven, or if you have a problem you would like to share on live broadcast, reach my secretary at frequency 192873.09”. “Come on and unleash your feelings, but that isn’t a bad thing… it’s a good thing!”. “Our shows will focus this week on dysfunctional relationships” he added. “I have quite a track record when it comes to this”. A video rolled behind him. “I can make a family go from this:”. The video showed a pierced girl with dreadlocks smacking her mother with a chair. “To this:”. The video showed the girl with the pierchings removed and the dreadlocks undone. She was hugging her mother. It went back to Dosem himself. “Watching my show or better yet coming on it is guaranteed to save your family!” he said with a broad smile. “But hey, I’m not telling you anything that you don’t already know”. The screen cut back to Extreme Combat Alliance.

Stark and Zhaan looked at each other. “What was that frequency?” asked Zhaan.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life

Season of Death Part 7:
Byte This
Guest Starring:
Bruce Campbell

D’argo paced almost uncontrollably in the backstage area. He was barley short of hyper-rage. He and the other’s had been tricked into coming here by Zhaan. D’argo didn’t feel like talking about this in private, let alone on broadcast television. Outside, the audience murmured as Dosem asked a hard-hitting question to the family on stage. The entire crew was backstage. The “family” of Chiana, D’argo, and Jothee was required but the rest of the crew had come for support. Well, except for Rygel who was attacking the snack trays without mercy. Maliena did not know any of them; she suggested that she would take the tour with Rygel while the crew was on stage. The crowd outside began clapping as Dosem had once again solved the problems of a poor, unfortunate family. As the family walked off stage, the production assistant motioned to them. “Alright, the fighting parties will be in the center chairs” she said. D’argo shook his head. “I’m not going out there!” he said at the last moment. Chiana smiled. “Fine, stay back here so you can’t defend yourself” she said. D’argo shook his head and prepared to follow them out. Dosem began to introduce them. Zhaan and Stark stood back, deciding to leave this to the expert.

“Our next guests suffer from the age old problem of adultery, but this has a special, sick twist” said the speaker. The production assistant motioned for them and they walked on stage. A mix of boos and cheers met them. The tall man motioned for them to sit. When everyone got settled, Dosem made his introduction. “This is Chiana, she cheated on her boyfriend D’argo with Jothee”. The crowd began to boo and hiss loudly. Various slurs came from the audience. Dosem motioned for them to stop. “To make matter’s worse, Jothee is D’argo’s son!”. The crowd went insane. D’argo knew this was a mistake. The host again motioned. “And this was right after D’argo lost his best friend to violence” he added. The crowd now flew off the proverbial handle. A couple of bodyguards came out to protect the host. Dosem laughed and stopped the crowd. “Let’s not judge until we know the truth” he said. He turned to Chiana. “The burning question is my dear, why did you cheat on your boyfriend, with his son no less?”. Chiana looked at the crowd with great nervousness. “I was afraid of commitment” she meeked out.

The crowd tore into her. “Tralk! Tralk!” they chanted. Dosem waved the people to quiet themselves “Now, let’s not label this young lady, everyone makes mistakes” he said. Chiana nodded with thanks to the host. “If you were afraid of commitment, then why didn’t you just tell him that you needed some space?” he asked. “He’s not the kind of guy that you just tell off” she said. Dosem looked into her eyes. “Is he a violent man Chiana?” he asked. She didn’t hesitate. “Of course he is…” she was drowned out by the boos of the crowd. D’argo snapped in. “Why am I the one on trial here?” he screamed. Dosem turned to him. “Sir, please wait your turn”, he requested. “Did he ever hurt you?” he asked. Chiana shook her head. “If you had let me finish, all Luxans are violent, but not to their friends” she said. Dosem agreed. “And you thought that cheating on him with his son would make him less angry?” he asked sarcastically. She shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking, that’s obvious, I was just looking for an escape, two of my good friends had just been killed” she said. “And D’argo wanted a different life than I didn’t” she added. She smiled. “Wow, talking about things really puts them in perspective”. Dosem took her hand. “That’s what I’m here for” he said. He turned to the camera. “It takes two to cheat, so when we get back, we will talk with Jothee” he said with a huge smile.

Maliena and Rygel followed the twenty-person tour group through the massive facility that belonged to Ly-Sy Productions. The perky tour guide wore a T-Shirt with the title “Quakes” written in Sebascean. Apparently it was a new fictional program that was soon to come out. The tour guide turned to the group. “Your very fortunate, because today, you have been selected to view our new line up, the first time anyone outside of the studio has seen it” she said. The entire group of locals cheered. Maliena and Rygel looked at each other. “This includes the premier of Quakes, as well as the new season premier of Kill Switch!” she added. The two foreigners sighed, and begrudgingly followed them.

Dosem shook his head as Jothee finished his story. “Your father spent the past two cycles looking for you, and when you are finally reunited, you repay him by sleeping with his girlfriend?” he asked. Jothee held his head in shame. Dosem shook his head and turned to D’argo. “Do you regret finding him?” asked the host. D’argo seemed to think for a moment. “No I don’t” he said simply. The crowd gave an emotional “Aw!”. Dosem smiled. “No regrets?” he asked. D’argo came back; “I paid a high price for him, and now, I don’t think he was worth it to be honest” he said. Jothee began to fume. “So are you saying that if you could, you would trade Jothee for what you lost?” asked Dosem. D’argo looked at Jothee. “In a microt” he replied simply. The crowd burst in cheers. Jothee jumped from his chair, tackling D’argo. He threw a few very ineffective punches. D’argo tossed the boy off of him, sending him into Chiana. She stood up from his demolished chair and grabbed one of the legs. She charged D’argo and swung. The Luxan easily grabbed the leg from her. Before he could retaliate in anger, the massive guards tackled the lot of them, forcing them to the ground. The trio of fugitives struggled against the weight of the protectors, trying to get at each other. Zhaan and Stark watched from backstage. Maybe it was good that they came on the show, on Moya they would have had deadly weapons and no guards to restrain them.

Dosem smiled and turned to the camera. “While you watch these messages, we will get these fine folks so therapy chairs, but that’s not a bad thing, that’s a… (The crowd joined in) good thing!”.

Five strait commercials and three previews later, they had still not seen the main attraction. Rygel was about to sneak out when the next preview started:

A deep voice began: “A people under the power of a great evil”. The movie showed the capital city of the Hynerian Empire. It then showed police droids flying through the air firing pulse blasts as running women, children, and old people. “With no hope in sight”. The screen then showed houses burning and people dying. The scene then shifted to the Royal Chamber. It was decorated with the symbols of Rygel’s regime. It showed a twisted looking Hynerian viewing the carnage on a view screen. A voice off camera chimed in: “Rygel the Sixteenth is the most brutal tyrant that we have ever known, no one can stop him”. Rygel screamed and was shushed by the crowd. The narrator again began: “Until a hero came along, to free them”. The camera zoomed in on a handsome Hynerian. “I will” said the Hynerian simply. Several action scenes played by quickly, with fast, dramatic music in the background. The screen flipped through the cast, with the last character staying the longest. “With Krenar as ‘Rygel the Sixteenth’”. The fake Rygel spoke. “I want them all dead, man, woman, and child!”. The screen faded to a symbol that Rygel knew all to well. The narrator chimed in. “Bishan” he said simply as the trailer faded out. Rygel passed out.

Jothee, D’argo, and Chiana were all strapped into their chairs when the show returned from commercial break. The motivational speaker began his spiel. “Welcome back to Coming Over”. “When we last left, D’argo stated that his son wasn’t worth the price that he paid, now D’argo, can you clarify as to what this “price” was?” he asked. D’argo looked strait ahead. “By best friend and the woman he loved gave their lives so that Jothee could live” he said simply. Jothee broke in: “That’s not true, Crichton went nuts and killed her, it wasn’t my fault!” Dosem stopped him. “We don’t call people crazy around here son” he said. “They are the ‘sanity challenged,’” he corrected. Jothee looked puzzled. “Tell me about this Crichton” he added. “Crichton was this suicidal, gun toting, spree-killing… sanity challenged guy” replied Jothee. “He killed his girlfriend, and then was killed by the PeaceKeepers” he added. The crowd was shocked.

“In his defense, Crichton was driven insane by a neural chip implanted in his brain, it took over his mind” said D’argo. Dosem shook his head. “You call yourself a friend, why wasn’t this man institutionalized?”. D’argo screamed: “If I were out right now, I would kill you for that!”. Dosem pointed his finger at D’argo. “Mr. D’argo, I was on your side till that remark, now I see what Chiana was saying” he added. “You must learn to suppress your anger sir!”. D’argo began to swear in Luxan. Before he could get to far into his tirade, some tape was quickly slapped over his mouth. The tape had the insignia of Ly-Sy displayed on it. “You will stay that way until you can control yourself” said Dosem.. The show’s theme played. “When we comeback, I will open up the floor to some questions from the audience”.

Quakes was possibly the worst thing Maliena had ever seen. The plot revolved around a remote outpost that was being constantly harassed by giant moles called Hephants. The only thing poorer than the plot line was the acting. The person in charge of programming, Melinda Bonnemer passed out electronic pads for them to give their comments on. The comments were already chosen for them, and were displayed in a multiple choice fashion.

Did you find this story:
a. A dramatic masterpiece
b. A delightful romp
c. Sexy and intelligent
d. Award Worthy

Maliena looked at the pad and raised her hand. “There seems to be a problem, choice E should be mind numbing piece of Cave Yak dren”.

Dosem, standing in the audience pointed the microphone at a woman almost as wide as she was tall. “I’ve got a question for the slut!” she said. “You mean Chiana?” he corrected. “Yeah, whatever, my question is why did you cheat on a grown man with his own little boy?”” she almost screamed. Her equally large friend butted in. “I bet Daddy was lacking a little something in the bedroom” she said. Chiana looked at the restrained D’argo and then at the audience. She held up her hand and held her thumb and index finger about an inch apart. The crowd cheered. D’argo began to change to a deep purple color. A man behind the two behemoths spoke into the camera. “It’s easy to attack a silenced man, so I’ll stick up for him, maybe the man’s game isn’t too small, maybe the field is too damn big!” he said. The men began cheering in the audience. D’argo signaled Dosem, who removed his tape. “Even a ship looks small when it’s flying through a canyon” shot back D’argo. The crowd began to chant his name. D’argo felt really liberated. He turned to Jothee. “You know, first I thought it was stupid to do this, but now I think its good that you, me, and the great wide open here get to talk” he said with confidence. Chiana now screamed.

Backstage, Zhaan and Stark looked at each other. “This was a mistake, he’s not helping them, he’s only making thing’s worse!” said Zhaan. They moved to go on stage, but the guards blocked their path. “Sorry, you can’t go on there while we’re filming” said one of them.

Dosem again turned to the crowd. “When we return, we will have my final words to this troubled group”.

Maliena and Rygel staggered out of the preview theater with giant frowns. “That was the worst thing ever, I would rather be ditching the Enclave than be stuck in there again” she said. Rygel shook his head. “How can they make a movie about me so untrue, those words were taken out of context!” he shouted. Maliena looked at him. “How can ‘I want them all dead, man, woman, and child’ be taken out of context?” she asked, going into a deep voice on the quote. Rygel quickly looked around the room. “Maybe I never said those words”. She decided that teasing the little man could wait. “And that Kill Switch show was awful, who cares about some bald, corrupt PeaceKeeper” she chimed in. Melinda Bonnemer was walking down the hall and Rygel cut her off. “You’ll burn in hell you lying bitch!” he screamed. She seemed unfazed. “If I had a credit every time I heard that” she said walking away laughing.

After almost ten minutes of psychobabble, Dosem turned to Jothee and Chiana. “Now I need to know the truth, will you ever sleep together again?” he asked. Jothee looked at his father with a twisted smile. Before he could answer, Chiana did. “No, we won’t” she said simply. His smile melted into a frown as the crowd cheered. “What?” he asked. Dosem flashed another brilliant smile. “Good, now just as important, D’argo, can you forgive them?” he asked. D’argo did not hesitate and answered. “No!” he said in his deep, gruff voice. They pair of offenders hung their heads. Dosem released them from their restraints. He kept D’argo as the crowd cheered. “D’argo, I need to talk with you” they sat down.

“Why can’t you forgive them?” he asked. D’argo looked at him puzzled. “My girlfriend cheated with my own son, why should I forgive them?” he asked. Dosem lost his smile. “He is your family, all that you have left from your dead wife, do you really want to lose him?” asked the “wise” one. D’argo looked down. “I might be able to forgive him someday, but not now” he replied. Dosem nodded. “Then, you need to put some distance between him and you, at least for the time being” replied Dosem. D’argo smiled. “That was actually some damn good advice” said D’argo. Dosem looked him in the eye. “Hey, I’m not telling you anything that you didn’t already know” he shook D’argo’s hand. “Thanks for coming over” he added. D’argo walked out to a vast number of cheers.

He joined the feuding Chiana and Jothee backstage. “What do you mean that you’re not coming with me!” Jothee screamed. “I gotta stay on Moya” she replied. D’argo couldn’t help but smile.

The camera zoomed in as Dosem made his “Final Thoughts”. “I think what we learned today was that healing takes time”. “D’argo and Jothee might have a deep rift now, but given some time, all these wounds will be healed”. “We also learned how badly cheating can hurt a family”. “Please, if your committed to someone, stay true, or tell them out right that you don’t want to be with them”. “Remember, a harsh truth is better than a sweet lie” he said. “Have a nice day” he said, waiving to the audience.

D’argo stood in the pouring rain with Jothee and Maliena. They were standing on the spaceport tarmac right outside their Transport Pod. “You sure about this?” asked Maliena to Jothee. He nodded. “Dosem was right, I need to get away from Chi and my dad” he replied. D’argo was emotionless. Jothee looked at him. “I’ll be on Pathon, Iri City with Maliena and her uncle’s family, when you think your ready, stop by” he said. He shook his father’s hand. “See you later son” he said simply, turning his back to him, boarding the transport pod.

The usual Farscape credits are changed to that of Coming Over:

Dosem appeared in his empty white field again. “Next week, my friend Lana and I will interpret the dreams of people from our own audience”. “So tune in or drop by, because knowing your unconscious isn’t a bad thing, it’s a good thing!”

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:26 PM

Season of Death DVD part 8

Soundtrack: “The Blessed Hellride” by Zakk Wylde’s Black Label Society

Crichton didn’t like the small fleet of Marauders heading to the Southside of Koorong. He counted five in all moving against the hazy grey sky. That meant five units of PeaceKeeper Marines out for his blood. Too much for him to handle by himself, and probably with gangland assistance, he would still go down in flames. And if they weren’t enough, the carrier above carried a thousand more, and Braca, Scorpy, or whoever, wouldn’t hesitate to send every single one. Fighting sure as hell wasn’t an option, but soon, he felt that running wouldn’t be in the playbook either.

“What’s a Marauder?” Hana asked. Crichton shook his head. “PeaceKeeper light transport, that’s not a good thing” replied Crichton. “PeaceKeepers, what do they want?” asked Blo, looking around uncomfortably. Crichton’s facial expression didn’t change. “In a nutshell… to kill me,” he said simply. Others were probably on the way. “How did they find you?” asked Hana. “A bunch of people have seen my face, maybe one of Lu-Ras’s men, maybe a cop, I don’t know, but I highly doubt that I can get out through the spaceport anymore” he replied. Crichton turned to Blo. “If you could send a few of your boys over to the spaceport to see if it’s under surveillance, it would be greatly appreciated,” said Crichton. Blo nodded and left the room.

Crichton carefully gazed out the window. “Christ, I didn’t think they would ever find me here” he said. The thought of jumping them and using them to find Scorpius was extremely tempting, but he had no idea of their numbers or locations. Plus, he had the lovely woman in white to his left that he had to worry about. Since he could do nothing but wait, he turned to her to clarify some things. “Just now, you said that you wanted to come with me” he said. Her eyes, or in his case, jade weapons of mass destruction, locked on his. “I just thought that you would want me to come with you, you’re all I’ve got left,” she said. Crichton shook his head. “I would love to take you with me, but you have to understand, my quest will more than likely end in my death” he said simply. She almost teared. “Is that what you want, to die?” she asked. “I don’t know, all I do know is that I must make the man that killed Aeryn pay, he can’t be allowed to go unpunished,” he said with slight anger, not at her but at himself. “Not to mention that he has something of mine that is extremely important,” he added.

“And you don’t want me slowing you down” she said. He looked at her. “Hana, look I care about you, I think the bodies they are hauling out of the Blue are evidence of that”. “But because I care about you so much I want you to stay here, I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said. “Those after me will use you to get to me, and I can’t stand to see another person I care about die, I’ve seen enough death in my lifetime” “I don’t know if I could handle anything happening to you”. She hung her head. Crichton felt a very strange upwelling of guilt or sympathy, or some similar emotion that he couldn’t identify. Again those beautiful, will crushing eyes turned up into his, shimmering slightly with tears. He gave a slight aggravated growl “Look, if you want, you can come with me, but just until I can find a safe place for you” he said begrudgingly. She smiled and hugged him. It felt damn good to have the warmth of a woman wrapped around him again. Her perfume washed over his senses. He couldn’t believe that he gave in so easily. He could picture her dying in a bed, or her body bleached of all color, ice in her hair. He was 0-2 when it came to Sebascean women that cared for him, he didn’t want to make it three. As soon as they got off the planet, he would drop her off at the nearest planet with a spaceport and send her somewhere safe. He only knew one place that she could be safe, a place that already owed him a favor or two.

He still couldn’t figure out why he caved so easily. Taking her made no sense, and he was almost surprised when he heard the words leave his mouth. Though her company would be very pleasant, they didn’t really know each other. How low had he fell, he knew her enough to kill for her, but not let her travel with him? He almost knew that no good could come of this. But then again, a PeaceKeeper had helped a man she barely knew for seemingly no reason. Hopefully this would turn out better.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 8:
Voodoo
Guest Starring:
Angelina Jolie

The report from both the spaceport and the train station were just what Crichton had expected; PeaceKeepers were stationed throughout them. There was now no way to escape the city of Koorong. Crichton stared at the maps of both the city and the planet. Besides the three cities that he had been through, a few sparse settlements dotted the globe. The only other real city was on the island of Sardain, just off the coast of the main continent. Hana had added that she was born and raised, at least for a little while, there. Trying to find any easy way to get Hana someplace, he asked her if she wanted to go back to her home island. Of course, since her parents sold her into slavery when she was a child, she didn’t exactly look forward to going back. Besides, the island had no spaceport. Crichton knew that he could not simply lay low in the city until the PeaceKeepers left. Too many people knew his face, and the PKs would not leave until he was found, especially if Braca commanded them. Hell, any good PeaceKeeper would give his or her right arm to have the honor of offing the most famous criminal in their history. Looking at the map, he had a sudden thought:

“If I can’t get to a ship, then maybe I can get a ship to me” he said. Blo looked at him. “Won’t the PeaceKeeper’s stop any ship that tries to land in the city?” asked the new Kingpin. “True, but what if I’m a good distance from the city when they come and pick me up?” he asked. “It would look kind of suspicious for a ship to land in the middle of a field for no reason,” added Blo. He was really grasping at straws; he had no idea about PeaceKeeper tactics. “I’m not worried about the Marauders, the thing that concerns me is the Command Carrier, its damn sensors can pick up weapons fire on a planet, let alone a rouge ship,” replied Crichton. “I don’t know, have the pilot say that they are experiencing engine problems and he has to set her down or something” said Crichton. “We get on, then we haul ass, and there shouldn’t be any problem”. Blo shook his head. “But, the PeaceKeepers want me more than anything else, if they search every ship leaving the system, we’re screwed” Crichton said simply.

He looked at the map. “This set of ruins is about a hundred miles outside the city, should be a good place to wait”. “We could meet them a mile or so outside” he added. He turned to Hana. “You up to this?” he asked. She smiled. “I can’t remember ever being outside the city, I would like to see the wilderness,” she said. Crichton looked her down from head to toe. “As much as I like that dress, it’s not exactly traveling wear, we need to get outfitted,” he said. “Blo, can you tell me a good sporting store?” he asked. Blo shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never been outside the city either, you should try the mall area,” he said. The human put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m trusting you to find a trustworthy pilot, don’t tell him whom he is picking up, just say a man and a woman,” he ordered.

The mayor of Koorong looked uneasily at the group of black clad warriors around him. The old man starred at the leader. “Lieutenant Braca, you are aware that this is far out of your jurisdiction,” he said. Braca gave him an evil smile. “You are sheltering the most hated and wanted criminal in history, and your yelling at me about jurisdiction?” asked Braca. “That alone should give me the right to search this dren hole!” The mayor shook his head. “You’re going by the word of some criminal’s mercenaries that this Crichton is here, that’s hardly credible evidence,” replied the mayor slightly flustered. Braca lost his smile. “That is all the evidence I need, and it should be all you need!” he said calmly. “Unless you want me to tell the High Council that you were unwilling to help or in fact, sabotaging our search”. The mayor looked around the room. He didn’t want these fascist bastards in his town, but it looked like he had little choice. “Alright, just try to keep it quiet” said the mayor with a strange feeling that this would come around to bite him in the ass.

The upper-class area of Koorong couldn’t have been more different from the area Crichton had been staying in. The streets were clean, the bricks of the buildings and sidewalks appeared to have been forged within the last century, and not a single homeless person could be seen. It actually seemed wrong to see walls graffiti free. However, this place brought him far more anxiety than the slums or Red Light District. Enforcers were quite common in this area, and were not corrupt and incompetent like those downtown. Plus, if these people were anything like the rich of Earth, they couldn’t just mind their own business. Thankfully, most of the looks in his direction were at the bombshell in white to his side. She matched his stride, keeping an eye out for any PeaceKeepers (after Crichton told her to look for anyone dressed like him). He was taking a big risk coming here, but she had no idea what supplies they needed.

The sporting goods store had the exact same rubber smell as those on Earth. All the bare necessities except for weaponry were contained in this store. Crichton motioned towards the woman’s clothing section. “Darlin’, go pick out a couple changes of clothes, remember we’re looking for durability and practicality, not style”. She nodded and began shorting through the racks. He blushed a little bit as she inspected the sports bras. Crichton scouted out the camping supplies. The miracles of miniaturization had managed to put a two-person popup tent into a pouch the size of a shoebox. The sleeping bags were made out of the same material as his coat, meaning they weighed a lot less and still had the same warmth. He saw the owner starring at Hana a little too hard and was surprised when he felt jealousy.

“Excuse me, she’s a person, not a statue, one microt is enough!” he said with badly disguised anger. The small nerdy man looked at him half shocked. “Sorry about that, she’s beautiful,” he said. Crichton shook it off. “Thanks, say, what kind of rations do you got around here?” he asked in an annoyed voice. The clerk pulled out a small carton. He tried to introduce the object, but Crichton had eaten such a thing on many an occasion. “Class 7Z field ration, add water and you got a plates worth of food cubes” said Crichton. The clerk shook his head. “Food cubes, these actually turn into real food with water added” responded the clerk. Crichton realized that PeaceKeepers were raised on the same goo since birth and it wouldn’t make sense for their field rations to be fancy gourmet delights. “Hana, you got any allergies to anything?” he asked half way across the store. “No” she shot back.

He ordered a week’s worth of the food packs for him and her. He also grabbed a water purifier and a small a heater, which more importantly for his Sebascean friend, doubled as a cooling unit as well.

Hana came from the dressing room to model her out door outfit for Crichton. A white tank with black cargo pants. He was grateful that she wasn’t wearing pants like his to go along with the mundane, yet very familiar looking tank. He looked at her bare feet. “Damn, even her feet are pretty” he said in his head. He spied a pair of boots not unlike those PeaceKeeper issues that he and Aeryn wore. He motioned for her to find her size. He could tell that she was not impressed with the clunky footwear, but anything more stylish would be hell on her feet. “Get a good coat too” he said. She looked at him puzzled “It doesn’t get much colder than today” she responded. He nodded “True, but space is cold, and you don’t want to be caught out in an ice planet with a tank top on”. While Hana got changed back into her dress, Crichton threw a pair of backpacks onto the counter as well. She emerged from the dressing room in her flowing white. They had spied a woman’s store not far from this one. “Hana, why don’t you head to the other store a get some…(he always had hell with this) of your, you know, feminine stuff” he said. She giggled and walked out the door. Crichton tossed a pack of black T-Shirts and socks onto the counter. The storekeeper looked amazed when he saw Crichton pull out the huge wad of cash.

Crichton, Hana, Blo, and Rono sat around the small table in Freyna’s. This was the last good food the fugitives would have in at least a week. Crichton dug into his meaty pasta dish. “Damn this is good Freyna!” he said. He turned to Hana “I hope she taught you to cook, as well as sing” he said with a smile. Hana shook her head “I’m decent” she replied. “Good, all can do is grill and fry” he said. Blo looked up at his host “This really is great Freyna, you should really get a bigger place” he said. The older woman smiled. “You want one?” he asked very seriously. She shook her head “I like this place, its home” “And with Lu-Ras gone, it’s even better”. Blo picked up his glass of alcohol. “To Lu-Ras and Jud” he said. It was truly a bizarre toast. He continued, “May they burn in hell” he added. The glasses clanked together.

Crichton helped Freyna, at her request, with the dishes. As he washed off a plate, she stopped him. “What are you intentions with Hana?” she asked flat out. Crichton was a bit stunned by the directness of the question. He continued scrubbing “I don’t have any intentions” he said. “Not the kind you’re insinuating anyways”. She looked at him with a suspicious face. “It’s not that I find her unattractive, it’s the damn opposite, she’s the most beautiful woman I ever met” he said. “But, I’m not looking for that, I’m looking for a friend”.

“Hana know this?” she asked. He nodded “I told her I’m dealing with the loss of the woman I loved, it’s only been a few weeks”. “If you don’t mind, how did she die?” asked. He felt like saying “None of your fucking business!” but he let his cool, charming side out. “She was murdered”. Freyna looked at him “I’m sorry” she said. Crichton slammed the dish down “I’m tired of hearing that phrase”. “Everyone in this damn neighborhood has lost somebody to violence” she replied “I’m not someone making up sympathy, my husband was murdered long ago” she said. “And I’m not going to lie to you and say it will get better”. Crichton looked into the sink.

“You must mean a lot to Hana” she said. He looked up from his work. “She doesn’t trust men, being in a room with them makes her uncomfortable, even scarred”. “That’s perfectly understandable” he replied, thinking about last night. “I can’t believe that she is going out there with you, alone, where you could do anything to her” she said. He turned off the sink and turned to her adopted mother “My intentions with her are completely honorable, and know that I won’t hurt her, and I sure as hell won’t let anyone harm her”. Freyna nodded “If you ever get… interested in her, make sure to take it slow” she said. “I give my word as a gentleman, that I won’t take advantage of her” he said. “But as far as the romantic thing goes, what is her favorite flower?” he asked. Freyna laughed a bit.

The last of the daylight had almost faded from the sky when Crichton and company reached the southern outskirts of Koorong. Just as when he had arrived, the city and the vast wilderness meshed with little middle ground. The black, crumbling street ended strait into a grass meadow. Even the beautiful glow of the sunset could not phase the dark city. Crichton had wanted to sneak out of the city at night, and hopefully he would be putting the skyline behind them in two days. They would have to bust ass all day tomorrow and get some shuteye the next night. Hopefully, the PeaceKeepers would think nothing of a couple walking south into the wilderness.

He turned to Blo, Freyna, and Rono who had accompanied them to the outskirts. The two mobsters put the packs on the ground in front of their friends. “What do I say if the PeaceKeepers come looking for you?” asked Blo. Crichton shrugged his shoulders. “Just don’t tell them that a beautiful woman and I are hiking south to the ruins and I should be fine” he said with a smile. Blo handed him a paper. “Call this number when you reach your destination, I’ll have the ship meet you there the following day” he said. “Thanks for everything Blo” said Crichton shaking his hand. “Thank you” added Hana, giving him a light hug. Blo smiled. “Dren, I should be thanking you Top, if you hadn’t come along, we would still be living in fear of Lu-Ras” he replied. “What was it you said about the world?” asked the kingpin. The amateur mercenary smiled “The world is yours” once again going to pop culture. “But, don’t get to greedy man” he added. It didn’t work for Tony Montana, and it sure as hell wouldn’t work for Lil’ Blo. Crichton shook Rono’s hand. “Any parting words of advice?” asked Crichton to the cyclops. “Not anything useful, I just came to get a hug from her” he said, hugging Hana. “Take care Top, and good luck killing the guy your after” he added. Freyna hugged them both. “Take care of each other” said the cook/vocal coach.

Crichton slipped on his pack first, and then helped Hana into hers. “Its not too late to back out now” he said to her as serious as he could. She shook her head and then turned to the city. “Let’s get the frell out of here” she said simply. Crichton bid his last farewells to his literal partners in crime, and then put his arm on Hana’s pack. “Don’t corrupt too many civil servants while I’m gone” said Crichton to the crime boss. The pair descended a steep grassy hill and then had officially entered the wilderness.

It took a lot for Braca not to lose his temper and shoot his subordinate. The initial searches of the upper-class area yielded nothing. He had suspected that Crichton would not hide in this area. After all, if he were Human, he would say “birds of a feather flock together”. The organized crime system had over gone a regime change in the last couple of days. A relatively unknown criminal named Little Blo had ascended to power, mostly due to the medaling of John Crichton. Braca found it hard to believe that a group of criminals wouldn’t turn over Crichton for the reward, but again if he were Human, he might comment of the mythical “honor among thieves”. Any person in a criminal justice system, Human or PeaceKeeper knew that it was just that, a myth. Crichton did seem to have the power to manipulate people, case and point, his band of thugs that he traveled with for two cycles only tried once to sell him out. The plot could have worked, if it wasn’t for the traitorous Crais.

“How goes the search of the slum areas?” asked Braca, calmly. “Our troops are meeting with heavy resistance from the slum populace sir, none of them will even talk to us, we even had to violently pacify a few gang members” reported the junior officer. Braca shook his head. “The mayor says that this Little Blo rules from the tower at the center of town called the Blue Brothel, if anyone knows where Crichton is, it must be him, take a squad, and beat the answers out of him if you have to” said Braca. “Sir” said the officer, stiffly saluting and walking out. It was probably as mistake sending him. Braca had already heard the men talking, bits of conversations when he entered rooms. The men thought that he was afraid of Crichton, that he had been beaten by the Human twice before. The “Royal Planet Spacewalk” was already a thing of legends in the PeaceKeepers. He had thought about executing all those that spoke ill of him, but he remembered being on their level under Crais. He would deal with them in time; right now he had to report to Scorpius.

Crichton hated picking his way through the darkness with a flashlight. He would have given anything to have just a little of the military hardware that he had on Moya. There were at least two crates filled with night vision equipment. The lights were clumsy, and gave away your position. The only upside was that they scarred away any animals that might look to them as a food source. If he were back home, he would have made about thirty Blair Witch jokes by now. They were useless now; his companion would not follow the reference, plus the fact that she was latched onto his hand showed that she was plenty scarred already. The lights of Koorong still burned brightly behind them, he would hate to see her in a few days when they were beyond the reach of the lights.

This gave him a flashback to when he used to visit his uncle’s property in Southern Texas, not far from the Gulf Coast. He and his cousin would bravely venture the woods just shooting stuff. “Stuff” included squirrels, birds, stumps, alligators, spiders, and possums. He killed the animals with the little conscience, much like he now did to sentient life forms. Psychiatrists would often link this violence in later life, sometimes even serial killing. But him and his cousin turned out fine. Well, that particular cousin was probably now deep in west Texas in army fatigues preaching about the Jewish conspiracy. But to make it relevant to the situation, Crichton remembered his relatives telling him as a boy to never go out at night, even if he was armed. The stereotypical alligators were no threat, but the woods were patrolled at night by the true killer beasts of the South; the feral Russian Boar. The beasts would kill a man or dog for no particular reason. One night, he and his cousin had gone out without there twenty-twos. They hadn’t made it fifty feet when they heard rustling and snorting in the bushes. It was a harrowing experience to be stuck in pitch-black woods with the narrow beam as your entire field of vision. Of course now, he did not fear boars in these empty meadows, but squads of Marines with night vision watching their every move.

He noticed that his beam stayed constant while hers constantly searched the dark like a lighthouse. “Its alright Hana, their aren’t any animals this close to the city, they have the entire continent to roam, they won’t get near here” he said. She only slightly calmed down. Of course he was talking out of his ass, so all he knew, there could be an army of killer baboons out there. He had seen a lot of environments. Some were crawling with wildlife; others had not yet evolved animal life when the arrival of sentient beings disrupted the natural order forever. “I know your nervous, is their anything I can do?” he asked, suddenly realizing that he had neglected to pack any booze. “Talk” she said simply. They had been walking for about an hour without saying a word. “What do you want to talk about” he said smiling, even if she couldn’t see it. “Anything, preferably nothing depressing or scary” she said. Crichton laughed. “So the past couple of cycles are off limits, how about movies, they seem to be vary popular with Sebascean females ages fifteen to thirty” he said. He heard her laugh. “Okay” she said. Crichton thought for a second. “Okay, lets see, there was the one about what our future might turn out to be” he started. “Uh-huh” she said, keenly interested. This was nice; he had already burnt out the movie angle with Aeryn. “In this hypothetical future, our machines got out of hand and they rebelled against us and attempted to wipe us out of existence”. She shot back. “I thought I said nothing depressing or scary!” “Its okay, I’ll use a horrible Austrian accent, it will be great” he said. “And if that doesn’t work, I can tell you a classic story of violence, drugs, and sex using a horrible Cuban accent”.

The young Lieutenant looked around the penthouse hesitantly. The small man sat behind his desk. His blonde hair moved as the wind blew in from the broken window. A large man with one arm (and a big gun) and a man with one eye flanked Blo. Several other gang bangers with carbines also guarded the room. A shoot out had almost occurred when the bouncers wouldn’t let them in armed. Orders from Blo averted the conflict. The young Peace Keeper seemed to be shocked that Blo wasn’t exactly cooperative. “Again young man, I don’t have a frelling clue where this Crichton is, have you tried the Upper Class area yet?” asked Blo. The LT got flustered. “I told you that already!” he screamed. Blo slammed his fist on the desk. “Don’t raise your voice to be boy!” screamed the kingpin back.

The LT went for his pistol, but the very loud sound of safeties releasing quickly stopped him. “Do you wish to provoke PeaceKeeper might?” asked the PeaceKeeper. “Do you wish to provoke Red Badge might?” asked Mug. Blo waived his hand. “No need to trouble ourselves over Crichton” said Blo. “Talk to the Black Wing leader Kuda in Old Town, tell him I sent you”. “And this Kuda knows Crichton’s whereabouts?” asked the PeaceKeeper. “Its worth a shot” replied Blo. The Lt looked at him. “You have the gratitude of the PeaceKeeper Union,” he said leaving.

Rono tapped Blo. “The Black Wings, but we’re still at war with them!” he said. Blo smiled. “Too bad our jack-booted friends will find that out about that a little late” said Blo. The Red Badges laughed.

The sound of running water signaled the end of their excruciatingly long day. They had been walking since dusk of the previous day, and already the next dusk was looming. They probably had about two more arns of daylight left, by the river provided a place to bathe and a source of cooling for Hana. Hopefully there would be an overhang to shelter themselves from possible Marauder patrols. For the first time in over two years, Crichton was sunburned. Hana’s completion had just grown more olive. But, she was dragging from lack of sleep as well as the nagging heat. Crichton had long since stuffed his coat into his backpack. He turned to her. “We sleep here tonight,” he said. Her hazel eyes lit up with elation. “Sleep!” she said with excitement.

She sat by the river as he searched for a good spot. As he search, he hummed the lyrics to a song that he was listening to death right before he left Earth. He had thought of it for no particular reason, he often thought about songs while fending off Harvey. They had actually gotten lucky. A large overhang had been eroded out of the bank. It went about ten feet back. Underneath, it was shady and cool. Not paying attention, he sang the lyrics quietly. “I'm Not The One Who's So Far Away, When I Feel The Snake Bite Enter My Veins”. Hana was busy putting her bare feet in the water, but the tune peaked her interest. “Never Did I Wanna Be Here Again And I Don't Remember Why I Came”. She stopped him.

“What are you singing?” she asked. Crichton stopped. “Song called Voodoo,” he said. “Sorry about that, it just sort of popped into my head” he said. She giggled it off. “Thought I was the only one that randomly broke into song,” she said. Crichton had totally forgot about her voice lessons. Well, they would have something else to do while they walked. She joined him under the overhang. “Could you sing it for me?” she asked. Crichton shook his head. “It’s not that great of a song, plus I’m not the best singer”. She gave him a look that she was insisting. “What the hell” he said. He over-dramatically cleared his throat.

I'm Not The One Who's So Far Away
When I Feel The Snake Bite Enter My Veins

“What’s a… snake?” she asked. Crichton stopped. “A venomous reptile on my planet, some species can be fatal,” he said. “Do you mind?” he asked jokingly.

I'm Not The One Who's So Far Away
When I Feel The Snake Bite Enter My Veins
Never Did I Wanna Be Here Again
And I Don't Remember Why I Came

He did some air guitar and made some riffs with his mouth. This, of course encouraged some laughs. “Your doing the chorus with me next time,” he said to her. He mimicked the drums, and then began the second verse.

Candles Raise My Desire
Why I'm So Far Away
No More Meaning To My Life
No More Reason To Stay
Freezing Feeling Breathe In Breathe In
I'm Coming Back Again

He pointed to her, and the most beautiful, angelic voice he ever heard joined in:

I'm Not The One Who's So Far Away
When I Feel The Snake Bite Enter My Veins
Never Did I Wanna Be Here Again
And I Don't Remember Why I Came

She smiled at him, egging him on to continue. “Damn girl, you are talented,” he said. “I’m alright,” she said. Crichton shook his head. “Alright? Your frelling fantastic!” he said. He began to sing the next verse, when the sound of roaring engines caught his ears. He pulled her inside the over hang and peeked outside. High above, he could see a Marauder making its climb to space. It was far too high up to see them and he relaxed. He quickly removed his arm from her waist. She turned to him, her face not five inches away. He felt something from the second their eyes met. She quickly looked away. “Being in this close reminds me that I need to bathe,” she said. Crichton nodded. “Me too” he said. “You want to go first?” he asked. She looked at him. “We’re two adults, we can bathe together and nothing will happen” she said. It was the best proposal he hadn’t gotten in a while. “I’ll pass this time, last time I got in a river with a naked Sebascean girl I got in trouble” he said. She laughed, searching her pack. She had packed way to much girl stuff, like make up and various kinds of soaps. He hadn’t traveled with a girly girl in some time. “I promise I won’t peek,” he said. “If you aren’t going in with me, then finish the song,” she ordered.

The PeaceKeeper medical officer zipped up the body bag over the blank stare of the young Lieutenant. A large burn mark was placed between the two dead eyes. Four other bags accompanied this one. Braca shook his head. “The Black Wings must be helping Crichton,” he said. He got on the comm. to the Command Carrier. A young female responded on the view screen. “Instruct three detachments to equip themselves with full urban combat gear, I wanted them here in half an arn!” he ordered. “Here’s your rematch Crichton!” he said to the empty room.

Crichton quietly slipped into his sleeping bag beside Hana. The small fire he had built using shrub bits (there were no trees) was quickly dying at their feet. He looked over at her, she was already asleep, her hair still damp with river water. They were about a quarter of the way to their destination. He slid the black cloth over him. God Hana was beautiful he thought, looking at her face in the firelight. He pulled one of his pistols from his gun belt and put it down the sleeping bag next to his hip. “Just in case” he said under his breathe. He felt comforted by the gentle sound of her breathing. He didn’t look forward to sleep, the nightmares almost always came. He didn’t know if these were natural or produced by Harvey. Crichton’s pondering was cut off when he instantly slept.

Blo smiled at the long chain of Marauders heading for Black Wing territory. He was buying Crichton time and eliminating his competition at the same time. He picked up and chugged a well-deserved razlak. “Good luck Lieutenant,” he said, razing the empty flask to the Marauders.

Crichton sprang up, grasping his pistol from his sleeping bag as Hana’s scream shook him from his nightmare. He whipped the muzzle around, searching the dark past the dead fire. “What is it!” he yelled at her. She looked at him frightened. “You were the one screaming, I was just joining in!” she screamed back. Crichton replaced his pistol. “Sorry about that, just a nightmare, if your going to hang out with me get used to them” he said, leaning back. Hana partially climbed out of her bag and hugged him. “Want to talk about it?” she asked. Crichton shook his head. She didn’t need to know what haunted him at night. She guided him down to the ground, holding him tight. “Does this help?” she asked. He felt her warm, soft body, her lightly applied perfume again coming to his attention. Crichton nodded, and squeezed her back.

Harvey’s voice entered his head. “Good John, see if you can take it all the way” he said. Crichton gave him a mental “Fuck you!” The Scorpius clone gave him a twisted smile. “Why not, do you think Aeryn would mind if you frell her, she’s dead John, its not like your cheating on her” replied the neural clone. If he were by himself, he would have shot the imaginary being. “Be honest, you want to fuck her stupid” he added. True as that may be, he wasn’t going to act out on it, especially at Harvey’s urging. Maybe he would tell her about the neural clone tomorrow. “Leave me alone” he said in his head. Harvey then said something would haunt him all night. “Aren’t you glad I persuaded you to bring her along?” asked the clone. Hana raised her head from his shoulder. “What is it John?” she asked. He shook his head. “Nothing, just thinking about something” he said.

“Been a tough day huh?” he asked. She nodded. He innocently placed his right hand on the back of her neck. She instantly flung his hand off. She looked up at him, the dim fire revealing her face. He read that she was scarred. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that” he said. She smiled “Sorry, it’s just a tick I have, I know it’s weird that we were holding each other just then, and then I just freak out like that” she said. He shook his head “You don’t have to explain yourself” he said. “If me being this close to you makes you uncomfortable, I can move” he said. She shook her head “I want you close to me” she said. “I know you would never hurt me” she added. Very trusting for a rape victim who saw him slaughter his fare share of people over the past few days. “Then, do you mind if I innocently rub your neck?” he asked. She turned her back to him and lowered her head. He gently put his hand under her hair. She gave a slightly arousing noise as he massaged her. “No one has ever done this for me” she said. “Glad to be of service” he said with a smile.

Twenty marines in full black armor flanked Braca as he glared at the remaining members of the Black Wing gang. The pierced punk that was there leader and two of his men were all that remained. The street gang had stood little chance against the professional soldiers. To prove his bravery, Braca had led them personally, slaying several gang bangers with his side arm. The gang members were all on their knees, arms chained behind them. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” said Braca, wielding his pistol. “Where is John Crichton?” he asked. The men looked puzzled. “Who?” one of them asked. Braca turned to him and slammed a pulse blast into his forehead. The leader remained calm, but the other one began to scream for some kind of God. Braca walked over to him. “Do you know?” he asked the frantic one. The scarred man looked up at him. “I have no idea who that is!” he screamed. Braca fired again, and the gang member flopped to the ground. He pointed the weapon at the head of Kuda. “You can do all you want, I have no idea where this Crichton is” said the gang leader. Braca smiled. “Somehow, I don’t believe you,” said Braca. He pointed to a sergeant. “Sergeant, take this piece of dren back up to the Command Carrier, I’ll tell the techs to get the chamber ready,” he said with a twisted smile.

Four long days, fifty songs, and ten movie plots later, they had arrived at the ruins. Supposedly, these ruins had once belonged to the now extinct Certa. Totem poles that were multi stories tall jutted from the landscape. Strange writing covered the stones of the area. For the first time since he was on planet, Crichton saw trees. Several oak-like trees, probably hundreds of years old stood among the ruins. Another river flowed through the ruins, heading towards the sea that was only twenty miles east. The sun was beginning to sink, about an hour or so before sunset. “Its beautiful” she said simply. Crichton looked around the area. “Go find us a good camping spot, I’ve gotta call Blo” he said. She quickly scouted the area, singing the chorus to Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer”. The girl loved music, and had put all the songs Crichton had sung her to memory. The songs ranged from Charlie Parker to Nirvana, to Godsmack. Crichton probably had the most diverse CD collection in history, he had thought.

He pulled out the cell phone that had once belonged to one of Jud’s men and dialed the number. Blo answered. After hammering out the details, Crichton asked; “What type of ship are they using?” he asked. “Cargo runner” replied the Kingpin. Blo then regaled Crichton with the tale of the PeaceKeepers taking out the Black Wings. Blo again thanked Crichton for entering his life. The two joked around for a bit, till Hana’s cough got this attention. “Sorry man, the little lady wants dinner I think,” he said. Blo chimed in before he disconnected; “Take care brother” said Blo. “You too” he replied, turning the phone off.

Hana and Crichton sat on top of the tallest totem pole in the valley; a staircase had allowed them access to the head region. The sunset cast an intoxicating mix of purple orange on the vast fields they had spent almost a week crossing. Crichton finished the last of his chicken like substance. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, in all sincerity. “We’ll, if you come with me, you’ll see things that you’ve only dreamed of” replied Crichton. “Fields of pulsars, nebula, waterfalls hundreds of stories tall…” her lips on his cut him off.

Not thinking, he reciprocated. They continued until he felt her tongue deep in his mouth. Fighting every instinct in his body, he gently pushed her away. “Sorry, its just a little too fast” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. She looked into his eyes disappointed. He scrambled to answer. “Its not that I don’t want to kiss you, believe me, not kissing you over the past few days has been one of the hardest things for me to do in my entire life,” he said grabbing her hand “Its just too soon” . She shook her head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I forgot about her,” she said. “I know it took a lot of courage for you to do that” he said. She nodded in agreement “I’ve just never been around a man I was actually attracted to” she added. “All the things you done for me, you’ve treated me like a queen” she said. Crichton smiled back at her. “No, I’ve treated you like a person” he said. “When we get off this planet, I’ll treat you like a queen, I promise” he added. He smiled “Under different circumstances, you realize that I would be all over you right?” he asked. She laughed. “Just give me some time, I’ve got some inner daemons to deal with first, plus a certain cook told me to take it slow” he said. “Yeah, its kind of ironic, Freyna told me not to let you rush me”. She looked up at him; “I’ll wait for you,” she said, as if he was entering a long prison sentence. Well, this put a crimp on dumping her on the nearest planet.

“Of course, your not considering the fact they I might not be around much longer, us vengeful killers usually don’t have a long shelf life” he said, trying to be funny. She hugged him, and then looked into his face with her doe-like eyes. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life trying to kill this man,” she said. Crichton half laughed it off. “Its more than just that, he was something of mine that I MUST take back” he said. She seemed to ignore it. Then she said something that would haunt him. “You can be more,” she said simply.

“Wake up!” said Crichton quietly to her as he shook her awake. The morning light attacked her eyes, and the nausea of being woken up way to early washed over her. “What is it?” she asked. She heard the roar of engines. “The ship?” she asked. She moved from under the tree they camped under and looked towards the sky. She could see a black ship in the sky circling their location. “Good news, that’s the ship, bad news, that’s no cargo runner” he said. He gave her the oculars that he had recovered from the Marauder a few weeks ago. She struggled to work the complicated device. Finally, her zoom balanced out. The ship was solid black, and sleek. Its small wings were made for precision maneuvers, and they most likely concealed weapons. “Is it PeaceKeeper?” she asked. Crichton shook his head. “Mercenary most likely, I don’t know how they got our location, but that ain’t important now” he said. He flopped on his coat and then checked his two pistols, inspecting their clips. “Find cover,” he ordered.

Crichton met the black clad “merchant” about twenty feet from the ship, which was only slightly larger than a transport pod. He wore a coat similar to that of Jud’s men. The goateed man looked him right in the face. Crichton easily recognized him as one of the Blue Brothel’s former doormen, who escaped Crichton’s guns the first time due to the rock concert. Two more black clad men guarded the door into the ship. The man smiled. “Your ride awaits Mr. Crichton,” he said. Crichton gave him a smirk. “Do me one favor?” said Crichton. The merc smiled. “Anything” he replied. “Say hello to Lu-Ras when you see him” said Crichton simply.

With that, Crichton kicked him square in the gut, simultaneously drawing his pistols from his coat. He dropped the pair of mercs by the door with a few precision bursts, one gun for each. Neither had time to remove their carbines from their coats. The doorman right in front of him tried to stand, but Crichton planted a pistol at the base of his skull and pulled the trigger. Harsh, but effective. His rage was once again boiling. Not only had these men tried to kill him, but they would have also killed Hana. With both pistols ready, he quickly entered the ship. His boots clanked loudly on the metal floor. He saw that the passenger/cargo compartment was empty, he then moved into the cockpit. The co-pilot’s chair was empty. The pilot turned around. “You get his ass?” he asked. “Not quite” said Crichton. The pilot only had a chance to put his hand on his pistol when a red bolt stopped him cold. Crichton felt the sting of the superheated blood droplets covering his face. He grabbed the body by the shoulders and threw him out on the meadow with the others. He removed the weaponry and ammo from their bodies. He reached into an open locker and pulled out a red towel. He ran it over his face, clearing the crimson dots from his cheeks. He spotted a gathering of cleaning supplies in the same locker. He threw his jacket on a nearby seat and grabbed several towels. Crichton didn’t want Hana to see the bloody mess. He started by wiping the blood from the cockpit window.

Braca kicked the dead Kuda in the head. Various parts of his face were missing where the interrogators had ripped out his piercings. Even after the full battery of the “Tain Test” the criminal had still insisted that he had no idea where to find Crichton. A mercenary leader had contacted him, saying that the crew of Moya had killed an entire squad of his several systems away. Further investigation had discovered that Moya had been spotted in a few other systems. Crichton had most likely already fled the planet. Braca ordered a group of marines to work with local enforcers to find Crichton in Koorong, while he and the Command Carrier searched the other systems. He kicked the dead body again. “Frell!” he screamed.

Hana entered the cockpit, where Crichton was strapped in. He was busy studying the controls. All Sebascean ships had very similar controls, this ship wasn’t as advanced as a Marauder, but it could get the job done. They had a full fuel tank. He had chosen the planet of Cadoni s their next destination. It had a huge spaceport, and was one of the fabled Break Away Colonies, meaning no PeaceKeepers. Hana climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and strapped herself in. She was shaking with nerves. He held her hand for a second. “You ready for this?” he asked. “Yeah, lets get out of here” she said with fake confidence. “Its alright, everyone’s nervous their first time” he said.

He reached down to the throttle between them. He slowly turned the ship around, pointing the nose away from the tiny dots behind them that were the ruins. He kissed her on her cheek unexpectedly. “Let’s rock!” he said. He slowly forced the throttle forward, and the ship quickly skimmed across the plains. Hana clung to her chair as tightly as possible. She screamed when the ship left the ground and swiftly headed up into the atmosphere. Her look went from fear to amazement when the blue atmosphere faded to space. He took his hand off the throttle and held hers. “Welcome to my world” he said with a smile.

Soundtrack:
“Voodoo” by Godsmack

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:27 PM

Season of Death DVD part 9
Soundtrack: “Bound” by Disturbed

Both Pilot and Moya could barley believe the message they had received. It was the voice of someone they thought they would never see again. That person was Captain Bailar Crais, former PeaceKeeper, and current fugitive. After the death of Aeryn, Crais had bid a hasty retreat from the ice planet, leaving Moya helpless. It was Crais’ betrayal that led to Crichton’s stranding and likely death. Consequently, Moya was the only one eager to meet Talyn and Crais.

Moya’s crew looked up at Crais on the view screen. He still had the almost permanent scowled on his face. “Greetings” he began. D’argo cut him off, speaking for the entire crew: “What the frell do you want Crais?” he asked. Crais seemed unphased by the Luxan’s rudeness. “Trade information and supplies for one thing” said Crais. “I gather that we have been in very different parts of space in the past months” said the former PeaceKeeper. The crew seemed unmoved. “Also, Slave, I have someone here who wished very much to seek you out” he addressed to Stark. He motioned off screen for someone. An attractive, pale-skinned woman with orange-red hair entered the field of vision. “Hello Stark, its me, Nora” she said. Stark just starred in disbelief. “I need you, I’m dying”.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 9:
The Way, Unfortunately, They Were

Crais and D’argo walked towards the center chamber. “Where is Crichton, I must speak with him” demanded Crais. D’argo immediately stopped, narrowly avoiding hyper rage. “He’s dead Crais,” said D’argo simply. Crais shook his head, and gave his false sympathy. “I guess he really couldn’t survive Aeryn’s death after all,” he said. “He was killed by the PeaceKeepers back on the ice world because you fled, leaving us with no defenses!” screamed D’argo. Crais looked shocked. “I thought it best to keep Talyn from the PeaceKeepers, we already lost Aeryn, and he agreed to flee” replied Crais. “She was very dear to me… and Talyn!” he added. D’argo scoffed. Yet another glaring reason that the universe was free of justice, Crichton was dead while this maniac was still alive. He would like nothing better than choking the former PeaceKeeper to death this instant, bringing a little balance to the karma of the universe, but Moya was no match for Talyn. “You said you wished to trade information, what special information do you possess?” asked D’argo.

Zhaan carefully examined the aligning female Kalish using the medical scanner. The woman’s pale eyes met the substitute doctor. “Don’t waste your time, it’s the Merbar, a terminal illness,” she said meekly. “I didn’t come here to get an examination, I came here to see Stark,” she added. Zhaan turned the tool off. “Why did you seek out Stark, surely there are others who can perform your death rights” said Zhaan. The girl smiled. “I’m not here to get crossed over, I am here to absolve some of my sins” replied the woman. “And these sins involve Stark?” asked Zhaan. The Kalish woman nodded. “The worst of them anyways” she playfully replied. “Where is Stark?” she asked. Zhaan breathed in; “He said that he doesn’t want to talk to you” simply replied the priest. The girl frowned. “That’s not surprising” she replied. Zhaan shook her head. “What could you have done that forced such a great rift between you?” asked Zhaan. “Ask him, he probably tells it better” she replied.

“Retrieval Squads?” asked D’argo. “Yes, teams of commandos with Colartas being used as reconnaissance” reported Crais. “They attack in groups of two Prowlers and one enhanced Marauder,” he added. “Also, Talyn has tracked a capitol ship of some kind, not yet identifiable”. “Great” said D’argo. “We’ve only be dealing with mercenaries and bounty hunters,” replied D’argo. Crais nodded “I have run into my fare share of mercenaries. But these, Ka D’argo aren’t just any regular bounty hunters”. The Luxan looked at him puzzled. “They are members of the Death Corps”. D’argo snarled a bit “You mean the mercenary outfit made up of the bad asses that were too brutal and insane for the own people’s armies?” he asked. Crais nodded “Luxans, Sebasceans, Colartas, Scorvians, you name it” replied the captain. “They also specialize in assassination and information gathering, rumor has it they have heavier fire power than most galactic nations do”. D’argo thought for a second, heavy firepower jogging his memory. “We ran into some bizarre Sebascean group called The Enclave operating in the old bunker system at Lagune” he added. “The Enclave?” asked Crais. “I don’t have any details on them, besides their advanced weaponry anyway” replied D’argo.

Zhaan carefully walked into Stark’s dark chamber. She found him curled in the fetal position in the corner. She carefully kneeled down to him. “Stark” she said softly. He ignored her. “Stark, answer me” she quietly ordered. His single eye locked onto her eyes. “What do you want?” asked the former slave. Before she could speak, he raised a finger to her lips. “I won’t talk to her Zhaan, she owes me that much” he said, slinking back down. She cleared her throat. “She told me to ask you what exactly happened,” she said. His expression never changed as he began his story.

The constant clank of tools against rock filled the caverns. Baniks of all ages and sexes chipped at the cavern’s walls. Stark, a bit younger and with long hair grabbed a bucket of precious ore and drug it to the grinding conveyor belt. He struggled and barely got the lip of the bucket onto the belt. He collapsed forward the massive weight shift. He held his aching back and went back to work. Above on the catwalks, a few Scarren guards patrolled wielding mini-guns and wrist launchers. Various Kalish, slaves with a little more rights monitored the miners’ progress on data screens. Ahead, others drove huge tunneling machines even further into the surface. A few more months of work, and the veins of the rare ore would run out. Then, it would be off to the next assignment.

Stark and his people had been moved from planet to planet nonstop in the past three cycles. Every time the Scarren Imperium “cleansed” a planet of its native population, groups of Kalish and slaves would be called in exploit its natural resources. Of course, all Stark knew of cleansing was the rumors he heard. Millions or billions of sentient beings totally annihilated by the captors. Stories of raves where the Scarrens would douse both their captives and themselves in liquid fuel, when a particular song was in full swing, the band would hit the crowd with flamethrowers. The Scarrens would be immune to the fire, and actually find it quite pleasant, not so for the female aliens they sexually tortured as the flames turned the rave into a blast furnace. Stark didn’t want to believe them, but he knew the sadomasochist qualities of the Scarrens, the rape and torture they put on defenseless females, and death by fire would be much more preferable to the horrors that had befallen the last batch of Sebasceaneras captured during a routine “entertainment raid” on a small border colony. This place was different from all the other digs; the security was a lot higher. Mining was not the purpose of this dig; it had to be a secret construction project of some kind. Rumors among the workers said that they were extremely close to the Scarren home system. None of this interested Stark, there very little reason in thinking about escape. The Scarrens would not hesitate to kill every single one of them. Most of the time they would even fight over it.

He dragged another load of stones towards the conveyer belt. He was really starting to miss his past master. He was cruel and brutal, but at least he could see the stars from the windows of the ship. He slung another load onto the conveyor belt, his back straining more. A voice caught his ears. “Slave, I must speak with you!” He turned to Nora. “Yes ma’am” he complied. She forced him into a supply closet and locked the door behind them. As soon as she had done this, her lips were on his. She drew away smiling, then reengaged.

“You were lovers?” asked Zhaan back in the present. Stark nodded. “We had met when we worked together to save a group of Kalish that the Scarrens had abandoned,” he said.

They broke lips again. “See you tonight?” she asked. He nodded. She threw open the door and then tossed him out in one motion. She walked away in a very convincing huff. Stark held his back and got back to work.

Chiana walked into Pilot’s den quietly. She smiled at the ships controller. “Hey Pilot” she said. She had been the ship’s pariah ever since their time on Dosem’s show. Pilot liked everybody, and he was probably lonely too. If Pilot could, he would have smiled back. “Hello Chiana” he said, getting back to work. “Is Moya happy to see Talyn?” she asked. Pilot seemed concerned. “Moya says that Talyn seems changed, more impulsive, violent, and cold” he said. Chiana closed to show her sympathy. “What do you expect with Crais’ influence?” she said. Pilot seemed to immediately change the subject. “I wish Officer Sun were here” he said suddenly. Chiana frowned. Pilot was very devastated by the loss of Aeryn they had been extremely close. “So do I Pilot, so do I,” she said, putting her hand on his face the way Aeryn had.

“And I miss Crichton” she replied. She smiled at the great controller. “Who would ever think that we would miss the Human?” she asked. Pilot felt guilt run through his body. He had not always treated Crichton with respect, though it was always returned to him in kind. Chiana looked down “I would give anything to hear him bitch at me one more time” she added with a combination of a smile and tears.

Back in his story, Stark and Nora looked at each other across the cot. She was high enough in the Kalish hierarchy to get her own quarters. Their relationship was technically not illegal, but her people would frown on it. “I love you,” she said to him. It was the first time she had said it. Stark smiled. “I love you too,” he said. He never thought the words would be so easy to say. He had never been loved by anyone, and he couldn’t even remember his parents. She smiled back and kissed him again. “Why did you say that?” he asked.

She breathed in. “With in the next few weeks, the Scarrens are going to ship the Baniks out of here, but I will have to stay” she said. This hit Stark like a ton of bricks. She was the only good thing in his life. He would learn later from a friend that all you need to make a horrible life livable is a woman who loves you. Her frown turned to a smile. “But, the good news is, I can arrange for you to stay on” she said. Stark felt relived. He guessed that she had said “The three little words” as Crichton had called them, to make deciding between her and his people easier. And you know what? She had been right.

The next few months had not been any different than before. Dig, sleep, dig. But now, they were digging a large chamber instead of looking for crystals. Actually, the chamber had already existed naturally, and they were just expanding it. The empty chamber seemed to be covered with soil. This was an incredibly strange phenomenon. Stark had not had time to ponder this. Now, only the Baniks and the Scarrens were down in this chamber, the Kalish were elsewhere. Stark had gone weeks without hearing from Nora and his soul seemed to be dying.

Now, he and a few of his friends were pushing a tarp-covered cart down they small corridor that had lead from the elevator to the chamber. The Scarren guards on either side watched them warily. When they reached the staircase reaching down to the soil area, the Scarrens ordered them to remove the tarp. One of the most beautiful flowers Stark had ever seen was revealed. It was about the size of his entire body. He reached to touch it, but a guard slapped down his hand. “You shouldn’t even be in the same room with this, let alone touch it inferior!” growled one of the Scarrens. Stark didn’t know it at the time, but seeing that flower would come back around and bite him square in the ass. A sight and a memory that would keep him in a certain PeaceKeeper’s camber of horrors for a very long time.

Stark had trouble sleeping that night. This was the last night he would be with his people. Finally, with half the sleep cycle gone, he drifted off.

He awoke in the haze of a drug-induced sleep. He was in complete darkness, and his single eye could barley see that he was enclosed in a metal container. At the same time, he caught a whiff of a very familiar perfume. It was hers’. As he tried to sit up, the nausea of the anesthetic hit him. She comforted him down. He could feel a slight pulse in the floor, that of a starship’s engine.

“Nora, where are we?” he asked. “A freighter, I bribed the captain to give us a ride” she said cautiously. “Why did we have to leave?” he asked. His eye adjusted to the dark and he could see a vast frown on her face. “The Scarrens were going to kill all the Baniks,” she said quietly. She instinctively threw her hand over his mouth. He screamed a little. “Why?” he cried. “Something about seeing a secret, none of the Baniks could be left alive” she said. Stark’s eye filled with tears. He instantly let out a cry as his people’s suffering washed over him.

The men, children, and the older women where separated from the young women. He seemed to inhabit each of their bodies as the energy mini-guns almost identical to those of the Enclave, whirled to life and flung their hundreds of pulse rounds into the men, elderly, and children. He watched through a woman’s eyes as a large Scarren walked over to her. He looked her over and handed a roll of steel wire to his subordinate. “Sew their frelling mouths shut” he ordered calmly. The Scarrens didn’t bother to administer anesthetic.

Stark zoned back to his present location as the leading pen pierced her screaming lips. Nora seemed oblivious to his agony. She hugged him tightly “I’m sorry,” she said. “We’re on our way to the Scarren border, from there we can go to the uncharted territories”.

“She saved your life, why do you hate her so?” asked Zhaan. Stark was now crying. “If you would stop interrupting me, I’ll tell you,” he said angrily.

D’argo looked at the interior of Talyn for only the second time. The first time he had been there, Crais had asked for their help in disarming the Leviathan. Crais examined the medical supplies that he had gotten off Moya. It was at this time that D’argo noticed the red marks all over Crais. The captain had made sure his implant was hidden under his collar the whole time that he was onboard. D’argo really didn’t care anymore about Crais. He took the maps his former nemesis had traded. Crais stopped him as he entered his transport pod. “Ka D’argo, please give me regards to Zhaan, Pilot, and Chiana,” he said. D’argo was done listening to his false interest. “Good bye Crais” he said, slamming the airlock shut in the Sebascean’s face.

The news that Crais had heard was mixed. Strange Sebascean cults, mercenaries, and bounty hunters. But, at least one good bit of news. John Crichton was dead. He couldn’t help but smile. Maybe there was justice in the universe after all.

Stark’s and Nora’s relationship had quickly gone south after they had arrived in the Uncharted Territories. First, the captain she had bribed for passage had robbed them. Then, they quickly learned why the Uncharted Territories were called “The Ass End” of the Universe. She worked as a waitress and he was a janitor in a small little backwater. They were dirt poor, living in a horrible slum. Due to their jobs, each worked a different shift and they hardly saw one another. And when they did, it almost always ended in a fight. She blamed him for everything. If she hadn’t saved his life she would still be riding high on the hog with her people. Instead, she was stuck here, with only Sebasceans to keep them company. To make matters worse, most of them were raging racists.

To top it all off, Nora developed a rather hearty addiction to a stimulant. Not only did it drain funds, but it also raised her temper, as well as encouraging her massive eating binges that were supposed to only happened a couple of times a cycle now occurred every few weeks. Times of withdrawal were agonizing. One day under the influence, she decided to make all her problems go away. She walked into a local PeaceKeeper branch office and made them an offer. She had a man that new the ins and outs of a secret Scarren base used to grow a certain flower. In exchange, she would get a rather large amount of money. Needless to say, this deal appealed to a certain Scarren hating PeaceKeeper.

“You don’t mean?” asked Zhaan hesitantly. Stark shook his head. “How do you think I ended up in his chair?” asked Stark.

After a hard day’s work, he walked into the door of his tenement home to see a strange man waiting for him on his couch. At first he thought nothing of it, she would do anything or rather anyone to get her “medicine”. Nora sat next to him. “Who’s your friend Nora?” asked Stark angrily, having just been rewarded with a raise at work he figured to be happy, but apparently she was back to turning tricks again. She looked away. “Stark, nice to meet you, my name is Scorpius” said the strange looking man. He cheered up a bit; most johns don’t exactly give their names away. Stark shook his hand. “Its great to see another non-Sebascean, what brings you here?” asked Stark. “Well, you actually, I came for you,” said Scorpius cheerfully. “Your friend here told me that you know about a certain Scarren garden,” he said. “I came as quick as I could, I could never resist a Kalish woman” said the PeaceKeeper. Stark saw his girlfriend counting a wad of money. “Sorry baby” she said very sarcastically. Before he could move, Stark felt the muzzle of a pulse rifle against his head. She stopped the marines from taking him “Wait!” she screamed. Stark looked at his love with hope. She punched him square in the saw, getting laughs from all the others involved. “That’s for ruining my life!” she said with a smile.

“Bitch!” said Zhaan, slapping her hand over her mouth. “Goddess forgive me!” she quickly added. Stark smiled. “That woman betrayed me to my most hated enemy, I think that two years of torture gives me the right to hate her” he said. Zhaan thought for a second, and then gave her philosophical opinion. “She did save your life Stark,” she said. “And then traded it to feed her addiction” he added. Zhaan shook her head. “Sounds like your even” she replied. Stark looked her in the eyes. “Maybe her betrayal was meant to put you on a greater path” she suggested. “Like what?” he asked. “If it wasn’t for her, you never would have met me,” said Zhaan. This brought a smile to Stark’s face.

Nora’s eyes widened as Stark entered the medical room. “Good to see you could make it,” she said. He was amazed at how fast her condition had deteriorated. Her once beautiful skin had putrefied. She saw him gawking at her. “Yes, the drugs did stimulate the Merbar” she said. “Guess the dren really will kill me”. “Why are you here?” asked Stark. She cracked a smirk. “I seek forgiveness, I talked to Crais, I know what you’ve been through” she said.

“You have no idea what I have suffered!” he screamed back. She didn’t bother to argue. “I’ve got maybe an arn left, I don’t want to spend it arguing,” she said. He relaxed his face. “I forgive you,” he said. It wasn’t empty as she expected. How could he actually mean it? “Because of your betrayal, I found a woman who I love more than I ever loved you!” he almost screamed. He could see her heart shrink into her stomach. He calmed as he saw the color drain for her face. He and death were in a good relationship, and he knew that her arn estimate was a very rough estimate. More like minutes. He grasped her hand. “I owe you my life, nothing can change that,” he said.

“Stark, I don’t expect you to believe me, but, I love you” she said meekly. He put his lips to her forehead. “I believe you,” he said. Almost on cue, she began to shake. Her time had come. Only one thing about death is certain, it’s never easy. She nodded to him. He removed his mask, and the light touched her face. She smiled as she crossed over.

In his head, he saw her the day he was taken by Scorpius. Filled with guilt, she ran to the PeaceKeeper office. She begged them to take her instead. He saw her crying for days. He even saw her failed suicide. He could almost feel her soul hugging him. Then, she was gone.

D’argo sat alone, as he often did now, in his quarters. He pondered the information Crais had traded with him. All over the Uncharted Territories, people, entire towns were being found deserted. Ships were being found without crew, left fully intact otherwise, like the crew had just up and quit. Hopefully they were just rumors. There had been some whoppers about Moya and her crew, mostly untrue. Still, they had one more enemy to deal with.

Zhaan’s singing chant filled Stark’s chamber. He lay on his bed, tears in his eye. He had never thought that he would mourn her death. But, her final visions that cannot be faked showed that she did love him. Yet another person that he cared for was dead. Maybe Crichton was wrong, maybe Stark was the most screwed man in the universe. At least he had Zhaan to comfort him. The song soothed him to his very soul. Each drawn out word more comforting than the last. He was drifting to a peaceful sleep. Then, her song changed. It still flowed, but just a little quicker, and this time it had much different words. Zhaan’s mouth seemed to struggle with the new language.

“I’m not the one who’s so far away, when I feel the snake bite enter my veins”
“Never did I want to be here again, and I don’t remember why I came”

************************************************** **********************
DVD Extras:
Checkout Disturbed (This episode’s soundtrack band” at www.distrubed1.com

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:29 PM

Season of Death DVD part 10
Soundtrack: “Last High” by the Dandy Warhols

Crichton wearily gazed out of the cockpit window at the distant blue dot. The planet was called Cadoni, and was one of the fabled Sebascean Break Away Colonies. Though other Sebascean worlds were founded in the past 500 cycles (Nadris for instance), they were not given the same respect as the innovators. Here, PeaceKeeper presence was nil, the perfect spot for Crichton and Hana to re-supply. He wasn’t planning on staying long, just long enough to get a full tank of Cesium. Another bonus was that Cadoni had its own independent legal system, meaning that ships reported stolen by the PeaceKeepers didn’t exist in the local enforcer’s database. In addition, like the Royal Planet, he hoped that his name would be an anonymous one.

His traveling companion was just as ecstatic now as she was a week ago. The novelty of traveling in space had not worn off for her. It had taken Crichton almost two years to lose his. Now he looks at other planets like just like they were another town. Like his fake mother had said, his eyes were once so full of wonder. Then the illusion had said had much he had changed, how callous and cold he had become. “People change to survive” was his only answer. Hana was a survivor, though, that was for sure. Crichton was shocked by her lack of education. It wasn’t that she was dumb, far from it in fact, it just was that she probably hadn’t sat in a classroom since grade school. She was unfamiliar with astro phenomenon and many of the other aspects of space travel. She also lacked any real practical skills. She learned fast, and had already adapted to her life in a flying tin can. She was a really good traveling companion, constantly talking. Women like that used to irritate him, but now it felt like home.

She had dug further into his song base, experimenting with country. She didn’t particularly like it, but still memorized Lyle Lovett’s “LA County” first time through. She dug 80’s Rock though, especially Bon Jovi and Twisted Sister. Crichton highly doubted that he had remembered the lyrics right, that was several drunken nights, head injuries, and mind frellings ago. She had told him that she was also writing her own songs, using this “Bizarre Human style” as she called it as a base. She was struggling with some real oldies now. He was even writing a song in the back of his head, a song for Aeryn, one that had gone through his head after her funeral.

He was glad that she focused on the music; it kept them from the romantic issue. They were both pretending like the kiss at the ruins had never happened. He also held back a lot of personal information from her. She could only guess at his past. There were plenty of demons back there to send her running. He had spent the last day trying to convince her that she wanted to hop on the nearest freighter at the spaceport. He said that she would be safe on the Royal Planet; the monarchy still owed him favors (but for what he never said). She declined the offer. She wanted to be in for the long haul. Space was new and wondrous, a lot better than the urban hell of Koorong. But, she had yet to see the horrors of space. She could not take her eyes away from the window the entire trip. She even kept look out while Crichton slept.

Her eyes were even wider as the planet quickly came into full view. “My God!” she said. Crichton smiled; it was an all right planet he guessed, like Earth, nothing spectacular to a visitor. He pressed a switch on the console to answer the audio-only hail. “Attention craft, this is Irgos control, please stand by for landing instructions” ordered a husky voice. “Received” responded Crichton.

The black mercenary ship gracefully touched down on its assigned landing space. Crichton gave a quick thank you with his hand to the man on the ground directing him. The man replied and walked off. Crichton walked to the cargo compartment in the rear and prepared for the worst. Hana smiled as he slid his two pistols into their holsters, and then he threw on his trusty black coat. She was dressed much more normally, wearing a red sleeveless shirt and black cargo pants. Crichton quickly looked at the peeking midriff. His sunburn had finally healed and he was jonesin’ for some sunlight. “You ready for this?” he asked her. She nodded. He pressed a button and the air lock slid away, letting in a mild breeze. “Ladies first” he motioned to the pavement just outside the door. She slowly trudged toward the door, like his dad had probably done before touching the moon. He saw her carefully put her foot down on an alien planet for the first time. She then slowly put the other down, smiling wider and wider with every second. “I’m on another planet,” she said enthusiastically, checking the sky.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 10:
Maybe

Guest Starring:
Angelina Jolie

As Hana walked around, taking in the sights, Crichton settled down to business. They needed Cesium, food, and water. He hoped that they could be out in a few arns. He took a look at the spaceport. This one was set aside for smaller ships, like his stolen baby. It looked exactly like a commercial charter airfield back on Earth. No Leviathan transport pods or PeaceKeeper ships were around on the tarmac. Only a few light cargo runners. He counted the wad of cash in his coat pocket. He still had his cut from Blo, and the mercs had been carrying a great deal of currency. He walked over to Hana.

“Its hard to believe your standing on another planet isn’t it?” he asked. She smiled, turning to him. “I already like this place better than Koorong” she said. Crichton had noticed that the air was fresher and a bit cooler. The city skyline looked light-years ahead of Koorong’s. The buildings all looked modern (modern by alien standards, not human) and in new condition. Floating vehicles also flew between them. “Its amazing” she said. “Have you ever seen anyplace like this?” she asked, wide-eyed. Crichton smiled. “I’ve seen place a hundred times more spectacular,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s go check out the supply office,” he said to her.

The supply office stunk of dust and oil. It was empty now, except for an unbelievably old man behind the counter. He gave the couple a nod. Crichton released Hana’s hand and went to the old man. He could have been 100 cycles old, or even more (it was hard to tell with Sebasceans). “Welcome young friends, name’s Skeeter, how can I help you?” he asked, with the more British sounding accent of the Break Away Sebasceans. The name Skeeter had died off on Earth, and it was kind of weird to hear it on another planet. “Hey Skeeter, I just need some Cesium, a full tank of water, and a weeks worth of rations for the little lady and me” replied Crichton. Skeeter shook his head.

“The water and food are no problem,” he said. Crichton detected a hint of doubt in his voice. “But, the Cesium won’t be ready for another solar day” he said. Crichton attempted to keep his temper under control. “And before you think about going someplace, we’re the only Cesium refueling station on the planet” added Skeeter. Crichton thought that only one source of Cesium on a planet was ridiculous, it was needed to power all light spacecraft. “How come your out?” asked Crichton. The old man looked to be settling in for a long story. “The Cesium tanker that refuels us disappeared for thirty minutes” he said. He paused, probably for dramatic effect. “When it reappeared, it was crewless” he finished. Hana seemed spooked by this, Crichton was stoic. A year ago that would freak him out. He motioned for the old man to continue. “Strange thing is, the cargo was left intact,” he said. This puzzled even Crichton.” Did they abandon ship?” he asked. Skeeter shook his head. “The ship was ripped apart inside by heavy weapons fire, and all they found of the crew was corpses and blood” replied Skeeter. “But over half the crew was not accounted for” he added.

“That’s a bit disconcerting” replied Crichton, his face never changing. “And this isn’t the first such incident”. Hana closed, particularly interested. “Rumor has it that crews have been disappearing like that all around the sector” he said. “Entire settlements of a few hundred people, deserted, except for battle scars” he said. “People say that it has picked up in the past few monens”. Crichton laughed. “I know first hand how wrong these rumors can be” chimed in Crichton. “I bet you got all kinds of rumors on John Crichton” he said. Hana’s eyes bugged out of her head. The old man moved his dentures in his mouth. “Some people love him, some hate him, personally, I think he’s the devil in mortal form” said the old man. “I suggest not seeking him out” he added. “Don’t have to worry yourself over that one old timer” replied Crichton.

He turned to Hana. “Want to spend the night on the ship or spring for a hotel?” he asked. She knew the smart thing was to stay on the ship, but she wanted to see the planet. “A bath and real food would be good for a change,” she said. “Great” said Crichton under his breath. “Ok, whatever you want darlin’” he said. She smiled. Crichton could only fake one. Skeeter interjected “You folks are lucky, you made it just in time for Straden Day” he said. Crichton looked at Hana for clarification. Before she could respond, Skeeter laughed. “Holy dren, don’t tell me you forgot?” he asked. Hana gave a bit of a smile to Skeeter. “You gonna forgive him?” he asked. She smirked, turning her green eyes up at Crichton “Maybe” she said with a devilish look on her face, the one that instantly “did something” for Crichton. He looked quickly around the room, trying to understand what the hell Stradivarius Day was.

Compared to Koorong, the streets were empty. A few people traveled by foot here and there, but most flew overhead in the hover cars. Hana’s eyes almost never left the skyline. They only moved to look at a new species. She asked Crichton to identify each one, and he tried to, but he of course confused the oids and veks quite a lot. Plus, there were several species that he didn’t have the faintest idea about. Her hand clung to him, just as much like that of a child’s than as a lover’s. Of course, she was neither. She had long since forgotten about the disappearances, but they still stuck fresh in Crichton’s mind. Why would pirates ignore a load of Cesium? Even slavers would take the supplies. It wasn’t his concern, he thought. He was brought back into the real world when he slammed into Hana’s back. She had stopped in front of an older looking structure. A bizarre symbol that resembled a hurricane symbol stood over the meager doorway. “What’s so special about this place?” asked Crichton. “It’s a Bask church,” she said. Crichton looked at her shocked. “Didn’t know you were a praying woman,” he said. She gave him a smile. “Just occasionally” she said. “The one thing from my childhood I remember” she added. She motioned up the street. “Could you check us into the hotel, I’ve got some words for St. Ajora” she said. “Unless you want to come in?” she asked. Crichton shook his head. “I don’t even pray to my own God anymore” he said. “Be back in half an arn,” he said, leaving her side.

Crichton sat alone in his hotel room. It wasn’t overly fancy, but it had a soft bed, an actual shower, and a mini-washing machine. Hana’s room was adjoined to his through a side door. He had closed it for the time being, he need his privacy. He scanned the star charts that he had brought from the merc’s ship. Their options were somewhat limited by their ship’s range. He needed PeaceKeeper data stores. Not that there map would have the location of the Gammick Base. For all he knew, the Gammick Base was on a moon orbiting the PeaceKeeper seat of power, but he highly doubted the PKs would want to have the ultimate weapon being tested in their own backyard. They also wouldn’t want it to be near the borders or the Nebari or the Scarrens. He found Scorp’s old base on the map, but the place was burned to a black crisp thanks to him and D’argo. But, then again, with Hana, he couldn’t actively hunt down his love’s murderer. Well, half her murderer, he was the other half, and he would be dealt with accordingly.

It turned out Straden Day was kind of like Valentine’s Day on Earth. It was a combination of unity between lovers and family. Aeryn had never mentioned this day, but he highly doubted PeaceKeepers celebrated it. The street markets had been filled with various flowers and foods. Apparently, greeting cards had never been big business in the Sebascean world.

Hana was doing her best to persuade Crichton from his suicidal quest for revenge. She wanted him to stay with her, to stay alive. He had been extremely tempted when she had playfully asked if he would wash her back in the bath. But, he turned her down; despite knowing it was just a joke. He took out the vial containing the lock of Aeryn’s hair. He pondered the raven-black stands. He didn’t know exactly why he kept this, it only made him angry and sad. Actually, much more than sad or angry, it made his blood boil. It brought up his feelings of love for her and his hatred for Scorpius and himself. He put the vial back in his jacket. Maybe it was a good thing he had Hana in his life. He probably would have used one of his pistols in his mouth and fired by now. Instead of self-hating sessions, he had dinner plans. Without her, Harvey would probably have driven him insane by now, or more so anyway. She had become his one constant. He was brought from his trance by here angelic voice coming from her room. She had obviously had been singing in her bath and was now finishing one of her favorite songs:

Give me your lips for just a moment,
and my imagination will make that moment live.
Give me what you alone can give,
A kiss to build a dream on.

She knocked on his door. “Come in” he said, taking his feet from the table. She swaggered in wearing a white towel around her body. “Feel better?” he asked. She nodded her head. She grabbed her outfit from the mini-washer/drier and folded it in her arms. “God I missed that” she said, wrapping her head in another towel. On the merc ship there was only enough water from sponge baths. The sweet smell of her bubble bath filled his room. “Don’t get used to it, we are out of here as soon as the Cesium arrives” said Crichton. “Called Skeeter, the water tanks have already been filled and he has rations waiting at the ship,” he said. She seemed disappointed. Crichton picked up on it. “If you want to stay here your more than welcome…” she gave him a glare that cut him short. “I know that we’re not on a tour of the galaxy, I just wanted to see this place a little longer” she said. “Your lucky girly girl, I normally only see the prisons of planets,” he said jokingly (though it was the truth). She rolled her eyes. He laughed. Crichton looked at her for a second. She smiled back at him “What?” she asked. “If you can wait on dinner, I need to step out and get something, should take just a minute” he said. “What do you need?” she asked, throwing back her hair. “I’ve got a promise to keep” he said with a smile. He opened the front door and turned to her “Do me one favor” he asked. “The white dress please” he said quickly, closing the door. She didn’t really have a choice; she only had three changes of clothes.

Crichton walked through the darkening streets. The lamps above instantaneously popped on at the exact same moment. Fully functioning streetlights were one of the many things the people of Dobie Circle lacked from these more advanced neighbors. Several of the stalls had already closed. He hoped his wasn’t too late. He looked up and saw a sign pointing towards the spaceport. He could keep on walking, get back on the ship, and blast off as soon as he was gassed up. Back on the trail of Scorpius like he had planned. Hana had thrown a rather large monkey wrench into his plans. Death wishes were supposed to be simple. But, he could feel something changing ever so slightly. His nearly constant anger still underlined all his thoughts, but she gave him levity from his demons. Anyone who had ever experienced loss knows that many times levity is all you can hope for.

He didn’t want to just dump her here; she had been treated like shit too much in her life already. He spotted a stall with the light still burning. Time to keep his promise.

Crichton stood outside her door, his hands behind his back. The smell of her fresh perfume instantly attacked his senses as she opened the door. Even with her heels, she was still a bit short than him. Their eyes met. He guessed that he would have to start avoiding eye contact with her. He slid his right arm forward. She looked at the large bouquet of pure silver flowers. Her emerald weapons lit up with glee as she focused on them. “My God” she said simply, yet very excited. He coughed “Freyna said these… Ivalices were your favorite” he said. She took them carefully and brought them to her nose. “Thank you John!” she said, with all the same enthusiasm she had when he busted her out of Lu-Ras’. She hugged him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’ve never gotten flowers before” she said. Crichton looked around in disbelief “Your telling me no man has ever bought you flowers?”. She nodded. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she responded. It was amazing how far just a little act of kindness went with her. Like he had told Freyna, he was completely honorable in his intentions. He was doing this for her, and didn’t expect or even want anything in return. It was much too soon since Aeryn anyways. But, because he was hurting inside, she didn’t need to suffer.

“Remember on Nadris, I told you I would treat you like a queen on the next planet?” he asked rhetorically. She nodded anyways. “Well, I’m here to fulfill my promise”.

Hana focused on the red candle burning in Crichton’s blue eye. A candlelight dinner was something else she had never experienced. She looked down as Crichton poured her the rest of the alcohol from the tall bottle. Her head was already swimming, and she thought that she would be lucky to actually stand up after the meal. But, she still managed to have the motor skills to grab the glass, so she picked it up and brought it to her glossed lips. The liquor had a very sweet, almost candy taste, and had the kick of a good wine. It was the first kind of it either of them had tried. The most common alcohol in the UT’s was razlak, which was an alien version of cheap whiskey, strong, tasted like crap, and gave you a two-day hangover. Crichton looked better and better to her every sip.

She laughed again at one of his many jokes. She smiled at him “I think you’re probably the smartest, most charming person I have ever met” she said honestly. Crichton though the compliment over “No, I just say stuff that anyone from my planet knows, just no one has ever heard of it here before, so they think I’m ‘smart’ and ‘witty’” he stated, downplaying himself, using air quotes. They were interrupted by the waitress bringing dessert. “Good God” she muttered out, looking at the pure white sweet that had been labeled the “Straden Day Special” . Her stomach had shrunk on the ship, and it wasn’t that big to begin with. Crichton poked into it with a fork. She was a bit puzzled why they had only been brought one. He scooped up a small bite and held it up to her lips. She could smell the underlying alcohol in it, all she needed in her system, more booze. But, today she was a queen, and queens can do whatever they want. She looked into his eyes as she lightly took the desert of the fork, judging his reaction to the slightly sexual action.

Well, she could do almost anything. She wanted him very badly, especially with the alcohol in her system. She had sex forced upon her by Lu-Ras personally at a very young age. She had never desired it before, and found the act disgusting. But, Crichton was different. She would give anything for him to kiss her, let alone let him get inside of her. She moved the sweet stuff around her mouth with her tongue, a very pleasant feeling accompanying the taste. Apparently it was an aphrodisiac. All she needed was something else to make her even more frustrated.

“Damn I miss chocolate” he said, taking the white stuff to his mouth. She looked up at him, hoping the desert and the alcohol was having the same effect on him as it was on her. “This chocolate thing is better than this?” she asked. He nodded “Tastes a lot better, and it just has a little something in it that other foods don’t have”. “If I ever get a chance, I’ll take you to go get some on Earth” he said. They both paused for a second. He had never said anything about finding his home before, and talking about taking her with him was big. He had only offered this to Aeryn a few times, and that took a lot of time. He decided to cover himself “But, I wouldn’t count on finding home anytime soon” he said. She looked down at the food “Mind passing me another bite?” she asked with a smile. As she took the bite from his fork, he had another thought.

He reached into the pouch that normally carried ammunition. “I almost forgot” he said. He pulled out a long, black velvet box and handed it to her. She awkwardly opened it, and gasped. Inside was a golden choker, with an inch and a half long purple crystal. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. She removed the necklace and held it in her hands. “Every woman needs at least one piece of jewelry” he said. She only had earrings. For a man that wasn’t trying to get anything out of this, he was spending a lot of money on her. He liked a woman that acted, well, like a woman. “Happy Stradden Day” he said.

She looked at him a little suspiciously when he reached for it. “So I can put it on you” he said. She nodded, handing over the jewelry. He carefully slid the small necklace around her neck, and closed the clasp. “Thank you, I’ll never take it off!” she said, playing with the purple crystal.

An old woman, who was sitting with an even older man, turned to them. “That looks lovely on your wife!” she said. “Oh… he’s not…” Crichton cut her off “Anything would look lovely on her” he said. “See, she’s speechless” he added. “You’re a very lucky woman” added the senior. Hana smiled up at him. She thought about making this a command law marriage just for the hell of it. All she had to do was call him “husband” and they were legal. She decided to let it slide, and enjoy the evening.

After the very expensive dinner, the hansom pair walked down the illuminated street. It looked a hell of a lot better than any part of Koorong looked during the day. She bumped into him, sending him into the brick wall next to them. She laughed a bit. “Sorry about that” she said playfully, maybe a little slurred. Crichton looked into her face with a grin and stuck his index finger in front of her eyes. “Watch this” he said, moving it across her field of vision. He watched her hazel orbs struggling to keep up with it. He laughed “Yeah, your wasted” he said with a smile. She giggled and looked down a bit “Sorry, I was wasted about five drinks ago” she said. “Nothing to be sorry about, we all need to get drunk every once and a while, I know I do” he responded. He was still about a third sober himself. He had not drank to intoxication since losing Aeryn, being drunk would set him up for Harvey, plus he would need all his faculties to defend himself and her.

Crichton looked up to see they were outside Cassidy’s Bar, a place Skeeter had recommended as a gathering place of travelers. Crichton had at first said that he would not visit the place, but a sign in the window caught his eye. It said: “Fellip Nectar”. He nearly pulled her arm out of socket when he burst through the door. “What’s the rush?” she asked. “Fellip Nectar” was all he could say. She looked at him with disbelief “I’m already drunk!” she said. Crichton smiled “The drunk get drunker”.

He sat them down in front of the bartender, a large, bald Sebascean. Since he was the only actual employee in the bar, Crichton accurately guessed it was Cassidy. “What’s up man?” said Crichton. He turned to Hana. “Don’t make me drink alone” he said. “Mint Tenari” she said begrudgingly. “Right, a Mint whatever for the lady, and I’ll take a Fellip Nectar”. The gruff bartender handed Hana a bottle filled with a pink liquor, but turned to Crichton. “Sorry, that guy got the last of it” he said, pointing to a small, weakly man that looked like he didn’t belong. He hadn’t touched the brown filled glass yet, and Crichton strolled over to him as Hana starred at her drink.

“Excuse me, but is there anyway that I could buy that from you?” asked Crichton in his least threatening voice. The scarred little man looked up with wide eyes. “Excuse me?” he asked in an even weaker voice. “Look, you got the last glass of that stuff, and I have been hunting for it for over two cycles, it tastes just like beer you know” said Crichton. The man was now not only scarred, but confused as well. This guy would have lasted about ten seconds in Koorong. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, you can take it if you want” he said. Crichton coughed. “No, no!” replied Crichton. “I’m not trying to rob you, I’m trying to buy the drink from you” he said simply. The man slowly replied. “Twelve credits” said the man. He was surprised when Crichton flopped down a twenty. “Keep the change,” he said, picking up the mug and heading back to Hana.

He immediately lifted the glass, and was blown away by the flavor. It tasted almost exactly like English beer, except without the malt. He didn’t care what part of the bug the nectar came from at this point. He took a few large shallows, keeping the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. He looked at his half empty glass with dismay. “I’d better not have to wait another two cycles to get a hold of this again,” he said to Hana with a smile. She was enjoying her drink as well, but not at his “level”. “You’re holding my hair when I puke tonight” she responded. Crichton smiled “Well, honey, I’ve held someone’s tentacles while they puked, so with you it will be a pleasure”.

They made small talk with Cassidy, who also told of rumors of people disappearing. He blamed it on the PeaceKeepers trying to frighten the people of the Break Away Colonies into sighing protection treaties with the PeaceKeeper Union. Crichton had responded that the PeaceKeepers would have stolen the supplies from the ships, not just left them in space. He then added that in his “many” cycles of space travel, he had never seen anything like it. Cassidy had also reported enhanced PeaceKeeper activity in the regions to the Galactic West. Crichton exchanged this for info on the places he had been. Also, according to Cassidy, the Scarrens had also beefed up their forces in the regions to the Galactic South. Crichton was interested in the locations of these new PeaceKeeper forces. Charging into their space wasn’t the brightest idea, but then again he was on a suicidal quest. According to Cassidy, there was a PeaceKeeper base on the planet of Arroyo, which bordered the heavily avoided “Tormented Space”. Cassidy had no idea just what the hell made it Tormented, but it sounded like the perfect place to stick a Gammick Base. When they had finished grilling Cassidy they turned to leave, but the little man stopped them.

“Sorry sir, but I overheard you say that you’re a space traveler,” said the meek man. Crichton gave him half a smirk. “What’s it to you?” he asked, putting his hand on his coat-covered hip. Hana braced herself to run or fight, she was too drunk to walk a strait line, but she could manage. The man shook his head. “I was hoping that perhaps, me and my family could travel with you for a short while. Crichton turned to Hana, who shook her head. She wanted to be alone with him, and further more, she didn’t want a strange man in that tight a space with her. “Sorry, we’ve got enough problems” he said leading her out. The man stopped them again. “Please, I can pay you” he said. Crichton didn’t stop. “Look man, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your problems,” said Crichton. Hana stepped in. “What my boyfriend is trying to say is that we have enough money and that we have a schedule to keep” she said. She looked at Crichton’s wide eyes. She sent him a “never mind” look with her eyes. The man shook his head. Crichton shot back. “Why don’t you hire a regular freighter?” asked Crichton. The man hesitated, so Crichton filled it in for him. “You’ve got people after you right?” asked Crichton angered. The man nodded. “Sorry, but we don’t need another set of people chasing us all over the universe” said Crichton. “Who are they; PeaceKeepers, Nebari, Scarrens?”. The man looked down “Something much worse!” he replied shaken. “Good luck with that” added Crichton, leaving. The man stopped Hana. “We’re staying at this location, if you can change his mind, please help us” he demanded, handing her a slip of paper. “I have two children,” he added. Hana nodded her head and followed Crichton out.

The twisting, sickly looking wormhole hovered over the small, lifeless moon. Several Marauders and Prowlers flew around it, sending information back to the hidden base. The information being sent back traveled across several screens and was being recorded by many eyes. They all worked nervously under the piercing gaze of Scorpious. They were a diverse mix of species, all recruited using vast amount of PeaceKeeper money or if that didn’t do it, fear. The leader of this smattering of races was the small, wrinkled man called Strappa. His ass was on the line again.

Pilots had been suffering some adverse effects from exploring the wormhole. Mainly, they melted into puddles of red goo. Needless to say, the program was short on volunteers. But, good thing for the program that PeaceKeepers didn’t wait for pilots to volunteer.

The crew was awaiting the arrival of the last pilot to try the flight. He had overseen the installation of the radiation shield that he had personally invented. If it worked, he would be a genius, possibly a rich one, but fail and he would just be down another pilot and down another chance from Scorpius. Scorpius had already spaced two project leaders.

He felt a chill go down his spine as the Scarren half-breed entered the room and stood over him. “Any word yet?” he asked. Strappa licked his lips. “Not yet, but the Prowler will be back at any microt” replied the little scientist. Scorpius put his armored hand on Strappa’s shoulder, a little too hard to be friendly. The little man swallowed hard. “It had better work,” added Scorpius. The PeaceKeeper had been extremely bothered by some news he had received from Braca. “Crichton escaped!” was all he hollowed before leaving the room a few weeks ago. Now, he had settled down a bit. The arrival of SSD Commandos had seemed to do the most good. He was disappointed that he couldn’t get someone called “The Game” to run security, but was otherwise satisfied. They both focused on a monitor as it began beeping. Strappa smiled. “In coming Prowler,” he gleefully reported.

The fighter glided in from the giant blue devil to the small moon. Under the control of the Base’s autopilot, the Prowler flew through a crater in the grey surface. It past several embedded cannons in the manmade tunnels. The tight tunnel ended in a huge hollowed out cavern. The cavern was filled with structures cut right into the rock. The auto-controlled fighter flew into the hanger of the main building. Scorpius and his group of scientists watched through a panel of plastic glass as the Prowler landed in front of them. As the hanger closed and repressurized the group proceeded to the hanger.

The smiling Strappa almost shook with anticipation as he approached the Prowler. His smile changed when the cockpit slid open and a flood of red goo flooded the floor. He backpedaled back from the small ocean of red. Behind him, he heard a few screams from the female researchers. He jumped as Scorpius touched him on the shoulder. He turned around and chocked as Scorpius’ strong hand wrapped around his throat. The pain got worse when his feet left the ground. Scorpius looked him in the eyes, hardly straining. His voice changed to his growling Scarren tone. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t snap your head off your neck right now!” he growled. The man flailed his feet and barely squeezed out: “Its not my fault, your data is corrupted” he squeezed out. Scorpius looked at him to go on. “Try getting the neural clone of Crichton’s help” he squeezed out. “Crichton hates me, so will his clone, how will that help me?” asked the Scarren Scorpius, the lifting chokehold still applied. “Tell him about the Scarrens” gasped out the scientist. Scorpius thought for a second. He put the man down on his feet. It was a stupid idea, but it might just work.

Hana struggled to get through Crichton’s door. She didn’t think she had the motor skills to duel with her door’s lock. She staggered a bit and managed to fall onto the bed. She turned to Crichton. She was flat wasted, and he was at least riding a buzz. “What the frell” she said in her head. She motioned slightly from the bed with her finger. Crichton chuckled a little bit at the best offer he had ever gotten. “No” he said simply. She looked at him frustrated, and tried to storm out of the room, instead, she ate the floor. He scooped her up of the red carpet. She flung his arms off.

“Hana wait!” he ordered. She got to the adjoining door and turned to him. He got into her face, very gently. He could see tears building on her eyes. “Listen, I know what your thinking” he said. “You think that I don’t desire you… and that sure as hell ain’t true” he said. She looked at him “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, I’m incredibly attracted to you, and I think about you entirely too much” he said. She held him “Then act on it” she said. He shook his head “Its too soon Hana, its only been a month and a half! I feel guilty just for thinking about you, which as I said before, I do often”. “Plus your drunk, I’m buzzing, and I don’t want to do something that we will regret” he said. She leaned against the door “I know its selfish of me, but I’m just not ready darlin’” he said. She shook her head “I’m being selfish, I know its hard for you” she said. Crichton smiled “I know how it feels to be on your side of a relationship, Aeryn kept me at a distance of two cycles before letting me get close” he said. “I’m not going to have to wait that long am I?” she asked. Crichton laughed, “I don’t think so”.

Maybe, after he caught up with Scorpius and put a few dozen bullets in his head, he could settle with Hana. He was locked in the great battle of little head versus big head, the classic conflict every man has. She wasn’t just pretty on the outside, but as his mom would say, she was just as beautiful on the inside. Nice, sympathetic, and anything else you could want in a partner. He knew he was a dead man walking. Even if he somehow managed to survive the battle with Scorpy, people would never stop hunting him. You don’t kill as many people as he did and get away with it. He knew that ever person he put down was a voice in someone’s head calling for revenge.

“Do you not want me because I’m… damaged goods, a whore” she said. He thought he had just answered this question. He looked her over “Of course not! You were forced into it, and even if you weren’t, it doesn’t matter to me”. He got into close to her “If you can look past my past, even my present, than I can sure as hell overlook yours” he stated honestly. “And like I said before, I DO want you, its not you, its me” he said. She smiled a bit.

“But, you really want me?” she asked. He held her “In the worst way” he said. She was a bit confused by this, so he clarified “Standing up in a hammock!” he slurred out, maybe a little beyond buzzed. She thought over it for a second, and an unbelievably hot smile came across her face “That’s kind of dangerous” she replied, playfully. He nodded “Danger is my middle name” he shot back.

“Can I at least get a kiss from you Mr. Top Dollar?” she asked. He looked at her “Just as long as you never call me that again”. He gave her a light kiss on her goddess like lips. Just as they broke, her eyes changed “I’m going to need you to hold my hair now” she said, grabbing his hand and rushing through the adjoining door.

A few arns later, Crichton rubbed his eyes and looked around the docks. “Just what the frell are we doing here?” asked Crichton. Hana, dressed in normal street clothes, drug him around by the arm. “I want you to hear this man out, he says that he was two kids,” she said. Crichton shook his head. “He’s a criminal, he’ll tell us anything to get him off this planet” he replied. She looked at him. “It takes one to know one,” he added. She smirked and led him on. “We check, if he doesn’t have any family with him, we leave him” she said. Crichton nodded. He hoped this would require any fighting because he was still buzzed and she was obviously still drunk, though she was maintaining her motor skills a lot better. As they neared the warehouse given, they heard yelling voices. Crichton easily detected the voice of the meek man, as well as that of a woman’s and at least one child’s. He motioned for Hana to stay put and pulled out his pistols. He crept ahead, pistols ready. He reached a hole in the wall and motioned for her to follow. She stealthed over to his location and they both peered inside.

The man had not been lying; he did have a wife and two kids. Unfortunately, they were all at gunpoint. The four stood side by side, his wife wasn’t very attractive, and they had two small boys, possibly twins. That’s not what worried Crichton; it was the group on the other side of the room that did.

There were three of them, all dressed in solid grey armor from head to toe. The armor made them look almost like big silver insects. The two eyeholes were covered by amber pulse-proof plastic. What amazed Crichton the most were the mini-guns in their hands. The multi-barreled weapons here huge and fear inspiring. On their right shoulders they bore a black pyramid surrounded by a blue circle. With his family threatened, the meek man was hardly meek. He barked at the unknown troops.

“I will not help you or your sick cause!” he yelled, his voice only slightly stammering. The woman held the children tight, all three crying. One of the strange troopers spoke. “For the last time, you’re coming with us!” said one of the massive Sebascean warriors through a microphone in his solid armor. “Never, you’d kill us anyway!” screamed back the little man. Under his mask, one of the armored troops smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that!” he said through the armor. He motioned over his shoulder at his compatriots.

Hana screamed along with the entire family as the pulse mini-guns whirled to life. She turned her head as the hundreds of red blasts slammed into the entire family. Crichton didn’t move, his eyes focused on the flying pulses. The entire family was torn to smoldering pieces. The troopers, even with their strength raising armor, fought hard to control the whirling weapons. After the family and most of the wall behind them were reduced to smoldering waste, they ceased fire. The leader waived his hand. “Move out” he said through his armored microphone. Crichton grabbed Hana’s arm. “I’m no match for them, lets get the frell out of here!” he whispered. She stood, stunned, looking at the smoldering pile of blood. Crichton grabbed her and dragged her away.

“Wow, that was some story Scorpy, too bad I don’t give a damn” said the suicidal neural clone of a suicidal man. Scorpius looked at the neural clone of Crichton dressed in his flowing coat. Scorpious fought back. “But John, you saw that the Scarrens wish to be the only sentient species in the galaxy, and the only way we can stop them is your wormhole technology!” replied Scorpius. “Crichton” shot back. “What, they’ll kill someone I care about?” asked the clone. “Frell you!” screamed the clone. Scorpius shook his head. “They will eventually find your homeworld John, and then only we can save your people,” replied Scorpius. Crichton smiled. “If the real me feels like I do, he’s coming for you Scorpy, and that scares you doesn’t it?” asked Crichton. “Preposterous, he’s only one man!” replied Scorpius. “He destroyed one of your bases already, what makes this one so special?” asked the clone.

“We are hunting him down right now, it won’t be long” said Scorpius. Crichton smiled. “My people have a saying Scorpius”. He got in his face. “Don’t hunt what you can’t kill!” he said. Scorpius growled with anger.

Crichton reached for the pistol under his pillow as he heard the door open. He found his muzzle pointed directly into Hana’s chest. She jumped a little. “Sorry, what are you doing here darlin’?” he asked. She was dressed in a nightgown that she hadn’t used since they left Koorong. “I’m not trying to come on to you okay, I’m just really scarred” she said, her voice stammering. Crichton flipped on the light. He could see that she was visually shaken. “Want to talk?” he asked. She shook her head. “She doesn’t want to talk,” he said under his breath. She sat on his bed. “Like I said, I’m not hitting on you, just please can I sleep in your bed tonight?” she asked. Crichton nodded. “We’re both adults, climb aboard” he said. She slipped into the sheets next to him. He put his arm on her shoulder. “Its alright, your safe” he said. He put his arm around her waist and turned off the lights.

Crichton and Hana starred strait ahead at the runway. He had told her that they were headed for Arroyo and she showed little emotion. She hadn’t shown much emotion since last night. Perhaps she was suffering from Posttraumatic Stress Disorder he thought. It said something about him too. While she turned away, he starred right at it, and it did not haunt his dreams at all. He hadn’t even dreamed at all.

“Last chance to get out,” he told her. She shook her head. “I don’t want to be away from you,” she said. He nodded. She still smiled as the ship hauled down the runway. Crichton smiled in return. She already had space in her blood, he thought.

Scorpius growled as he disengaged from the interface with the neural clone. He had gained only insults from the clone, which had promptly terminated itself. The chip however, had stayed intact, along with all its memories. Now, he would have to sort through it all without help. He smashed a near by monitor with a boot, and stormed out the door. The real John Crichton was going to pay.

Crichton checked on Hana who was sleeping in the cargo area in her sleeping bag. She tossed and turned, obviously dreaming. He put his hand on hers’ and she awoke. “You were dreaming,” he said. She was sweating a great deal. “Thanks” she said. “You can see their faces can’t you?” he asked. She nodded. “I’ve had hundreds of those dreams,” he added. “Will it go away?” she asked. He lied and nodded yes. Well, for him it was true, some faces of people he killed were replaced by others he killed. He could only think of one thing to calm her (since he again forgot booze). “When I was scarred or shaken up as a boy, my mom used to sing this song to me, I think you’ll like it,” he said. “You’ll get something extra out of it” he added. He hummed a little bit, and began to softly sing:

Maybe . . . you'll think of me, when you are all alone,
maybe the one who is waiting for you will prove untrue
Then, what will you do?
Maybe . . . you'll sit an' sigh, wishing that I were near
Then, maybe you'll ask me to come back again
and maybe, I'll say maybe

DVD Extras:
Check out this ep’s song “Last High” by the Dandy Warhols at:
http://www.dandywarhols.com/sounds.htm

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:30 PM

Season of Death DVD part 11
Soundtrack: “Understanding Me” by Soil

Moya flew swiftly through the asteroid field, banking to avoid a large rock. The dust of long dead giant rocks blooded out the stars in all directions. Moya hated going through dust fields, the grit was not pleasant, and her vision was clouded by it. The dust disappeared for a few seconds behind her, and then reappeared as the wake passed.

Inside, the crew’s was split all over the ship doing weekly maintenance and chores. Chiana was busy with the crew’s wash. Meanwhile, Zhaan was at work mixing her herbs into vital medicines and salves. She was still haunted by the song that she sang a few weeks ago. Stark was busy with the computer system, searching for the best system around for them to go. D’argo was trying his damndest to repair one of the navigation consoles on the bridge. And Rygel was the busiest of the lot… sleeping. He rolled on the silk sheets he had bought at the last commerce planet. He dreamed of his harem and killing his brother. All in all it was a common day on Moya, one were no one had to die or worry about anything. Pretty soon it would be mealtime. Of course, things rarely went well on Moya anymore.

Moya kept on chugging through the rocky mists, avoiding asteroids her and there. She didn’t notice when one of the small rocks began following her. It quickly gained on her, its size to small for her or Pilot to detect in the dusty field. As it reached her tail, the rock split into three pieces about the size of bowling balls. Each one snuck up the engine holes, ridding the intake wave into her core. As each was blown back out, a signal went to each and the balls began glowing. Then, almost instantly, they expanded several times over, as well as growing spikes. The blue glowing spiny balls dug into the yellow flesh and stuck in the outward flow tubes. The blue sparks quickly spread from the balls to the flesh.

Moya groaned and the lights flittered as the waves of gain shot through her body. The crew lost their footing as she swung out of control, fishtailing in space. More blue sparks flew from her exhaust ports as she swung. Stuck in his position, Pilot worked frantically at the controls. His multiple arms hit the various controls, effectively putting on the brakes. As the engines shutdown, the sparks ceased and she stabilized.

D’argo picked himself up from the floor and tapped his comm. “Pilot, what the frell is going on?” he screamed. “Ka D’argo, it seems that something was caught in the Moya’s engines, she has never experienced something like this” he replied. Pilot answered similar inquiries from the crew, some with less and some with more profanity. Ideas for both problems and answers buzzed through his multitasking head. In a hundredth of the time it would take a human, he calculated the problem and picked the most likely solution. “Ka D’argo, it could be a blockage in the exhaust ports, could you inspect the main one while I have DRD’s search the other two?” he asked in his usual polite tone. The angered D’argo responded. “All right, just make sure you do not restart the engines while I’m in there, you know what will happen” said D’argo. Pilot nodded to no one, full plasmatization. It was strange, due to its lay out, most Leviathan propulsion systems did not suffer blockages.

D’argo threw on his mask and headed for the rear of the ship. The girls had gathered in the central chamber, with Stark on the way. D’argo didn’t relish the fact of standing in the exhaust tunnel. One slip up by Pilot and he was going to be reduced to atoms. He strolled through the maintenance bay, grabbing a tool kit. He had a fully charged cell in his Qualta Blade. He didn’t think this was anything out to kill them, but he didn’t want to find himself unarmed against a giant space roach or worm or whatever.

A little walking later and he was in the long, orange hallway. The skin was immune to the high energy of both propulsion and Starburst. He noticed that the skin changed color as he went down. It looked purple, like a bruise. He pulled out his Qualta Blade, just incase. He crept around a small bend and saw something that brought shock to his face. The object looked like a sea mine on Earth, a bit shiny ball with spikes sticking out every which way. Some of the spokes had pierced the hide of the Leviathan. Around them there were signs of blackening, most likely the flesh had been burnt. He tapped his comm. “Um Pilot… I’ve got some kind of spiky… thing down here” he said. Though his description was woefully inadequate, Pilot knew this was trouble. “Is it metal?” asked Pilot. “Yeah, really bright silver metal” replied D’argo.

By now, DRD’s had arrived at the other blockages. Pilot studied the images that they sent back. He had data on such devices in Moya’s memory banks. He pushed down on one of his comm. buttons. “Its called a Skree Mine, its used to hunt Leviathans” he said. “They emit shocks to halt propulsion,” he added. D’argo shot back. “Who uses them?” Pilot looked at the data. “Produced originally by the PeaceKeepers, the devices are used by all kinds of pirates and poachers,” he said. D’argo thought for a second. Leviathans are rare in the Uncharted Territories; therefore these mines were set up just for Moya. “Ka D’argo, I will instruct you how to dislodge the mine, I’m sending Stark to help the DRD’s with the others” he said. Before he could finish, Moya sent out an alarm. “Attention!” Pilot yelled over all the comms. “There is a vessel approaching!”

“Is it PeaceKeeper?” asked Chiana. “No, neither is it mercenary, it is not on Moya’s memory banks” replied Pilot. “It appears to be heading directly for the hanger,” he added. D’argo chimed in. “Have Stark and Rygel take my place, I’m going to prepare for boarding”.

The vessel was an almost soil red. It closely resembled an arrowhead. The ship was about the size of Crichton’s stolen ship, and carried a large array of weaponry. It entered the foreign hanger unopposed, Moya unable to move. The large vessel quickly hovered to the ground, a slight rumble traveled across the fleshy floor.

From his position behind an overturned table, D’argo watched the airlock door slide up. He awaited the troops that would spill forth. He dreaded the fact of seeing Enclave soldiers coming down the ramp. He watched, and at least these warriors weren’t the Enclave. The first of them was a dark skinned, morbidly obese creature. It stood almost seven feet tall and was dressed in a sleek, raincoat like black suit. It waddled down from the transport first. In its hand it held a large weapon that resembled a harpoon gun, except with a hyper advanced sight. Even at this distance, he could see that the creature was not totally humanoid. The hands appeared to be more like modified flippers than actual hands. The flippers only had two digits; a thumb and a large flap that maybe the rest of the flipper/hand. “The Fat Frell” as D’argo now referred to it motioned behind him and was joined by nine other bald figures roughly the same size as the first. Some carried harpoon guns, while others held conventional energy weapons. One older one, apparently the leader held a bizarre rifle that was connected to a pack on his back.

The gargantuan party moved forward, its variety of weapons scanning the hanger. D’argo stayed crouched behind his barricade. His only advantage was that of surprise. He might be able to take to down at the most before they returned fire. And right now he didn’t know how many shots it would take to down one of the massive seal-like creatures. He would strike the leader first try to cause confusion. He readied himself for the shot. Just as he turned to fire, Chiana waltzed into the room. She screamed and fired her pulse rifle as she fled the room. D’argo heard a harpoon whoosh overhead. He turned behind him to see the spear sticking in bare wall.

He spun as he rose from his position and squeezed off a round. The blue bolt struck a harpoon man square in the chest. The seal-man made a very primal bellow and staggered backwards before slamming to the ground, his blubber giggling. He fired again, striking one of the energy weapon wielders square in the head. The man crumpled where he stood, taking little time to leave this world. D’argo fell behind the workbench as the others returned fire. Pulse and spear fire smashed into the table. He readied himself for another shot.

The leader of the attackers looked at his fallen men and aimed his flamethrower like weapon at the Luxan’s hiding place. He squeezed the trigger and a jet of blue, steaming fluid flew at the table. It froze on contact, turning the center of the table to a block of ice. One of his men fired a harpoon at the ice block. The table shattered in half, collapsing and leaving D’argo high and dry. The stunned Luxan raised his weapon and fired simultaneously with one of the harpoon gunners. The blue bolt traveled much faster than the spear and sliced into the thick chest of the warrior. As it screamed and fell, the harpoon slammed into D’argo’s arm. He released his sword and instinctively grabbed his injured bicep.

One of the creatures closed and swung at him with the butt of its energy rifle. D’argo ducked it and slammed his good left elbow into its gut, then gave it a devastating uppercut. The dazed brute fell to the ground. Before he could focus, another of the beasts charged him as he stood. Before D’argo could react, the massive creature plowed into him with a shoulder spear. The mass of the 500-pound plus man’s form tackle slammed D’argo to the ground in one brutal fluid motion. Before D’argo blacked out, he heard one of the creatures say in a raspy voice: “Don’t kill him, they want them alive”.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life

Season of Death Part 11:
Diehard Dominar

The seven remaining creatures moved through Moya quickly. Their harpoons had been replaced with some sort of blunted ball. They moved rapidly down the corridor, weapons scanning every bend. The careful scanning didn’t pay off when a pair of red pulse blasts smashed into the point man’s chest, sending him down. Before Chiana or Zhaan could get off another shot, the harpoon guns responded. The beanbags flew at incredible speeds towards the girls. The one for Zhaan missed, but the other slammed into Chiana’s flat abdomen. She was hurled backward from the impact and slammed to the ground writhing in pain. Zhaan noticed that all the weapons in the room were pointed at her and fear came to her eyes. “Yield and you will not be harmed,” said the leader in a deep, visceral voice. Zhaan begrudgingly threw down her pulse rifle and put her arms on her hands on her head.

Two of the creatures that had identified themselves as Smedloids moved into Pilot’s den, spear guns ready. “Put your arms where we can see them!” ordered one of the tubby beasts. Pilot complied, though with a snobby attitude. The two struggled up onto the control console that nearly buckled under their weight. “Disobey us and your friends die!” ordered on of them. “But…” Pilot tried to interject before being shocked by a long cattle prod. As the shock stopped, one of the Smedloids looked him in the eyes. “No talking!” he ordered. The other one quickly chained Pilot’s arms to the wall around him.

Rygel, who had been startled awake by the mines and weapons fire, crept through the air ducts on his hover sled. The device made way too much noise for his comfort, but he sure as frell wasn’t walking. He would pause every once and a while to watch Smedloids rush under him towards vital places on Moya. They were still hunting him, maybe Stark too. A patrol had just passed out of earshot when Stark’s voice popped over his comm. “Rygel, its Stark, do you read me?” he asked. Rygel slapped the badge. “Quiet you moron, I’m right on top of the fat bastards!” he whispered back. Stark replied in the same volume. “Sorry, look the others are all being held prisoner in the central chamber, we’re their only hope” said Stark. Rygel shook his head. “We aren’t soldiers, how do you expect to save them, storm the chamber?” asked Rygel. “Exactly!” replied Stark. “You can go get yourself killed, I’m getting out of here!” replied the one once called Sparky. “Too late, they already have the hanger under guard,” shot back Stark. Rygel slammed his fist into the bulkhead.

The leader of the “Hunt Team” was named Vis. He turned to the fading trio that was his captive audience. “I’m here for one reason, I want Crichton, where is he?” he asked. The crew looked at each other. D’argo took the sarcastic lead. “He’s been dead for months!” almost screamed the Luxan. The Huntsman looked at each other. “What was that?” Vis asked. Chiana responded. “How old is your information, Crichton’s been gone for almost a quarter of a Cycle” she added. “Impossible” murmured Vis. “No its true, the PeaceKeepers killed him a few months ago” replied the level headed priestess. This only added to their confusion. “Our leader sent us to find this Crichton not a weeken ago,” replied one of the hunters. “Who exactly is your leader?” asked D’argo. One of the beasts smiled “We work for the Death Corps” he snarled, putting the emphasis on Death.

Outside, Stark listened in and planned his attack. He held a pistol in each hand. He had never done this before, but he had seen Crichton do it all the time and it couldn’t be that difficult. There were only three of the intruders in the chamber; the remaining three were on guard duty. He raised his pistols and turned to the room.

The Smedloids turned to see the screaming Stark bust into the room, pistols shooting off wildly. The pulse blasts struck all around the room, barely missing the hostages. One of them stayed perfectly still and took aim with his beanbag. He fired one careful shot and downed the mystic with a thud. “Damn it!” screamed Chiana.

Rygel overheard from his perch that Stark had been captured. He also overheard that Crichton was not onboard. The hunters responded with anger, pissed that they missed the big payday. They were told to spread out and search for Rygel. One of them was to guard Pilot, the other the hanger. The rest would patrol the halls. Rygel shuttered. It was up to him to save the crew and Moya. His first objective would be Pilot’s den. But first, he needed a weapon. He knew just where to start.

Zhaan looked at her three injured friends. She called out to Vis. “Huntsman, please my friends are hurt, I need to get some medical supplies”. One of his underlings turned to her. “Four of our men are dead, consider yourself lucky” he said. Vis cut him off. “The boss wants them alive” he said. “Take her to her work station and get whatever she needs” he ordered. “But, if she resists, kill her” he added. “We can live without one or two” he said with a crooked smile.

Rygel hovered over the large empty pit around Pilot. His tiny hand held the equally tiny pistol he got from Crichton’s room. It was the tiny pistol he had seized the first day that he was in the Uncharted Territories. Below him, Rygel saw one of the black figures patrolling the small walkway. Crichton had always wondered why no one ever bothered to put in a guardrail or something around the long drop. He spotted Pilot in chains and felt a little bit of pity. He pointed at the large target from his height and fired.

The small bolt of yellow light flew and easily missed the target that wasn’t much smaller than the broadside of a barn. The confused Smedloid followed the bouncing ball of light as it ricocheted around the room. He caught a glimpse of the Hynerian in the corner of his eye and fired his plasma rifle. The red blast missed Rygel barely and burned into the wall. Rygel fired again, still missing. The Smedloid locked its weapon on Rygel and smiled. The bouncing bolt of like struck a wall and slammed into the flabby backside of the Smedloid. The big man tumbled over the side of the walkway and reached up at the last second, grabbing the smooth surface.

The beast struggled to pull its blubbery body up the ledge, but it struggled with its own weight. Rygel flew down to hover just above the Smedloid. He pointed the small pistol at the man’s head, where even he couldn’t miss. “Next time you have a chance to kill someone, don’t hesitate” said Rygel calmly as he pulled the trigger. The large thud that followed several seconds later brought a smile to his face.

Rygel hovered over to Pilot and undid the chains from his multiple arms. “Thank you Dominar” said Pilot. Rygel motioned to him. “How many are left Pilot?” “Five, one is with the crew in the central chamber, one is with Zhaan in medical, one is in the hanger, and two are in a roving patrol” reported Pilot looking at his DRD displays. An idea popped in Rygel’s fiendish head. “Where is the patrol headed?” asked Rygel. “Towards the rear of Moya” said Pilot. Rygel smiled.

Rygel waived to the pair of giant seals and hovered quickly down the hallway. The two Smedloids rushed after him, through a large last door to the rear of Moya. The hallway they entered was long and empty. It was of a bland orange color. They kept of going down the tunnel until it began to turn purple. They rounded a bend and spotted a large, silver ball with spikes. Dead end and no Rygel. They turned to the sound of the blast door shutting behind them.

Outside, Rygel climbed from the storage box that he had jumped in as he rounded the bend. He smiled at the locked door. “Now Pilot,” he ordered.

Pilot worked the console to start the engines. Moya knew that there would be pain, but she could endure it for a few microts. The ship shuttered slightly as she released a slight bit of propulsion.

The pair of Smedloids turned to the almost electric rumbling sounds behind them. They watched a wave of blue energy come rushing at them from around the bend. “Oh dren!” they said in unison. The wave slammed into them as they screamed. In a matter of moments, they were reduced to atoms.

Vis looked around. “What the frell was that?” he asked D’argo. D’argo looked up. “It’s a living ship, she does get gas every once and a while” he responded. Vis nodded. “Thank God for stupid people” said D’argo in his mind. Vis looked to Stark and Chiana for confirmation. “I lost my eye in a Leviathan Flatulence incident,” interjected Stark. Vis some how believed them.

Rygel turned a corner to have a large flipper wrapped around his throat. He looked up to see a massive black clad body. The guard of the hanger bay had somehow heard him coming. Rygel’s tongue stuck out what seemed like a mile. “Looks like I caught me a little frog” said the big man in a deep voice. He licked his lips. “I love raw frogs,” he said with a broken smile. Rygel passed gas.

The beast laughed until he inhaled some of Rygel’s helium. The grip almost instantly left Rygel’s throat and he began to hack and cough. The Smedloid screamed out in an extremely high voice: “No!” He collapsed on the floor and began to convulse. He thrashed about and foamed at the mouth for a few moments then went still. This gave Rygel one last idea.

Vis paced and tapped his comm. “Rondack, Charton, Bine, come in!” He looked at his Lieutenant. “Go out there and see what the frell is going on!” he ordered. Before his underling could comply, Rygel floated into the room. “No need, they won’t answer you!” he said. The fat men raised their weapons. “I suggest you leave,” ordered Rygel. The two laughed. “What are you going to do if we don’t snack, bite our ankles?” asked Vis. He motioned for his Lieutenant to grab the Dominar. The Lieutenant grabbed Rygel by the throat. Rygel squeezed with all his might and let a long oozer out. Both of the large men laughed until the Lieutenant collapsed to the ground foaming at the mouth.

Vis stood back in disbelief, his ice thrower at the ready. “Consider this a warning, you have three minutes to leave this ship before we pump helium throughout the entire breathing system” ordered Rygel in his most intimidating voice. Vis raised his weapon. “Why didn’t you pump it in here to begin with, why would you risk yourself?” he asked with confidence. Rygel smiled. “Because I want you to go back to your Death Corps friends and tell them that John Crichton is dead and gone, and Moya is no longer their big payday!” he said. Vis kicked the table and ran from the room.

The crew gathered in the center chamber eating the biggest meal they had eaten since the death of Crichton and Aeryn. Rygel, the guest of honor sat in the center of the group. D’argo looked furious, but still praised Rygel. “Thanks Ryge!” said Chiana for the billionth time. Rygel smiled with every compliment. “It was just me against an army of Smedloids,” said Rygel, about to go into a long speech. Zhaan cut him off. “Sweet Rygel, you weren’t quite alone” she added. Rygel nodded. “I of course must thank Pilot for his help on vaporizing those fat bastards” he added. D’argo again shook his head. “You won’t let us forget about this will you?” Rygel looked at him. “Of course not!” “This is the story that you will tell the people that are unfortunate enough to be your decedents”.

Zhaan turned to D’argo. “Don’t you find it unusual that Vis did not know that John was dead?” she asked. D’argo frowned. “It’s a long way out here, their information is still old,” he said. Zhaan swallowed. “What if we’re wrong, what if Crichton is still alive?” she asked. D’argo shook his head. “Then I pity Scorpius,” he said returning to his meal.

The Smedloid vessel flew through the airlock doors and into the massive black capital ship. The symbol of the Death Corps, a large red circle surrounded a six point star made of blades, adorned the former PeaceKeeper vessel. Though it was only a fraction the size of a command carrier, it was still twice the size of Moya.

The huge soldier of fortune waddled his way through the weakly lit hallway. The gang of interstellar bad asses looked him over, some with disgust, some with disappointment, and even some with sick smiles. Though it was mostly a Sebascean crew, any species halfway skilled at war had at least a member or two on the ship. It was like an exhibit of modern weaponry in the halls, next generation assault weapons and submachine guns were just as common as clothes on board.

He walked up to a muscular, dark-skinned Sebascean with dreadlocks. The mercenary sergeant laughed hardly when he saw the fat man. “I feel bad for you fatty” he said. Vis looked at him with slight anger. “Is the man in?” he asked simply. The dark Sebascean laughed again. “Yeah he’s in, but he’s holding a meeting right now” he said with a crooked smile.

The beautiful, cut, brunette Sebasceanera moaned in ecstasy as she pumped up and down on the man beneath her. As her moans grew in volume and frequency, her partner looked at the monitor behind her. He spotted Vis on it. Just as she was peaking, he tossed her off of him. He immediately rolled out of the silver sheets and got closer to it. As she complained behind him, he slipped into his leather pants, not unlike Crichton’s. A tattoo across his toned chest read “Frell the World” in Sebascean. He threw his boots on quickly, ignoring his partner. Lastly, he picked up a black vest and slipped it over his tattooed chest, leaving it open. The combat vest was covered with short, silver throwing knives.

Vis looked up at the commander of the entire Death Corps organization, the man that he had contracted with. The mercenary had already yelled himself out and was now letting his assistant tear into the big man. The Commander was Crichton’s age or younger, most of his sergeants were older than him. But, he had been born into the Death Corps, and had been doing this since age thirteen. Plus, seniority was decided by who could kick the most ass, not who was the oldest. “Did or did you not promise us Crichton?” asked the freakishly muscular Lieutenant. The Smedloid shook his head. “I can’t give you someone that doesn’t exist!” screamed Vis. “The boss says that Crichton is still alive, as do the PeaceKeepers” replied the Lieutenant. “Maybe they're wrong, maybe it wasn’t Crichton, maybe someone else did all that dren in Koorong…” Vis’ argument was cut short when a one of the mercenary captain’s many throwing knives sliced into his massive forehead. The big man fell to the steel floor, killed instantly. He waived his Lieutenant off. He reached behind him and turned the stereo on. The last chorus of his favorite song washed over the empty room:

Condemned Man
Condemned
Convicted Man
Convicted
Could Not Save My Life
Cutting Strand By Strand

************************************************** **********************
DVD Extras:
Check out “Understanding Me” by Soil at www.soilmusic.com

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:31 PM

Season of Death DVD part 12
Soundtrack: “Before I’m Dead” by KidneyThieves

Hana curled up into he sleeping bag on the cold floor of the cargo bay. She looked at her perspective boyfriend. They had just had their first real fight. Again it was over her concern for him. She had tried all day to persuade Crichton that he didn’t want to die and he didn’t believe her.

He walked in from the cockpit. “I sorry I yelled at you, its just that you can’t understand the situation” he said. She looked at him right in the eyes. It was time to bring out the big guns. “John, there is something I really need to say” she said. Crichton gave her a fake smile. “Shoot darlin’” he said. She looked around, as if working up the courage. She gutted it up and said it. “If you stop feeling sorry for yourself, maybe you’ll see I’m in love with you,” she said flat out. Not the way she wanted to say it, she was a woman, she had this planned out in dozens of scenarios and this wasn’t one of them. He looked at the floor. “Maybe if you stop feeling sorry for me, you’ll realize you aren’t,” he said simply, returning to the cockpit.

While see sat in her sleeping bag crying, he went back to work. He starred out the windshield for about half and hour, saying nothing. It was her turn to watch while he slept, but he decided that now wasn’t the best time. He decided to get in a quick “NASA Nap”, no longer than thirty minutes max.

Crichton caressed Aeryn’s back as they kissed. He knew this wasn’t real. She had been dead for sometime now. He knew this was another dream, but he enjoyed it all the same. Hopefully this one wouldn’t veer horribly off course. Most of these very pleasant dreams became nightmares, originating either from his own subconscious or the intruder lodged in his brain. Ever since he and Hana had set their sights on Arroyo, his dreams had worsened. Obviously Harvey was trying to protect his living incarnation. Crichton highly doubted that this was the place he was looking for since a Gammick Base would be so well hidden that no rumor of its existence would have been leaked to the public. But, maybe he could persuade the PeaceKeepers at this base to tell him Scorpy’s location.

They broke lips and he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry I never said it sooner, but I love you” he said to her. She smiled bigger than she ever had before. “I love you too,” she said. Just as the words left her mouth, she morphed into Harvey. The twisted grin smiled back at Crichton as he released his hands from around the neural clone’s face. “John, what’s wrong?” he asked almost innocently. In normal situations, Crichton would just hurl insults at the sick imaginary monster. But, he had defiled Aeryn by doing this. And defiling Aeryn was the worst thing you could do to John Crichton.

The clone didn’t even try to defend itself as Crichton’s right fist slammed into his eye. He followed with a left to the jaw. Harvey easily fell to the ground. Crichton was amazed how soft Harvey was. As Harvey crawled to his feet, Crichton grabbed him by the shoulders and drove his knee into the armored gut of the clone. Harvey buckled and fell to his hands and knees. The bleeding clone looked up at Crichton. “You’re so predicable John” he said before fading into nothingness. Crichton shook his head and woke from his nightmare.

It wasn’t one of his worse dreams. It started good, got bad, but then he got to kick Scorpy’s ass. Two out of three isn’t that bad. He reached up to scratch his nose and was shocked by the small pool of crimson on his knuckles. He stretched the fingers as the sticky stuff spread. He heard sobbing coming from the cargo compartment. He opened the door to go apologize to her. He looked over to see Hana Tuvari curled in a corner, bleeding and bruised.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 12:
Crawling Part 1: Depth Perception

Guest Starring:
Angelina Jolie

“Oh shit!” was all he could muster. She looked up at him as he rose, her right eye already trying to close. He kneeled and crept towards her. She was still sobbing. When she saw him getting closer she stood, bracing her back against the bulkhead as if she was trying to climb it. “Please, just stay away!” she screamed at him. He stopped in his tracks. She slid back down to the cold steel floor, holding her smooth abdomen. As much as he wanted to go to her, he obeyed her wishes. She looked up at him, ready to launch a well-deserved tirade.

“Does it make you feel like a big man?” she asked hurt and angered. “Hana, I can ex…” she cut him off. “I should have known, this life isn’t living, living isn’t free,” she said with a mix of pain and sorrow. “I thought you were different, but you’re just like Lu-Ras!” she screamed. “What are you going to do next, force yourself on me or pimp me to the nearest bunch of living dren you can find!” she said, trying to catch her breath with her busted belly. “I saw you kill all these people and not even care, I thought you would never hurt me,” she added. “You supposedly care about me, you would never harm me right!” Crichton tried to interject, but she cut him off. “I said that you could be more, but that’s not true,” she said. “You’re dead inside, you’re a psychopath!” She looked at the floor. “And I thought I loved you!” she screamed, almost ashamed.

Crichton’s heart sank. “I didn’t mean to hurt you Hana,” he said, in all honesty. She looked at him confused and even more angered. “Whom did you mean to hurt, we’re the only two people on this ship!” she screamed. He had never told her of the neural clone or the chip that used to be in his head. Right about now it would have been useful for her to know ahead of time. Now it would just sound like a far fetched excuse. Crichton licked his lips. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I didn’t know that it was you” he said. She looked at him with her one good eye. “Oh really, then whose face were you trying to smash in?” she screamed. “Scorpius” replied Crichton pathetically. She shook her head. “And you used to kiss Scorpius?” she asked. “No, when my vision first started you were Aeryn” he said.

Hana had heard enough about Aeryn for one lifetime. The man she supposedly loved was stuck on being faithful to a dead woman. “What vision?” she screamed again. Crichton breathed in. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” said Crichton. “No shit!” she replied, taking after Crichton’s language. Since he had only been with Harvey for a while, Crichton had gotten used to his old human curses. Crichton shook his head. “Listen, I’m going to try and explain myself, I don’t expect you to believe me,” he said. She nodded. “Don’t expect me to ever trust you again,” she said. Crichton swallowed. “I don’t deserve your trust, or your company, that’s why I’ve been trying to get you to leave,” he said. She teared. “So this is some stunt to get rid of me, guess what you asshole, it worked!” she screamed back. Crichton lowered his head. “I was trying to get rid of you for your own safety, Hana I… (he paused, trying to find the right words) care about you a lot, I don’t want to see you hurt, why would I do this to you?” he asked. She reached her head back and flung a scream at him. “How the frell should I know, you’re the one with blood all over your hands, I’m the one with the bruises!” she said. He starred at her face. “I’ll explain, just let me tend to your wounds,” he said. She had a flashback to her former master after he had his way with her or just felt like beating her. “What, you don’t want any scars on my pretty face?” she asked sarcastically. Crichton interjected.

“I know most men have explanations for beating the women they care about, but mine is God’s truth!” he said. “I swear on Aeryn’s grave,” he added. “Hell, I’ll even swear on my mother’s grave!” he said. She looked into his eyes. “Go ahead and waste your time,” she said. Crichton licked his lips and began a tale that even Odysseus would have pity for.

“When Scorpius captured me about a cycle ago, he did more than torture me” he said. “He also implanted a neural chip in my head incase I escaped” he said. “Over time the chip spread through my brain, slowing driving me insane” he said simply. “It came with a neural clone I call Harvey”. He went on with his story of pain and suffering. He likened it to crawling in his own skin. Then he came to the key area, the real death of Aeryn Sun.

“You said that you wondered why it is taking me so long to get over Aeryn, well here’s your answer” he said. She was looking intently by now. “Scorpius didn’t kill Aeryn, I killed her,” he said. Hana gasped. “The neural clone took over my body, and tried to take me to Scorpius” he said. By now, his face was filled with rage and a few tears were forming. “Aeryn flew after me and tried to save me,” he said. “The clone forced her to crash”. “She managed to eject, but the attack by me damaged her seatbelt” he said. “The clone let me regain consciousness just in time to watch and do nothing”. He flashed back, his last words to her. “She drowned in a frozen lake,” he said. “Her last words were my name,” he said. By now his fist was clutched around the vial that held his love’s hair. He tossed the vial to Hana. “That’s all I have of her,” he said. Hana studied it closely. “Even though I had the chip removed, the clone is still stuck to my psyche, I don’t understand the techno or psychobabble, but he’s here to stay” he finished. “And if I pulled that entire story out of my ass I deserve an Emmy”.

She looked at him unsure. It was hard to believe the man that just gave her one of the worst beatings of her life. “Even if you aren’t lying, I still want to leave at the first opportunity,” she said. Crichton understood. He had been trying to get Hana to leave since day one. He knew the Harvey had convinced him secretly to take her along, but he guessed it was to slow Crichton down. Now he saw that Harvey had something totally different planned. The pain with Hana was like the pain with Aeryn all over again. If he had killed Hana he most certainly would be dead by now.

“Is there anything I can do to make this up to you?” he asked. He knew that he had broken this woman’s heart. She shook her head. “I can’t see what” she added. She still kept as far away from him as possible. Crichton relented. “We reach Arroyo in about twelve arns, there is a good-sized city there, you should be able to secure passage to the Royal Planet or wherever” he said.

Hana jumped a little as he slid his pistol from his hip. He slid the sleek weapon across the floor to her. “If I ever try to hurt you again or if I seem even more strange, I want you to kill me,” he said simply. She slid the weapon back to him. “I’m not a killer like you, and I could never pull the trigger on you” she said. She motioned for him to come near. He walked towards her. “If you try anything, I have a better idea” she said. As Crichton neared her she gave him a quick kick to the groin. He buckled to the ground as she gingerly stood up. He rolled on the ground for a short while.

He staggered to his feet and tried to grab her arm to help her. She threw his arm off. He staggered back into the cockpit. He was kind of glad that she was going. If the rumors had been right about Arroyo, and Scorpius was really there, he was beginning the last day of his life. Once the orchestrator of her death was punished, then the instruments would be dealt with in kind.

Scorpius starred at his new second in command. The young Lieutenant seemed concerned. “Sir, we’ve tracked an unknown ship in the area for some time” he said. “It seems to be searching this system for something” he added. “Is it Scarren?” asked Scorpius with keen interest. “No sir, neither is it Nebari” he added. Scorpius sat back. He said the most hated word in his vocabulary. “Crichton”.

Hana slid the backpack that contained all her worldly possessions onto her back. Her tank top covered her taped ribs. Crichton reached into a duffle bag and pulled out a huge wad of cash. He got closer to her than he had been in the past day and gently placed the money in her smooth palm. It had been the longest twelve hours of his life, no singing, and no talking. He stayed in the cockpit and she stayed in the back. Her eyes matched his. “Thank you for the money” she said. Crichton didn’t smile and added non-jokingly; “I won’t need it where I’m going” he said simply, going back to checking his weaponry.

Dust blew in from the open door into the cold interior of the ship. This was another planet, though not nearly as interesting as anything Herbert came up with. The “large” city that they were in was unoriginally called Arroyo. Most of the buildings were beaten or worn down. It didn’t have the ghetto feel of Koorong; it felt much more like New Mexico. The town was small enough for a man in black and a beautiful battered woman to stick out like a sore thumb. And hopefully the same would go for a hidden Gammick base.

She stood at the doorway, seemingly waiting for him to get the final word in. He guessed she was trying to get him to find a reason for making her stay just so she could throw it in his face. He didn’t have time for this shit; he had someone or a lot of someones to kill. He looked at her now closed and blackened eye. He couldn’t believe that he had given that to her. He hated men that battered women and now he was among them. As some one had eloquently put it: “All that is left is to say goodbye”. He watched her count the money.

Crichton felt a little guilty and gave her the last statement she was looking for. “I’m sorry I did that to you” he said for the thousandth time. She shook her head. “I want to thank you,” she said out of the blue. Crichton was a little shocked by this. “Thanks for what?” he asked. “For the rest of my life” she said walking out into the sand. Crichton groaned and followed her. “Its been fun” he added. She seemingly ignored him and walked down the street. “Goodbye” Crichton said under his breath. As Hana walked down the dusty street tears filled her eyes.

She walked until the ship and the man in black disappeared. She was broken from her trance by the voice of a woman. “Sister” said the calm voice. She turned to see a woman in log flowing robes. A priestess of the Bask religion. Hana looked up and saw the large building was a Bask church. “Hello priestess” she replied. She could tell that the woman was gazing at her battered face. “What happened to you my child?” asked the old woman. Hana lowered her head. “My boyfriend beat me up,” she said. The priestess shook her head. “Its very common in these parts”. “Are you a follower of our faith?” she asked. Hana nodded yes. “Are you still with this man?” she asked. “No, I just left him five minutes ago” she replied. She pointed to her backpack. “Everything I own is in this” she said. The priestess looked concerned. “Why don’t you stay with us my dear, at least until you find a place to stay. Hana shook her head. “I have plenty of money, I can stay at a hotel” she replied. “I insist my child, we can also have one of our doctors heal your wounds” replied the priestess. Hana finally consented. “I have some prayers to make first,” said Hana.

Crichton couldn’t help but feel like Clint Eastwood as he walked down the dusty street towards the location that several townspeople had given him. Most assumed that he was PeaceKeeper due to his dress. He didn’t bother arguing. They had all pointed him to a building on the outskirts of town. The trip took him in the exact opposite direction of Hana. He had to be on guard, he was probably already on Candid Camera.

The building that he seeked was far from impressive. It was only one story tall and about half the size of Bannon’s warehouse. It was made of a much more advanced metal than the rusted buildings that surrounded it. A faded PeaceKeeper Banner hung outside the door. He was surprised to see no black armored guards standing near the door. It could be a Gammick base, with the majority of the complex hidden underground. He strolled up to the front door unopposed and ready to possibly face his last battle. He felt the vial in his pocket to build his rage. As he reached the door the pulled his two trusty pistols from their holsters. As his coat flung open, a few of the grenades that he had acquired from the mercenaries could also be seen. The door slammed open and he readied for battle.

Alarms sounded through the Gammick base as the security cameras zoomed in on the lone intruder. Scorpius was shocked at the identity of the attacker. He growled as the first wave of marines sent to stop him were easily cut down by rapid pulse fire. The second wave faired no better. The intruder was driven, tough, and merciless. As his security leaders barked orders around him Scorpius felt something he had not in some time. Panic.

Crichton moved into the next room, weapons scanning for PeaceKeeper targets. The rage was so strong in him that he could feel it pounding through his skull. He kicked open another door, weapons ready.

Scorpius watched in reserve horror as the intruder burst into the next area, firing with great anger. The attacker seemed oblivious to the fire being returned to him. His returning fire took down other squad, this time a group of elite SSD Commandos were slaughtered. There was no other way to put it. It was a bloodbath and the PeaceKeepers were losing.

Crichton kicked down the next-door, pistols searching each direction, his adrenaline thumping throughout his body. He was quite surprised by what he had found in the small building.

The PeaceKeepers watched with fear from their fortified security room. Another area had been breached, its protectors slaughtered wholesale. Scorpius’ whole world was coming undone. He snarled as the camera was deliberately destroyed by weapons fire.

Crichton couldn’t believe that he had made it through three rooms unopposed. The small office seemed deserted. The small lobby that he had entered from the street was empty except for recruitment posters and various flashing wanted posters. He had noted that his face repeated a lot more than the others. The second area that he had broken into was a small cellblock that was completely empty except for one passed out Sebascean that was obviously drunk. The third room was some kind of power station or computer core. The next room was a rec room like area. There he saw his first PeaceKeeper.

The man was small and skinny. He looked to be about thirty years old. He lacked the appearance and manner of a PeaceKeeper Marine. He looked like a tech that had gotten a hold of a combat uniform. The man was so involved in reading his electric porno mag that he didn’t notice Crichton until he felt the muzzle of a pistol on his head.

Crichton heard the man gasp. Crichton slyly suggested; “I strongly recommend that you don’t reach for your pistol”. The man pretending to be a marine turned his head. He screamed as soon as he saw Crichton’s face. “Oh frell your him!” he screamed. Crichton now noticed that the man wasn’t even armed. Crichton tossed the man from his chair onto the ground. The man looked up into Crichton’s eyes. “What do you want?” he screamed. “Chew bubble gum, kick ass, you can figure out the rest,” he said calmly. The confused man began shaking. “How many others?” Crichton asked. “No others, I’m the only one on the entire planet!” screamed the little man.

He didn’t know whether to believe him or not. The man could actually be a Serpent Order assassin disguised as an incompetent coward. Crichton dropped this idea when he had to step back from the puddle of yellow liquid on the floor. He shook his head in disgust and pointed his pistol at the man’s head. “You’ve got one chance to tell me where Scorpius is!” Crichton demanded. “No bullshit, no playing dumb, just tell me!” screamed Crichton. “I have no frell of an idea what your talking about man!” replied the little man. Crichton thought about just wasting the guy right there. He lowered his weapon. “You’re not worth the murder investigation,” added Crichton.

“What’s your name, rank, and regiment?” Crichton asked. “Sub-Officer Fren, Joden, 75th technical detachment… I mean…” he though for a second. “122nd marine…” he thought again. Crichton cut him off. “So you’re a tech,” replied Crichton. “No” said the man. “Because I don’t kill techs, well most of the time,” added Crichton. The man’s expression changed. “Yes I’m a tech!” he said with confidence.

Hana stood from her prayer and rejoined the priestess named Priestess Mana. Mana put her arm on Hana’s shoulder. “You have a strong aura Hana,” said the holy woman. Hana smiled. “What did you pray to St. Ajora for?” asked Mana. Hana hesitated. “I prayed for my boyfriend, for St. Ajora to give him guidance,” she said. The Priestess shook her head. “Why do you pray for the man that did this to you?” she asked, rubbing Hana’s busted lip. “Because he wants the sun to fall over him,” said Hana simply. This was a symbolic statement meaning suicide to members of the Bask religion. A common form of suicide for Sebasceans was dying of heat exhaustion, often by sitting in direct sunlight. “And maybe he did this to keep me from being there when he dies” she added.

Crichton shook his head at Fren. “So let me get this strait, this big PeaceKeeper base I heard so much about was nothing more than your skinny ass sitting here?” Fren nodded. “Why would they station a large force out here in the middle of nowhere?” he replied. Crichton screamed. “Don’t answer my question with a question!” “Why are you here?” the criminal begrudgingly asked. “I frelled up a few too many times and I got sent here to help build this place” he said. “Supposed to be me and a detachment of marines but then command realized that this place was a pimple on the ass end of the Uncharted Territories and decided to leave just me to be an ambassador of the Union,” he said. “So in other words you just sit here all day arresting the occasional town drunk” interjected Crichton. “Yeah pretty much, and I also distribute recruitment material and file weekly reports on local hearsay,” he said. “The town already has an enforcer and three deputies and they were already under worked before we got here” he added.

The human saw that this was going nowhere. It would be much easier to kill the bastard, but he felt that leaving the man alive hurt the PeaceKeeper Union far more than killing him. “I’m leaving Sub-Officer, and I highly suggest that you don’t bother contacting command about me, I’ll be long gone” added Crichton, leaving. He turned once again. “But since I know your going to contact your superiors anyways, I have a message for Scorpius” he said. The tech didn’t know the name, but nodded “Tell him death is coming for him, soon, and there is nothing he can do about it” he said coldly. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder “Tell him John Crichton sends his regards”.

No sooner had Crichton left then Fren was in the small communications room (closet was more like it). He pressed the panic button on the small console that was made especially for John Crichton sightings. He had no idea where the signal went to, but it was to a base not far off. He got no response. If their comm.. officer was as bored as he was he was probably asleep. He jammed an emergency breakthrough button and the screen came to life. Fren screamed as what was left of a PeaceKeeper’s face starred at him. The rest had been blasted off by some kind of weapon. Fren quickly shut it off and preceded to puke all over the console.

Hana took one of the flowers from a nearby bush and took a careful smell. Her guide looked at her with a confused gaze. The beautiful woman smiled back. “I spent most of my life in a ghetto, I hardly ever saw flowers growing on the plant,” she said. “You said that you have no place to go right?” asked Mana. Hana nodded her head. “I wonder if you would consider joining the Sisterhood,” said the priestess. Hana froze in her tracks. “You do know that I was a sex slave before right?” asked Hana, half shocked. The priestess nodded. “Purity is not a requirement to be a priestess, you are just encouraged to avoid pleasures of the flesh”. Hana laughed. “Other’s got pleasure from my flesh, not the other way around” replied Hana.

“It’s a big commitment,” said Hana simply. The sister smiled. “What do you have planned for the future?” she asked, probably trying to show Hana that her plans were faulty. “My boyfriend has some contacts with the Royal Planet, he told me I could just mention his name there and the Royal Family would help me” Hana replied. The priestess looked disapprovingly. “Give me a day to think things over,” said Hana.

Crichton strolled down the nearly deserted street away from his ship. It was currently under refueling, not that he had any idea were to go. The sun was setting and the town was a dark orange. With his recent disappointments in both war and love, he decided to drown his sorrows in the local cantina. As he neared the open door he expected to hear country music blaring out of a jukebox. Of course, instead he was greeted by the usual techno crap that most Sebascean bars played. He wondered if Lu-Ras’ band was just a fluke and maybe good old Rock had never gone mainstream in the Sebascean world. A few of the local winos took a small look at him as he entered the mostly empty bar. Most went back to their booze without a moments notice. He looked around the room for a familiar female form but the only one was the bar tender. He spotted one of the drunks with a glass of Fellip Nectar. Excitedly, he sat down on the bar, facing the very attractive back of the bartender. “Excuse me miss, I’ll take some Fellip Nectar,” he said simply. He didn’t know who was more shocked when she turned around, him or her.

He looked right into the eyes of Jenavian Charto. “Frell” they said simultaneously. Crichton recovered first. “Can I have that drink today darlin’?” he asked with fake anger. She smiled and produced a glass of the once elusive liquid. Crichton chugged half the glass in a few quick swallows. He put down the glass and looked into her eyes. “Sorry, put did we meet at a party?” he asked. He noticed the others in the room where keying in, probably all of them had tried to pick up on the new bartender. “I think it was a wedding” she replied with a smirk. He nodded in agreement. He wanted to ask her about what she was up to or what her new mission was. But, with so many ears around it was kind of dangerous.

“How long you been working here?” he asked using a blanket question. “About three monen now I suppose” she replied. “You in town on business or pleasure?” she asked, polishing a glass. “Little of both, mostly business” he replied, draining the glass. He motioned for another. As she poured, she asked; “So, did you come with your friends?” “Yeah, well one of my new friends actually, but me and her had a little falling out” he said. “Sorry to hear that” she replied with some false sympathy. “Whatever happened to that old girlfriend of yours?” she asked. Crichton took another drink. “Dead” was all he said. “That new Scorpius disease is a killer,” he added. Jena hung her head. She placed another glass on the bar. “This one’s on me” she said. “You got any Rano 50?” he asked. She shook her head. “Too bad, it’s a shot drink they have in this hellhole called Koorong, it will eat the metal off a trailer hitch” he said. “What is that?” he asked, pretending to point at a liquor bottle.

They nodded to each other and he pushed the glass of brown liquid over, sending it flowing on her side of the bar. He apologized and leaned over to help her. “I get off in two arns,” she whispered. Crichton sat back. “Sorry about that darlin’” he apologized. He motioned at the liquid. “Can I buy a keg of that?” he asked. “Sure, for 200” she replied. Crichton nearly spit his brew out. Of course he would pay it. After this he would have a good supply of the nectar onboard his ship, probably enough for his entire short lifetime. He reached into his pocket and produced a wad of cash. More than enough to cover the keg and the drinks. “Keep the change,” he said. She smiled at the simple gift. She looked at the door behind him. “I’ll get it from the back room as soon as a help this woman” she said. A much more base one had replaced her fancy accent. She blended in splendidly. Well, for a gorgeous femme fatale assassin anyways.

He turned and saw Hana enter the bar. She walked a little easier, a healing patch under her shirt. Her face was still bruised however. She looked at him for a second, then took a seat on the farthest end of the deserted bar. The rest of the raging alcoholics were stationed at tables through out. He stopped Jena. “That’s my friend Hana,” he said. “I want to buy her a drink,” he added. Jena smiled. “You never bought me a drink” she replied playfully. He put down a few more pieces of credit. “She’s gorgeous” she added. Crichton nodded “That she is. She likes some pink drink called a Mint T something,” he said. “And please gather some intelligence, if you know what I mean” he added. Jena nodded and greeted the woman with a smile.

From afar, Crichton watched the pair talk. He saw Jena produce two of the pink drinks and motion over at Crichton. He raised his glass accordingly. He smiled at them both as Jena walked back over to Crichton, Mint thing in hand. “She wants me to give you a message,” said Jena. Crichton smiled until Jena tossed the pink drink into his face. He let the pink liquor drizzle all over his coat. He shook his head around and licked it from his lips. The drunks behind him still laughed. Jena put her hand on his cheek. “I’ll get your keg now” she replied. Crichton gave her a quick fake smile.

Crichton carefully wheeled the borrowed, empty dolly back to Jena’s tavern. He waited for a few minutes before she rounded the corner. She carried a bottle of purple liquor in her hand. She quickly undid her hair and let it flow down to her shoulders. He turned and walked by her side. “My ship is down the street,” he said. She waived him off. “I’ve got a little place a few houses down, we can talk there,” she said.

In her quiet church room, Hana sat lone in the barely-illuminated darkness. The absolute silence seemed to scream at her. She had never truly been alone. The town lacked the urban sounds of Koorong. She felt the chain around her neck. She held the tiny purple crystal that Crichton had gotten her for Straden Day. No man had ever taken her to dinner, bought her flowers, or given her jewelry before. And all he expected from her in return was her company, platonic company. She missed him already. She felt very conflicted, she loved him, at least that was what she thought she felt. She never knew love; she was not even attracted to a guy before. Men scarred her, but he was different. She had believed that he would never hurt her. She still thought that the beating he gave her was given by someone else.

He seemed different when he walked into the back of the ship where she was in her sleeping bag. His eyes were stressed in red, and his face was bent into an unfamiliar, cocky smile. He even moved differently. The first few words out of his mouth didn’t carry his accent. She felt something was wrong with him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It had all gone away when he told her that he loved her. It was the happiest moment of her life, then it turned into one of the worst.

Maybe she would go and see if his ship was still there in the morning. He would never say he loved her, and then sucker punch her like that. But what bothered her was that he had never told her about this neural clone before. Did he not trust her? If she had been his Aeryn, he would have told her, if she really was the most important thing in his life, as he said, he would have told her. She thought over it for a second, if she didn’t deserve his trust, he didn’t deserve hers.

Crichton threw his coat off and sat down hard on Jena’s sofa. He breathed out hardly as she poured the purple booze into shot glasses. He noticed her work coveralls. “A bit of a step down from your last assignment isn’t it?” he asked. She smiled. “Do you mean going from a noblewoman to a bartender or from a matter of national security to this dren job?” she asked.. He shook his head. “Either one, what are you doing here anyways, not exactly the most important planet I’ve ever been to” he replied. “Pouring drinks beats sleeping with Clavor”. She threw back a shot and gave him one.

“This is the closest thing I get to a vacation” she replied. “No real chance of conflict or capture, not that anyone here would want to capture me anyways” she responded. “I assume you have a better mission than just baby sitting a bar,” he added. She nodded. “You travel a lot and frankly know more about this area of space than any PeaceKeeper so I guess you’ve heard the rumors floating around” she said. “Which rumors, I hear all kinds” he responded. Before she could start, he jumped to a conclusion. “You mean the disappearances?” he guessed. She nodded. “They’re more than just rumors, at last count over five thousand people of different races have disappeared in similar circumstances”. “Ships left intact, cities unlooted,” she added. “Every single race in this area has had at least a few members taken”. “Sound like anything your aware of?” she asked.

Crichton thought hard. “I’ve never met a species that would kill without profiting from it in someway,” he said. “Nebari might, they are the cold, calculating bastards that would be something like this,” he said. She shook her head. “The Nebari were one of the first hit, they blamed us” she replied. “Plus, all the attacks have been on the exact opposite side of the Uncharted Territories from the Nebari” she added. Crichton took a shot and laid back. “The Scarrans are not too far from this area right?” he asked. “Yes, and heavy weapons were used at all of the attacks, weapons similar to Scarran use” she replied. This made Crichton sit up. “But the Scarrans are trying to forge alliances with the weaker races in this area, terror would only drive them to PeaceKeeper treaties”. “What did you say about heavy weapons?” he asked.

“I said that in all places that suffered attack there was evidence of heavy weaponry used” she replied. “No, what kind of weaponry?” he asked. “Large pulse weapons, flame guns, mini-guns, rocket launchers…” he cut her off. “By mini-guns you mean a multibarrled energy weapon right?” he asked. She nodded. “On the planet Cadoni about three week ago, Hana and I saw a family obliterated by a squad of Sebasceans wielding mini-guns” he said. She sat next to him on the couch. “That’s impossible, no Sebascean is strong enough to wield such weapons,” she said. “Tell that to the family that got turned into Kibbles n’ Bits by them” he replied. “And maybe it would be possible if they were wearing strength enhancing armor” he added. She looked puzzled. “Our scientists have been working on Powered Armor of centuries, he finally gave it up”. “Apparently somebody didn’t” he replied. “I’ll contact command and tell them that I have a lead” she replied.

“Now, to complete our exchange of intelligence” she said. “I talked to your girl, and I found out that she might join the Bask Church”. She artfully dodged the spew of liquor that flew from Crichton’s surprised mouth. “A priestess?” he asked, his eyes bugging out. Jena nodded with a smile. “She told me all about your little incident on your ship”. “For the last time, it was the damn neural chip, not me!” “I know, I’ve seen these things in action, my organization does use them you know” she replied, going into a back room. Crichton poured himself another glass. “Any suggestions on how to get this little tag along out of my psyche?” he asked. Her voice expanded as she entered the room. “I never known a chip implantee to survive the procedure, and I have never heard of a psychic bleed, what kind of doctor did you go to?” she asked. “First was a Diagnosan, unfortunately Scorpius showed up and killed the bastard just as he removed the chip” he said. “So Scorpy got the chip and I get to walk around missing a few chunks of brain”. “Then some inventor used a ray of some sort on me to give me a speech center” he added. “I’m still missing some chunks of memory though”.

“Three possibilities” she said, entering the room. Crichton tried not to stare to hard as she entered in a black bra and panties. She paid little attention and jumped into some loose fitting pants. She slid on a tank top as well. “Like your were saying before your body so pleasantly interrupted” said Crichton jokingly, asking her to continue. “Three possibilities” she said getting back on track. “One, the chip was improperly removed and it is still functioning,” she said, listing off on fingers”. “Second, you’re just insane”. Crichton jokingly nodded. “Or this neural bleed is real and this clone really is stuck to your psyche” she said. Crichton thought. “Well, the chip is removed properly because Scorpy wouldn’t have left me without taking it out”. “I could very well be insane, or third, if I do have this thing stuck in there, how do I lose it?” She shrugged. “Either counseling or maybe a psychic alien would be my suggestion” she replied. “There is an asteroid colony not far from here called Peynar that has a rather large gathering of psychics called Magi,” she added.

Crichton stood up and grabbed his coat. “Thanks for the drinks and info, I need to be going,” he said. She grabbed him on the arm. “You can stay here if you wish” she replied. “Look, I’ve got to go try and get Hana to stop becoming a nun in the morning, how do you think that will help?” he asked. “Your mind is in the gutter!” she replied with a laugh. “Like minds think alike,” he added. “Do you think what we did back on the Royal Planet was a mistake?” she asked. “At first yes, but by the third time Hell No!” She shrugged. “You’re not currently tied down, want to be?” she asked. Crichton laughed. “I’ll tell you what, let me go try my damnest tomorrow, and if I fail, I might just take you up on that offer” he said, reaching for the door.

Again she stopped him. “Why don’t you travel with your friends anymore?” she asked. Crichton stopped. “You want to hear a story worse than the last one I told you?” he asked, sitting back down on her couch.

Crichton wearily opened the door of the ship and entered. The booze was starting to take its effect on him. He slammed the metal door behind him, and hit the locking mechanism. He looked at his sleeping bag with great longing. He took another sip from the fifth sized bottle, and began to undress. He crawled into the bag, and rolled over. He rolled over, getting next to her abandoned sleeping bag. He could smell a like dusting of her perfume on it. He took it in.

Now, he officially missed her. With one gentle smile, she destroyed his life. But, before that, his life simply focused on his pain, and Scorpius, everyone else, including himself, was secondary to his revenge. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t sit here and drink himself into a coma, and wake up seven hours too late to stop her from becoming a priestess. “Goddamnit!” he screamed, getting up and getting dressed.

He opened the door, and poured the rest of the liquor on the sand. He remembered seeing a yard with some of her flowers growing in it. Not the worst crime he ever committed. But first, he had some writing to do.

Crichton knocked on the small door leading into the church. He heard some locks slide, and the door propped open just a little bit. He saw an unfamiliar face looking out at him. “I know its late, I just need to talk to Hana” he said. The priestess shook her head “She’s safe here now, you can’t harm her, now leave before I have you arrested!” she ordered. “I’m going, just give her these for me” he said, handing over a small package of the silver flowers she liked, the freshly cut stems sat in the water filled liquor bottle. He also handed over a note. “Tell her I’m sorry” he added. “Who is it?” came a familiar voice. “Hana!” he yelled, before the door was slammed in his face and locked.

Hana looked at her sister, holding the flowers. The woman handed them over, but kept her from opening the door. “No Hana, not yet” she said. Hana looked at the envelope addressed to her, it was written in crude Sebascean, but it was still her name. She took the care package to her room, and opened the envelope.

The inside was written in a strange language she had never seen. It was only a few lines, but she waited for her microbes to translate. It could be a song or it could be a poem:

Look at me, my depth perception must be off again
Cause this hurts deeper than I thought it did
Look at me, my depth perception must be off again
You got much closer than I thought you did
I'm in your reach
You held me in your hands
But could you find it in your heart?
To make this go away
And let me rest in pieces

She read it over again. It was kind of confusing, but she had some thinking to do.

Hana Tuvari stood naked in a large tub, her arms in a crucifix position. A necklace with a gold hurricane-like Bask symbol on it hung around her neck. She was surrounded by her new “Sisters”. Mana stood behind her, with a dipper full of holy water. The oldest of the Sisters read from an ancient tome. They all stopped at the sound of wrapping coming from the outer door.

Crichton greeted the young woman that opened the door. “Hi, I’m looking for Hana” he said. The blonde shook her head. “She doesn’t want to talk to you,” she said. “And she is already undergoing the sacrament!” “Whoa!” Crichton responded. “Please tell her I’m here, I just need to talk to her for two minutes!” he demanded. The woman nodded and closed the door. A few seconds later, a wet and angry Hana opened the door in a silk robe.

“What the frell do you want?” she asked. “Tough words from a holy woman” he replied. She shook her head and went to close the door. Crichton sacrificed his foot. “Hear me out Hana” he said. “You got the flowers and letter right?” he asked. She nodded “You might want to be a little more clear” she said. “Walking out of here would be much easier if I… didn’t care about you like I do” he said flat out. “I found a place where the people can supposedly kick this clone out of my head,” he said. She looked uncaring. “Don’t you see, they can cure me” he added. “What’s this got to do with me?” she asked. He looked into her eyes. “I will need your support to do this Hana,” he said. She seemed a little more interested. “I don’t think I can beat him without you” he said. She shook her head. “I’m sorry John, but I can’t exactly go out in space alone with you, what if you snap again?” she asked. “Then do what you do best, kick me square” he said with a smile.

“You were trying to get rid of me for all that time, why the change of heart?” she asked. He titled his head. “What you said before on the ship,” he said. She looked around. “I thought you said that I wasn’t in love with you” she replied. Crichton threw up his hands and turned. She focused on something on his back. “What is that?” she asked.

Crichton reached back and grabbed the electric guitar like instrument from his back. “Oh, this is a renarda, I could play something like this on Earth pretty well” he said. “Music help keeps Harvey away, if singing ain’t doing it, maybe a little Git R will do it” he said. “Plus, I was looking forward to playing with some of those songs you wrote” he added. He played a few chords together that kind of sounded like “Crazy Train”. She turned back to her sisters and then back to him. “I don’t know,” she said. He changed to a plain face. “Either way darlin’, I need your answer” he said simply.

************************************************** **********************
DVD Extras:
Check out more KidneyThieves music at www.kidneythieves.com

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:32 PM

Season of Death DVD part 13
Soundtrack: “Down Again” by Chimaria

John Crichton starred at the large marble room before him. Above a skylight gave a view of the black, starry void. Of course said void was just outside the thick window. He was standing in the “Star Chamber” of the Peynar asteroid colony, home to the famous Magi. The room was huge, easily the area of a football field. People of all different races occupied the large space.

Crichton was shocked to find the Magi were not of one race, but instead several mystics of various credibility. Delvians and Luxans were the only species that he had recognized. He had seen most of them before at various locations but had never learned their names or abilities. He was at a bit of a disadvantage; he didn’t know which were genuine and which were complete frauds. He had already had enough mind frellings for one lifetime. Jenavian had recommended a species called an Eldeck. From best she could tell him, they were giant frog people. So far he had just seen humanoids and a few giant Ants. He had seen a squat, green creature the size of Rygel. He thought about visiting the small man just for the Yoda factor. As he turned a corner to continue his search, he felt a dainty hand grab his wrist.

He turned to see a young Sebascean woman, no older than twenty-five. A red cloak covered her, and a blindfold covered her eyes. “Want to know your future?” she asked. Crichton shook his head. “Sorry honey, but I know Sebasceans aren’t psychic” he said, trying to beak free. “Normally yes, but I was possessed by an Energy Rider when I was small, it gave me the ability to see what will happen” she replied. Crichton still didn’t believe, and the girl picked up on it. “Perhaps a demonstration?” she asked. “Sure, go ahead and wow me” he said sarcastically.

She grabbed his hand and began to shake. She stammered out. “You seek a Magi that can free you from your curse” she said. Crichton shook his head. “Half of everyone here is for…” she cut him off. “You must destroy the thing that took the dark-haired one from you” she added. Crichton paused. “How did you know that?” he asked. He paused. “Never mind, nice trick kid” he said, handing her a bill. She persisted. “I am not done” she added. She focused even harder, quivering out of control. She nearly collapsed as the vision shot through her. “I see your life revolving around two things” she said, stammering. “A love that can never be” she said first. Crichton frowned, thinking about the “dark-haired one” in her coffin of ice. She continued. “And a hatred that always was!” she finished. Immediately, he and Scorpius popped into his mind. Crichton guided her down to the ground as she passed out. The girl stirred as she vainly fought to stay conscious “The pure, blood, hate, cold” she said. “Happy, love, this ain’t living baby living ain’t free!” she said, more excitedly. “I tried so hard, in the end, doesn’t even matter, fall to lose it all”. She then muttered under her breath. Crichton only made out a little “I have, I have, I have” she muttered something under her breath and then shook one last time “The Flesh of Fallen Angles!” she screamed.

As he put some money in her limp palm, he felt a tug on his arm. He turned to see the face of his companion, Hana Tuvari. She looked down at the passed out woman. “She told me my future” he said, nonchalantly. “What she say?” she asked. “She didn’t tell me anything that I didn’t already know” he said. She put her arm around him. “I think I found one of your frog people” she said.

Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics)

(Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight)
Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut
(Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light)
Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole
(Drown yourselves in lakes of volume)
I was pursued by an insane military commander
(Drown yourselves in the sound
He took all I held dear, and left me for dead
(Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride
Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives
I will find him, this I swear
I will not let him harm Earth
Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen
(The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life)

Season of Death Part 13:
Crawling Part 2: I-Magi-Nation

Guest Starring:
Angelina Jolie

Hana and Crichton moved the makeshift partition and entered the small hutch. Hana had definitely found a “frog person”. It was impossible to guess the sex of the Magi from outward appearance alone. No hair and no breasts at all. The face was filled with shiny metal piercings. It looked up at them with large, bubbly eyes. “How can I help you my friends?” it asked in a high-pitched, unisex voice. Crichton starred at it, well tried not to stare anyways. “Yeah, are you an Eldeck?” he asked. The thing nodded. “I’m Delana, seer and empath” it said. Crichton decided he needed to make introductions. “Name’s John Crichton, this is Hana Tuvari” he said. “Hi” reluctantly added his compatriot. “What can I do for you?” it asked. Crichton and Hana looked at each other. “I was told that you might have the ability to destroy a neural clone” he said. The Empath thought for a second. “You wish to exorcize another’s soul from your own?” it asked. Crichton rolled his eyes. “Sure, can you do it?” he asked. The frog person nodded. “It will only cost you five hundred” it responded. Crichton threw a wad of cash at it. “Fine, just don’t screw anything up” he said. It pointed outside. “We will conduct this elsewhere, but first we must prepare” it said.

Crichton instantly went to a dream world. He was standing in a dank, poorly lit bar. A huge, neon, “Don’t Mess With Texas” sign decorated the dirty stucco wall. He gazed up at a faded Oiler’s pendant. He quickly gazed around the imaginary bar, looking for the clone that had surely brought this on. He had not had this waking world manipulated since that day on the ice planet. Harvey seemed to have lost his virtual balls after the beating Crichton had given him, and had decided instead to wage a guerilla war in his sleep. Apparently the sudden realization that Crichton could kill him had given him his manhood back. The large bar was empty, except for Harvey sitting all alone at a rickety table. He looked Crichton in the eyes as he drank for a Miller Lite longneck. Harvey had gotten the atmosphere right, from the guitar solo playing on the jukebox, down to the smell of cigarettes and stale beer. Crichton couldn’t help but smile at the drinking clone.

“Harvey!” said Crichton with a smirk. The clone looked at the bottle “I can see why you miss this so much” replied the clone. “My kind of place Harvey” came back Crichton. He pulled out a chair, and sat across from his imaginary nemesis. “So what are we doing here?” asked the human. Harvey took another sip “To talk about your present course of action”. Crichton laughed “You mean me and my magic frog friend kicking your ass?”. The clone looked up at him “Do you really think it will be that simple?” asked Harvey. “Probably not” responded Crichton “Nothing ever is”. “I made you kill Aeryn, and I even made you beat the shit out of Hana” he replied with confidence. “Using the S word now, you must really be desperate” shot back Crichton.

Harvey growled a little bit “If you think you can beat me Human, you have…” “Fuck you!” broke in Crichton. “You think by repeating what you did to Aeryn and Hana is going to make me less likely to kill you? Are you sure you’ve been living in my head for a year and a half?”. Harvey lit a cigar, and the sweet smell of fine tobacco filled the room. Harvey laughed a bit “Yes, you have to protect your women, its something you do so well”. Crichton rolled up his hand, middle finger extended.

“Aeryn is water under the bridge, the past” he said. Before Crichton could respond, he continued “Isn’t Hana the woman you love now?” he asked. Crichton sat with his mouth open. “We replace the things we lose” added. “Son of a bitch” said Crichton out slowly. “A remember, I am in your head, I know how you really feel about her, even more than you know, because what I see is pure thoughts, not filtered by your denial of the truth”. Crichton tightened up a bit “You love her” he said simply. Crichton barked “Who are you to tell me who I love!”. Harvey took a hardy puff. “I can understand it, beautiful, smells nice, undeniably sexy, and she is absolutely obsessed with you”. “Beautiful on the inside, I believe your mother said”. Crichton barely kept himself from jumping over the table.

“Here’s the plan John, you leave me here alone, you stop this stupid plan, and instead of trying to fight me, go frell Hana” he said. Crichton sat back. “I know your fantasies about her John, go fulfill some of them, get some kind of happiness out of your miserable life”. He looked at Crichton “But you won’t do that, you have to have your revenge” he added. Crichton nodded “Here’s my deal”. Harvey gave him a go ahead smile. He knew what was coming. “I stick that beer bottle up your ass, and you get the fuck out of my head” replied the human.

Harvey laughed “I hoped that’s what you would say”. “But know this Crichton, if I do defeat you, your body is mine, permanently”. “So once again, you can go and frell Hana, or you can try to fight me, you can try” he said. “And trust me, Hana will wish she was back in the Blue when I indulge my own little fantasies with her” he said. “I might be able to get a good two days out of her before she expires” he laughed.

Crichton controlled his rage “If you can beat me so easily, why are we having this conversation?”. Harvey didn’t move. He held up cigar and looked Crichton in the eyes. He pressed the burning end into his own tongue with a sizzle, and the bar disappeared back to reality.

Hana held his hand and look into his eyes with great concern. “Are you alright?” she asked. He nodded. “The bastard is down to making threats” he responded. “He must know his time is almost up” she responded.

The group reached a small room carved into the iron ore. Inside, several glowing rocks barely cut into the murky darkness. It invited Crichton to sit on one side of a large cluster of the glowing rocks, while it took the other side. Delana motioned at Hana. “What is your relation to this woman?” it asked. Hana looked at him with a curious look. “Girlfriend” he said with confidence. “And her help and strength would be greatly appreciated” he added. He could see Hana give him a wide smile in the darkness. She slipped her hand into his. The creature bowed. “The presence of a loved one is always helpful” it said.

“You understand the risks in this ritual correct?” it asked. The couple looked at each other. “What risks?” he asked. “You may have experienced times when you lost control of your body to the demon” it said. Crichton nodded. “Well, if you lose this battle, that situation could become permanent” it said. Crichton felt Hana’s hand squeeze hard. The bastard wasn’t bluffing. “I understand, but what are the chances of this clone beating me?” he asked. Delana thought. “Without the chip, its power is greatly reduced”. “Still, it can be a formidable opponent if its life is threatened”. “It would be a much easier battle if you simply forced it under your will and let it live in your subconscious, under your control” it added. Crichton didn’t hesitate. “This thing killed the woman I loved and made me beat her, one of my few goals in life is to see it dead!”. The Empath nodded. “Very, well, we shall prepare”.

Several chants and incantations later, the battle was ready to begin. Hana had also put in some prayers. Delana bowed to them. “I am ready when you are” it said. Crichton lowered his head. He reached under his coat and unholstered his pistols. He handed them to a hesitant Hana. “Just for safe keeping incase things get a bit squirrelly” he said. If she had been Aeryn, he would have told her to kill him if the clone won. He decided not to frighten her. He took the time lock lips with her. The Magi patiently waited as they shared their first kiss since the beating incident. He released and looked into her eyes. “Hana, if I start talking, or acting weird, I want you to run, and get help” he said. “Don’t let me hurt you again”. He then turned to Delana. “Bring it on!” he said.

With that, the creature placed its hands on his temples and concentrated. “I don’t feel anything…” Crichton jolted as bolts of energy flew from the webbed hands of the psychic. Crichton’s head snapped back and nearly smacked into Hana’s. She held him as he passed out.

Heat and humidity instantly pounded Crichton’s face. It was a very stark contrast to the asteroid colony. He moved and found his feet sloshing in water. He looked down to see a tattered camouflage uniform. For some reason he had failed to notice the “shortty” version of an M16 assault rifle in his hands. He immediately pressed the clip ejection button and inspected the small metal clip. All he saw was black. “Of course no ammo” he said. He searched his uniform over well, padding all the reserve ammo pouches. He came up empty. He forced the empty back into the feeder. At least he could bluff that he had ammo if he had to. He looked into the muddy waters to try and make out some kind of reflection. The place felt real, down to the bugs biting into him. He swatted some from his face and felt a headband. He looked down and noticed a peace sign on his flak jacket. It didn’t take him anytime to recognize the location. “Vietnam” he said simply.

“That is correct John” said a familiar voice from across the river. He raised his weapon at the sound of the voice. Through the peep sight he saw Harvey. He was a bit different than normal. He wore black pajamas and carried an AK-47. He looked at Crichton’s carbine. “I know that the clip is empty John” he said. Crichton looked back at him. “But I’m guess that AK has a full one” replied Crichton calmly. Harvey nodded. “I really thought our battle would be a little more dramatic than this” said the clone. “Goodbye John” he said simply.

Crichton ran and dove into some brush on bank of the river just as the 7.62 rounds began flying. Crichton rolled through the thorn bushes as they were torn to shreds. He kept rolling and slid down a small embankment. He got as flat to the ground as he could as the rounds ripped overhead. As soon as he heard a click and a pause in the firing, Crichton got up and sprinted into the woods. Harvey growled and forced another clip into his AK.

Hana held Crichton’s head in her lap. She watched him flinch wildly. “Is he all right?” she asked. The Magi looked at him. “He has engaged in battle” it said. “What can I do to help him?” she asked. The Magi shook its head. “He already has your strength Hana Tuvari” it responded.

Crichton kept running, trying to form a plan in his head. He was so deep in thought that he almost ran smack into a tripwire a few inches in front of him. He fell forward and rolled across the damp ground. He went to get to his feet and he heard the underbrush move behind him. He instinctively raised his weapon with one arm. As Harvey came into view he spied the side of his rifle. He then noticed something. The ejection port was hollow, usually, when the weapon is empty, the ejection port is filled with black metal. He spied a lone, dirty piece of brass in the hole. He smiled as he felt the trigger, still ready to fire. Harvey laughed at the weapon.

“Harvey, you really should study the firearms part of my brain more” he said. The neural clone laughed. “Why?” it asked. Crichton yanked the trigger and the gun slightly recoiled. The .223 flew and smashed into the side of Harvey. The clone collapsed, dropping his AK. “You left one in the chamber you son of a bitch!” screamed Crichton. As Harvey got to his feet and began to run, Crichton scooped up the Russian rifle. Just as he got the fake Scorpy in his iron sights, the background in front of Harvey seemed to rip open. Before he could fire, Harvey dove through the tear and disappeared.

Thoughts of Aeryn and Hana shot through his mind. “Come here you bastard!” he screamed, jumping through the rift.

Immediately the world changed entirely. His clothes changed back into his black coat and gear, and his AK disappeared from his grasp. “Frell!” he said. He instantly went for his pistols, but found the holsters empty. He then took in his new surroundings.

This time he was in a bizarre dream world he had never seen before. The floor was pure marble. It extended seemingly forever in an endless hallway. The only problem was that on the sides of the floor was a large gap. The gap also seemed to be limitless and dark. He looked behind him and saw the gap only a few feet away. He quickly stepped forward. It was kind of tough for Harvey to hide, but he was nowhere to be found. He looked down and saw a few drops of red leading away down the hall. He followed them until he reached a staircase that was only about five steps high and led to nowhere. He climbed up the steps and stood at the top one. “Okay” he said, stepping forward.

The world spun again, and then he found himself in another hallway. At least this one had walls. This time, it was old red carpet, like the kind in creepy old mansions. The walls where made of a fine old wood. A few lamps poorly lighted the way. Crichton felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It looked eerily familiar. His feet creaked one the old floorboards as he crept along. He still saw a few drops of blood. “Keep bleeding bastard” he said, following the dots of crimson. He eyed a few aged doors as he crept down the hallway. The blood continued a round a bend.

Just as he was about to go around the corner, the wood to his right exploded and Harvey in Scorpius get up burst through the wall. He slammed Crichton into the next wall, punching to the gut. Crichton fell to the ground under the onslaught of punches. He blocked what he could, but the surprise ambush had given the clone an advantage. As the clone went back for a powerful blow, Crichton kicked his legs out from under him. Crichton ascended to his feet but was driven into the wall by a form tackle. His spine was smashed into the wooden wall. He elbowed the back of the lowered head of the clone and delivered an uppercut. The clone responded with another shoulder drive into the wall. He got hauled back and was then once more slammed into the wood.

Harvey tried for another, but Crichton dodged and slammed Harvey’s head into the broken piece of wall. The clone collapsed to the carpet. Crichton grabbed him by the leather-covered head. He tried once to snap the neck like he had done to Crais back in his first illusionary fight. “I’ve been dreaming about killing you for half a year!” screamed Crichton. Harvey slammed him into the wall and locked a one-hand chokehold on the Human’s throat. “Keep dreaming!” screamed the clone.

Crichton forced himself to breath against the gloved hand. It wasn’t nearly as powerful as it had been in real life. He looked his strangler in the eye. “I hate that clichéd action movie bullshit!” he screamed. Crichton kneed Harvey in the bullet wound on his right side. The clone bellowed and released its grip. With that, Crichton spun and jumped on the back of him. He lodged his forearm tightly into the throat of the clone and lifted his legs up into a grapevine. He applied the Rear Naked Choke with all his might.

Harvey now knew what it was like to be strangled as well. He fought back, trying to elbow the piggyback rider. They failed to break the hold, and Crichton only applied it tighter. Next, he began slamming the Human into the walls. But, every wall slam only seemed to strengthen the hold. Harvey went for another slam and fell through the hole he had just punched. He tripped on the carpet and fell to the floor, not the best place to e with a Rear Naked applied. He rolled around and struggled to relive the pressure. He tried to stand, but he lacked the strength to. He collapsed once again to the dirty floor of the study. The pain increased when Crichton worked the grapevine to the wound. The dim lamplight disappeared as he was chocked out to unconsciousness.

Several seconds after the body had gone limp Crichton released the choke. He rolled to his feet and searched the room for a weapon. No such luck. He smiled. Looks like he would half to finish his opponent off with his bare hands. He had nearly had wet dreams over this. Before he turned around, he heard an energy sound. He turned to see Harvey crawling into a rift, this time in the floor. He reached for the boots, but Harvey managed to crawl through. No matter, he would just jump through and end it.

Crichton expected to find a weakened Harvey, but instead found himself in another dark hallway. This time, it was made of black cloth. He checked both directions, no signs of blood. He saw light one way, so he carefully walked towards it. He felt a bit chilled and looked down at his clothes. He wore a sleeveless black vest, black trunks, knee braces, and black boots. “What the hell?” he muttered, still walking forward. Just as he turned the corner, a speaker played the sound of glass shattering. This was followed by a pulse pounding rock song. He turned the corner to see a small arena full of fans. He strolled through the opening to a lot of cheers. Some one held a sign that read: Crichton 3:16. He saw another sign that said “Top Dollar” with was surrounded by dollar signs. Another showed a dollar sign wearing a top hat. He smiled and quickly walked to the ring at the end of the walkway.

He walked up the diamond plate steps and ducked through the middle and top rope. He was disappointed in the lack of a ring announcer, but otherwise Harvey had come up with a pretty good place. He walked to the center of the ring, and raised his arms for show. The crowd cheered. “Harvey you son of a bitch” he said with a smile.

Back in the simulated locker room, Harvey struggled to catch his breath. The Rear Naked Choke had damaged his trachea, possibly fatally. Plus the bullet wound was draining him, even though the bullet had disappeared from his body after trading simulations. If he didn’t take over Crichton soon, he was a goner. He could hear Crichton’s music pounding. He was, as Crichton said a supped up figment of imagination, it was ridiculous that he had to breathe. But, apparently having Crichton in there with him had forced him to be almost alive. It could have been the mystic’s doing. Harvey did not like this setting, no guns or knives. He would have to fight Crichton hand to hand. That had been the point of the last scenario he had cooked up. He hadn’t counted on the Human’s rage or strength. He could try and rip his way to the next area he had set up, but he was running out of time. If Crichton didn’t follow him, his wounds would probably kill him and no matter what “stage” Crichton was in, he would get the body by default. But, he still had a plan for this area, and he might still be able to execute it.

Crichton stood in the ring, his music playing. “Come on Harvey!” he said impatiently. Crichton’s Stone Cold rip off music died, and a booming, bass filled “heel” song played over the speakers. The crowd booed as Harvey entered the ring, a pink and black singlet over his armor. But what really got to Crichton came next.

Aeryn and Hana flanked him as he walked down the ramp. Both were dressed in cut off jeans and cut off shirts. Each grabbed one of Harvey’s arms. Crichton was furious, a mistake on Harvey’s part. If he wanted to play dirty, Crichton could play dirty. He slid from the ring and grabbed a microphone.

“Cut the music!” he yelled. The music stopped and Harvey looked angrily at Crichton. Crichton lifted the microphone to his lips. “If you want to see me kick the crap out of this S&M freak, give me a hell yeah!” he screamed into the microphone. “Hell Yeah!” the crowd responded. Harvey growled and slipped into the ring. As the bell sounded, Crichton threw off his vest. He spotted the two Sebasceaneras blowing him kisses.

This distracted him long enough for Scorpius to getting a running start at him. The armored shoulder slammed into Crichton’s gut, sending him to the ground. Harvey straddled the Human and began pounding his face with armored fists. Crichton, now bloody, responded by flipping the weakened neural clone over and delivering the same treatment to his face. After a few hardy blows, Harvey slung him off, and tried to regain his feet. Crichton recovered first and ran at Harvey, smashing his knee into the clone’s face. Crichton picked him up and drove his knee into his face again.

Harvey rose and slammed a punch square in Crichton’s gut. Crichton fell to his knees. Harvey capitalized and grabbed him by the hair and tights. With a running start, he slammed Crichton between the top and second rope into the steel turnbuckle. Pain shot through Crichton’s body as his problem right shoulder partially dislocated. He screamed at the top of his lungs. Seeing his chance, the clone grabbed him and tossed him over the top rope shoulder first into the diamond plate stairs. Insane amounts of agony rocked him to near unconsciousness. Harvey dropped to the floor behind him and grabbed the tights and hair again. Harvey drew back and slammed Crichton shoulder first into the diamond plate again. As Crichton howled, Harvey went in search of the classic wrestling weapon, the chair.

Crichton peered over through his pain at Hana and Aeryn. “Ladies, mind giving me a hand?” he asked. The pair grabbed him by his tights and hoisted him into the ring. They pulled him to his feet. Hana ran her fingers over his chest. “He’s so sexy!” she said. Aeryn did the same. “Yeah, in a brooding psychopath kind of way” added Aeryn. Crichton was pleasantly surprised when they simultaneously locked lips on him. He, being no fool kissed back. Of course the age-old struggle between the big and little head screwed a man once again. Hana threw a trademarked kick to his groin, of course stunning him. Aeryn threw a good punch into his shoulder and tossed him into the hard ropes. She crawled through the ropes and yanked his bad shoulder over the top rope.

Harvey slammed his chair onto the exposed joint, smashing it between the rope and the chair. Crichton let out an animalistic howl and fell from the ropes onto the canvas. Harvey slammed the steel chair into his shoulder again, and again. Crichton nearly vomited. Hana, standing outside the ring grabbed his head and looked at him upside down. “You like that baby?” she asked, licking his face. She rolled him over and put his arm on the bottom rope as Harvey cracked it again. Crichton had to do something.

He rolled back to his back and looked up a Harvey. Before he could move, the two abusive femmes grabbed him and pulled his head through the ropes. Hana seized his head and Aeryn grabbed his arms. Hana extended his neck, exposing his throat. Harvey placed the head of the chair on his exposed throat and lifted the chair. “Good bye Crichton!” he screamed.

Crichton slammed his boots into Harvey’s knees, forcing the clone to fall. The severely injured throat of his opponent slammed into the rope as he fell. Harvey immediately fell backwards, gasping for air. He delivered a head butt to Hana and broke from Aeryn’s grasp. He struggled to his feet and grabbed his busted joint. He began gasping and building up his adrenaline. With a scream, he snapped the shoulder back into place. This had been the third time that he had done this, three times too many.

He turned to see a rift in the ring and no Harvey. But now he knew that Harvey was injured. He grabbed the fake Hana and planted a good kiss on her and then jumped into the rift.

Hana looked down concerned at Crichton’s squirming body. She saw a severe look of pain on his face. She kissed his forehead. “Come on John” she muttered.

Crichton limped around the dark, massive cathedral. Most of the pews were rotting and the stained glass was broken. Outside, he could hear rain constantly pelting the huge brick walls. He was again dressed in his traditional black trench coat. And as with most of these illusionary adventures, he was unarmed. He was hurting and frustrated. At the end of the dark church was a huge, rotting spiral staircase. A message was tapped to it. It was simply and arrow pointing up. Crichton breathed in and began his trek up the stairs.

Each one seemed to creek more than the last. Stealth wasn’t an option, but then again Harvey built this place, so he knew all approaches. He was starting to think this staircase was designed to collapse and kill him until he reached a window about halfway up the tower. Through the open window he saw Harvey standing on the long stretch of roof. The center of the roof was flat, making a walkway. The city around looked very Eastern European, possibly Prague. Crichton stumbled out onto the wet surface. The rain began to fall harder and the wind picked up. As he neared the clone at the end of the roof, he saw that he wielded some kind of sword. It looked like something Captain Hook would carry.

He starred at his enemy through his long, wet hair. Suicidal quests for vengeance leave little time for haircuts. He starred at the sword. “I don’t get a toy, what a shocker” he said, pausing a few feet away. Scorpius smiled and raised the weapon. “Do you think I picked an effective spot for our final battle?” asked Harvey. Crichton shrugged. “No running away, just you and me, mano-a-Scorpo?” asked the Human. The clone nodded. Crichton smiled as his temper raged. He thought of Aeryn as he starred down the bastard that murdered her. He still had time for one last quip. “Why is it that every time the hero and villain are fighting the final battle it always rains?” he asked. The clone didn’t show emotion. “You’re a criminal, a murderer, you’re no hero” replied the clone. “Wow, we actually agree on something” said Crichton.

The clone stabbed first, and Crichton artfully dodged it and went for a leg sweep. His leg went strait into the clone’s and Harvey vanished. “Oh shit!” screamed Crichton turning around.

Pain shot threw his body as the sword pierced his abdomen and exited through the other side. Crichton fell to his knees. Harvey stuck his boot on his chest and yanked out the blade as Crichton screamed. The clone looked at the Human. “He was supposed to be real, but thanks to your little choke, I didn’t have the energy to make him solid” growled the clone in full Scarran mode. Crichton looked at his gushing chest.

“I was willing to share your mind John” he said, pacing with the bloody sword on his shoulder. “But you had to be greedy” he said. “Tsk tsk”. He smiled. “But, look at the bright side of it John”. Crichton was in too much pain to have a witty response. “At least Aeryn will go one third avenged” he said with a smile. “And I’ll take good care of Hana for you” he added.

“What’s happening!” screamed Hana. Crichton was now convulsing wildly. She tried to hold him still to no avail. “He is dying” replied the Magi. She cried and shook her head. She put her head to his. “You can’t die John, don’t leave me alone you bastard!” she screamed. He still convulsed. “I love you!” she screamed. “I love you! I love you! I love you!” she kept repeating.

Something seemed to overcome the pain. A voice overpowered the wind and the gloating of the clone. He thought he could hear Hana saying that she loved him over and over again. “We kill for our people, you kill for yourself, who’s the real villain?” asked the clone. He stabbed the blade into Crichton’s injured shoulder. There was pain, but not much. Often pain leaves as death sets in. But, this was somehow different. Harvey let the blade sit in his shoulder for a second. “I wish I could say I was sorry for disrupting your plans with Hana and Aeryn” he said with a smile. “When you get to hell, give Aeryn Sun and Gileena my regards” said Harvey placing his boot on Crichton’s chest.

With an animal like scream, Crichton grabbed the boot and twisted the ankle. His eyes met those of Harvey as Crichton whipped him off the walkway. The half-breed clone tore at his own creation but to no avail. He plunged like the water of the slanted roof. Crichton watched, sword still in his body, as Harvey fell. The screaming was music to his ears. The screaming stopped with a splatter as the falling clone landed back first on the huge horn of a stone gargoyle. Crichton didn’t turn away as the body of the clone slid down the sharpened stone. The body slid a good three feet down the horn before it hit the roof. One last cough sent blood into the raining night sky, and the clone turned shishcabob went limp. The water running through the statue’s mouth turned crimson with the half-breeds blood.

Crichton fell back, clutching the sword. The rain eased and the dream world disappeared.

Crichton awoke in the darkness of the mystic’s room. He immediately felt his body for injury and was quite happy to see all of his imagined injuries stayed imagined. He looked up at Hana, his head still in her lap. “John, I’m so…” he blocked her comment with his lips and tongue. Her locked his arms around her. They broke lips, a trace of saliva on hers. “Well hello there” she said. “Hana, thank you for your support in there, you saved me” he said simply. The Magi looked at them with confusion. “It is impossible for a person in the dream world to hear anyone outside” it said.

He turned to Hana. “Did you say I love you … a lot?” he asked. She nodded with a smile. He smiled back. “Something has just been brought to my attention” he said. She looked hesitant. “What?” she asked. “I shouldn’t dwell on things that can never be” he said. She still looked puzzled. “In a round about way, I’m trying to say…” He paused “Damn this is difficult to say” he said. She looked a little disappointed. He starred into her emerald eyes, her will slaying weapons. He had gone into that battle to avenge Aeryn, but his desire to protect Hana pulled him through to the end. Hell, her love had saved him. “In a round about way, I was trying to say… I love you” he said simply.

Her hazel eyes lit up, and she planted a kiss on him, nearly taking him to the ground. He broke from her lips “Damn baby!” he said.

The new couple walked into the Star Chamber hand in hand. A few more people had arrived seeking guidance. He saw the seer girl that had read his fortune. He motioned to an old three-eyed woman who appeared to be selling various “magical” artifacts. “Baby, why don’t you go see if they got something pretty over there, I’ve got to talk to this lady” he said. She walked over to the old woman. Crichton bent down next to the seer. “Hi, its me again, I was hoping to get another favor from you” he said. She didn’t look directly at him, but then again her eyes were covered. Crichton didn’t know that there were no eyes under there; they had long since gone blind from using the gift.

“What do you require?” she asked. “Some psychic” he thought. “I am looking for a few people, I was hoping that you could help find them” he said. She shook her head. “I cannot locate people, my gift can only see the future” she said. Crichton frowned.

Hana smiled at the old woman. She gazed at the various potions and crystals. She was about to walkway when she saw a green crystal with a red core. A circle of what appeared to be barbed wire was engraved on it. “Excuse me ma’am, but can you tell me what this is?” she asked, pointing to the crystal. “That my dear is Magicite” said the three eyed woman. Hana showed her ignorance. “It’s a crystal infused with the spirit of an energy being, or at least it is supposed to be, why did it catch your eye young lady?” she asked. Hana shrugged. “The symbol looks like something from my childhood” she said. “What are its powers?” she asked. The old woman sat back. “It is the Magicite of Pheno, supposedly it can bring back people who have died within an arn, unless the injuries are to severe for them to live with” said the old woman. Hana laughed. “Do you believe it?” she asked. “Yes, I do, but I don’t have anyone that I want to bring back” she said. “Do you have someone that you want to bring back?” she asked. Hana shook her head. “But my boyfriend does, the woman he loved” she said. “How much?” she added. The old woman smiled. “One hundred” she replied. If life on the streets told her anything, if it was cheap, it was probably dren. But, she liked the look. She handed over the money and picked up the potato-sized crystal. “Thank you” she replied.

Crichton and Hana sat in the cockpit of their ship as refueling and water exchange finalized. He turned to her. “Let’s talk destination” he said. She perked up. “Even though it’s a few weeks away, I would like to head back towards the Nadris area, I’ve got some things I would like to do their before we leave this part of the Uncharted Territories” he said. Hana wasn’t thrilled about going anywhere near Koorong, but this man now loved her, and she would go with him. “Like what?” she asked. “See Blo again, plus I’ve got some business in Tarin” he added. He paused. “And, with regards to our new relationship, I would like to see Aeryn one last time” he said. Hana nodded. “You loved her, and I will give you all the time you need” she said. “And once we get to a major spaceport, we can find a freighter or transport that can carry our ship and ride were ever we want to in style” he said. She smiled.

The next few weeks made Crichton happier than he had been in some time. He had used his time to master the renarda. He had gotten back to his proficiency with the guitar. He was still no Zakk Wylde or Tom Morello, but he wasn’t bad either. With his back up on renarda, Hana had written over ten songs in a week. Hell, he had even finished his song he had written about Aeryn’s death that he called “Hemorrhage”. Hana really dug it. He in turn promised that once he had gotten his share of the loot from D’argo, he would help her make an album. He would even jam renarda on it. He had stated that he no longer cared about meeting his friends beyond getting his share of the wealth. He still blamed them for abandoning him on the medical planet.

They had somehow managed to limit themselves to just kissing, really deep kissing, but just kissing. Crichton said that he had to see Aeryn first, kind of a goodbye thing. Hana pretended to understand. He had told her that he would like for her to go to Earth with him if it was ever possible. She was ecstatic about the idea. With a little book he wrote, she was quickly absorbing the English language. Hearing all the songs in English didn’t hurt either. The real challenge was getting enough wormhole knowledge together to get home.

She had told him about the Magicite that the old woman had sold her. He didn’t put much stock in the paranormal. But, then again, he had just had a life and death struggle with a sentient figment of imagination inside his head. He didn’t have any hope of it working for Aeryn, but he sincerely thanked Hana for her caring.

The new couple stood in the house of a million corpsicles. Hana shivered, even under her synthetic leather/fur coat. The place gave her the creeps, no doubt about it. An entire building filled with people one second from death will do that do you. Hana felt her stomach turn when the walked past the place where Crichton had slaughtered his way out during the first day of his new mission. The bodies were gone, but the frozen blood and brains remained. Even with the massive size and labyrinth like layout, Crichton easily navigated his way to Aeryn’s frozen tomb. He turned to Hana. “Give me a few minutes” he said.

He stood in front of her, for the first time in nearly half a year. He had forgotten how beautiful she was. He had two years to take a picture and he never did. He looked up at her raven hair and alabaster skin. Last time he stood here, he had to say all his words in his head. Then, he swore that Scorpious would not survive. His rage was uncontrollable then. Since then he had met his doe-eyed damsel in distress. The woman that so loved him, the woman he had told that he loved her. He looked up at her, flashbacks of the funeral, her death. Bloodstains from the first two PeaceKeepers that he killed in her name were still on the snow. He swallowed, and began his speech.

“Hey Aeryn” he said simply. “I hope my mom hasn’t been telling you anything too bad about me” he said with a forced smile. “Last time I was here, I couldn’t talk” he said. “Now that I can, I just want to say that I love you, that I will always love you” he said. “They say everyone has a soul mate, I just traveled rather than any man ever has to find his” he said with a tear, something he hadn’t seen in a long time. “I killed the neural clone that did this to you” he said. “I can only hope that neural clones go to hell” he added. “I miss you so much baby”. He breathed. “I know life is unfair, but I seem to catch the brunt of it” he added. “It should be me in there, and you out here, that proves there is no justice”. “I’ve felt you with me in battle, I fought with the skill of two”. “I know that I haven’t avenged you fully like I promised, and that I failed you again” he said. “I can’t find Scorpius”.

He paused for the toughest part. “I have run into a little complication” he said. “Her name is Hana” he replied. “I saved her, much like you saved me” he added. “Since you died, I have become more like you than I could ever imagine”. “She’s like me, back when I wasn’t jaded”. He breathed in heavily. “She loves me Aeryn” he said. “And, I think I love her”. “I know it is so cheap to say I love someone so soon after your death”. “I never thought I would love another woman again, and I may never love her as much as I love you”. “Its not fair to her, but it’s the truth” he said. “Every time I say those words to her I feel so guilty, because I never said them to you in life”. “When we met, I wanted to die, to join you in the afterlife”. “She showed genuine compassion for me, something very rare”. “She taught me that I could be more”. “Imagine that, someone else had my mushy catchphrase”. “But, it doesn’t mean I’m giving up, if given the chance, Scorpius will die, and I’ll tattoo your name into his frelling chest”. He kissed the glass. “I would give anything to have you here again” he said. He muttered some Sebascean that Hana had taught him. “Vey dai notsuwe” (We were meant to be). “Ta amordai zanai” (My love is eternal). He pulled out one of his pistols, (he had plenty more) and placed it by her tomb. “A PeaceKeeper should never be without her weapon” he said.

He got Hana and brought her. Hana starred up at the woman she had competed with for the past few months. “She’s beautiful John” she said. Hana stripped the locket the priestesses had given her from her neck. “I would like to put this on her tomb as a blessing” she said. Crichton agreed.

As Hana walked forward, a green light began shinning from her pocket. Crichton jumped forward. “What the frell?” he asked. “It’s the crystal!” she screamed. He grasped it from her pocket and held it up to the tomb. The light was blinding, and both shielded their eyes. The light lasted several seconds, and then died out. Crichton looked up with hope, but no change. Hana could see his disappointment. “I’m so sorry John” she said. He frowned. “I knew it would not work, the seer told me so” he said. He hugged her tight. “Thanks for trying” he said. She wiped his tears. “Those we love never truly die as long as we remember them” she said. He smiled and they moved away.

No sooner had they turned the corner then they heard a metal sound. Crichton turned around and bolted around the corner. Hana quickly followed. Kneeling in the snow was Crichton’s raven haired goddess. Her beautiful blue eyes focused right one them. She squeezed out. “John?” she asked. Crichton ran to her and grabbed her in his arms. He picked her up off the ground and held her. “You’re alive!” he yelled. She smiled and they exchanged a quick peck. “Excuse me, but can we continue this someplace warmer?” Aeryn asked. Crichton threw his jacket around her. He scooped he in his arms. Crichton smiled at Hana and motioned for her to follow. She gave him the biggest fake smile she could muster.

On board the ship, Aeryn huddled in Crichton’s coat. Hana brought a cup of hot tea to her. Aeryn thanked her. “I sorry, we were never introduced” said Aeryn. “Aeryn Sun” she said. “Hana Tuvari” she replied. Crichton walked in. “Hey ladies, ready to ship out?” he asked. They both nodded. “I’m sorry, I never introduced you two” he said. Hana waived it off. “We already took care of it” replied Hana. “Aeryn, as soon as you want you can borrow some of my clothes” she added. “Thank you” replied Aeryn.

Crichton had already taken care of the basics, how long she had been out, what happened to Moya, etc. Hana didn’t happen to get mentioned. She strapped herself in next to Aeryn. Crichton reentered to inspect everything. Aeryn turned to Hana. “How long have you two been together?” she asked. Crichton looked a bit hesitant, but he answered first. “We met about a quarter cycle ago, and we’ve been friends ever since”. He looked at an incredibly angry Hana. She muttered out. “He saved my life” she replied. “He told me a lot about you” she added. Aeryn nodded. “Mostly good I hope?” she asked jokingly. Hana nodded. “Looks like he was right in describing you” replied Hana. “I think we’ll be the best of friends” she added with a large smile.

************************************************** **********************
DVD Extras:
Checkout the video for “Down Again” by Chimaira at:
http://www.roadrun.com/shared/downlo...wnAgain_lo.mov

Owlman · 06-03-2004, 02:33 PM

Season of Death DVD part 14

“You can’t be serious about leaving!” screamed Chiana at D’argo. The Luxan picked up another load of his belongings from his cell and headed out the door. “Of course I can, it’s a free ship,” he said, struggling down the corridor. “I said that if I found a good spot I would settle down and I have found a good spot,” he said. She shook her head. “What makes it so special?” she asked. He stopped and dropped one of his bags with a clank. “Peaceful, no PeaceKeepers, no mercenaries, no crime, plenty of farm land, and solitude” he responded. She threw her hair back. “So, its boring” she added. He half growled. “I had enough adventure for about five lifetimes, I just want to sit back and grow fruit” he said lifting his heavy bag once again.

She rolled her eyes and followed him down the hall. “What about everyone on this ship that depends on you?” she asked. He didn’t break stride. “You can manage on your own,” he said simply. “You obviously don’t need me”. She squeaked a little at the personal insult. “When will you drop this Jothee thing?” she asked. “I don’t really care what some metal faced nut job says, I will never forgive you,” he added. She went to further the argument but decided against it. She would leave it up to Zhaan to stop him.

Unfortunately, Zhaan thought him finding a new, peaceful home was the best thing he could do. Stark of course, always sided with Zhaan. They were quickly becoming the John/Aeryn combo. Rygel didn’t give a damn, except for the fact that D’argo was taking his share of the money away. The former dictator wasn’t pleased with having to do even more work as well. Pilot was apathetic, yet still cared for D’argo. Chiana, the person he hated the most, wanted him to stay.

D’argo stood with his friends outside the hanger. This day had almost come many a time, but was always stopped by outside forces. But now, they were at relative peace. Apparently sending the bulky warrior back to his master had worked. With Crichton no longer among their ranks, the bounty hunters and the Death Corps had little reason to mess with the remaining “gang”. They had bounties on them, but they were far too cheap to risk battle with the violent and capable crew. They had gone longer with peace than any of them could remember, almost a month. This was a quiet area of space, far from any of the “Big Three” civilizations. It was the middle of nowhere, the perfect place for a famous criminal to take his ill-gotten money and retire.

While the crew had stopped at the planet for supplies, D’argo had spied an ad on the town billboard advertising a large plantation deep in the country. D’argo checked it out and found that it was a catal fruit farm. The owner had recently passed on and the son had no desire to keep up the family tradition. The place was in its off-season right now and no work was required. D’argo also liked the stately mansion on the premises. He had some equally land rich neighbors but they seemed like good people. What won D’argo over was the cheap price, roughly one th

06-03-2004, 02:18 PM	#1
Owlman The Cap'n Join Date: May 2004 Location: Houston, Texas Posts: 2,777	Season of Death (R) (Over 50 extra pages) Rating: R for violence, harsh human language, drug use, and non-explicit sex (Standard Owlman stuff) Spoilers: All of Season 1 and 2 Disclaimer: The characters from the series are owned by The Jim Henson Company. All the others are owned by me. Silence. Silence was the only companion of John Crichton, as he lay strapped to the operating table. His eyes were no more fortunate than his ears; all they had was the blinding bright light from a surgeon’s lamp, and the icy walls of the operating room. He could not see it, but he knew that the body of the doctor, Tocot was sprawled on the ice-floor to his left. Victim of the same man who left him here; Scorpius. And in Crichton’s eyes, the doctor was the lucky one. Scorpius had killed the doctor just for the hell of it, one single bad breath in the creature’s face. Crichton’s heart had skipped a beat when he heard the Star Spangled Banner being whistled in the icy hallway outside the OR. Scorpius was the only one who knew that tune. After Scorpius fell the doctor, he snatched up the neural chip that contained the very key to the universe. As the half-breed stood over him gloating, Crichton waited for his well-deserved deathblow. Would in come in a broken neck, a simple pulse blast to the head, or would it be a Texas style lethal injection? Crichton starred blankly into Scorpius’ eyes as the PeaceKeeper told him his fate. The words seemed to last forever in the cold air: “I condemn you John Crichton… to live. So that your thirst for unfulfilled revenge, will consume you!” As Crichton remembered the words he screamed an inhuman howl, much like he did when he first heard them. The brutal cry spread throughout the rows of frozen corpses, including one near to Crichton’s heart. The entire remaining crew of Moya jolted with ever pulse blast that impacted on the Leviathan’s makeshift defense screen. Every hit that the D.S. took, the generator in control sparked a little more. Crichton’s “Serious rig job” of wiring was beginning to crumble, along with the defense screen. The fire was coming from a squadron of Prowlers that were circling the still injured Leviathan. She could barely keep Hech 2, and even then she was moaning in pain. The great beast could not take much more punishment. The crew knew that they had only one option, retreat. “Pilot!” screamed D’argo into his comm. “Any luck on raising Crais and Talyn?” he asked, bucking from another shot. “No” replied Pilot’s voice. “They must be out of range,” he added, going back to his duties. “Either that, or he doesn’t give a rantar’s ass about us”, replied Chiana. With his “love” Aeryn dead, and his hated rival Crichton out of the picture, Crais had no more use for them. “If we can still Starburst, then why are we still here?” sniveled Rygel. Zhaan shot a fierce glance at him. “Because John is still on that planet”, she said in a rather angry voice. Rygel through back: “You saw a second Marauder go down there, he is either dead, or on his way there!” he replied. Zhaan looked away, she knew this in her heart. “And, what can we do to save him, hmm?” “Those Prowlers would tear a transport pod to pieces in microts” added the little despot. A team of PeaceKeeper commandos had ambushed the crew as they were waiting for Crichton’s surgery to end. They had all been unarmed, and had barely made it back to the pod. Just as he finished his statement, an ear-shattering rumble went throughout the ship. The crew, having experienced this before jumped from the defense screen generator just before it nearly exploded. The large black mass sparked, and threw the sinew like wires around command with a piercing shriek. It was a small miracle that the entire device didn’t explode and take out the entire crew with it. Chiana peered over the nav. console, cringing just in case it decided to blow Pilot didn’t even bother informing the crew that the D.S. was down. D’argo snarled. He looked at his remaining friends, a circle that had gotten much smaller in the past few arns. “We have no choice, Pilot, Starburst now!” Zhaan screamed for Pilot to stop. The multi-armed controller wisely followed D’argo’s instructions. As Moya lurched forward into the blue vortex, D’argo wrapped his arms around Zhaan. “Its alright, we’ll be back for him” said D’argo, his voice nearly cracking. Jothee held Chiana’s hand as she cried. (The Camera Cuts to the Opening Credits) Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Download at http://home.eznet.net/~deck/fe/Neurotica_Ride of Your Life.mp3) Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light Drown yourselves in lakes of volume Drown yourselves in the sound Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life Season of Death Part 1: A Dish Best Served Cold Crichton threw himself at his limb restraints. He was in his T-shirt, and the cold was quickly sapping his strength. If he didn’t break out in an hour, there was little chance that he would ever break out. This sudden thought stopped his movement. Just lay still, and go to sleep and his pain would stop. His thoughts of Aeryn would stop, his hatred would stop. Every thought in his head told him to do this, to just stop. If he would die, no one else could die because of him. No more torture, no more suffering, no more running. His inner voice seemed to tell him: “Sleep Johnny boy, sleep, next thing you know, your pain will end and you will find peace”. Crichton lay back to accept his fate, then it seemed to come to him. The voice inside his head wasn’t his, it was that of Scorpius. “In-fucking-possible!” he screamed inwardly, outside this was only a mumble, his speech center of his brain had been sacrificed to free him from Harvey, or so he thought. “You’re gone Harvey!” he yelled inwardly. The voice answered him: “Oh, it is quite fucking possible”. “We have been too close for too long John, I am a part of your very consciousness now, you cannot be rid of me!” “We share the same soul if you will, the same life force”. Crichton’s eyes darted around the room, making sure the voice didn’t belong to the real Scorpius. “Its just you and me John” added Harvey. “Do you really want to be stuck alone with only me to talk to?”. “I know you John, your only purposes for living; wormholes, and Aeryn Sun are now gone”, he said in his usual cocky attitude. “Don’t you ever mention her name again!” screamed Crichton. Harvey faded into existence on top of him on the table. “Ah yes, the name of the woman we both murdered together”, replied the clone smiling from ear to ear. “That was your doing not mine!” screamed Crichton. Hate and adrenaline began to fill his veins. “You don’t believe that, I know you better than you know yourself!” replied the clone. “I know exactly what has been going through your mind since I got in here” “You could have killed yourself when you had the chance, that would have saved her, or you could have at least tried to overpower me, but you didn’t!” screamed the neural clone. “Your name was the last words to come for her pretty lips” he said. A vision of her last moments popped up like a movie clip. Her screaming his name as she sank into the icy depths. The long trudge back to the module with her limp body, Crichton couldn’t believe how heavy she was, the unnatural flopping over her limbs and head. The very unfriendly greeting he got from his friends when he got back to the medical facility. The near beating D’argo gave him as he restrained him, throwing on the handcuffs. The flashback cut to him standing next to her lifeless body, just as the diagnosian had declared she was beyond saving. The way he placed his face to her cold, frosty cheek, pleading: “Wake up… please!”. And then: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he had screamed as D’argo dragged him away from her. His scream was overcome by the sound of Harvey laughing. The room and the non-existent Scorpius again appeared, Harvey’s mouth wide with laughter. “The great John Crichton reduced to a babbling wreck! What, no stiff upper lip like you had for your mother?” The clone had miscalculated; he had neglected to factor in a Human’s rage. Adrenaline surging, Crichton simultaneously ripped both of the arm restraints from their brackets and threw his hands around the throat of his imaginary enemy. He rose to face the clone in the eye. “I plan on putting both of us out of or misery, once I’m done with Scorpy!” he screamed inwardly. He slammed the clone to the floor and using his adrenaline forced the clone out of existence temporarily. He threw off his leg restraints and quickly threw on his long, black PeaceKeeper coat, his exposed skin instantly tingling with the warmth. With all hope, Scorpius was still here, now, he needed a weapon. Rygel’s eyes lit up with shock and fear when D’argo entered his quarters. The Hynerian had been busy with a large pile of random objects. D’argo looked at the pile and then locked on to Rygel. “These are John and Aeryn’s things!” D’argo bellowed. Rygel didn’t flinch from his pile of loot. “He was her beneficiary, she was his, their both gone, so I figured that their belongings would be divided amongst us equally” said the Hynerian holding up one of Crichton’s PeaceKeeper jackets. “Of course Jothee shouldn’t get anything, I don’t think he liked Crichton much” he added. “From the looks of it, neither did you” replied D’argo. “I liked both of them, they both saved my life several times and were valuable crew members”, came back Rygel. D’argo leered at him. “That’s all they were to you, just valuable crew members!”. “What do you expect me to do Luxan, cry them a river, I’m mourning them in my own way” he replied, focusing back on the clothes. “They don’t even fit, what do you want with them?” asked D’argo. “Actual Crichton memorabilia is one of the most sought after commodities in the Territories” he said smiling. D’argo snatched the jacket from the little creature, who gave a hiss in return. “You have an entire chamber filled with treasure, be content with that and leave their stuff” said D’argo grabbing the pile. He threw the pile onto Crichton’s bed. He saw the shattered mirror and the marks of bloody fists against the wall behind it. It was in this room that his best friend had asked him to kill him. He had again found Crichton here after his rescue, Winnona pressed against his temple. If it hadn’t been for the influence of the neural clone, Crichton’s brains would have stained that wall. D’argo somehow found comfort in the fact that his friend was probably dead. He hoped that it had been quick. He looked over at the small table. Winnona sat there, just as he had left her before the clone had fully hijacked his mind. He wanted to pick it up, but he decided to leave it there, it was one of his most prized possessions. It would stay there, until its owner came back to reclaim it, or sit for an eternity waiting for his return. Chiana was sick of this. Zhaan and Stark were already praying for Crichton’s soul, D’argo was talking about him in past tense, and Rygel was already stealing his worldly possessions. They didn’t seem to even consider the possibility that Crichton was still alive and free or in captivity. She couldn’t believe that they had given up so easily. She demanded to Pilot that they go back, but he said Moya was in no condition to travel. Jothee had not left her side, but she knew he was there for a reason other than consoling her. She took a hardy swig of some hard liquor “Why are you so upset over this guy, he seemed a little insane to me”, Jothee said to her with false interest. Chiana rolled her eyes and took another drink. “Before he went insane, he was one of the best people I ever met” she replied. “He saved my ass so many times that I lost count, he was like a big brother to me”, she added. Jothee’s interest was peaked. “Did you and he ever…” he left it hanging. “No, but he rejected me once or twice” she said peering at the bottle, contemplating another shot. Jothee saw his opportunity. “He must have been crazy, he passed up on you” the horrible pick up line showed Jothee’s youth and inexperience. She ignored it. “Crichton and Aeryn were in love, he wouldn’t betray her”, she added. “They were the closest people on this ship, and the best team”. “Maybe Zhaan was right about them dying together, one couldn’t function well without the other, Crichton even tried to kill himself”. She chugged the equivalent of two shots from the bottle. Jothee smiled. “Can you function without him?” he asked. She shook her head. “I’m not dependant on anybody, but I wouldn’t mind waking up from my hangover in the morning with him saying “Pip, time to rise and shine” or anything for that matter”. She was so drunk and depressed that she didn’t mind his arm around her. Crichton’s search for firepower had taken him to her coffin. He peered through the small porthole at her. Her beautiful alabaster skin was now a lighter color, the color of death. She looked unchanged from when he had pulled her from the icy depths. Carrying her back to the pod, he resized how accurate the term dead weight was. He found it hard to believe that Tocat, who could heal a leviathan and take out neural chips could not revive a Sebasceanera (what Crichton nicknamed Sebascean women) who merely drowned. The hypothermia should have preserved her. He guessed Sebasceans were different from Humans in that department as well. He placed his hand on the glass near her face. He almost felt unworthy to stand here. A lock of her hair was still in his coat pocket. He had since placed it in a sealed test tube. Unfortunately, it appeared D’argo had taken his Qualta Blade with him, leaving Crichton weaponless. As he placed his hand on the glass, he sung a song he had written for her after her death internally: Memories are just where you laid them Dragging waters till the depths give up their dead What did you expect to find? Was it something you left behind? Don't you remember everything I said when I said, Don't fall away, and leave me to myself Don't fall away, and leave love bleeding in my hands, In my hands again, Leave love bleeding in my hands, In my hands, Love lies bleeding... The cold plastic polymer of a pulse pistol pressed to the back of his head before he could get to the second verse. Stark and D’argo carefully prodded the burnt out defense screen generator. Neither of them could fix the toaster, let alone this advanced piece of technology. Stark ran the scanning device closer, trying to detect the problem. As he approached, the device connected with the DS somehow, and a bolt of electricity filled the air between them. Stark dropped the device, and the DS began to fluctuate and smoke. As the sound grew in intensity, Stark and D’argo took simultaneous diving leaps behind the nearest console. Both cringed as it the sound climaxed. The explosion could have been considered a let down, if being small was a bad thing. A few wires or fuses popped and the sound disappeared. They carefully peek over their consoles at it. The both thought a like, but said nothing. They need John Crichton. “Well, if it isn’t the legendary John Crichton” said a muffled voice behind the human. The voice carried a PeaceKeeper accent. He looked into some ice on the wall and saw a pair of PeaceKeeper marines behind him in full body armor and helmets. The other’s pistol was holstered. “Don’t know how you got free but Scorpius wanted you to stay here and suffer” commented the marine. Crichton was starring at Aeryn’s face when the marine mentioned that name. Crichton’s hate and rage were boiling his blood. Crichton would be damned if he let Scorpius or any of his goons leave alive. Crichton remembered a technique that he had picked up somewhere. If he executed it right, he would have his weapons. He waited for the marine to make a mistake, which came when the marine waved his gun in the direction he wanted Crichton to move. In seemingly slow motion, Crichton spun around and grabbed the outstretched hand of the marine. He grabbed the free hand with his right and quickly forced the muzzle of the energy weapon up to the marine’s chin with his left. Before the PeaceKeeper could react, Crichton forced the pistol to discharge. Crichton quickly grabbed the pistol from the limp, falling hand and targeted the second marine, who had now just drawn his weapon. Before he could raise his weapon, Crichton fired three quick blasts into the upper torso of the marine, sending him smoking to the ground. Crichton forced the cold air into his lungs and he gathered himself. He grabbed the pistol from the second marine’s hand and inspected the weapons. This was the one combat skill that Crichton excelled at over Aeryn, dual weaponry or akimbo. As he was relieving the marine of his spare clips, he noticed that his holster had jammed, giving Crichton a crucial second to beat the marine to the punch. As he snapped the first marine’s holster to his thigh he looked at Aeryn. “Thanks for watchin’ my back baby”. He kissed the glass and moved on. Just looking at Grunchlk made Scorpius ill. He looked un-well and damn contagious. This man’s disgusting appearance sealed his fate with Scorpius. Any doubts that he had about killing him disappeared when the corpulent, wheezing mass demanded more money for his “services”. Braca stepped forward and half tossed the duffle bag to Grunchlk, who quickly tore the zipper open. “This bag is pretty small, I though this guy was worth 30 million” Grunchlk complained. Upon looking in the bag, he realized that it contained only a few tins of field rations. He didn’t even raise his head. “Frell you Scorpius” he said quite calmly. A single blast from one of Scorpius’ 6 marines smashed into his large body, sending him to the ground. Scorpius waved one of them forward to inspect Grunchlk’s vital signs. The gooey reds eyes blinked once as he stared up at the black armored Sebascean. “He’s still alive” reported the muffled voice of the marine. “Finish him” ordered Scorpius as he and Braca walked for the exit. “Wait for Betra team, then take the second Marauder to help the search for the Leviathan” ordered Scorpius. The marines stood at attention as their commander left. D’argo sat on his knees, his eyes closed. He talked out loud, his voice filling the empty room. “Lola…” he paused to think of the words. “I know it has been a long time since I reported to you, I’ve been busy”. “In the past few days I have lost two friends and regained a son”. “Jothee has grown so much, he has your eyes and his father’s temper”. D’argo swallowed hard. “I’ll do my best to watch over him, even with Crichton gone, I doubt we have heard the last of the PeaceKeepers”. He paused, realizing that he had gotten ahead of himself. “My friend Aeryn is dead, and her… lover and my best friend John Crichton has most likely joined her on the other side. If you see them, make sure Crichton stays out of trouble” he said with a smile. “They’re good people Lola, I hope they share our afterlife”. A tear had now formed under one of his closed eyes. “I’m thinking of asking Chiana to marry me. I don’t know if it is the right thing to do or if it is okay with you, but it just seems right, especially with what has recently happened. I’ll await a sign from you, I love you”. He gave a traditional Luxan prayer motion and stood up. Grunchlk laid on the icy floor dying. Every breath was becoming harder to complete. The remaining marines were arguing over who would get to kill him. The argument was finally resolved when one of them out bid the others for the right. His life was worth 75 credits apparently. The marine pressed the muzzle of his rifle to Grunchlk’s head. He closed his eyes and waited for the final shot. He could hear the trigger being pulled. He braced himself. The rifle’s blast smacked harmlessly into the icy floor. Grunchlk opened his eyes and looked up to see Crichton with a choke hold on the marine, a pistol in each hand. Crichton let a shot fly from his right pistol, which struck a marine in his well-armored chest with a crackle of flame. The others instantly began firing, regardless of their comrade.. The wave of red blasts smashed into Crichton’s Sebascean shield, throwing sparks and pieces of armor flying. Despite the screams and thrashing of the marine in his grasp, Crichton methodically fired on the five others. He no longer cared that they were living people. All he knew was that they were obstacles in the way between him and Scorpius. He quickly placed three shots in the torsos of the first two marines. He then released his now limp shield and simultaneously blasted the two marines that had positioned themselves to shoot around their former comrade. They both instantly crumbled to the ground. He then crossed his guns at the wrist and locked onto the final marine. He screamed like a bezerker as he unleashed countless shots from both guns into the marine’s chest. The marine jerked with every flaming impact, and fell to the ground dead several times over. Crichton stood there for a moment among the dead, his breath steaming out in a rapid pace. A downed marine to his right gasped and gurgled from a lung shot. Crichton knew he was done for. The man attempted to crawl to his weapon. A few months ago, John Crichton would spare his life. Now, he wasn’t John Crichton, he was Eric Draven, out to make Scorpius pay for his pain. With one quick trigger pull he released the PeaceKeeper from his pain. Ignoring Grunchlk’s cries for help, Crichton kicked open the door to the outside. He raised his weapons as snow blasted his face. A Marauder was standing in the snowfield, shut off and locked down. Crichton saw a spot where the snow had been recently melted, most likely from the engines of the Marauder that was now disappearing in the clouds miles from the medical complex. Crichton heard pathetic cries from the interior of the building. He took his time getting the Grunchlk. There was no doubt that this fat bastard had led Scorpius to him. Crichton pointed his right gun at Grunchlk’s head. The big alien began to twitch wildly and Crichton took a step back from the ever-growing amount of yellow snow around Grunchlk. “Please don’t kill me!” begged Grunchlk. “I know you can’t talk, but you can listen”, he added. Crichton shrugged and began to pull the trigger. But, Crichton’s adrenaline had worn off by now, and his conscience was now coming into play. He placed the pistol in his right scavenged holster. Grunchlk eagerly took Crichton’s outstretched hand. Crichton walked him back into the body chambers. “Thank you Commander, I…”. Before he knew what was going on, Crichton hurled the big man into an empty cryo-pod and slammed the door shut. His screaming mouth was instantly frozen open. Crichton waved good-bye and walked back to his battlefield. He quickly grabbed a pulse rifle and ejected the clips from the others. These would come in handy. D’argo yelled again as another jolt from the busted control panel traveled up his tool and into his arm. He wasn’t accustomed to tech work, Crichton had done it for over two cycles for him. He had even caught himself trying to comm. Crichton when he first saw the panel. Much like it had been with his wife, D’argo seemed to see Crichton everywhere. In the mess hall, in a corridor, and by his module. He had even heard him and Aeryn flirting/fighting one time. Anyone who lost someone they cared about can sympathize with this. Now, D’argo had to come to the harsh fact that they would have to deal with the practical aspect of the loss of Aeryn and Crichton. Chiana sauntered in, she and Jothee had been missing for several arns. She smelled heavily of cleansing liquid and bathing. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Thinking about him too?” she asked. D’argo nodded. “He’s not dead you know” she added. “We both know he’s not the kind to just lay down and die”. D’argo just nodded. The white clouds quickly turned to the blackness of space as the Marauder left the atmosphere of the icy planet. Crichton sat silently behind the controls. The PeaceKeepers had been nice enough to leave the location of their bases and patrol patterns on the ship’s database. Crichton had calculated that the planet of Nadris was his best bet. There was little PeaceKeeper presence on the planet, and there were no picket lines between this planet and that one. Plus, it also had a city called Koorong with a population of 8 million. Even the infamous John Crichton could blend in there. Plus, he could probably find a doctor to treat him and maybe even Aeryn there. After getting cured, he could try to find Moya again, or failing that, find Scorpius. Crichton remembered Harvey quoting Shakespeare: “Revenge is a dish best served cold, and you like revenge don’t you John” __________________ SSD's Captain Charisma Noirscape: Weclome to the Dark Side of the Owl's imagination: Feeling like the NEW Ultimate Edition of a Noir love story? Season of Death Want a twisted fic that makes you want to get therapy and take a shower at the same time? And got booted off fanfiction.net? (NC17)Sic and Twisted Edit Or its sequel: Paraphilia or its sequel After The Flesh Last edited by Owlman : 06-03-2004 at 02:53 PM.

06-03-2004, 02:19 PM	#2
Owlman The Cap'n Join Date: May 2004 Location: Houston, Texas Posts: 2,777	Part 2 Crichton blew a half-assed sigh of relief when the Marauder finally began its descent into the atmosphere of Nadris. The planet was about half the size of Earth, but could have been mistaken for its twin at this distance. Crichton had feared that his fuel would not hold out over the long flight. As his ship entered the planet’s gravitational pull, the low fuel warning buzzer had sounded. He was running on fumes, and he still had a large planet to cover. The PeaceKeeper navigation system told him that he could not reach the city off Koorong. The computer then suggested a small town in the far north. The city description called it Tarin, and said that the settlement had only a few hundred people. It was nestled in the mountains, and finding a landing spot would be tricky. The large PeaceKeeper transport was about to cut into the clouds when a blaring siren broke into song. The fuel had been totally depleted. Crichton knew by its design that a Marauder glided like a rock doesn’t. Crichton felt his stomach drop as his downward velocity left his control. The Marauder plunged into the fluffy cloud layer in a screaming dive. Crichton gave one last tug to the controls, then gave up with an inaudible profanity. He grabbed up the pulse rifle from the co-pilot’s seat and thrust it between his chest and his dual seatbelts. He had only ever practiced ejection back on Earth during pilot training, and that was on the ground. He confessed, that even then, it sucked. Mentally bracing himself, he reached under his seat for the ejection handle. He came up with nothing. As panic set in, he searched the dashboard for an ejection button. The translator microbes seemed to take an eternity to translate the Sebascean labels into English subtitles. Periodically he spied out the windshield to see the snow covered terrain come rushing up at him. Finally he discovered a large bump of metal on the left hand side of the console. He held his breath as the caption read in English: Ejection. He pulled on the metal casing and it didn’t move and inch. He saw that a key hole one the side of it. He screamed yet again, pounding the object with his fist. Now objects below him were beginning to take shape. He could see the small village of Tarin, some rolling snow cover hills, and his computer projected “landing area”, a frozen lake. Out of desperation, he set the rifle to its lowest possible setting, and aimed carefully. The small red blast blew the metal covering off, but thankfully, the button was still intact. He took half a second to ready himself. This was going to hurt like a som’bitch and he knew it. At the last second, he checked the PeaceKeeper knife that he scavenged from one of his would-be assassins. If his seat went down in the lake, he wasn’t pulling an Aeryn. He took three deep breaths, and jammed the button. His body had never felt an impact like this. His motorcycle crash seemed tame to it. His chest seemed to be trying to replace his spine in his back. As his head bounced back against the chair, he blacked out. Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics) (Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight) Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut (Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light) Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole (Drown yourselves in lakes of volume) I was pursued by an insane military commander (Drown yourselves in the sound He took all I held dear, and left me for dead (Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives I will find him, this I swear I will not let him harm Earth Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen (The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life) Season of Death Part 2: Professor Dumb Ass, I Presume The world once again appeared as Crichton regained consciousness not even a second later. The freezing air tore at his exposed flesh like a wave of tiny claws. The thrusters under the seat were already beginning to slow his descent. The dead Marauder screamed back up at him as it plummeted towards the frozen lake. The lake and the Marauder collided, and not surprisingly, the lake won. The metal beast shattered into thousands of pieces, throwing them in all directions. In return, the ice around the crash area fractured and swallowed the entire smoking mass within a second. Except for the flowing wound, it was like the Marauder had never existed. At least he didn’t have to worry about any tracking devices now. Not even a black box from hell could have survived it. Below, he could see the people of Tarin scrambling around like small ants. He wondered how they would react to a man falling down from the sky in a Lazyboy. These were people from an advanced society, so they probably wouldn’t bow to him as a god or burn him at the stake for witchcraft. Well, the first was probably true anyway. Hopefully they weren’t up with current news, at least not enough to have a wanted beacon of him in the town square. Even if they did, the most he would have to deal with would be Andy Griffith and Barney Fife. He looked down at his landing spot; it was not far from the bank. He was now 100 or so feet from the ground. Already, a large group of townsfolk were starting to leave their homes and were closing in on his landing position. He hoped that they were friendly, even if experience told him otherwise. He looked down once again to see he only had ten more feet to go. Already the ice beneath him was beginning to visibly weaken. Just before touchdown, he easily threw off his safety belts and hit the ice running. The chair landed with a splash right behind him. He raced away from the ice that suffered damaged from the chair. He did not stop running until he felt the ice under his feet become snow and hard ground. The townsfolk were now only a few feet away. All of their faces were a mix of surprise and fear. Crichton noticed that all of their eyes were fixed on his rifle. He wanted to explain himself, but he could not find the words. He held the rifle above his head with one hand, and then slowly placed it down in the snow. The crowd’s intentions were mixed. Some carried stretchers and other medical supplies, other’s carried walking sticks that looked more like clubs. He also spotted the gleam of a few kitchen knives. After searching the crowd for weapons, he then noticed that the crowd was entirely made up of female and old male Sebasceans. A few children were also mixed in. Even with his weapon on the ground, the crowd still seemed to be waiting for him to start talking first. A rugged, middle-aged redhead woman spoke first. “Explain yourself!” she ordered. Crichton recognized fear behind her tough talking façade. Crichton just stood there, unintentionally playing it Eastwood. The matriarch stared him down. While she and Crichton locked gazes, a small boy had ventured forth and was trying to pick up Crichton’s rifle. He threw a boot on the weapon, shocking the boy. “Jaxx, get away from that, its dangerous!” the matriarch screamed. Crichton didn’t know if “it” was the rifle or him. An old man behind her talked next. “Mister, what’s wrong with you, you deaf or mute or something?” Crichton nodded. He motioned to his ears trying to show that he could hear, but then made a slashing motion across his throat as he attempted to talk. The old man turned to the crowd. “This man is a mute”, most of the crowd rolled their eyes since they had already figured it out. The crowd began to murmur among themselves. The old man spoke up. “We need to take him to the inventor” he said. The matriarch followed up on the comment. “You mean Professor Dumb Ass?” “Professor Dumb Ass?” Crichton said in his head. “I wouldn’t trust Bannon to fix my toaster, let alone this guy”, she added. While the crowd squabbled over his fate, Crichton decided it was about time to clear out. He grabbed the rifle by the carrying handle and started to walk off. He was about twenty feet away when the crowd finally noticed. The old man tapped him on the shoulder. “Son, we really are trying to help you, we just don’t get many visitors”, he said. “Bannon is a so called inventor, but most of his stuff is useless crap”. Crichton had so many catch phrases, comebacks, and insults in his head that it hurt. “But, the only invention that he has that did work is this automated voice box”. Crichton stopped in his tracks. The old man caught on and pointed towards a small, run down one possibly two-room house. The sign outside read: Bannon, Inventor Moya’s entire remaining crew, along with Jothee sat in Pilot’s den. This was the first time the entire crew had really been together since they were forced to abandon Crichton. Though everyone was still mourning, even if in a token way, Moya was no place to dwell on the past. Things still broke, and people still-hunted the Leviathan every microt of every day. It was time to get on with business. “I called you all together, because we have to discuss the practical problems brought up by the loss of Aeryn and John”, said D’argo uncomfortably. The chamber stayed silent except for the hum of the various systems running in Pilot’s den. D’argo hated being the bad guy, but now he was the closest thing to a leader that the crew had. “First up, I will take on Aeryn’s recon duties, I’m the only real warrior here now, so I don’t really have a choice,” he said letting out a sigh. Chiana laughed. “You on recon?” “It would take a dead sentry .2 microts to see your big ass” she quipped at him. D’argo got flustered, but tried to keep his cool. “You want to do it Chiana, be my guest!” he replied. “I just might,” she said, sitting back in a hissy fit. D’argo rolled his eyes. “Second, we need to all pitch in and do Crichton’s repair duties” he said, leaving space for the sure to come complaints. He cut off Rygel. “Before you say Dominars don’t do repair work, let me remind you that you are no longer a Dominar, and you WILL do repair work!” Rygel snapped back “We have millions upon millions at our disposal, we can just hire some tech or buy some slaves to do it for us” replied Rygel. Immediately, the two Ex-slaves in the room focused their attention on the little man. “Yeah, I’m sure that they wouldn’t turn us in for the huge bounty on our heads or anything”, replied Chiana sarcastically. “Who cares about us anymore, we were labeled as the “Crichton Gang”, it was all about Crichton, I bet 90% of the bounty hunters out there don’t even know that we still exist or ever existed!” added Rygel. Zhaan finally broke her long silence. “You don’t kill as many PeaceKeepers as we did and just walk away!” “What’s this “we” dren, D’argo, Aeryn, and Crichton killed all the PeaceKeepers!” yelled the mini dictator. “By PeaceKeeper law, just forming or participating in an organized crime cell is punishable by death by torture, burning necklace, or explosive decompression,” replied the priest. After this, the entire crew, except for D’argo and Jothee broke into argument. D’argo motioned to his son, and they both existed the den, with Pilot looking on wishing he could be the same. “Son, look, I’ve been thinking about settling down” D’argo began. “That’s great dad…” “With Chiana” finished D’argo. Jothee inhaled sharply. “Settle down, what do you mean?” Jothee asked. “You know, use my share of the money to buy a farm, raise crops, all of that crap,” responded his father. “And I want you to come with us”. Jothee’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. He tried to put it as delicately as possible. “I don’t want the quiet life dad, I want to live loudly, I want to have my name up there with the likes of A’dras the Great, or Kai Raith, or…” “John Crichton”, said D’argo with a disappointed voice. Jothee looked down. “From what Chiana has told me, you and him had some crazy adventures, it sounded like a blast!” said Jothee excitedly. “Sorry the press made him the legend and you just a sidekick”. He stopped. “Oh yeah, it was all fun and games except for the torture, the starvation, the killing, the dying, oh and the best part was when this life turned Crichton into an insane suicidal wreck!” screamed D’argo. “Tell me something Jothee, have you ever seen someone laying on the ground gasping for life, knowing you put them there, knowing you may have stolen 60 cycles or more of their life?” asked D’argo. His son shook his head. “Only those who have never seen battle welcome it!” said D’argo walking off. His son too smelled of washing and cleansing liquid, a little too much. Well, the house looked like ass on the outside, but was quite warm and cozy on the inside. In fact, snow was already melting off Crichton’s PeaceKeeper issue boots. The house had only one real room, with a small bathroom attached on the side. The inside was littered with circuits and wires. The smell of bad wiring was the places predominant odor. Crichton saw his best hope, Bannon, sitting at his desk sautering something. Bannon could have been the Tommy Chong of the Uncharted Territories. He had scraggily blonde hair and an equally messy beard. If glasses hadn’t gone out of use centuries ago in the Sebascean world, Bannon would have coke bottles. “Professor Dumb Ass I presume” thought Crichton in his head. The old man behind Crichton cleared his throat. “Oh, Mayor, nice of you to stop by, what can I do you for?” he asked, not nearly as stoned sounding as Crichton imagined. He starred Crichton down, especially his rifle. “Whoa man, I’ve paid my rent and stayed within your guidelines, you can’t just kick me out like that!” he screamed. Crichton sincerely hoped that he didn’t have to see another grown man piss his pants. The apparent mayor interjected. “No damn it, this man is mute and needs to use your talking device”. Bannon smiled. “Oh, yeah, of course, of course”. He immediately went to sorting through his gadget pile. The mayor explained Crichton’s arrival. “Oh, so that’s what that explosion was, I thought it was another avalanche”, said Bannon as he handed Crichton a palm pilot like device. “Alright man, just punch in what you want to say and the device will say it for you”. Crichton studied the device for sometime. The keypad used the far larger Sebascean alphabet. He stared at it a while, thinking for what to write. Finally, his translator microbes kicked in and showed him which syllable each character made. He didn’t trust the double translation, but he went for it. “THANKS MAN!” said a rather loud voice that made Steven Hawking sound normal. Bannon responded. “What’s your name man?” Crichton pondered it. “Crichton, John Crichton” said the annoyingly loud CPU voice. He looked at both of them to see if they registered shock. Neither seemed fazed. Bannon continued. “Have you always been mute, or did you suffer some kind of injury?” Crichton punched the keypad and squinted at the message. “Operation to remove neural chip, had to remove speech center,” yelled the CPU. “Does this damn thing have volume control?” asked the CPU. “Sorry, no” replied Bannon. Crichton would have screamed just then. “Did the doctor who preformed the operation say that it could be restored?” Crichton nodded. “With donor sample” replied the CPU. Bannon thought for a second. “Your in luck, regeneration happens to be my specialty” he said. The mayor broke in “For God’s sakes Bannon, take this man to a real doctor”. Crichton waved him off. “Tell me more,” said the CPU. “Basically I have a device that can regenerate certain parts of the brain simply by using a specialized field”. “It can’t regenerate memories or anything like that, but if any of your speech center was left, there is a possibility that the field can regenerate it back in a few minutes”. Crichton didn’t particularly trust this guy, but then again, he had little choice. “Let’s do this thing,” said the CPU for Crichton. Bannon shook his head. “The device is back in my main lab in Mobliz, it’s about a day’s train ride for here,” said Bannon. “Good, let’s get going” replied the CPU. “I can get to Koorong from there right?” he continued. Bannon nodded. “Let me get my stuff and lock up everything, then we can go” said Bannon, now happy beyond belief. Crichton sympathized; every scientist always wants to try out his new toy. The mayor tapped Crichton on the shoulder and motioned him to go outside. “Mister Crichton, you said that you are going to Koorong, I was wondering if you would consider doing this town a favor” began the old man. Crichton didn’t like the sound of this. “As you may have noticed, there are no younger men here”. “After the mines shut down for the winter, the men went to Koorong to find jobs”. “At first, they sent back quite a bit of money to their families, but about a moonen ago, the money and letters stopped”. “At first we thought that maybe the drugs and the women got to them, but these were good men and we figured at least one of them would still maintain his duty to his family”. “They were staying in some slum called Dobie Circle, if you were to look into it, I and everyone here would greatly appreciate it”, finished the mayor. Crichton feigned interest, and then joined Bannon. “What do you mean Crichton escaped?” screamed Scorpius in his deep, Scarren voice. Braca stepped back from his commander, trying not to show his fright. They were in Scorpius’ chamber onboard the Command Carrier. “Sir, he somehow broke free from his restraints,” reported Braca. “All of our marines were killed, and they’re Marauder stolen”. He added, bracing for some more Scarren fury. “What about the Marauder’s transponder, can we track him?” asked Scorpius sitting down. Braca reluctantly put said device on the table in front of Scorpius. “We found this in the snow just outside the facility sir” he reported. Scorpius crushed it with one powerful armored fist. He began breathing heavily, sign of the new for a new cooling rod. Scorpius looked at the neural chip that dangled from his neck by a necklace. “Crichton no longer matters to me”, he said. “Update all the wanted beacons, Crichton is now to be killed on sight,” he ordered. “Yes sir,” said Braca leaving. “Braca, one more thing”. “Once we reach my new Gammick base, I will have no need for this ship”. “When I’m done with it, I want you to take this ship and hunt down Crichton and both Leviathans”. “Kill them all”, he added with a smile. Braca smiled himself and left for the bridge. But, Scorpius knew that hunting Crichton would be unnecessary. Crichton was going to hunt him down, and that’s when Scorpius would strike. Scorpius knew a lot about revenge, and his ultimate tool for it was hanging from his chest. For the first time in a week, Crichton was standing in warm weather. Though Mobliz was only a few hundred miles south of Tarin, it was about fifty degrees warmer. The smell of saltwater and the call of sea going birds filled the air. Mobliz was a good-sized town on the southern tip of the north most continent. Here, hopefully his speech impediment would be cured. On the long train ride Crichton decided to forgo his back-story until after he was cured. Crichton walked a bit uneasy beside Bannon. Weapons were not allowed with in the city, and he had been forced to strap up his rifle to his back. He tried his best not let the blue uniformed Peace Officers catch a solid glimpse of his face. Normal people had been ignorant of him, but he would bet a million dollars that most of these guys had current issues of PeaceKeeper magazine on their coffee tables at home. The duo had quickly made it to Bannon’s “lab” on the outskirts of town. The place was obviously once a warehouse. Bannon had converted the inside into a house, using the shipping office as a living room and an old storeroom as his bedroom. The main warehouse area had been stripped of its shelves and various workbenches strewn with equipment now occupied the empty pavement. Bannon pointed to a trap door in the back. “All the good stuff is down there”, he said. Crichton made a what the hell motion and went down the steps. When Crichton asked my Bannon would sit on a device that could repair brain tissue, Bannon explained that the key technology was banned. That and the fact that it had never been tested on sentient beings before. As the lights flicked on, Crichton saw the device. Instantaneously the sight of the machinene brought back memories of pain and anger. The Device was an Aurora Chair. Crichton grabbed Bannon by the beard and jammed a pistol under his chin. Crichton quickly typed. “What, you didn’t think that I would know what that is?” asked the CPU. “You brought me all the way here to strap me into an Aurora Chair!” it continued. “The device is based on the same technology as the Aurora Chair yes, but it is a healing device!” screamed Bannon. “I was strapped into one of these frelling things for days, they are on the other end of the spectrum from healing” said the CPU. “Only the neural scanner is from an Aurora Chair the rest is a combination of my own design!” he begged. Crichton looked around and noticed that the chair lacked the large amount of gizmos that Scorpius’ did. Also, a bizarre symbol was all over the device; a black pyramid surrounded by a blue circle. “Come on man, your people paid me and seven other doctors and scientists to make this thing to reverse damage done to the brain by Scarren attacks”. “But your government decided that it wasn’t worth the money and scrapped the project about a fourth of the way through like five cycles ago”. Bannon was now panting like mad. “My people, you mean PeaceKeepers?” asked the CPU. “Well, lets see, you are wearing PeaceKeeper clothes, armed with PeaceKeeper weapons, crashed in a PeaceKeeper ship, and have a bad PeaceKeeper attitude, so I deduced that you are either a PeaceKeeper or that you are a former one” said Bannon, running out of breath. Crichton placed his weapon back in the holster. “Close enough” said the CPU for Crichton. “I’ve been tweaking this thing ever since, I have tested it on primates with good results, but I thought I would never get a chance to test it on a Sebascean for at least two more cycles”. Crichton flopped down in the chair. “Beam me up Scotty” said the CPU. Hell, he’d been playing test monkey for two years now, and now he had less to lose than ever. Maybe he’d get lucky and Harvey would get grilled out of his mind by the device. “Alright, let me explain how this works, first it…” Crichton cut him off and began furiously typing. “When I first got here, all these explanations were fascinating and mind boggling, but now they just bore me, so please, just nuke my brain and try not to over cook it!” said the CPU. Crichton thought, “I sure as hell won’t miss this thing”. Bannon shook his head. “You may want to close your eyes”. Then, a blue field of energy surrounded Crichton’s head and instantaneously he began to scream. The sound of Zhaan’s song reverberated around the quiet halls of Moya. In the mess hall, Rygel looked up with alarm as he devoured an entire plate of snails. Down on one of the lower tiers, Chiana and Jothee paid no attention to the sound as they enjoyed each other. D’argo rolled over and growled into his comm. “Zhaan, I am trying to frelling sleep, knock it off!” Slowly, the sound faded into the air. Zhaan and Stark were sitting around Pilot in his den. “Thank you Zhaan, Moya feels much better”, said Pilot in his calm soothing voice. She smiled. “What do you think Moya meant by saying the rocks have eyes?” asked Stark, focusing his one good eye on Pilot. “Moya feels as if the asteroids in the field that we’re passing through are watching her,” replied Pilot. A muscular arm worked a console under a monitor showing Moya. The monitor showed statistics and measurements of her and was comparing them to those on another screen. Both screens lit up at the same time as every number on each screen matched up. A small icon was at the top of the second screen’s data sheet. It was that of a PeaceKeeper flag. A deep voice laughed. “Our lucky day set a course for that ship”. Crichton sat in silence as the blue field finally stopped flowing. Bannon walked over to him, with a half smile. “How do you feel?” asked Bannon with great apprehension. “FF… FFF… Frelling Fantastic!” said Crichton in a stumbling voice. __________________ SSD's Captain Charisma Noirscape: Weclome to the Dark Side of the Owl's imagination: Feeling like the NEW Ultimate Edition of a Noir love story? Season of Death Want a twisted fic that makes you want to get therapy and take a shower at the same time? And got booted off fanfiction.net? (NC17)Sic and Twisted Edit Or its sequel: Paraphilia or its sequel After The Flesh

06-03-2004, 02:21 PM	#3
Owlman The Cap'n Join Date: May 2004 Location: Houston, Texas Posts: 2,777	Part 3 Bannon sat back pale and in disbelief. He did not know whether he should fear this man or feel pity for him. He was starting to regret asking Crichton to tell him his story, leaving out no details. It had taken almost seven strait arns for Crichton to reach the point that they were at now. A tale full of adventure, blood, pain, and loss. Compared to him, Bannon’s crappy life was perfect. Crichton had been shocked that he was unknown to Bannon or anyone else. It had been nothing short of a miracle that Bannon’s device didn’t do serious damage to his neural tissue. The speech had taken a long time to totally recover. Crichton had felt some residual memories come back as well, but they were just flashes, things he could feel but not access. They were really unimportant to him. He still knew how to fire a gun, fly a ship, and dress himself, the basic necessities of life if you’re a man out for revenge. Most importantly, he still remembered his pain. That was always constantly there, no matter what he was doing. Even with his mind totally occupied with something else (which was rare), the hurt stayed on the fringes, slowly trickling in. He would be at peace, then, not five minutes later, it would come rushing back. His anger had grown beyond just Scorpy and himself. Now, he felt resentment for the rest of Moya’s crew. They had abandoned him at his most helpless. He could sympathize with them, he killed Aeryn, therefore, couldn’t be trusted. Crichton couldn’t even trust himself at that time. The so-called inventor looked up at him from under his bushy eyebrows. “How big is the bounty on your head?” asked Bannon. Crichton’s piercing blue eyes locked onto his face. It had been said in slight jest, but in Crichton’s case, it could have been dead serious. Bannon realized that this was the wrong thing to ask, or at least the wrong way. “What’s it to you?” asked Crichton with a cold voice. “Just curious man, I didn’t mean anything by it!” corrected Bannon. “Good, because a lot of people have tried to collect, and all of them are either dead or are doing their best Popsicle impression”, said Crichton sitting back. It was late at night and the warehouse was quiet and dark. His right side disappeared into the dark. Crichton had neglected to tell Bannon that he had killed Aeryn, not Scorpy. This guy didn’t need to know, he figured that he would be done with him in the morning. Plus, this was painful enough for him to think about, let alone say. Hell, even Ted Bundy had murders he couldn’t talk about. Crichton turned to the bearded scientist. “How do I get to Koorong from here?” he asked. Bannon looked up. “Ships leave from Figro in the morning, from there you can catch the light rail to Koorong, about a day’s journey total” said Bannon. Crichton looked at Bannon’s frown. “Look, sorry about being such an asshole, I really appreciate your help”. Crichton extended his hand. Bannon quickly took his hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m going to try and find a doctor that can revive Aeryn, can you recommend a good one?” he asked. Bannon thought for a second. “My mentor lives outside Koorong, I will give him a call, with out combined expertise we will work on a cure for her”, said Bannon, leaning forward. “But, unlike me, he won’t help for free” added Bannon with a downward look. Crichton looked up. “Tell the good doctor that money is no object, and as you remember from my story, there is quite a stash on my ship, enough to keep ya’ll inventing for the next few centuries” said Crichton. “Don’t worry man, if it is possible, we can save her”, he said. For the first time in a long while, Crichton smiled. Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics) (Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight) Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut (Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light) Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole (Drown yourselves in lakes of volume) I was pursued by an insane military commander (Drown yourselves in the sound He took all I held dear, and left me for dead (Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives I will find him, this I swear I will not let him harm Earth Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen (The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life) Season of Death Part 3: City of Darkness Guest Stars: Rob Van Dam And Angelina Jolie Koorong seemed to actually be darker than the night sky that surrounded it. The city could have been any major American city on Earth, but somehow it seemed different. Pillars of light that were probably skyscrapers jetted from the flat terrain. The city looked like something Alex Proyas wet dreamed up on an acid trip. Crichton found it bizarre that there were no houses or farms outside the city. Quiet grasslands could be seen outside the window. He found it hard to believe that anyone would live in a crowded, crime filled city when they had an entire planet to live on. All of a sudden, the wild instantaneously disappeared into the urban sprawl. No outskirts, just green grass to strait black pavement. He could not make out the particulars, besides that most of the city was covered in dark brick. The black streets were filled with people, and Crichton could finally make out the bright windows of stores. This was probably the hottie-tottie part of town. But pretty soon, just like any other town, it would slowly distort into the crime filled hellhole that it was rumored to be. Bannon had told him that the pimps, drug dealers, and other crime lords ran the entire city. Both the police and the government were little more than pawns for them. A place with a corrupt and incompetent police force was just what Crichton was looking for. The local populace was probably not inclined to watch their wanted beacons either. Crichton was here to find both a doctor and a way off the planet. He did not have faith in Bannon. Trusting his life to the general scientific failure was one thing, but he would not risk Aeryn’s life in the hands of a man who had literally botched a goat warmer. His best guess was that the team that the PeaceKeepers had thrown together had done most of the work on the chair. Bannon was his last (and right now only) option. He would try and find D’argo and the others first, then try and find the best doctor that his ill-gotten money could get. The people around him were all quiet now. Couples chatted, but others looked around nervously, the common thing to see on any form of urban public transportation, especially one headed for the slums.. The train was quickly slowing down now, and the cities features could be seen more closely. This part of town was not run down, but was far from upscale. The train station up ahead was white and glowing. He was bathed in light as the train pulled into the station and screeched to a halt. Two red uniformed officers stood guard on the platform. The doors slid open and a rush of hot air filled the car. Some of the Sebasceans moaned with complaint as they filed out the door. Crichton tried his best to blend into the biggest group, keeping his face away from the pair of guards. One looked his way, his eyes focusing. Crichton let his hand slip to his side, feeling one of his pistols. He breathed a sigh of relief when the guard’s gaze switched to the backside of a rather attractive Sebasceanera. Seeing his opportunity, he quickly made for the stairs, his coat flowing as he ran. A warm breeze was in the air, carrying the smell of chemicals and other wastes from the functioning of factories. The city was not much more advanced than the average American city; there were no flying cars like those of most commerce planets. In fact, there seemed to be no cars at all. Instead, a series of light rails covered the city like a circulatory system. This was the main station of the city, which was about half way between the jeweled outstretches and the corrupt core. To the southeast was the slum of Dobie Circle, which bordered on the industrial sector. To the direct east was what was called on Earth a red-light district. Drugs, strip clubs, and prostitution were all packed into this area. Crichton needed to find a place to lay low and get some rest. He only had a few coins on him from Bannon and they were not enough to purchase a room at any place here. Dobie Circle or one of the other slum areas was his best bet. It was about 2 in the morning or so by Crichton’s calculations, meaning that the streets would be filled with criminals. But, he had little reason to fear them. They were his “people”. He was probably the most dangerous man on those streets. A wall tagged with graffiti marked Crichton’s entrance into Dobie Circle. The black walls of the abandoned building were adorned with crudely drawn crimson shields. Small purple flames were also painted everywhere. Under some read: “Fuel, the only way to fly”. Crichton guessed that Fuel was probably the drug of choice around town. Another tag in red read: “Little Blo is God”. It was surrounded by several red bucklers crudely made from spray-paint. He only hoped that this red gang didn’t mind intruders in there territory. He wasn’t looking for trouble, but it always seemed to be searching for him. No matter where you are, every ghetto seems the same. Rundown or abandoned shops sat like unburied bodies in the moonlight, slowly rotting against the elements. Some were barely standing, others bearing the red bucklers were in much better shape, as if they kept the junkies away. This could have been Red Hook in NYC, South Park in Houston, White Chapel/Mile End in London, or any other long forgotten, often avoided area of a major city. A place where people would go for a short time until they had the money to move up, but most never made it to the next economic circle of town. Several homeless people were wandering the streets between the abandoned buildings. The entire area shook as a light rail shot by on an elevated track. There were no stations in this entire district, but the populace was still bothered by the near constant running of the trains. Other than the homeless, the streets were virtually empty. Most of the inhabited buildings were dark, except for the lights around the entrance. A smattering of lights lit up the upper floors. A few addicts on their most recent trips sat next to each other laughing, purple squeeze tubes lay around them. One of them still had some purple goo under his nostril. Crichton saw one of them rise to his feet. He motioned for his two high buddies to join him. They blocked his way down the street and pulled out shivs. “Your money!” screamed the first skinny addict. Crichton just looked at his eyes and smiled. “What the frell are you smiling at, give me the money!” screamed the addict. The other two shifted. Crichton laughed hysterically “I’ve got a better idea”, said Crichton. “You give me your money, and I’ll give you ten microts to get out of my sight before I kill you!” said Crichton, his smile disappearing. The leader and the right thug charged, shivs ready. Before they completed their first steps, Crichton’s pistols were already out. A pull with each finger sent both reeling back to the hard ground, sparks coming from their chests. The third, covered with piercings looked at his dead comrades, and then to Crichton’s little friends that were leveled at him. The other thug tried to turn and run, but Crichton fired a blast. He intended to shoot the ground, but it seemed as if his arm acted on its own, sending the red blast into the addict’s lower leg. Crichton could gain feel the adrenaline flowing through his body. He hated this piece of Sebascean trash almost as much as the marines that he slaughtered back at the medical facility. He kicked the shiv out of his hand and stood over him. Both his pistols were leveled at the slag’s head. Crichton breathed heavily, the pulse in his head pounding. The man’s screaming was blocked out by a voice in Crichton’s head. “Excellent shot Commander, that will require medical attention” said the voice of Harvey. Crichton talked to the specter beside him. “You take that shot Harvey?” asked Crichton, ignoring the struggling man underneath him. “No, that was all you, your anger is quite refreshing” said the clone. Crichton frowned at him. “But, I do highly suggest that you finish him, he knows your face now” he suggested. Crichton looked down. “This guy?” “He probably has warrants out the ass, I don’t think he is the Police telling type”, said Crichton. His captive was a bit puzzled. “Your crazy man!” said the addict. Crichton smiled. “Leave your money, and crawl your happy ass to the nearest hospital or street doc or whatever”. The man laid down a few coins and began to drag himself away quickly. Crichton picked up the money and searched the two dead ones for a few more coins. Crichton looked at the crawling man. “I highly suggest that you forget me!” he screamed after the man, who only crawled faster. He heard the sound of safeties being disengaged behind him. “I highly suggest that you drop them!” came a deep voice for behind him. Before he could react, a rifle butt was smashed into his head, knocking him unconscious. The shock of cold water drew Crichton from his impact-induced sleep. As the room melted into focus, his entire view was taken up by an incredibly small Sebascean. He wasn’t what humans politically correctly called a “little person”, but he was actually just a little person, probably five foot four. His blonde hair was cut like Crichton’s. He was not much younger than Crichton either. The first thing Crichton focused on was his red armband. He little man spoke. “My name is Blo, I’m the boss around here” he said, in his meanest voice. Crichton lightly laughed. “You must be Little Blo” said Crichton. One of the guards behind Blo looked shocked. Crichton’s smile retreated when Blo’s fist collided with it. Crichton was instantly filled with rage. He tried to charge the little man, but was quickly forced to the pavement. He attempted to stand, but his arms were tied behind his back with tape. Blo placed his boot on Crichton’s head. “Nobody calls me little!” he screamed. “Sorry, I just thought you needed adult supervision to be around here” replied Crichton. Blo motioned to one of the guards behind Crichton. “Sit his ass up!” he ordered. A strong hand yanked him up by the scalp. Crichton could see that a lithe Sebascean with an eye patch and a dull silver carbine strapped to his back was flanking Blo. His shock had worn off. He too had a red armband. Blo started over. “Your in Red Badge territory boy” began Blo. “You just drop out of the blue, and shoot three of Dobie Circle’s people, two dead!” he screamed. Crichton looked up. “First of all, they were trying to rob me…” another fist caught his face. “I don’t care, we are the only one’s here who are allowed to kick ass!” screamed Blo. The one eyed guard agreed with a nod. “What are you doing in Dobie Circle?” asked Blo. Crichton thought for a second. “I was just looking for a place to get some sleep and a shower, looks like you guys hooked me up, but the water is a bit cold for my liking” He looked around the room “And might I add that the staff is a tad hard on the eyes if you know what I mean” said Crichton with another smile. This time, he took a head butt to the nose. The little man drew back; hurt himself a little as well. “Thank you sir may I have another?” asked Crichton. Blo looked furious. He delivered a powerful boot to Crichton’s head, sending him to the ground back first. Immediately, Crichton felt several pieces of broken glass cutting into his T-Shirt, Blo had his coat. Crichton nimbly picked up a piece of the glass in his fingers and slowly nicked at the concealed tape. He managed to cut about two-thirds of the way through before he was sat up. The other guard was a towering combination of fat and muscle. Crichton felt the tape tearing. He needed to create an opportunity. “Hey deadeye, how stupid do you have to be to loose a frelling eye?” asked Crichton. “I mean I can understand losing a finger, or a limb, but not a goddamn eye!” he laughed out. He looked up at the two thugs. “Oh, I get it, this was come kind of kinky accident between you two” “You might want to tell your boyfriend here to be a little more careful while your down there next time”. The one eyed man came trotting up, his face filled with rage. The big man was on Crichton’s left side, holding him up. When the Cyclops got in range, Crichton broke free from his tape and delivered dual Ric Flair style uppercuts to the groins of the two guards. As Little Blo went for one of Crichton’s pistols on a table, Crichton grabbed the Carbine from the big man’s limp grasp. He leveled the weapon at Blo’s chest and fired. The barrel spat out a few blue sparks as it jammed. Shocked, Crichton threw down the useless gun and grabbed thug number two. He charged Blo, forcing “Dead-Eye” to backpedal at his small master. Blo aimed the pistol for a second, then lowered it as he lost his aim. Crichton thought this was the first bad guy that actually cared for his goons’ safety. He forced his shield into Blo and quickly grabbed the exposed pistol from his small hand. He then grabbed the Carbine on his shield’s back, and yanked it back, breaking the flimsy strap. Crichton kicked him in the back and pointed both weapons at his former captors. Little Blo looked up, with terror in his eyes. “Who the frell are you?” he asked, his voice quivering. Crichton again smiled, even though it hurt to do so. “Crichton, John Crichton” he said with a fakey accent. An few minutes later, Crichton stood in front of his captors, who were all bound with tape. Crichton had not felt compelled to kill them. Blo just didn’t seem evil. Crichton was about to leave, when Blo made him an offer. “Mr. Crichton, I know who you are” he said, very respectfully. Crichton gazed at him. “Oh really?” asked Crichton, stepping towards the door. Blo rushed. “Any man who has ever committed a crime has heard of you, you’re like royalty or something” said the little man. “Strange way of treating royalty” said Crichton. “We didn’t know it was you, it must be your facial hair” said the one-eyed goon. Crichton rolled his eyes. “You can keep your ass kickin’ as a souvenir” said Crichton leaving. “Wait!” called Blo. “I guess that you’re probably looking for a way off the planet” said the tiny mobster. “Do you have a ship?” asked Crichton. The gang laughed until his gaze compelled them to stop. “Hell no we don’t have a ship, but we’ve got enough money for you to buy a ticket for anywhere you want to go” said Blo. Crichton picked him up. “Alright, lets go get it!” said Crichton, cutting his leg tape. Blo looked at him almost cross-eyed. “I’ve got forty gang members upstairs that will kill you before your can leave this building” said Blo. Crichton checked his guns “I’m willing to risk it if you are” he said, shoving the man along. “No, I’m offering you a job”, said Blo. Crichton looked at him. “Ten minutes ago you were beating me down, now you want to hire me?” asked Crichton. “You’re a badass, better than anyone I got, plus I need an outsider for this one” said Blo. Crichton looked into his eyes. Blo might actually be telling the truth. Crichton cut his hand tape. “What kind of job?” he asked. “A little urban renewal” said Blo. He pried open an old cabinet and threw a collection of papers, maps, and holo images on the desk. A small purple injector packet was also mixed in. Blo picked it up and showed it to Crichton. “This is Fuel, the newest and most addictive filth to hit the streets in recent memory” he said. Crichton nodded “Yeah, your local pansy version of Meth”. “The three guys I shot were all high on this” he said. Blo pointed to a holo image of a middle aged Sebascean with long, graying hair. “This is Lu-Ras, he owns the Blue Brothel, the most profitable business on the entire planet” said Blo. “He’s got hundreds of girls, most of them sex slaves forced into the business held up in his brothel at the heart of the red-light district”. “It’s the tallest building in the area, looks like dren on the outside, but the inside is a palace”. “Recently, he decided to move into the drug business, specifically pushing Fuel” . “He’s got those Black Wing pieces of dren giving kids free hits, in my territory no less!” screamed the little man pounding his fist. Crichton gave him a sick smile “Sorry they are beating you to poisoning the next generation, what do you want me to do about it?” asked Crichton. “Simple, we have located his Fuel lab in this building here (he pointed to a spot on the map) in the red-light district”. “I need you to head over there and destroy that lab!” said Blo. Crichton rolled his eyes. “Just that easy? Go in and blow the lab to dren!” Blo thought nothing of it. “After your Shadow Depository job, this should be a piece of cake” replied Blo. “I have a few demolition charges, enough to blow that place sky high twice”. He grabbed two more holo images. The first was of a wrinkled, red-eyed creature. “This is Myron, creator of Fuel, destroying the lab without taking him out will only delay the production”. The second showed a well-muscled Sebascean man with his brown hair drawn in a ponytail. “This is Jud, Lu-Ras’s badass enforcer”. “He leads Lu-Ras’s mercenaries, the intergalactic kind of mercenaries”. “I think you got the ability to take him on, but you should avoid him if you can”. “Oh, I doubt you care, but civilian deaths should be light or non-existent, this area is pretty much abandoned”. Crichton coldly responded: “How much?”. “Ten thousand” replied Blo. Crichton nodded in agreement. “Better get some sleep and take it down in the day light, they will be distracted with production then” said Blo. The city looked even worse in the daylight. Various types of litter covered the cracked streets. The rotting skyscrapers looked like they could fall down at any moment. The streets that had been filled with thugs at night had then been filled by the people of the slums going to work, and were now nearly deserted. Crichton continually looked up to see the Blue Brothel tower getting closer to him. Crichton crossed a street marked Dobie Circle. He was officially in the red-light district. Unbelievably, the quality of the buildings actually increased. The crumbling bricks were mostly clear of graffiti. The only marks were those praising Lu-Ras’s girls and occasionally a pair of black wings painted without a bird in the middle. As Crichton entered the main square under the tower, large billboards covered with pictures of beautiful Sebascean girls. Miraculously, all of them were clothed. Lu-Ras probably didn’t give away anything for free. He carried a duffle bag in one hand. The square scattered filled with girls of varying beauty dressed in tight tops with either short skirts or tight pants. A few armed pimps in black stood amongst them dealing with a few perspective customers. Crichton guessed that the supermodel quality girls were probably upstairs and probably only worked at night. A gorgeous red head and a blonde looked at him from head to toe. One even blew him a kiss. As he past on his way by, he smiled at them. “Keep up the good work ladies” he said. He followed the map up a deserted alleyway. After he had left the group of hookers and Johns behind, a woman’s voice came from around a corner. She was yelling “no”. He put down the duffle bag and crept around the corner. A small, grease haired man had a woman pined against the alley wall. “Shut up!” he ordered. “You’re not supposed to be out here by yourself!” he screamed. “If you give me a freebie, I won’t tell Lu-Ras that you were disobeying his orders” he said with a smirk. She slapped him hard, sending him back. “I’m Lu-Ras’s property, not yours!” she screamed. He drew back his hand to strike her. A pistol whip to his head sent him to the ground. Crichton could tell by the way he splashed onto the ground that he was unconscious. “Never hit a woman!” screamed Crichton at the man. He looked up into the beautiful doe like eyes of the prostitute he had just saved. They were filled with fear. “Oh sorry!” he said placing his gun back into his holster. He studied her for a second. “You OK?” he asked. She shook her head yes. She was a gorgeous woman with medium length brown hair and beautiful pouty lips. Her body was a killer; firm in the right places, soft in the right places, and her tight blue top and mini skirt left little to the imagination. Her skin was a healthy tan, compared to the pale white of most of Koorong’s citizens. Even her perfume was mesmerizing. He recognized her from the main billboard. “You got a name?” he asked. She timidly gazed up at him. Her body, not even her lips could compare to the eyes looking up at him. It was the first time he had ever seen hazel eyes on a Sebascean before. The green orbs starred into his. “Hana” she replied quickly, in the slightly British accent of a Sebascean. Crichton saw she was anxious. “Well Hana, I’m…” he wanted to say Max, or Eric, or MacGyver, but it slipped out before he could think. “ John” he said extending his hand. She took it very gently, and shook it. “Why don’t you get on home, this guy won’t bother you again” he said. “Why did you save me?” she asked. “I don’t know what you want, but…” he cut her off his a motion of his hand. “I don’t want anything from you, I just try to do a good deed once a day”. She smiled “You know what they say about good deeds” she added, her head cocking to the left. Crichton smiled “Yeah, they never go unpunished”. She shook her head “Never heard of that expression, it’s a bit depressing”. He nodded “Looking at our surroundings, it seems kind of fitting”. She looked back at her place of business “True, sometimes I think I died and went to hell”. He smirked at her “This isn’t hell” he knew hell “But, you can see it from here” he added, walking away. “Hey, John, you want to know what quote I have for you?” she asked. He turned around “Sure”. “Everything that goes around comes around”. Before Crichton could move, she kept on talking “Did I thank you yet?” she asked. Crichton thought and shook his head “No, I don’t think you did, not that its necessary” he retorted. “I will” she replied, turning to walk down the alley. Crichton couldn’t help but watch her walk away for a second. She peered over her shoulder at him and gave him a quick smile. He gave one back, and then turned towards the East, beginning his trek down the alley. Crichton walked for fifteen minutes until the smell of chemicals caught his nose. The smell stung like a bee. Crichton could hear D’argo’s bitching in his ear. He didn’t need his map to tell him that he was close to the Fuel lab. He followed his nose to a rusting warehouse. He peered inside a small crack and saw what he didn’t want to see. A long assembly line was set up inside. The line was manned by a team of slaves. Six guards armed with Carbines similar to those of the Red Badges. Almost fifty men from about ages twenty to fifty were hard at work. One group of men poured two kinds of chemicals from 50-gallon drums into a large trough. The red liquid then traveled through a small tube into another trough filled with blue liquid. Here it was mixed by another team and then poured through another tube were that liquid was mixed with a blue liquid and then the mixture fell into a pool at the end of the line where it was mixed with yet another chemical. As the chemicals were all stirred together purple goo formed on the surface of it. Then, more slaves used shovels to scoop up the goo and they placed it into trays, were the remaining slaves sucked the Fuel into small injector packets. The guards all wore gas masks while the slaves had to do without. He had to get those slaves out first before he could take out the lab. Also, Myron was absent. He was drawn from his thoughts when he heard a group of boots coming down the alley. He quickly ducked behind a pile of debris. Jud’s ponytail bounced as he led the group of mercenaries down the alley toward the warehouse. He was not very tall, but his ripped arms showed his power. A weapon Crichton was not familiar with was strapped to his back. It looked like an AK mated with an M60. He wore a black T-shirt and a black vest similar to Crichton’s. Four leather-clad mercenaries armed with modern rifles flanked him. They were about to enter the lab when the man that Crichton had knocked unconscious came running up behind them. The entire group wheeled around to face him. “Where the frell were you, you were supposed to be guarding the alley!” said Jud in a calm yet angry tone. “Somebody jumped me while I was busy with a one of Lu-Ras’s girls!” he realized that it didn’t come out right. Jud shook his head and walked away from the gangbanger. “You had a job to do, and you failed” Jud said calmly. Without another word, Jud turned, seemingly throwing an uppercut at the man from five feet away. Crichton watched as the gang member fell, a pair of three inch throwing knives stuck into his chest. The man fell to the ground gasping. The mercenary captain kicked the body and retrieved the blades. He nonchalantly wiped the blood off the silver knives on the man’s pants and replaced them under his vest. He turned to his men. “Told Lu-Ras that using the Black Wing pieces of dren was a bad idea”. He led his men into the warehouse. Crichton watched as Jud yelled at the Black Wing guards and then collected the tubes of Fuel in several backpacks, spinning a throwing knife in his hand the entire time. Jud mentioned that Myron was on his way. Then, he and his band of hired guns left, going down the same alleyway. Crichton laid in wait for over an hour, watching the patters of the guards. He hoped that maybe the guards would get tired and go take a nap or get a beer or something. For a bunch of street thugs they had a good work ethic. He guessed anyone would work hard to keep from becoming Jud’s pincushion. He was packing two pistols and he could take out two as soon as he entered the room. Then, the tricky part would be a gunfight in a room full of innocents and explosive chemicals. He hoped that the slaves would either help him or stay the hell out of the way. He would take out the door guard with ease. Then he would work his way up to the two guards watching the slaves at the final vat. He would have to wing the rest of the plan. He pulled out the tube that contained Aeryn’s hair. He gazed at the raven strands. Crichton was wrestling with a death wish and his quest for revenge along with his desire to cure Aeryn. He knew that if Tocat could not heal her, probably no one could. But, with the money he got from this job, he could find his friends and then try and find a cure for her. Failing that, he could hunt Scorpy and kill him. He placed the hair back in his coat pocket and grabbed his pistols. He checked their clips with a lick and then readied himself. He snuck up to the door and kicked it in. The first masked guard turned around to catch a pair of blasts in his chest. He fell dead instantaneously. His comrades responded with a combination of obscenities. Instead of going for cover, the first two guards aimed their carbines. Crichton raised his pistols and fired. The right pistol blast hit its mark, striking the gang banger in the upper chest, sending him down. The left pistol blast went wide left and struck the wall a few inches from the guard. The blast however through off the aim of the guard, who’s blue blast widely missed Crichton. Crichton now focused his full attention on the left man, pumping two blasts from his left pistol into the guard’s chest. Crichton jumped and rolled out of the way as the Black Wings replied in a blaze of blue energy blasts. The blasts struck the first vat, and the contents instantly went up in an inferno. The slaves all hit the deck or ran. Crichton fired a series of blasts around the right side of the vat as he rolled to that side. The guard to that side took cover behind the next vat and shuttered at each blast that the flammable container took. Crichton rolled back as the guard took his shots. The carbine was slow recharging and it took a lot more time between shots than the pistols did. Crichton rolled back around and fired again. He took cover again from the blasts. Crichton could feel the guard on the left flanking him. He wheeled around and caught the guard in the chest with a blast from each pistol just as he turned the corner. Crichton now had free reign on the left side, so he broke for the left. He aimed over the blazing inferno of the first vat and shot into the top of the vat that the guard was using as cover. The surprised guard was compelled to run from the flash fire. As he rose, Crichton flung several shots in his direction. The guard was hit multiple times and he crumpled to the ground. A poorly aimed shot went right of Crichton’s head. The final guard had climbed up to a raised area above the vats. The elevation offered him a vantage point that allowed him to target over all available cover. All Crichton could do was run. He sprinted and fired a few shots in the sniper’s general direction. Crichton noticed that the crappy wooden platform was held up by an even more crappy set of wooden beams. Using his left pistol as covering fire, he raised the power setting on the right one to near critical. He was running out of room and had only time for one shot. He threw down his left pistol and properly gripped the pistol in two hands. Crichton slid and fired a huge shot at the rightmost post. The wood splintered and the platform lurched forward in an awful groan. Crichton led the guard with his pistol as the guard was dumped into the second burning vat. The screaming man landed with a flaming splash, and was quickly silenced. Crichton retrieved his pistol and holstered both of them. The slaves that had not fled the building now stood up and stared at their savior. Crichton walked towards them, matching their gazes. Just now, Crichton had noticed that they were all between twenty and sixty. He made a conclusion. “Y’all are from Tarin right?” he asked. An older one stepped forward. “Yeah, about a moonen ago these Black Wing assholes busted into our building and killed about ten of us” he said. “The rest of us were put to work here, making this dren”. Crichton looked around at the growing fires. “I was sent by the Mayor, I highly suggest that y’all hall ass back to Dobie Circle and find Little Blo, tell him I sent you, names Crichton” he replied. The group made a mad exodus from the building, running as fast as they can. Crichton finally placed the explosives around the building’s key areas. He pulled out the detonator and set the timer for five minutes. He had to set them for that short of a time because most likely Jud and his crew would be on their way and he couldn’t risk the bombs being disarmed. Crichton turned to head out when the fire reached one of the charges. The explosion sent Crichton flying into the tin wall. His ears stopped functioning and he blacked out. Next, his eyes opened and he felt himself being drug from the burning building. The world faded into view again. This time, he was in an alleyway. The lab was still in view, only fifty yards away. He looked at the detonator in his hand. It read thirty microts. “Must get farther, explosives” he muttered out before the world once again went dark. Myron trotted into the warehouse his jaw hung wide open. “Frell, frell, frell!” he screamed. His beady red eyes scanned the wreckage. He stood in the center of his masterpiece. His extra sensitive hearing picked up a humming sound. He followed it to a small black object. He stared at it for a microt. Then the humming ended in a click. “Dren”. He said calmly. He, and the entire lab went up in an inferno that could be seen for miles. DVD Extras Who is Rob Van Dam? Check out http://www.robvandam.com/ __________________ SSD's Captain Charisma Noirscape: Weclome to the Dark Side of the Owl's imagination: Feeling like the NEW Ultimate Edition of a Noir love story? Season of Death Want a twisted fic that makes you want to get therapy and take a shower at the same time? And got booted off fanfiction.net? (NC17)Sic and Twisted Edit Or its sequel: Paraphilia or its sequel After The Flesh

06-03-2004, 02:22 PM	#4
Owlman The Cap'n Join Date: May 2004 Location: Houston, Texas Posts: 2,777	Season of Death (DVD) Part 4 D’argo’s hypersensitive nose stung with the gritty pain of sand. More and more dust was sucked up as he ran at full speed over the smoldering desert ground. He slowed down, only to fire back at his pursuers. Jothee was well ahead of him; the boy only turned his head to watch his father’s situation. Behind them, a small army of bounty hunters were in hot pursuit. The Sebasceans had long since dropped out of the foot race due to the heat. But, the Blood Trackers, Charrids, and others were not so affected by the heat. A Charrid went down with a scream as a Qualta blast struck him in the chest. His comrades responded with fire from their various weapons. Luckily for D’argo, running while shooting is damn near impossible, and the rainbow of energy blasts missed him barely, turning the sand to glass. D’argo turned to see Jothee suddenly disappear into the sand, not twenty feet ahead of him. D’argo ran even faster now. Before he could stop, he was falling. He fell head first into a gapping hole, splashing onto a hard concrete floor. Immediately, he jumped to his feet, checking on Jothee and then turning back to face his enemies. They were vulnerable here; no cover, and they only had his Qualta Blade. As the gang of footsteps approached, he spotted a hole in the concrete. He quickly shoved his protesting son into it, and then jumped himself. His boots smacked once again on concrete. He quickly got his bearings. Jothee was nervously looking in every direction. The corridors of a bunker spread in three directions. As they heard the sound of boots dropping on the concrete above, D’argo motioned to his son to go right. They both sprinted into the artificially lit cavern. Their skeletons were broadcast on a flat screen monitor. A scan ran over them, giving the reader detailed information on their species, weapons, and physical conditions. A gloved hand touched a comm. “We have intruders in the maze, I’m activating all defenses”, said a cold voice. Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics) (Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight) Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut (Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light) Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole (Drown yourselves in lakes of volume) I was pursued by an insane military commander (Drown yourselves in the sound He took all I held dear, and left me for dead (Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives I will find him, this I swear I will not let him harm Earth Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen (The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life) Season of Death Part 4: Tear Away Guest cast: Tammy Macintosh Chiana, Zhaan, and Stark watched the group of heavily armed Sebascean bounty hunters from the cover of the abandoned building. The bounty hunters were all dragging, drenched with sweat. They slowly made their way to their large black transport ship. As soon as the last one was aboard, the ramp shut behind them. Moya’s crew knew that they were now inside, cooling and getting their energy back. There were ten Sebasceans and at least eight of other races. The bounty hunters’ ships had jumped Moya not long after they had entered orbit around the planet. Moya had grown uneasy inside the asteroid field, and she demanded to Pilot that they leave. This planet, Malleton, was the first planet they came across. D’argo had requested that they stop here. It was apparently the sight of an important event in Luxan history, and he wanted to show Jothee his Luxan heritage. The place supposed to be a town of three hundred, but now all the buildings stood vacant. There were signs of struggle everywhere. Burns marks and old splatters of blood stained the adobe walls. Pieces of the buildings were also blown off, apparently due to heavy weaponry. Strangely, no bodies were found, and the houses were filled with valuables. The group had split up to search for survivors. D’argo and Jothee were searching the far east of the town when Rygel commed from Moya to say that a pair of unknown ships had appeared with weapons charged. Moya fled, taking one of the transports with her. However, the other went down to the planet. Matching the crew of Moya’s general luck, the transport landed between the two parties. The girls and Stark had managed to stay out of sight while the entire army chased down the two Luxans. They were in no position to help, D’argo was the only one with a weapon. They were still used to having Aeryn and Crichton (along with their guns) around with them. Chiana’s scrounging had not turned up anything remotely useful. The leg of a table was useless against the modern energy weapons of the bounty hunters. They turned from the window when one such weapon had its safety released behind them. A petite, redheaded Sebascean woman had a crudely constructed pistol pointed at them. They all relaxed slightly when they matched eyes with her. They had starred into the eyes of hundreds of killers, and she wasn’t one. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with fear. She finally spoke: “Take me to your ship, and get me out of here now!” she stammered. The crew looked at each other. “Its kind of hard to leave when an entire army is between you and your ship!” yelled back Chiana. “Plus my dear, we can’t leave without our friends” added Zhaan. “I don’t give a frell about your enemies or your friends, there are things here that are far worse than those troops out there!” screamed the woman. The crew looked at each other, then Chiana nodded at Stark. Stark smiled at the woman. He smiled. “Look at this!” he said in his usual insane voice. He lifted the mask, allowing his energy side to show. The amazed woman was stunned with surprise. While she was gazing at the energy burst, Chiana made the all time classic meeting of boot to face. Immediately, Chiana jumped on the sliding gun. The Sebasceanera jumped on her back, fighting for the gun. Chiana’s comrades quickly jumped on the woman’s back and threw her to the ground. Chiana cockily raised her new pistol at the woman. The woman’s eyes were now even more overcome with fear. “Alright sister, tell us just what the hell is going on!” said Chi with a smirk. “What happened here?” asked Zhaan, extending a gentle hand to the downed woman. The girl took it. She looked around. “First, my name is Malinea, second, we don’t have time to sit here and gossip, we have to go now!” she almost screamed. Chiana shot back. “Talk now, go later” she demanded, her grip tightening on the pistol. “Now tell us, what is so bad about this planet?” asked Zhaan. Malinea began. “This place was quiet and peaceful, until six monen ago” she said. “Then they showed up” she said with trepidation. “Who is ‘they’?” asked Stark, leaning in closer to her. “A bunch of Sebascean soldiers in some kind of super armor, they carried weapons that you usually find on vehicles”. “PeaceKeepers” said Zhaan. “No, these weren’t PeaceKeepers, they claimed to belong to something called The Enclave”. The group looked at each other. “I guess you never heard of them” she said. “And your alive, so I guess that you haven’t ever encountered them”. “They slaughtered every man, woman, and child here, those they didn’t kill they forced into the old bunker system” she said, nodding to the mesa at the center of the town. “They bring in transports about once every two weeks, each is filled with various races of people”. “I have yet to see any of them come out” she added. She looked at them. “Your friends, were are they?” she asked. Stark pointed to the hole far off that was surrounded by bounty hunters. “The Enclave has that entire area trapped, it’s a death maze” she said. “Your friends are already dead” she added. D’argo snuck quietly in the semi-darkness of the bunker system. His sword in rifle mode. His son walked more loudly and clumsily behind him. D’argo’s nose was grateful that sand was all but absent here. It was strange though that the bunker was still powered, at least partially. The florescent lights above were mostly lit, a few were burnt out and a few were flickering. Jothee huffed and puffed behind him. “Stop please!” begged Jothee. D’argo, came to a quick stop. D’argo put his arm on his son’s shoulder and carefully listened to the bunker. Besides Jothee’s breathing, it was dead silent. More than likely, they were waiting back at the opening. They need to find a back way out incase they came in after them or if they decided to use poison gas. “Son, take a microt, then we have got to get going” he said, taking a step back. He turned to inspect the hall, and froze in mid step. His foot was just inches above a small raised plate in the floor. The plate was only a fraction of a centimeter high, but it somehow stood out. Not wanting to take too much of a risk, D’argo fell backwards and rolled to his feet. Jothee looked at his father strangely. “What is it?” he asked. D’argo grabbed a broken rock. “We’re about to see” he said, tossing the rock onto the plate. The empty ceiling above the plate glowed green. Almost instantly, the glowing energy field slammed into the ground in a fraction of a second. The rock was turned into chalk like dust. Immediately, the green energy field dissipated. D’argo and Jothee shared a look. “Whoa!” they said simultaneously. The biggest of the Charrids spoke into his comm. “Lenna, they have gone underground, looks like part of a bunker system” he said in a gruff voice. A female voice responded. “Leave two men at the surface, take the rest down, we need at least one of them alive to tell us were Crichton is”. “Alright” he responded simply. He motioned for a Charrid and a Blood Tracker to stay, and leap into the hole with five others. D’argo and Jothee now crept, almost tiptoeing in the darkness. They had been forced to go a different route, and were now hopelessly lost. They could hear the bounty hunters closing in behind them. The skills of the Blood Trackers gave them an unfair advantage. By the speed of their advance, D’argo believed that they were probably not aware of the traps. Then again, they were following the Luxans’ path. D’argo slammed to a halt, extending his arm to stop his son. Ahead of them on the wall was a small disc. D’argo quickly picked up a clump of dust from the ground and used a trick Crichton taught him. He blew the dirt from his hand at the knee level disc. Immediately, the dust illuminated a small red laser. D’argo saw that there was only one. Before the dust could settle, he quickly stepped over the laser and motioned for Jothee to do the same. D’argo held his arm as he slowly stepped over the fading laser. Just as they completed the difficult task, the bounty hunters came storming around the corner of the hall. Keeping an eye out for traps, they trotted away from them. The lead Blood Tracker charged ahead, firing her large rifle. A beeping sound took over the cave as she crossed the laser. Hidden laser emitters came to life, and four blue cutting lasers flew from the rocks at different angles. She only managed a slight howl as the lasers cut her. Her momentum carried her body forward, and she fell to the floor in multiple pieces. D’argo and Jothee ignored the grisly death and kept sprinting down the hallway. The large Charrid looked around and screamed as he led his team down a different path. Maliena got more and more nervous as the sun began to sink from the sky. She had stated that once the temperature had dropped enough, the Enclave soldiers would come to the surface and kill anyone they found there. Being Sebascean herself, she was hiding in the cooler corner of the room. Stark kept his eye pointed out the window, watching the bounty hunter transport. Soon, the Sebascean bounty hunters would come out and join their comrades. Zhaan jumped when D’argo’s voice came over her comm.. “Zhaan, come in!” he barked. She looked at her friends and then responded to him. “D’argo, are you all right?” she asked, trying to hide her panic. “Yeah, but this frelling place is filled with traps” he responded. “We met a girl from the city here, she says that the Luxans build escape hatches in certain rooms during their time here, hopefully the Enclave haven’t sealed them” she said. “Enclave?” he asked back over the comm.. “Long story D’argo, just…” Maliena cut her off. “Don’t worry about them now, the Luxans should have left some arrows made of orange paint on the walls, these will lead you to the nearest emergency hatch” she said into Zhaan’s comm.. “They can only be opened by Luxans, I highly doubt the Enclave knows of their existence”. “Who the frell are…” a howl came over D’argo’s comm.. “Sounds like they didn’t see that acid trap, gotta go!” he yelled into his comm.. The Charrids stood back as the Blood Tracker’s face smoked and burned. The chemical stench was almost unbearable. As the Blood Tracker’s gurgling scream died with him, the Charrid sergeant turned to his men. “Frell, that was our last Blood Tracker!” he screamed. He looked at the body, and then at the smallest, weakest man. “You have point, lets move out!” he ordered. The young man seemed to hesitate for a second. The sergeant placed his rifle under the youngster’s chin. “Do it now!” he screamed. The team carefully moved out, leaving their comrade’s face to melt. D’argo and Jothee hurried along the dark hallways, eyes constantly adjusting to the various levels of light. They had followed the orange arrows and had yet to encounter another trap. Possibly this “Enclave” had never bothered to trap passages that they thought were non-essential. This thought was dispatched when they turned the next corner. The orange arrow had led to a large hallway cut into the stone of the mesa. This hallway was cut in two. The right half was a clean, almost marble like hallway. The other half was nothing more than sand. D’argo felt that the marble structure looked familiar somehow. It was clean and obviously new. It was also obviously trapped. The dirt was more than likely trapped too, but they had little choice. They could hear the remaining bounty hunters rumbling through the halls behind them. He pointed to the dirt-covered floor, and Jothee begrudgingly followed him. The hidden fugitives flinched as the transport ramp fell to the sandy ground. Hidden, they watched as the small army of Sebasceans, led by an attractive blonde woman, marched from the ship. Their weapons varied in size, but were all modern. Their time was running out. D’argo led the way through the sand, dragging his feet, trying to put as little pressure as he could on the ground. He heart skipped a beat when the tip of his boot hit a metal object and a beeping sound began. He could feel the object moving under the sand. Puzzled, the looked down, weapon ready. A glowing red sensor peered through the sand at him. A large disc shoved its way through the sand. Suddenly, six legs popped from the disc, forming a crab like robot. D’argo leaped as he saw the sensor light grow brighter. A pulse blast barely missed his diving body, smashing into the ceiling. The beeps rose all around them and more crab-bots began to surface from the sand. D’argo fired point blank into the first robot, disabling it. “Run!” screamed D’argo. Jothee had already gotten the idea, and both began running at full speed through the sand. The little warriors began throwing a flurry of pulse blasts at the fleeing Luxans. Jothee screamed as a pulse blast slammed into his lower leg, sending black blood flying. D’argo grabbed his screaming son and dragged him as fast as he could out of the way of the robots. He followed the next orange arrow to an open blast door. D’argo prayed that the door was still functional. He pressed the button, and the heavy door refused to slide. He heard the scurrying legs of the crab-bots right behind them. As the red eyes locked onto him, D’argo kicked the door. The mighty boot threw the door into action, and the heavy, thick door slammed up, leaving them in the relative darkness of the room. The Sebascean bounty hunters were drawn from their search for the crew when the sound of a heavy door opening fractured the silence. The crew watched from above as the door leading to the mesa opened. The bounty hunters readied their weapons and focused on the door. Moya’s crew was about to get their first look at the warriors of the Enclave. The four Charrids entered the crab-bot room. They immediately started taking fire from the little robots. Instinctively, all but the sergeant ran for the marble area to seek cover. The sarge jumped back behind the corner that they had just rounded. As his men crossed onto the marble floor, a series of electronic humming began. A force filed was suddenly erected at both sides of the marble hall. They all looked around in panic, calling for their comrade to save them. The sergeant was by now long gone. The Charrids looked up as a wave of energy descended from the ceiling. Pain shot through their bodies and they screamed as the field enveloped them. Their streaming stopped, but not their pain. They were all frozen in their poses as living statues. The energy field had not killed them, but after the Enclave got a hold of them, they wished it had. The sergeant ran quickly through the halls, the cries of his men fading behind him. Turning a corner, he saw daylight. With a smile on his face, he ran towards the light. He froze when he heard a click. He looked up to see a green energy field falling from the ceiling. D’argo held his unconscious son in his arms. He would die from shock shortly if he was not treated. D’argo was no medic, and there was no sigh of this magical exit Zhaan had described. Judging from the screams he heard outside, the bounty hunters were no longer a problem. Jothee had begun to spout gibberish while slowly going into shock. D’argo paid little attention to it as he searched for the door out. He discovered an old Luxan marking on the wall. It read: Only the slayer of the Cretok can free you. A large whole was under the marking. D’argo could not believe that they came all this way to be stopped for not having a key. Then, he remembered his history. The Cretok was the title for a general of the Scorvian army. The Cretok Byraine was killed by a blast for the first ever Qualta Blade Rifle. D’argo plunged his sword into the stone, and rumbling shook the room. Immediately, the section in front of D’argo slid out of the way, letting in the last rays of sunshine. D’argo never though he would be this happy to have sand in his nose again. As he picked up Jothee, the boy uttered a name. “Chiana” he said meekly. “Chiana, I love you, we need to leave before the old man catches us” he muttered. D’argo froze, anger shooting through his body. Maybe Jothee just fantasized about her in the shower, but D’argo doubted it. He fought back the Hyper Rage. He quickly slammed his comm.. “Chiana!” he screamed angrily. She responded. “Not so loud, what is it?” she asked. “Were out, get the transport ready, I think we are on the north side of the mesa”, he said trying to control his temper. The trio of Enclave soldiers looked more like insects than Sebasceans. They were incased in thick, silver armor. No skin was visible at all; even the two eyeholes on their helmets were covered with energy weapon proof plastic. They were all massive in stature, all about the same relative height. Obviously, this armor was a one-size-fits-all kind of thing. Their right shoulders had a bizarre insignia. It was that of a black pyramid surrounded by a blue circle. What was far more impressive than their armor, was their weapons. Two were armed with what appeared to be full on mini-guns. The massive multi-barreled weapons were only slightly smaller than those used by the Scarrens. The armor must have certainly increased their strength a great deal, because no non-Scarren could wield such weapons. The leader appeared to be wielding a large sniper rifle almost the same length as his body. He spoke through is armor. “Drop your weapons and surrender” he ordered. The bounty hunters looked at their female leader. She nodded and fired first, striking the enclave warrior dead in the chest with her pulse rifle. The Enclave trooper just looked at his unscathed armor and began to laugh. “Kill them” he said calmly. A terrifying whirling sound filled the air as the mini-guns began to spin. The barrels spewed an inferno of pulse blasts at the bounty hunters. The entire squad was cut down in less than a microt, along with most of the building behind them. The female bounty hunter had managed to avoid the hail of pulse fire and was running for the transport. The Enclave leader raised his rifle and pointed it at her back. As he watched through the scope, the rifle began to hum. He bucked slightly as the railgun fired. The metal “nail” traveling almost the speed of light smashed through her, sending her flying forward into her transport’s bulkhead. Well, her top half anyway. Her legs were still about thirty feet behind her torso. The Enclave trooper leveled his weapon at the transport and fired again. The streaking nail smashed into the transport and nearly ripped it in two. He did not flinch from the ensuing explosion. He then turned and picked off the two bounty hunters guarding the hole D’argo had accidentally discovered with ease. He turned to his comrades. “These tainted excuses for Sebasceans are barely worth killing” he said. They retreated back into the mesa and shut the massive door behind them. Moya exited Starburst safe from the bounty hunters. Rygel had bragged how he and Pilot had given the second bounty hunter ship the slip in a debris field. Maliena was going to get off on the first habitable planet that they found. She was eternally grateful for the crew saving her from the Enclave. D’argo sat alone on command, waiting for Chiana. She had been with Jothee who was recovering after a lot of help from Zhaan. She calmly walked in and stood behind D’argo. “Pilot says that you wanted to see me” she said with interest. D’argo didn’t have to say much. He just starred ahead. She grew impatient. “What do you want to say to me?” she asked. He looked her straight in the eye. “I know” he said calmly. __________________ SSD's Captain Charisma Noirscape: Weclome to the Dark Side of the Owl's imagination: Feeling like the NEW Ultimate Edition of a Noir love story? Season of Death Want a twisted fic that makes you want to get therapy and take a shower at the same time? And got booted off fanfiction.net? (NC17)Sic and Twisted Edit Or its sequel: Paraphilia or its sequel After The Flesh

06-03-2004, 02:23 PM	#5
Owlman The Cap'n Join Date: May 2004 Location: Houston, Texas Posts: 2,777	Season of Death, Part 5 Jud peered through his sunglasses at the charred body at his feet. He couldn’t even remember how many dead bodies he’d seen in his lifetime. Of course, most were his doing. His face didn’t change as he tapped the black flesh with his boot. The burning hulk of the warehouse surrounded him, all its walls had been blown down, and the roof was littered over half the area. This was the work of a professional, one man, no more. He didn’t know why he knew this, but he did. His grip had never loosened on his heavy weapon. It probably wasn’t the best idea to stand in the middle of the burning remains of the drug lab without breathing protection, but he still had a job to do. His men had counted seven bodies, all Sebascean. It didn’t take him long to figure out who the seventh body belonged to. He spoke into his headset. “Lu-Ras, the entire lab is gone, and Myron is toast” he said coldly. A slightly agitated, yet still calm voice responded. “I couldn’t give two drens about Myron, what about my merchandise?” Jud looked around. “The entire batch is gone, and the slaves have disappeared,” said the mercenary. “Frell!” crackled the crime lord’s voice over the headset. “Find those damn bumpkins, and torture the dren out of them until they tell you who did it, then kill his ass!” he ordered. “Yes sir!” replied Jud. Jud looked up at the approaching band of red wearing police. The lead policeman approached him. He looked at the fiery wreck of a building. He then turned to the longhaired mercenary. “Tell your boss it’ll cost ten thousand to have this forgotten about,” said the policeman. Jud’s eyes peered through the tinted lenses at the weakling he hated so much. “Tell the coroner to send me the cause of death” he said. The police sergeant looked at the body “What the frell are you talking about, they are burnt to a crisp!” Jud grabbed the cop’s hand and jammed it into a burnt wound. The cop screamed and proceeded to vomit. The mercenary captain looked down at him in disgust. “He was shot before he died, I want to know what kind of weapon killed him” he stated simply. He let the cop choke up some more of his dinner, and ordered his men to move out. They had people to kill. Crichton and Aeryn locked lips again. They were in Crichton’s cell on Moya. She straddled his lap, in nothing but her bra and panties. They broke lips, and Crichton began kissing her neck. Her hair flowed back as she raised her head. With an extremely satisfied voice, she simply stated: “John, I love you”. He immediately broke from kissing and stared into her beautiful eyes. “I love you too baby” he responded, resuming working on her lips. He gently put her on her back and began to kiss her some more. A flash suddenly struck his vision. Now, her eyes were fixed on his, but they did not blink. She did not make as much as a twitch. Her warm skin had become cold. Crichton sat up from her, feeling an odd, yet familiar substance on his hand. He brought up his hand to see it dripping with blood. He screamed and jumped back, tumbling off the bed. He looked at her, and saw a bowie knife stuck in her heart. Her entire upper body and most of the bed was covered in the sticky liquid. “No!” screamed Crichton. “Not again!” He backed away, and felt another cold body touch him from behind. He wheeled around to see the blank stare of Gileena. Her heart was also pierced. He backed away from her. “All I did was help you John,” she said. “And this is what I got for it!” she coldly added, pointing to the bowie knife. The scantily clothed Aeryn was now standing too. “All I did was help you John,” she said. They both then hit him in stereo. “We loved you John, and we died because of it”. “Your love is a curse,” they added. Crichton fell to the floor as a specter of his mother came in the room. She was in a hospital gown, also stabbed. “More like a death sentence” said his mother. “Who will be next John?” asked Gileena. “Zhaan, Chiana” said Aeryn. “Or possibly, even your cute little whore!” said his mother. They surrounded him, but thankfully, his dream ended. Opening Credits: Ride of Your Life, by Neurotica (Song Lyrics) (Fall into a carousel of unimagined flight) Crichton: My name is John Crichton, I’m an Astronaut (Ripping round the corners shrieking, sometimes peeking light) Over 2 years ago I was shot threw a wormhole (Drown yourselves in lakes of volume) I was pursued by an insane military commander (Drown yourselves in the sound He took all I held dear, and left me for dead (Turn it up to match your voyage Ten is restricting, eleven takes you on a ride Now I hunt him, with the help of my friends, fellow fugitives I will find him, this I swear I will not let him harm Earth Look upward, and share my pain, and the wonders I’ve seen (The ride of your life On the ride The ride of your life) Season of Death Part 5: Stealing Beauty pt 1: No Light Guest Stars: Rob Van Dam With Dee Snider As Lu-Ras And Angelina Jolie The first thing he saw when he was jerked from his nightmare was his hazel-eyed angel Hana dozing in a shoddy folding chair. She was dressed in pants and an average white T-shirt; her blue outfit was in the corner of the room, covered in burn marks and soot. Crichton had no idea how her little self had drug him all the way away from the fire, but right now he didn’t care. His first instinct told him that maybe her employer’s mercenaries had found him and dragged him back here. He took a quick glance around the room. It wasn’t a cell that was for sure. The room was filled with cans of food and other cooking materials. Like most buildings, the walls of the storeroom were old and cracked. Crichton quietly sat up from his plain cot. His coat and weapons were laid on the concrete below his cot. There went the captured theory. His face hurt like hell, it was obviously burned. He reached for a pistol, but seeing that they were alone, he didn’t need alarm her. He gave a quick, fake cough and she stirred. Her jade eyes immediately locked onto his face. She gave him a half smile. “Good to see you awake” she said. Crichton thought of something witty to say in front of the beauty, but he came up empty. “Nice to be awake” he replied. “Smooth man” he said sarcastically in his head. “How long have I been out?” he asked. She thought for a second. “About two arns, I had to drag you for about thirty minutes just to reach this place” she replied. “Where exactly is “this”?” he asked. “Freyna’s, it’s a small restaurant on the outskirts of the red light district” she replied. “I’m a friend of the owner, you should be safe from Jud and the Black Wings here”. Crichton noticed that he had been rude. “Sorry I didn’t say it sooner, but thanks for saving my ass, that was very brave of you” he said, sitting up straighter. She gave him a broad smile. “I told you I would thank you later” she replied “And, as you see, I was right about good deeds”. “Ah, that was nothing, I can’t resist a damsel in distress” he came back. “I hope the only casualty was the dress” he said, nodding to the burnt pile of blue in the corner. He saw her clutching her hand. “You hurt?” he asked. He stood up gingerly and walked to her. He stuck out his hand. “Let me see” he said simply. She reluctantly extended her hand. He was a little shocked to see her blue painted nails, but continued to look for injury. There was a small blister on her smooth skin. He gently grabbed her hand by the fingers. She grimaced slightly with the pain. “Its not that bad, is there any Garamon Gel around?” he asked, inspecting the burn. “Only on your face” she replied. He reached into what appeared to be a freezer and withdrew a small chunk of ice and held her hand while he applied it to the wound. She let out a slight cry as the ice touched her. “Sorry, I’m not trying to hurt you”. Crichton couldn’t believe that he forgot the medical kit on the Marauder. Even though he just met her, he felt like shit for causing pain to her. He would have been better off if she had left him to burn, but he didn’t want to tell her that. While they waited, he decided to start some small talk to take her mind off the pain. “You got a last name Hana?” he asked, looking up into her eyes. “Tuvari” she replied. “You?” Crichton snickered a little bit. “Crichton” he said. He looked into her face to gage her reaction to his last name. The name seemed to have no effect. Apparently he wasn’t a legend to hookers. Being anonymous was very good, for both of them. He reached into the old medical kit and pulled out a small roll of bandages and some disinfectant. She winced at the applying of both. She then withdrew her hand from his and inspected it. “As you can see, I’ve done that once or twice” he said, finally picking up one of his pistols. He made sure to keep his finger well away from the trigger. “Do you mind if I ask why you saved me, I mean besides the karmic value?”. She looked up at him. “Why did you save me?” she reciprocated. “I can’t stand any violence towards women, I recently lost a woman I was very with to violence” he said. “I’m sorry” she said. Crichton half smirked “That feels nice” he said. She looked at him “To hear someone say that and actually mean it” he coughed “Your turn”. “I was on my way here when I heard a lot of shooting and then some explosions, I followed them to the warehouse”. “I looked in an saw you unconscious in there, so I dragged you out” she said, as if it was a simple matter. Crichton smiled and shook his head. “You and I seem to have very different reactions to gunfire and explosions” he replied. She didn’t seem too amused. “And you hauled me all the way here by yourself?” he asked. She nodded. “Damn”. He looked into her eyes “I guess you figured that I was the one who took out that place” he guessed. “It wasn’t what it looked like…” She interjected: “I know what went on in that place, and I’m glad its gone, one of my friends was killed by a tainted batch of that stuff”. She pointed to his weapons. “Is this what you do, kill people and blow stuff up?” she asked. He hesitated, picking up his pistols and spinning them “I wasn’t always like this, I was a scientist”. “Were you any good?” she inquired. He thought for a second “Pretty good” he added. “I wish I still was, like that again”. “You’re a mercenary like Jud right?” she asked bluntly. “I’m a fighter yes, but I’m no mercenary, I work in space, I just happen to be extremely skilled with guns and I needed the money” he said. “This wasn’t out of greed, I need the money to save someone’s life. Plus, I got to rescue some slaves in the meantime” he said to try and balance out the violent act. She smiled at that “You rescue slaves too?” she asked with almost glee. “I have on occasion” he said. She smiled even more broadly “I know a slave or two that could use liberation”. At one time, he would have found chatting up a beautiful woman worth his time, but he felt no need to validate his life to a prostitute. She opened her mouth and he expected to be chastised. “Anything that hurts Lu-Ras is fine by me” she said unexpectedly. Crichton raised his pistol as the door to the storeroom opened. The old woman at the end of the barrel was not very alarmed. She walked in and closed the door. Crichton, of course lowered his weapon. “I second Hana, the destruction of that place may be the best thing to happened in this city in cycles” said the old woman. “It’s a shame the bastard wasn’t in it at the time” she added. “But, I suppose that he is too much of a big shot to do his own inspections anymore, now that he’s shelling out for Jud and his bad asses”. She paused. “I’m Freyna, owner of this place, John…” “Crichton” he finished. Too many people knew his name already, and Lu-Ras probably had feelers stretched out through the ghettos. She nodded her head. “Hana told me what you did for her, thanks from me as well”, said Freyna. “No problem, what she did for me was amazing, she could have been killed” he said. The old woman nodded. “Would you object to a hot meal, its not gourmet or anything, but it’ll fill you up” she asked. Crichton nodded. “I haven’t had a hot meal in almost half a cycle, you’ll get no complaining out of me” he replied. The old woman smiled. “Hana dear, I set out a couple of plates of the special in the back, could you grab them and bring them here, my back is killing me” she said. Crichton stood up before Hana. “I’ll get them, she doesn’t need to get up” he said. The old woman stopped him. “It’s empty right now, but Jud and his goons are searching the area, and those burns on your face are damning evidence”, she said. Hana walked out, and Crichton focused on Freyna. “What is your relation to her, you an aunt or something?” he asked. “I’m her vocal coach, I teach her to sing” said Freyna. “Strange skill for a prostitute to learn” he said. The old woman slapped his burned face. The combination of the pain, Harvey, and almost constant anger almost made him snap. He focused his entire brain on staying calm. The woman starred into his eyes. “Don’t you ever call her a prostitute again!” screamed the woman. “She’s not some trelk selling herself, she’s a sex slave you asshole!” she added. Crichton felt shame wash over him. “Her own parents sold her to Lu-Ras when she was no more than ten cycles old, she’s been raped since she was thirteen!” she said, finishing her tirade. Crichton sat back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know” he said simply. The women turned to the door and then back to him. “Please, use what money you get from this job, and use it to buy Hana from Lu-Ras, you owe her that” replied Freyna. An angered Crichton responded: “Look lady, I need that money to save the life of someone I care about deeply, I can’t spare a dime right now”. Freyna became flustered. “Don’t you think she cares about you, she saved your life!”. “She doesn’t know me, and trust me, she doesn’t want to know me!” he replied. “Believe me the last thing I want to do is leave her in his hands, but I need that money to help a dear friend of mine”. “All you mercenaries are all alike, I was wrong to think you and Jud were different” said the old woman. Their argument was broken by the bell on the exterior door, and the voice of Jud. “What the frell are you doing here, your supposed to be back at the Blue” he said in a bizarre combination of calm and angry. Crichton could see him through the crack in the door; he grabbed Hana with one of his muscled arms and flung her into the wall. Freyna reached out and blocked Crichton from drawing his weapons. She shook her head, and went out herself, closing the door behind her. “Easy on her Jud!” demanded the old woman. The pony tailed mercenary turned his anger to the restaurant owner. “Listen bitch, Lu-Ras said that you weren’t to have anymore contact with her, you’re lucky I don’t kill your old ass right now!” he screamed. A blonde dreadlocked mercenary now held Hana behind him. Freyna laughed off the threat. “You’re good at intimidating two defenseless women Jud, mister Big Badass!”. Jud struck the woman with a clinched fist, knocking her to the ground. His dreadlocked subordinate laughed. Hana attempted to run to her friend’s aid, but Jud stopped her. “Look around this area, I gotta take this trelk back to the Blue” he ordered. She looked at Crichton through the crack in the door, as she was led away. Crichton threw on his coat, and crept out the storeroom door, both pistols ready. He checked Freyna, who was just now picking herself up off the ground. She shook the cobwebs from her head as he helped her to her feet. Crichton exited the restaurant and turned right, the opposite way that Hana was being forced. Freyna chased after him. “Aren’t you going to help her?” she asked. Crichton kept walking. “Nope” he replied. “What about your conscience?” she added. Crichton stopped for a second. “Conscience?” he asked. “You know, the voice in your head that tells you to do the right thing!” she halfway screamed. Crichton kept on walking. “I have a voice in my head, but it ain’t no conscience” he said, not breaking stride. Crichton walked as fast as he could out of the red light district. The sight of Hana being dragged away was still fresh in his mind. After his own misdoings with Aeryn, seeing any woman hurt in any sense of the word angered him to no end. But, he owed Aeryn much more than Hana, plus, Aeryn was the only thing in his life that he gave a damn about. After Aeryn was fixed (if possible) he would try and swing by again with his ship full of money to buy Hana’s freedom. Now, she wasn’t a priority. The buildings were gradually decreasing in quality, meaning that he was headed in the right direction. He didn’t know if this was going towards Dobie Circle or not, but it was putting more distance between him and the Blue Brothel. He was traveling the deserted alleyways, which were filled with trash and graffiti. In a second, a flash of blonde and black appeared before him. Jud’s dreadlocked compatriot was blocking his route. He held a modern, almost AK looking carbine in his right hand. It dangled at his side, in a non-threatening way. He stuck up his left hand to halt Crichton. Crichton could feel the eyes behind the blue sunglasses scanning his burned face. “What happened to your face?” asked the merc. “Burned it sometime after a drinking game last night, what’s it to you?” asked Crichton. The merc only slightly smiled. “Been there, done that, go on your way” said the soldier of fortune quite happily. Crichton had had enough attempts on his life to know when someone was out to kill him. This guy was just waiting for a chance to shoot him in the back. As he walked by, Crichton turned to him. “Here’s some advice; never give your opponent an opening!”. Crichton kicked as Aeryn had taught him just as the merc raised his carbine. The snubby flew into the air after discharging a burst of blue energy into the alley wall. Crichton immediately drew his pistols. The mercenary looked at Crichton’s guns and at his own. Crichton could read his muscles. “Don’t do it man, just run away” he said calmly. The merc expertly jumped and rolled, picking up his carbine. Before he came out of the roll, a pair of pulse blasts impacted on his upper chest. He crumpled into a pile on the dirty ground of the alleyway. Crichton looked at him and shook his head. “Should have run” he said simply. He picked up the carbine and threw the strap over his shoulder, concealing the weapon under his coat. He searched the merc’s pockets and came up with a few spare clips, and a few hundred credit coins. In the last pocket he found a small, cell phone like communicator. This would come in handy he though. He then tried to put as much distance between him and the body as possible. A single eye starred at Crichton through the opening in the door. Crichton was drenching wet and getting worse as the surprisingly cold rain fell from the night sky. “Let me in Dead Eye” he demanded. The opening closed and he heard locks popping off inside. The door to the tenement swung open and Crichton entered. The building was filed to the brims with not only Red Badge members, but also the Tarin escapees. He acknowledged the former slaves with a nod. Lil’ Blo and his big lackey walked over to him. “Just the man I wanted to see, good job on the lab, but what the frell were you thinking sending me all these mother frellers?” he asked half angry. “I case you didn’t noticed, this is a place of organized crime, not a hotel!”. Crichton ignored the little man. “My money?” asked Crichton simply. Blo rolled his eyes and went to the back. He returned with a duffle similar to the one Crichton used for the explosives. Crichton opened it and examined the contents. “That’s a monens worth of protection” said Blo. “The trick is, getting these bumpkins on the train out of here without the mercenaries spotting them” he added. Crichton lifted his jacket and pulled out the carbine. “There’s one less merc out there” he said, handing the gun to Blo. The mini-mobster inspected the weapon, handing it back to Crichton. “I highly suggest you wait for those burns to heal and then grab the first ship out of here, Jud is gonna be pissed”. He looked into Crichton’s face. “And yes, you can stay here” said Blo reluctantly. Crichton smiled and felt the phone in his pocket. He had a call to make. Bannon jumped as the warehouse phone rang. He staggered from the worn couch and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”. “Are you watching TV, you’re supposed to be working on a cure!” screamed Crichton’s voice over the phone. Bannon jumped back, holding his ear. “Listen man, there is a problem” said the inventor. “What do you mean problem?” asked Crichton, almost screaming. Bannon took a minute. “Look, me and my mentor have worked for the past few days on this, we’ve even consulted over twenty doctors and three Diagnosans, I just don’t know how to say this, but…”. Crichton slammed his head down. “Don’t be saying this Bannon, you got my hopes up…”. “Crichton, it is medically impossible to save her, I’m sorry man, it can’t be done”. Crichton cut him off, putting the phone on the ground. He put his hands over his eyes as tears attempted to well out from them. He still wasn’t numb to the fact, even though he had accepted it long ago. His sadness quickly turned to anger as it always did. His small tenement room and its aging walls and furniture took the brunt of it. After everything was cracked, crushed, or destroyed, he collapsed in an almost fetal position. He pulled out one of his pistols and pondered it for a second. He slammed the muzzle under his chin, angling it at his brain. His finger stuck on the trigger. Harvey appeared to his left. “Yes, yes do it John!” he almost laughed. “Release us!”. Crichton almost obliged him. Then, he locked his eyes on Harvey’s mug. “Not just yet Harvey” he said with hate. “I’ve got a certain half-breed to kill first” he replied. The clone’s smile disappeared. “Do you really think that you can take down Scorpius, you won’t make it past the first line of defense!” said Harvey. “That’s why they call it a death wish Harvey” Crichton said, taking the gun from his chin. The clone disappeared as the cell phone rang. Surprised, Crichton picked it up, Bannon must have had caller ID. “Yeah?” he said into the phone. “Who the frell is this!?” came Jud’s voice over the phone. “Where’s Rave?” he asked. Crichton looked around the room. “He’s not here right now, can I take a message?” he asked sarcastically. “Rave wouldn’t give someone his communicator, how did you get it?” asked Jud. “Maybe I killed Rave and took it, did you think of that genius?” asked Crichton, hanging up. Crichton looked at the bag of cash at his feet. Maybe we could buy Hana’s freedom, at least get a little karma going for his side. Until then, he had to lay low until his face healed. It would take a day max with the modern healing gel. Once again, his thoughts went to Aeryn, and he slept. The methodic beat of techno music filled the area surrounded the Blue Brothel tower. Outside, various men (and some butch women) made deals with the various ladies of the evening and their mercenary pimps. Crichton’s face had now healed completely, not even a scar on it. He pushed his way forward through the mass of people to the entrance of the Blue Brothel at the base of the tower. The techno music grew louder and was then accompanied by the strobe lights as he drew closer to the club entrance. Crichton learned from Blo that the club allowed no guns. He had stashed his pistols not far away. He greeted the mercenary guarding the door, who then searched his coat for weaponry. His eyes lit up when he checked the duffle bag full of money. The bouncer held open the door for him. “Welcome to heaven sir” he said. Crichton smiled and entered. Crichton nodded to the beat of the techno music and made his way towards the back of the old hotel. The lobby was extravagantly decorated with expensive carpet, furniture, and well painted. Several barely-clad women worked the poles on stage, some bending down to collect money or to make a little love connection for later that night. A couple of mercenaries armed with carbines guarded the girls from the Johns. Crichton focused on the third big screen on the back wall. It was a live video feed of Hana in a bathtub, was being broadcast on that particular screen. Two others were on the other screens. She moved around slightly, sloshing the bubbles around, revealing choice parts of her. Some men in the front cheered as she stood from the warm water, enjoying the brief viewing full frontal nudity before she threw on a towel. She awkwardly took a small green bikini from one of her co-workers and the screens went blank. On stage, the techno music had died out and the dancers had gone back stage, the Johns they won over were now haggling with the pimps. The DJ came on over the speaker next. “Now, our top girls are taking the stage, so if you don’t have a lot of cash, move your ass!”. Crichton walked forward, sitting in one of the front row seats reserved for high rollers. Immediately, another, mores sensual techno beat came over the club and the high dollar girls came out. There were ten in all, the most gorgeous women he had ever seen in person. They all wore bikini tops, thongs, and high heels matching the color of their tops. A dark skinned girl went to take the pole infront of Crichton, but Hana all but fought the girl off from the spot. She gave Crichton a quick smile and locked her eyes on him. She did her thing with the pole, memorizing Crichton. Her tan skin was still dripping wet. She never broke eye contact with him. For the next few minutes, she gave her own show just for Crichton. She matched the other beauties behind her, sliding to the floor, legs crossed, then open. She displayed some yoga and gymnast like flexibility, making Crichton’s jaw drop. She did the splits and beckoned Crichton forward with a finger. They came face to face. He whispered in her ear. “I’m here to get you out” he said over the techno music. She smiled. She rolled to her feet and exited as the techno music ended, looking over her shoulder at him. A pimp came up from behind Crichton. “I’ve never seen her actually interested in someone before, she’s normally a cold fish up there” he said. “You interested?”. Crichton nodded his head. “Mr. Lu-Ras negotiates the deals for them, I will take you to him, this way please”. Crichton followed the pimp to an elevator. They both starred upward as the elevator ascended. “Her name’s Hana by the way” he added. Lu-Ras furiously threw himself at the pull up bar. Even though he was middle aged, his body was still well muscled. His long, blonde hair bounced with every rep. His bare chest and back were covered with tattoos. Jud watched his master take every rep, giving him a status report. “They found Rave dead, he was killed by a PeaceKeeper pulse pistol, his weapon, phone, and money were all taken” said Jud. “It had to have been our friend from the warehouse, no local boy could take Rave” he said. “Or have access to that kind of weaponry”. “The police matched the same guns to both fights” he said. Lu-Ras fell from the pull up bar to the floor. Jud handed him a towel to dry off with. “Good, you have extra motivation to find and kill this freller” said Lu-Ras. “I’ll have my pet pigs look into shootings using PeaceKeeper weaponry besides our lab incident” he added. Jud dismissed himself as Crichton and the pimp entered. The kingpin threw on a flamboyant purple shirt, leaving it un-buttoned. Jud looked over Crichton’s coat and moved on. “Sir, this man wishes business with Hana” said the pimp. Lu-Ras smiled. “Send her up, I need to negotiate with our friend here”. The pimp left, leaving the two criminals alone. Lu-Ras smiled. “Hana, good choice, I broke her in myself, but I must warn you, she doesn’t really get into it, I don’t think she enjoys it to be honest” said Lu-Ras. “But this is about your pleasure, not hers, as it should be”. Crichton nodded. “Mister Lu-Ras, I’ve got money, I would like to buy this woman from you” he said bluntly. Lu-Ras laughed. “You in the business too Mister…” he asked. “Crichton” he replied. Hell everyone knew his name already. “No, I’m a, how do I put it, self employed adventurer, I go all over space looking for opportunities, and space gets damn lonely” said Crichton with a smile. Lu-Ras liked this arrangement. “It will cost you a cool million” he said flat out. He saw Crichton’s jaw drop. “I know it’s a lot, but she brings me in over a thousand a night” he said. “I would normally never sell her, but I had a certain expensive loss that I need to recoup, fast! If you can’t afford her, you can rent her for twenty four arns for one thousand he said”. Crichton felt hope hit rock bottom. He dug out a thousand from his bag and handed it to Lu-Ras. The mobster counted it. “Excellent!” he said. He looked at Crichton. “And don’t even think about trying to steal her, not only will I send my Death Corps friends after you, but I will kill three of her friends, just ask her if you don’t believe me” he said a bit cheerfully. Lu-Ras turned and looked out the penthouse window at the city he virtually owned. They both turned when Hana entered the room in a flowing black dress. “Enjoy” said Lu-Ras. Hana looked depressed as she took another bite of her breakfast. He hadn’t meant to get her hopes up. They had wandered the city most of the night, talking about various things. He apologized numerous times for failing her. He told her basically all he had seen in his adventures, leaving out most of the details of his life. She didn’t need to know of his criminal lifestyle. He also shared his love story with Aeryn. She actually cried for him. She called it the saddest story she ever heard. “I would love to see space” she said. Crichton shook his head. “In my experience, there are far more horrors than wonders out there”. He replied. They were in the middle class part of Koorong, a place Hana had never visited. She had remembered the food being sold at the restaurant from her childhood. They did all the standard date stuff, he took her to movie, dinner. He used some of his mercenary money to buy some high-class rooms in a fancy hotel with two beds of course. He walked her back as night once again fell. Before they entered the area beneath the tower, he turned to her. “If you want to, I can save you, I can take you away from here” he said. She shook her head. “I will not trade the life of my friends for my own” she said. He nodded. She turned and kissed him. “That was the best day of my life” she said. A pair of mercenaries greeted them. “Lu-Ras wants to see the two of you” one said. The pair exited the elevator into the penthouse. Lu-Ras sat on his desk. “Welcome back mister Crichton” he said. Crichton turned to the sound of safeties behind him. Jud and six of his soldiers of fortune stood, weapons ready. Crichton saw the junky that he had wounded standing next to Jud. “That’s the freller!” said the junky. “Ah crap” said Crichton simply. Lu-Ras gave a crooked smile. He pushed a button on a wanted beacon. Scorpius appeared, offering the reward for his death. “Looks like you’ll net me more than a million” simply stated Lu-Ras. __________________ SSD's Captain Charisma Noirscape: Weclome to the Dark Side of the Owl's imagination: Feeling like the NEW Ultimate Edition of a Noir love story? Season of Death Want a twisted fic that makes you want to get therapy and take a shower at the same time? And got booted off fanfiction.net? (NC17)Sic and Twisted Edit Or its sequel: Paraphilia or its sequel After The Flesh