Summary: The crew of Moya as seen through the eyes of a woman with her own agenda -- Jenavian Chatto.
Author Notes: Thanks go to my those who gave feedback -- S/FOG for defending D'Argo's dignity, AC, for defending Crichton's chastity, and my primary beta, the indispensable cofax, for doing no less than defending the entire English language against my abuse of it.
Story Notes: Spoilers: This takes place post-Fractures, so anything up 'til then is fair game.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, and I make no money whatsoever out of my efforts here. And I promise to return them in the condition I found them.

"You!" The voice was imperious, disgusted, and far too loud. I didn't cringe, didn't let anything cross my face except vague confusion. I'd been trained too well for that.

Anyone who's kicked around as much as I have, in as many different roles as I have, has to be prepared to run into familiar faces. It's unlikely, of course - space is immense, and I don't believe in destiny bringing people together. I believe in the random moment, the unexpected alignment of person and circumstance. But that doesn't mean advance planning is irrelevant - on the contrary. Preparation is everything, so that when all those carefully constructed plans inevitably fall to pieces, and the fun begins, I'm not left blind and empty-handed. And improvising is where the fun comes in. I'm not a dull-witted grunt. I'm a Disruptor. That means using my mind, my creativity. Making new plans as old ones become unworkable, gathering new tools as they present themselves, saving them for future use. And, given the proper groundwork, any materials can be used toward the ultimate end.

So when I came face to face with the little Hynerian with the big mouth, I remained calm, faced the little worm with a neutrality and apparent boredom that I didn't feel at all.

J'atris, my rather dull companion, turned to face our questioner. I hoped he'd let it go, but he didn't. He was suspicious. Of course he was suspicious. J'atris was by nature suspicious, as I knew all too well. I'd spent too much time cultivating him, soothing his paranoia to the point where I could properly infiltrate his operations. I had just started to exert the influence I needed to - of course, it didn't please his followers that a mere entertainer had his ear. They'd be much less pleased if they knew I wasn't a dancing girl. Not that I'm not good at that, though. I'm good at a lot of things.

If I didn't play this just right, it could set me back monens - or sabotage me completely. And it looked bad. J'atris' voice was high-pitched, uneasy. "Are you speaking to me, Hynerian?"

Dominar Rygel XVI looked at me for a moment, frowning. His reaction had been instinctive, surprise. Now, I could almost hear his mind working. Figuring out what was going on, probably wondering how he could profit by it. Obviously, although I was clearly who he thought I was, I wasn't. It was almost funny. Or would be, if it wasn't so frelling dangerous.

"No," he said, slowly. "I thought you were someone else." I nodded slightly, just enough to let him know he'd done right, not enough to attract J'atris' attention. "You look like someone I used to know, that's all."

"Ah." Suspicious or not, J'atris was stupid enough not to realize that the Hynerian wasn't talking about him. Stupid and suspicious - the worst possible combination. "We've never met?"

We'd saved the situation, and I felt a wave of relief, until Ka D'Argo and John Crichton rounded the corner. Given another situation, I would have been pleased to see the human. As it was, pleasure was the last thing on my mind. D'Argo's gaze found the Hynerian, then lifted and fixed on me.

I suppose it was too much to ask of a Luxan to understand subtleties, or show subtlety himself. He was up to us in three strides, his hand on his Qualta blade. "What is she doing here?" he growled. Damned Luxan oaf. The muscles in my neck tightened; it was by sheer willpower that I didn't reach for the pulse pistol hidden under my cloak. All these cycles out of infantry, and I still had a soldier's instincts. Not something to be proud of.

J'atris turned to me. "Kendra? The Luxan seems to recognize you."

While my mind was growling out profanity in 14 different languages, I assumed my most vacant smile. "But I don't know any Luxans..." Just a touch of breathiness, not too much... "Maybe he's seen me dance?" I turned a brilliant smile on the towering idiot, not feeling a bit of it.

"Dance?" The Luxan's brow lowered in a confusion I could have found amusing, if he hadn't just put my life in danger. The moment stretched out uncomfortably as I prayed that he'd pick up on the hint.

"Please forgive my friend," said Crichton, with just the right note of unctuousness. "He's a little overwhelmed. We're big admirers of yours. Can I call you Kendra? I know it's familiar, but..."

My smile turned genuine. He was still sharp as ever - after all, he'd even fooled me until I'd held a blade at his throat and forced the truth out of him. "Yes, of course. Call me Kendra."

"But..." The Luxan began to protest, then glanced at the human, back at me. "To do so seems like a liberty."

"This is such a thrill," Crichton continued. "We saw you on... where was it, D'Argo? It was about a half-cycle ago..."

"Hiresta," I supplied smoothly, picking up his cue, filling in my back story. "You saw my performance?"

"Absolutely," he answered. Then, a glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes. "Your performance is something I'll never forget."

I nearly laughed, spoiling it all. "It's nice to know that my work is appreciated."

"Oh, yeah. It was certainly, uh... appreciated."

The expression in his eyes was warm, friendly, and I smiled in return, allowed the slightest self-conscious flicker of the eyes, which made his smile widen. My first choice was staying on Tendaris, close to J'atris. But if turned out that I did have to abort the mission and pull out, Crichton was my best chance.

"Oh, my," I giggled, like the empty-headed girl I was supposed to be. "You are flattering me, I'm afraid."

I allowed myself the slightest relaxation. Perhaps I'd saved it after all. Then Crichton's gaze moved past my shoulder, and his smile froze. You'd have thought he was looking down the barrel of a pulse rifle.

"What are you three doing? You know we can't waste time..." The woman's voice was impatient, familiar, and I nearly groaned in disgust. Just what I needed, just when it was safe. As Aeryn Sun pushed past us, her Nebari shipmate close on her heels, I glanced at J'atris, only to find him looking at me, eyes narrowed in suspicion. I smiled, presenting the most ingenuous exterior. But inside? I knew it was hopeless. I couldn't worry about my superiors' reaction to my blown cover. No time. I needed to get away, fast. Considering my ongoing orders regarding Crichton, perhaps I could even convince my superiors that this sudden evacuation was a good thing.

Aeryn Sun turned then, her quick motion bringing her face to face with me. Close enough that she recognized me, fast enough that her reaction was unfiltered, immediate. "You!" Her hand was on her pulse pistol immediately. "What are you...?"

She trailed off as her gaze traveled from me to J'atris and back again - J'atris, who was quickly taking in the situation. His eyes flickered from me, to Sun, so clearly shouting "Peacekeeper!" in every line of her body, her clothing, her tightly bound hair, to Crichton, hand resting nonchalantly on the butt of his pulse pistol. And it was over. J'atris was stupid, yes. But he would have to be dead to not draw the correct conclusion. Unfortunately, dead wasn't something I could arrange at the moment.

My erstwhile lover backed away from me, his hand on his weapon, eyes narrowing as he looked at me. "You lying tralk," he hissed. "Peacekeeper spy... and to think that I-" His pistol was out of its holster, and I was moving. One arm out, blocking the rising weapon, forcing it down and away, turning in place, bringing the other elbow up, hard, under his chin, taking him down.

The action couldn't go unnoticed - J'atris never went anywhere without his entourage. I'd picked them out from the market crowd as soon as we'd arrived. Quite laughable, actually, to call them covert. I turned, saw one of the unskilled idiots at the corner of the square, and shot him cleanly in the shoulder with his employer's pistol, sending him sprawling. Normally, I would have dropped him with a shot between the eyes, but the odds of capture were high, and the penalty for murder on this planet was unpleasant, even by my standards. As a spy, I'd be exposed and shipped off world - but at least I'd get to keep my hands and feet.

Two more soldiers across the square. I leveled my weapon, only to find the human next to me, facing the opposite direction, his pistol drawn.

"Don't kill anyone unless you absolutely have to," I ordered. I caught a flicker of what looked like approval on Crichton's face, but now wasn't the time to stop to think about it. "Transport?"

"South side," he answered, with the same economy of words.

"Let's go."

"Crichton..." the Luxan protested, seconded quickly by Sun.

"We are not taking her with us."

Crichton spared them a glance, a raised eyebrow. "I'm not gonna leave her here to die." I'd judged him perfectly, but didn't let my satisfaction touch my face. He wouldn't leave me here, wouldn't let them leave me here.

"You mean..." the Nebari ducked another pulse blast, then looked at me with wide eyes. "You really are a spy?" I gave her my best rakish grin, and she actually giggled in delight.

"We cannot take a Peacekeeper with us," the Luxan snarled.

"Yeah, like we've never done that before," Crichton muttered under his breath as he picked off another of J'atris' guards.

"Are you completely fahrbot?" the Hynerian protested, his voice shrill and unbelieving.

"I owe her, Rygel," Crichton snapped.

"Frell!" Evidently reaching a decision, Aeryn Sun grabbed her pulse pistol and effortlessly nailed two guards who'd emerged at a run from the north side. "Let's get out of here. Crichton, you will explain."

"Fine. Yes. On the transport."

It wasn't easy, but we did it. The only casualty was the Hynerian's thronesled, which had taken a glancing shot, enough to fuse its power cables. An energy bolt had creased Crichton's shoulder when he'd stopped to retrieve both the Hynerian and his sled, but it was nothing serious - a cursory inspection told me that he'd be fine, and that I might just enjoy bandaging that particular wound. Certainly I could make him enjoy it.

The Luxan took the controls and headed us into space; I could hear him instructing the Leviathan's pilot to prepare for departure. Crichton dropped into one of the seats, and I settled in beside him. "Let's see that wound."

"Hold it right there," Aeryn Sun's voice was calm, cold. I looked up, not at all surprised to see her pulse pistol leveled at my head. "While you are our guest, you will keep your distance from our crew."

Our crew. How amusing. I couldn't help it: I smiled. "Sorry. It's a bit late for those instructions."

Her eyes went wide, then narrowed. I think she nearly shot me then. Me, or Crichton. It was a close call.

"So..." the Nebari broke in, perhaps to prevent violence, perhaps not. It was hard to tell. "Who are you? Really?"

Crichton sighed. "Guys, this is Jenavian Chatto. Peacekeeper Disruptor. Special Directorate."

"Disruptor?" Sun looked disbelieving, disdainful. "You're a disruptor?"

It was an insult. Or was supposed to be. I smiled. "Yes. And you never got past Prowlers."

"All right, all right, enough of that." Crichton leaned forward, breaking the plane between the two of us. She looked away, to a point past his shoulder. Curious. "For a secret agent, you've got a hell of a big mouth, Jena."

"Jena?" Chiana repeated archly, and Crichton grimaced. He hadn't meant to use the familiar address, not in front of them, not yet. The Nebari girl giggled again.

"What exactly is going on, Crichton?" the Hynerian demanded.

The Luxan turned in his seat, watching intently. "We do have the right to know, John."

Crichton sighed again. "You know the mysterious stranger who saved me from Prince Clavor's assassin? The one I said I couldn't identify?"

"Obviously, you lied," Sun said, her tone flat, distant, as though his dishonesty were no surprise.

Crichton's jaw tightened, but he didn't deny it. "I couldn't blow her cover. I wasn't exactly in a position to blow anyone's cover. 'Specially since she assumed I was Special Directorate, too."

She didn't look at him, but she nodded, and he continued. "And when Clavor and the Scarran took my head off, she... she was the one who got it back from Scorpius... and uh, reassembled me." He squared his shoulders, but looked at the floor. "And she... we... like I said, I owe her." There was more, of course, more that he wasn't saying. Which was fine with me. Let it be our secret - secrets can be used. Open truths are much less powerful.

"I don't see why we had to get our heads nearly shot off, though," the Hynerian grumbled. "We don't owe her anything."

"Oh?" Crichton turned, his eyebrows going up. "And who was it who tossed her out of the frying pan down there, Guido?"

"Not me," Rygel protested.

"No," I agreed. "Not the Hynerian. The rest of you, though..." I shook my head. "Not exactly promising undercover material."

"Some might take that as a compliment," the Luxan ground out. "It means we are not accomplished liars."

I smiled. "Whatever you grasp at to excuse your incompetence is fine with me, Ka D'Argo."

It didn't escape me that the Nebari stiffened at that.

"We can't keep her with us," Sun said, and Crichton nodded.

"I know. But we can drop her off safely at the next commerce planet."

"I don't see why," the Hynerian objected.

"Because you nearly got me killed," I answered smoothly. "Worse than that, you frelled up my mission."

"A Peacekeeper mission," D'Argo sneered, and Rygel seconded him.

"Whatever you were doing on that planet, it couldn't have been good."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "And if it hadn't been for one of my Peacekeeper missions, your friend here would be in two shiny, heavy pieces. One of which would be decorating Scorpius' trophy case."

They had a hard time answering that. Of course.

"The very next system," Aeryn Sun said firmly, and Crichton shrugged.

"That's all I'm askin' for, Aeryn."

We spent the rest of the journey in silence - no one seemed eager to speak. I certainly wasn't going to share any more information about myself than I needed to. I passed the time watching them, absorbing details.

No points on picking up that the Luxan and the Nebari were involved - or had been. Neither was exactly subtle. Aeryn Sun - now she was subtle. An outsider would be hard-pressed to tell whether she was even aware that Crichton was on the same transport. But I remembered her protectiveness of him on the Royal Planet. Then, she'd cared enough about him to openly assault two members of the ruling family. Now, she hardly spoke to him, barely looked at him, mostly kept her back to him, but her movements were an eerie parallel to his, moving away as he moved closer, always keeping the same distance between them. To mirror your target that perfectly, I knew from experience, you have to know where it is at all times.

Knowing that she cared gave me the edge. She might be wondering, but she didn't know. If she became too annoying, I'd drop that piece of information like a pulse grenade. And I'd enjoy it, too. I still owed her from the Royal Planet, when my assumed role as Clavor's helpless tralk prevented me from snapping her arm the way she deserved. But an advantage shared is an advantage lost, so for the moment I just kept my mouth shut.

Crichton was as obvious as Sun was subtle. His eyes lingered on her, he glanced uncomfortably between me and her, and he avoided the looks his friends cast his way. I knew some of what had happened to these people since I had seen them last, at least what Command had seen fit to share with me, so it wasn't a surprise to see him looking drawn, tired. But there was something more. Something heavy and unstated that seemed to clog the air between them. Something that kept Aeryn Sun, who had once physically assaulted a Royal Princess to protect his interests, from even acknowledging his presence; something that limned his eyes with a weary sadness.

On the Leviathan, I greeted the other two with a smile. The first, I'd known by reputation long before I ever encountered the crew of Moya. "Bialar Crais. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And how is Talyn these days?"

He looked at me in surprise, one eyebrow rising. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet." I regarded the other one. Didn't look like much. Privilege was written in every line of her pretty face, the supercilious expression in her eyes. "And you must be the one called Jool. A recent addition."

Her eyes widened in surprise, uncertainty - and I didn't miss that she looked to D'Argo before responding. More and more interesting.

Her response, though, was a quick recovery and an arrogant lift to the chin. "My name is Joolushko Tunay Fento Hovalis. How do you know me?"

I recorded the name, in its obnoxious entirety, for reference. "I do my research."

"Research?" the Luxan growled. "Are you hunting us, Peacekeeper?"

"No, I haven't been assigned to you. This research was purely out of..." I allowed myself a glance at Crichton, a lazy, satisfied smile, "...personal interest."

I thought surely Sun's reserve would break at any moment; instead, she simply holstered her pistol with a flamboyance that was not regulation, not at all, and stalked out of the hangar bay. I wondered how far I could push her before she showed some reaction. It would be fun to find out.

Crichton leaned in close. The scent of his skin was familiar, his voice was silky, dangerous. "Jena, things are frelled up enough already... you had better not make it worse."

"No promises, isn't that what we agreed?" I said with an easy, inviting smile. "Care to show me where I'm going to sleep?" He looked at me, head tilted, eyes narrowed, the beginnings of a disbelieving smile on his face. As uncomfortable as it made things for him, he liked my style.

He didn't have a chance to answer, though, before the Luxan stepped forward. "I will escort you to your guest quarters."

I nodded my agreement, allowed D'Argo to lead me out of the room. I didn't turn back to see if Crichton was watching. I didn't need to. As we exited the hangar bay, I heard Jool's voice carry clearly. "Who's that, Crichton? Old girlfriend?"

I laughed.

The quarters D'Argo showed me to were spartan, uncluttered - and exactly like every other cell we'd passed. So there must be a reason he'd chosen these particular quarters. I raised an eyebrow at him, questioning.

He cleared his throat. "If you need anything, my quarters are across the hall. Crais is staying in the cell next to yours on a temporary basis." His gaze was steady. "There is no need for you to bother anyone else."

Ah. No points for subtlety, again, but definite points for loyalty. He was letting me know that I would be watched. Closely. And that he would not take kindly to my approaching John Crichton without supervision.

In fact, there was no chance I would be allowed anywhere on board without supervision.

I laughed. "So what do you people do for food on this ship?"

He growled. "We eat in the center chamber in two arns."

"So I have time to clean up?" I was more than tired of the cheap clothing and garish face paint I'd adopted for my time with J'atris.

"It would be greatly appreciated if you did."

I couldn't help it. That annoyed me. "I don't suppose there would be a change of clothing here that I could-"

"We will see to it," he said, his tone deliberate. "There are many leftover Peacekeeper uniforms that would make you feel quite at home. I will have Jool or Chiana bring you something appropriate for your... position."

The way he drew out the final word made it clear what he thought of my position. I decided to push it, taking a step forward. The action could have been seductive, but my tone was hard, cold. "And what possible interest could you have in what position I assume, Luxan?"

"None whatsoever," he answered gruffly. "As long as it does not injure my friends, I care nothing for you at all."

"Ah." My chin came up. There was his vulnerable spot. I decided to press it. "Then perhaps, as long as you are sending people to attend me, you could send the human to wash my back. I promise not to injure him."

He merely turned on his heel and stalked out of the cell, keying the door mechanism shut behind him. I heard the definite snick of the lock. "You will remain here until someone fetches you for dinner," he snapped. "And it will not be Crichton."

By the time I stepped out of the shower, there was clothing on the bed, waiting for me. As D'Argo had promised, it was Peacekeeper issue - black and red leathers.

As I shrugged into them, I frowned in annoyance. Whoever had picked them out had done a very poor job. The underclothing was too small, the outerclothing too large. I looked a fright. The tight inner layer would flatten my curves, the baggy outer layer would hang loose, avoiding anything resembling a cling. Not exactly the best costume for my purposes.

Those purposes were simple enough. Although Scorpius had issued orders that Crichton be taken and turned over to him, I had no intention of doing so. What's more, I had the backing of Special Directorate on that. If Scorpius knew... the thought of the half-breed's reaction if he found out was absolutely delicious. My duty on this ship was straightforward. Get to the next Peacekeeper outpost, and get off. And in the meantime, convince John Crichton that I wasn't his enemy. Which would have been considerably easier if the clothes had fit.

Then again - I wasn't a soldier. Soldiers classified weapons in simple, obvious categories. Guns, explosives, blades. I'd never yet met a soldier who understood that clothing could be a weapon, too.

If they'd given me skin-tight leathers, I would have twisted my hair up tight and gone in with authority. But this - I could definitely work with this. I ran my fingers through my hair, leaving it long, tousled, damp. A bite of the lips for color, a pinch to the cheeks for the faintest blush.

Jool came to fetch me for dinner, and I saw her eyes narrow in displeasure at the sight of me. I knew what she saw. The face I presented was young, fresh, looking all the younger for the shapelessness of the clothes. I looked like a street urchin. Stranded, dependent upon them for help. Harmless.

I had the sudden thought that the bad fit of the clothing hadn't been a mistake, but rather a deliberate calculation. Well, if it was, she had been outmaneuvered. Which was to be expected. Judging from her open display of flesh, she understood the power of attraction, but none of its subtlety. In this situation, I much preferred my hidden assets - especially effective since the man in question had already enjoyed what lay beneath the shapeless costume. It actually added a layer of intimacy between us - my body was something that only we shared, a gift denied to the others. Something this girl might eventually learn - never underestimate the appeal of exclusivity to the male ego.

Whatever conversation they'd been having died as we came through the door of the center chamber; I saw their heads come up as we entered. D'Argo looked taken aback. Aeryn Sun didn't look at me at all. Crais was studying me, his expression speculative. Rygel gave me the merest glance, then turned back to his plate. Chiana was grinning, wide, enthusiastic. Crichton smiled, his expression reassuring. As if I needed reassurance. But I allowed my step to falter slightly, cast a nervous-seeming glance around the room, then squared my shoulders. An open seat next to Crichton, one next to Chiana. Well, well...

Without preamble, Jool pushed past me and slid in next to Crichton, glaring at me. Any doubt I had about the clothing was gone. "Well, we're here," she announced, sounding annoyed. "What are we going to do with her?"

"Drop her off at the next system," Rygel put in. "As we agreed."

"Right," Chiana said. "But that doesn't mean we have to treat her like dren until then."

"Doesn't it?" the Hynerian sneered. "It's her fault we're eating food cubes tonight."

"Yeah, and we've never eaten food cubes before," Chiana countered. "Relax, toad, there's always another commerce planet. Come on, Jena. You can sit next to me."

I was somewhat surprised at the Nebari's enthusiasm. D'Argo growled, and I wondered if her open invitation hadn't been more to annoy him than anything else. But I smiled in gratitude, and slid in next to her.

"So you really are a disruptor?" Chiana started in immediately, her whole attitude fascinated, eager. "What... so what do you do?"

I considered. "Just what the name says. I disrupt things. Preferably Scarran plots."

"That's why you were on the Royal Planet?" Rygel questioned. "To keep an eye on the Scarrans?"

"Yes." I wouldn't get into the larger patterns, the tapestry of political connections and networks. I wouldn't expose our plans for the Uncharted Territories, but I could tell them things they already knew - it would compromise nothing, and still make me seem more open, trustworthy. "If Clavor had assumed the throne, he would have allied with the Scarrans, and started a war. It was my responsibility to make sure that didn't happen."

"And what were you doing on Tendaris?" D'Argo asked.

I smiled. "That's classified. Sorry."

"So," Chiana tilted her head, looked at me curiously. "You probably know a lot about Peacekeeper operations, huh? Say, locations of ships, things like that."

I gazed back, gauging her. Most Nebari unsettle me, with their placid stares and their unthinking conformity. This one, however, was obviously not most Nebari. And now she was asking about deployment of Peacekeeper vessels.

"Chiana," Jool said quietly, "She's a Peacekeeper."

"But she might be able to help," Crichton said. I looked at him; his gaze was measuring. "She may have information we need."

I kept my expression impassive, but felt a chill up my spine, that familiar tingle that tells me I've stumbled onto something. What was going on on this ship?

"Crichton," Crais' tone held warning. "Jool is correct. She is an active Peacekeeper agent. She would not act counter to Peacekeeper interests." I looked at the former captain; he still had that cool, speculative look on his face. "Disruptor training is quite thorough, all towards one end - to engender trust. Politics, diplomacy, assassination... quite extensive seduction techniques." A slight smile creased his lips. "It is to be expected that you might be taken in by her."

"You'd be a fool to trust her," Sun advised. "Tell her nothing."

I looked back to him, making my voice soft, rich, a deliberate contrast to her cold contempt. "What is it that you want to know, John?"

He studied me for a moment longer, then nodded slightly. "I want to know where Scorpius is." I could hear the reaction from around the table. Crais blew his breath out in disgust, D'Argo snorted in displeasure. I registered them all, but kept my gaze earnest, appealing - and locked on Crichton. He didn't look away, either, only smiled reassuringly. "I'm not asking you to do anything that would compromise your position, Jena. I just want to stay as far away from him as possible. We've been doing good, so far, keeping our heads down, but I don't want to stumble across him in a dark alley by mistake."

I turned it over in my mind, looking for the flaw. It made sense, going by what I knew, both from personal experience and from Command. Crichton had been running from Scorpius on the Royal Planet. He'd want to know where Scorpius was so that he could stay away from him. The alternative was that Crichton was seeking Scorpius out, and that idea was ludicrous. And it was clear from his companions' reactions that Crichton had revealed more to me than they wanted him to, so I must have the truth of it. Despite their misgivings, he trusted me, which could only help me. My helping him would make me more of an ally, especially if I seemed to be risking my own position to do so.

So, if they were aware that I knew that Scorpius wanted Crichton - they had to suspect that I knew why he wanted Crichton. I could use that. Time to lay some groundwork of my own. "All right," I said. "I can provide you with information on Scorpius' whereabouts. But in exchange, I want some information from you."

"From us?" Crais questioned. "What could we possibly tell you?"

"The Scarrans are highly disturbed," I said calmly. "It seems that one of their dreadnaughts has gone missing above a planet called DamDaBa. It was the victim of something that long-range sensors describe as a spatial anomaly not unlike a wormhole. Either it was a naturally forming phenomenon and the Scarrans were just unlucky - or it was deliberate. I want to know which one."

"And you think I know?" Crichton's tone was quiet, careful.

"I think you might." I didn't, of course. I knew for a fact that Crichton had been far away from that area during the time in question - I didn't care how far a Leviathan could starburst, it was impossible for a man to be in two places at once. But where Crichton was - or had been - wasn't the point. I needed to get him thinking about wormhole technology. Specifically, wormhole technology in the hands of the Scarrans.

I matched his careful tone with my own, making it as non-threatening as possible. I leaned forward, indicating confidence, appeal, intimacy. "You know Scorpius has issued orders that you be taken back into custody. I need to give Peacekeeper Command something, John."

Crichton shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint you, Jena, but the one and only time I was ever at DamDaBa was nearly three cycles ago."

"There is someone based there who knows a lot about wormholes," Aeryn Sun said, her voice cold. "She managed to steal most of Crichton's research."

"Oh?" I frowned. This was news to me.

"Yeah," Crichton seconded after the barest moment of hesitation. "If the Peacekeepers are looking for someone to go after for what happened at DamDaBa, she'd be the one." He paused, glanced at Sun, who didn't meet his eye, then continued. "Her name's Furlow. I haven't seen her since I was there, but I don't doubt she's still alive and scamming. She's good at that."

"We can provide you with a description," Rygel said. "Down to the last wart on her ugly face."

I looked around at them, still not quite sure that I wasn't missing something. But Rygel was merely smiling amenably, Sun was blank, unreadable, and Crichton - Crichton merely looked sad.

My mind was racing. My brief hadn't indicated any free agents with even the beginnings of wormhole technology running loose. The thought was chilling. My instincts told me that Crichton and Sun were telling the truth, about his visit to DamDaBa, about this Furlow. Their story made sense, and I was getting what I wanted - so why did I feel like I was the one being played? I wondered if Scorpius knew about Furlow, and if he did, whether he had withheld the information from Command, or whether it was Command who had withheld it from me.

"All right," I said, looking straight at Crichton. "I'll take that. Scorpius' last known location, in return for a description of Furlow and all the details of your last encounter with her."

"My last encounter with her," he agreed. "Done."

"...I tried, D'Argo. She won't talk to me."

The voice was loud, unexpected, and I quickly drew back into the shadows. I'd just given Jool the slip, and was savoring the rare luxury of being completely unobserved. I didn't want to give that up yet. Besides, you can learn the most interesting things by just listening.

"John, she hasn't talked to you in a monen."

They'd stopped, just around the corner from me. Which meant that I was stuck until they decided to move on.

"Yeah, but this is different. Now she's just pissed off. And I don't-"

"I believe she is angry because she didn't know."

"Yeah, well... She knows I don't kiss and tell. And don't try to tell me she hasn't appreciated that little character trait-"

"John, you do not understand. She is not angry because you didn't tell her. She is angry because he didn't tell her."

"So she's taking it out on me?"

"It does make sense."

"No, it doesn't. It doesn't make any sense. None of this has ever made any sense."

"John, if you had been there-"

"But I wasn't there."

"If you had been there, you would not have told her."

"So she blames me for him not doing something that I wouldn't have done if I'd been in a position not to do it, which I wasn't?"

"It does makes sense, if you are not too stubborn to see it."

"All right. So answer me this, big guy. If I'm supposed to shoulder the blame for the stuff that he did wrong, how come I don't get brownie points for the stuff he did right? Isn't there some sort of rule about that?"

There was a long silence, and then quiet laughter from them both. "No, my friend, there is not," D'Argo said. "And if there were, you would have broken it anyway."

They moved away, and I waited as their footsteps retreated. I could actually feel the puzzled crease in my forehead. I had never heard a conversation that made less sense in my life.

"So." I whirled at the voice behind me, automatically dropping to a defensive stance, then relaxing with a sheepish smile as I recognized the Nebari girl.

I hadn't even heard her approach. There was definitely more to her than met the eye.

She was grinning at my response. "Sorry," she said, not sounding a bit sorry. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Not likely," I said with a smile, then shrugged. "I got lost. All the corridors look the same."

"Yeah, it takes a while." Her neck arched slightly. "Too bad you won't be here long enough to learn your way around. Some people might be disappointed to see you go."

"Some people?" I didn't let my expression falter, just gazed at her, trying to figure out her angle. "You, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. You're... intriguing. You remind me a lot of..." she trailed off.

"Of?"

"Of me." Again, that delighted, open-mouthed smile.

I smiled back. "I'm flattered. I think."

"I'm sure." We faced each other. "You seem to be used to being flattered."

"As are you."

"Yeah, well, it's easy to get things like that, if that's all you're after." Ah. A shift in the conversation. "Especially from men." She took a step closer, one shoulder rising, her head angling almost to meet it. "You could probably get almost anything you wanted from a man."

"Hmm." I raised an eyebrow. "And why do you think that is, do you suppose?"

"You know why. Because men are stupid," she said, and I laughed out loud at the swift change in tactics, from insinuation to bluntness. Effective. "You tell them something, they believe it. You don't tell them something, they never suspect. Nice to meet another woman who understands that."

"I'm not shy about letting a man know what I want."

"I've noticed that." She grinned. "Well, I'm not shy either. So... John's my friend. Doesn't stop him from being a man. Doesn't stop him from being stupid."

I regarded her with amusement. "You don't seem to think very highly of him."

"Oh, no," Chiana countered. "I think very highly of him. Who I don't think highly of is anybody who would hurt him."

I put every drop of warmth, of sincerity, into my tone. "I'm not trying to hurt him, Chiana."

"Trying and doing are two different things," she said, and I was well aware of the ambiguity of her words. That I could hurt him without intending to, or that there was a difference between attempt and achievement that did not necessarily lie in intent. The confrontation gave me the quick thrill that comes with a challenge.

So far, I'd let her lead the conversation. Time to take charge. She'd taken it from a needle to a blade. Time to take it from a blade to a pulse pistol. I took a step closer to her, tilted my face to match her own odd angle. "So what exactly are you saying, Chiana?"

She grinned, matched my escalation with her own. Pulse pistol to detonation grenade. "That I know you. Better than you think. Whatever it is you want from John... if you hurt him, you've got a ship full of people here who are going to take it... badly."

"Oh?" I raised a cool eyebrow. Detonation grenade to frag cannon. "So I assume that Aeryn Sun is a target for your displeasure, too?"

For the first time, she looked uncertain, drawing back slightly in surprise, and I seized the advantage. "She won't even look at him, Chiana. And you're threatening me if I hurt him? Doesn't John deserve more than that? Some... pleasure?"

"Yes, he does." Her uncertainty vanished. "And if you understood the first word of that conversation you just overheard, maybe you'd be in a position to help him. But since you didn't, you aren't." The smile was gone from her face. "Is that clear enough for you, Jenavian?"

She'd given me more than she knew, and I knew how to play this now. Time to take it back down to a needle. I lowered my chin, looked at her with sympathetic resolution. "Whatever there is between John and me is just that - between John and me. If Aeryn Sun had any sense at all, she would be in his bed right now. But instead, she's pushing him away. And you can't blame any woman with eyes and a brain for being right there to catch him. But I'm not a fool, and I'm not stupid - I know that if she gave him a chance, he wouldn't look twice at me. For all our flirtation, I'd be forgotten in a microt."

"Yeah," she purred. "But as I said... men are stupid."

"Then it's up to us to look out for their best interests, isn't it?" I retorted.

"Don't you mean Peacekeeper interests? You'd hand John back to Scorpius-"

"Scorpius." I allowed a sneer of disgust, and she looked surprised. "Scorpius is a monster." I spoke quickly, with a tone of quiet intensity. "What he did to John was obscene. And for nothing. Violating his mind - never thinking that altering the mind alters the information he's trying to retrieve. He likes to think of himself as efficient, when all he is is cold-blooded. I would never let Scorpius have John again."

She looked at me for a long moment, then grinned. "So, which it is that bothers you, huh? That Scorpius is cold-blooded? Or that he's inefficient?"

I didn't answer her, turning on my heel, setting off at a deliberate pace.

"Hey, Jena, where are you going?"

I turned back, letting my impatience show. "Back to my quarters. We are finished, aren't we?"

She laughed. "I thought you said you were lost." And with that, she was gone.

Frell.

After the fourth time in two days that I broke out of my locked cell, the crew gave up and left the door open, assigning two DRDs to follow me. D'Argo protested, of course, but Crichton, openly amused at my plaintive protestations of boredom, pointed out that "Jena Bond," whatever that meant, wasn't going to stay put unless they tied me down, and probably not even then. He was right. I did have fun with the proposal of him tying me down, much to his embarrassment and the consternation of the others.

His amusement was a good thing. With the limited time I had, my approach was simple. Consolidate our connection. Be non-threatening. Appealing. Easy to be with, to talk to. I took my cues from those Crichton spent the most time with, those he seemed most at ease with. The friendship between him and the non-Sebaceans, especially Chiana, was relaxed, obvious, and the laughter, teasing, and playfulness all came naturally to me. I needed to be a different kind of Peacekeeper than they'd known, and that was easy. Aeryn's stern reserve, Crais' fierce command - that had never been my way, though of course I could adopt those manners when necessary. In my days on Moya, I found I was enjoying myself, enjoying the unfamiliar pleasure of the demands of my job harmonizing, for once, with my natural instincts.

I knew I was making progress on the evening that I contributed my own story to the conversation over the evening meal, telling them about the time I'd infiltrated the harem of the orange-skinned Denarran prelate, only to find that my masterful disguise had been foiled by a midnight swim in the prelate's private baths and the body paint that I hadn't known was water-soluble. Most of them laughed out loud at the image of a naked, pink-skinned Sebacean spy floating in a pool of suddenly orange water; the only one who didn't at least smile was Aeryn Sun.

As the company started to break up, I placed a hand on Crichton's arm. He looked at me quizzically, somewhat warily.

"Are you all right, John?"

"Me?" He seemed surprised. "Why?"

"You just seem... tired. A bit... worn down."

He shrugged quickly. "No worries," he said lightly, dismissively. "Life's just peachy. I've never felt better." Across the room, there was the sound of dishes breaking. We both turned, just in time to see Aeryn Sun's back disappearing through the door, a tray full of shattered crockery left behind on the floor.

Chiana and Jool exchanged an uncomfortable look. Rygel muttered something inaudible, shaking his head and turning back to his plate. Crais frowned, said nothing. D'Argo sighed heavily, crouched to start cleaning up the mess. He glanced up at Crichton. "Don't ask me," he said bluntly. "I have no idea."

Crichton rubbed a hand over his face. "Man, it's like walkin' through a minefield around here. Without a map." He glanced down at the mess on the floor. "Or a mop."

"I didn't mean-" I began, sounding contrite.

He shook his head. "No, it wasn't your fault." He sounded tired. Beyond tired. He turned back to give me a soft smile. "Jena? Thanks for asking."

As he left the chamber, I didn't miss the looks from the others. Bemused, suspicious, unhappy. As if they no longer knew what to make of me.

That was good.

But I couldn't relax too much. And eventually I needed to talk to Crichton alone, something that was difficult to arrange, given the small crew manning the huge Leviathan. There was a constant stream of repairs and adjustments to be made to the ship's equipment, repairs that would have been handled by a corps of techs had this been a Peacekeeper ship. As it was, Crichton seemed to be the tech of choice on Moya, to the point that I wondered if any of the others even knew how to hold a wrench.

Finally, however, I was informed by the Pilot that Crichton was alone on command. A perfect opportunity to speak with him, and no need to invent an excuse. After all, I had agreed to give him Scorpius' whereabouts, and I needed to satisfy my part of the bargain before we arrived at the commerce planet some time in the next solar day.

I arranged my face into a pleasant smile and stepped through the door.

"This is your fault, Crichton, and therefore you should put it right." The strident voice of Dominar Rygel XVI met my ears, and I could feel the effort to maintain the smile tug at my temples. Crais was there as well, and he looked over at my entrance, smiling in rueful amusement - apparently at the Dominar's show of temper.

"C'mon, Sparky," Crichton protested. "I've been on my feet for three days straight. Can't you get someone else-?"

"Someone else did not get me in the middle of a pitched battle with a bunch of planet-bound ruffians," Rygel countered. "My thronesled has not been working properly since we returned to Moya, and I demand you fix it."

"Okay. My shift is over in a couple of arns, and-"

"Crichton, I refuse to walk around Moya another microt. Either you help me now, or I will simply wait here and keep you company until you're ready to do so."

Crichton threw up his hands in surrender. "Oh, God. Anything but that. Okay, Speed, you got me. Where's the Mach 5?"

Crais cleared his throat. "We left it down in the maintenance bay. I... carried Dominar Rygel up here. I'm afraid you'll have to carry him back."

Crichton rubbed a hand over his face, then looked up, taking notice of my presence with a smile. "Hey, Jena."

"John." I smiled back. "Is this a bad time? I thought perhaps we could access your star charts..."

He hesitated, uncertain, then cast a glance at Crais, who nodded. "I can take care of it. Will you rejoin us when you have finished with Rygel?"

Crichton sighed. "Sure, Crais. Sounds good. You know navigation better than I do, anyway. C'mon, Sparky." He lifted Rygel to his shoulders, gave me a helpless shrug, and was gone.

The timing of it all seemed just too convenient. If I didn't know that Pilots were simply mindless servicers, I would have thought he'd sent them here to prevent our meeting alone. I turned back to Crais to find him watching me with that same careful, speculative expression.

"Yes?"

He smiled, a gracious, dignified smile that made my skin itch. I had to give him credit, from one who had affected more than her share of guises and facades in her life: he was hard to read. "Pilot, please prepare star charts for Disruptor Chatto's perusal."

I moved forward, watching him carefully. "Please, call me Jenavian. After all, there's no reason to call you Captain anymore, and we might as well be on equal terms."

His mouth quirked downward. That had stung. But he didn't take issue with it. "Your assignment on Tendaris... was interrupted?"

"Yes." I knew that wasn't what he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask what my assignment was. "Unfortunately, running into old friends can sometimes be an inconvenience in my line of work."

"Forgive me, Jenavian. But they do not seem to regard you as a friend. With the exception, of course, of Crichton."

"Yes." My smile, I knew, was self-satisfied, enigmatic. "John."

Crais' eyes narrowed. "Your interest in Crichton-"

"Is my own affair." At his frown, I smiled. "Forgive me, Crais, but I find it strange that you, of all people, would be so protective of him."

"The universe is a strange place," he answered smoothly. "I have been charged to... look after these people." His lips quirked into a smile, amused at some private joke. "It is even stranger than you realize that the request that I do so encompasses Crichton as well."

"Do you find it difficult to believe that my motives are just what they appear to be? That a woman could find him attractive?" A quick frown. He didn't like that. I wondered - but that would wait. I needed to be careful here.

"I find it difficult to believe that someone in your position would risk everything for the sake of one rather unorthodox individual."

"Careers have been lost over John Crichton before this."

Was that a flicker of anger? "I do not believe that you are the type to sacrifice your duty in an act of passion."

"So you are not a romantic?"

"I was a Peacekeeper Captain. Whatever else I am, I am not stupid." He moved closer, evaluating. "Your interest in Crichton is beyond personal."

He wasn't going to let it drop. So... fall back, shift ground. I shrugged. "So you're not stupid."

He raised his chin. "You thought that Crichton might know what happened at DamDaBa. Which means that this is, of course, about wormholes."

"Of course."

Crais smiled, obviously satisfied at my apparent concession. "You must know that Crichton will never help the Peacekeepers."

"And whose fault is that, Captain Crais?" I snapped, showing quick anger, shifting the grounds of the discussion, taking him by surprise. "With your insane vendetta, you made John into our enemy. He was mishandled from the microt you had him in your custody, when it would have taken so little to have won him to our side. We would have wormhole technology by now, and the Scarrans would never be able to threaten us or our kind again. Think of that before you start casting aspersions my way."

Crais had recovered himself, was again regarding me with calm appraisal. "You obviously are not as well informed as you believe regarding Crichton's personal history." That stung, and I cast about for my mistake. What had I missed? But he'd already moved to the attack. "So, you lied when you said your research was for personal reasons."

"I didn't lie. I find Crichton very intriguing, and extremely attractive." I twisted that knife a little further. I knew it bothered him to hear it, and if he thought of me as a weak female influenced unduly by her hormones, well, that was all to my advantage.

"And yet you seem well informed as to his value to Command."

I regarded him. I knew that Command had their own source of information regarding the Leviathan's movements, just as they had their own source of information as to what Scorpius was up to. Unfortunately, they hadn't seen fit to share the identity of that source with me. Crais was a good candidate - his departure from the Peacekeepers had been swift and unprecedented; I was unsure how much he had been working against Scorpius at the time of his defection, and how much had been staged. And as hard as it was for him to believe that a Disruptor would risk losing her position for the sake of one lone human, how much greater was the loss to the Captain of a Command Carrier? And yet... the man was an enigma.

Not sure of where he stood, and very sure that my words were being recorded by the ship's Pilot, there was only one way to play this. "Yes, I am very well aware of John's importance. I wonder if you are? For all the latitude that Scorpius has been given, John Crichton is still the primary source of data regarding wormholes." I took a step closer, lowering my voice to urgency. "War is coming, Crais, sooner that you might imagine. If the half-breed fails, we will need Crichton's aid."

"And you believe that he might choose to help us?"

Us. Interesting. A slip, or a feint? "We can offer him sanctuary, we can offer him security. There are benefits to his aiding us - for him and his companions."

"He will never trust Scorpius," he said. I felt a surge of annoyance at his patronizing tone. As if I would imagine that Crichton ever would.

"No. John would probably allow himself to be destroyed before making a choice between the Scarrans and Scorpius. But if the choice is between-"

"The Scarrans and you?" He seemed amused.

I laid a hand on his arm, urging his understanding. "I'm not trying to hurt him, Crais. I value John, more than I can tell you. If my orders called for me to harm him in any way, I... I don't know if I would be able to carry them out. But fortunately, what's right for John is right for me. Is right for the Peacekeepers. I'm only trying to save my people - our people. The alternative is to let the Scarrans destroy us. What if..." I let my voice falter in apparent fear, then pressed on, "what if that dreadnaught that disappeared was part of a wormhole experiment? What if the Scarrans are that close to mastering a wormhole weapon? You don't really think that they'd stop with the Uncharted Territories, do you?"

Crais' face was thoughtful. "If the stakes are that high, why not turn Crichton over to Scorpius now?"

"Because Crichton would destroy himself before he surrendered to Scorpius, and the information would be lost forever. And do you really think that every last drop of information we have about wormholes belongs in the hands of one individual - whose motives are questionable?"

"Scorpius is not trusted?" The expression in Crais' eyes was easy to read, for once. Satisfaction.

"Scorpius is half-Scarran. That makes him, by definition, suspect. And for all the opportunities he's been given, he has failed, while the Scarrans move ahead in their research. Do you really think that we should assume that's simply a coincidence? But Scorpius has too many connections within High Command, too many people who are too afraid of him. And-"

"Special Directorate is circumventing Command," he said, with a quiet wonder in his voice. "Or is it just you?"

I raised my chin. "Scorpius is the traitor here, Crais. But while Special Directorate has latitude, we can't move against him until he fails, or we can prove his treachery beyond question, so that his sponsors in the high levels of command see the truth. And until Scorpius falls, Crichton is vulnerable."

Crais was silent, considering my words. What I said made sense.

The door to command swung open, and I took a quick step back, away from Crais, as Crichton entered. "Turns out wasn't much of a problem after all. Sparky was exaggerating, as usual. How we comin' on those star charts?"

Crais turned back to the console, and said nothing.

It would soon be over, I told myself as the transport pod set down on solid ground. Here was where we would part company. For the time being, anyway. They were here for supplies; I was here to stay.

"Do you know this planet?" D'Argo asked.

Chilbrea, my mind supplied. A trading outpost, not as sophisticated as the usual commerce planet. Most of the merchants here were farmers, and didn't have many dealings with the outer systems.

"Never seen it before," I answered mildly. "Doesn't look like much, does it?"

Of course it didn't - that was the idea. Chilbrea was part of the underground, a stop on the drug route. Of course, who knew the status of that at the moment? F'Tor's operation had been systems away, but the whole network was hopelessly intertwined. I'd been in the midst of preparations for that assignment when I received word that my services would not be required, and I was reassigned to Tendaris. The crew of Moya had done me a favor - the man had been odious, and I hadn't been looking forward to that particular job - but Command was incensed. A power struggle among the drug lords, causing more uncertainty and undeclared loyalties, was the last thing they needed right now.

And there were Peacekeepers here. Not a full-fledged base - it was too remote for that, but a small outpost. Once Moya's crew had departed, I would present myself to the officer in charge and contact my superiors. File my report and wait for further orders. With my luck, they'd tell me to stay right where I was and sort out the mess with the drug lords.

When we reached the center of the town, we split, according to plan. Crais and Aeryn headed off... somewhere. Wherever it was, I wasn't privy to their plans. Not surprising. Crichton sent them on their way with words of caution. "Hey, guys, keep your heads down and your eyes open," he advised. "Be careful."

Aeryn merely nodded; Crais gave him a tight smile. "We will, Crichton." Then he glanced my way. "You should be careful, as well."

I was curious, of course. But there was no way to follow them, not when I needed to stick close to Crichton until he was safely on his way off planet. Whatever happened to the rest of them, it was too soon for Crichton to be taken into custody. If he were taken now, he'd be turned over to Scorpius, which would benefit no one - no one except Scorpius.

So, I let them go, and remained close to Crichton. There were certainly worse assignments. I knew - I'd had them. Clavor, J'atris, the narrowly avoided F'Tor... all things considered, an afternoon stroll with a man that I actually found attractive was something to enjoy while it lasted.

We had stopped in front of a shop selling intoxicants, and Crichton and D'Argo were arguing good-naturedly about how much and what kind they needed - Crichton seemed less than enamored of D'Argo's choice, calling it a cross between Yoo-Hoo and Tang, whatever that meant - when Chiana swayed, gripped Crichton's arm. "Frell!"

Both men immediately fell silent. "Chiana?" D'Argo ventured. "What is it?"

She looked up at him, her eyes frightened. "Pulse blasts. Did you hear it?" The men exchanged a look.

I shook my head. "I didn't hear anything."

They ignored me. D'Argo's hand was immediately on his blade; Crichton grasped Chiana's arms gently but firmly. "Was it us, Pip?"

What in hezmana?

"No. In the square."

That was enough. Crichton and D'Argo were moving, Chiana right behind them. I stood for a moment, thoroughly confused. I had heard nothing.

But I set off after them. After all, I couldn't let Crichton wander into a pitched battle, even an imaginary one.

I couldn't believe I'd just thought that. I'd definitely been on Moya too long.

We reached the marketplace without incident; as I suspected, it was quiet. The wide, four-sided plaza lay at the center of a labyrinth of small, winding streets - it was here that vendors from all over the city gathered each morning to sell their wares. But now, in the late afternoon, most of the vendors had closed up their stalls and gone. Except for a few half-packed piles of merchandise and a few merchants who had apparently spent what they'd earned on intoxicants, the square seemed deserted.

Sun and Crais were across the square; when they saw us, they headed in our direction, weaving their way through the empty stalls. Crichton moved forward, out of the narrow alley, Chiana close on his heels.

I hung back, peering out from the shadows of the buildings, scanning the square, looking for trouble. I found it before Crichton had taken five steps into the open marketplace. A group of Peacekeepers, lingering outside one of the drinking establishments that lined the square to our right. I saw one of them notice him, frown slightly - and then the frown faded into astonishment in a clear sign of recognition.

I didn't need more than that, only moved forward, reaching for Crichton, only to be stopped, held back by D'Argo. "What do you-?"

"He's been seen," I hissed. "Peacekeepers!"

His eyes widened, and he turned. Too late. The man I'd seen had his weapon out, was aiming at Crichton. Aeryn Sun had seen the danger as well, was already drawing her pulse pistol. "Crichton! Down!"

Everything exploded then. Crichton ducked, came up with his pistol in his hand; Sun fired, taking the Peacekeeper in the shoulder, knocking him back, sending his shot wild. Ahead of me, Chiana cried out, crumpled to the ground. Crichton moved to her side, still dangerously exposed. A pulse blast hit the ground near where Crichton and Chiana were huddled; Crichton's return shot missed.

The other soldiers had scattered, taking up positions in the alleyways around the square, and were all armed. Luckily, they were also all half drunk. Sun and Crais tried to move forward, only to have heavy pulse fire send them scurrying back to seek shelter by one of the deserted market stalls. Trapped, near the center of the square, in the worst possible position. At least it wasn't open ground.

D'Argo had his Qualta Blade out, and was moving forward.

"D'Argo!" I shouted. "I need-"

He snarled at me. "Stay out of this!"

"I need a weapon!"

He turned and fired, taking me by surprise. The blast from his Qualta Blade passed over my shoulder as I rolled and came up on my feet in one smooth motion. I was furious, didn't bother to hide it. "What the frell?!"

"You need a weapon?" D'Argo asked. "Take his."

Behind me was the crumpled form of a Peacekeeper. He'd gotten close. Too close. I threw the Luxan a fierce grin and moved quickly to strip the body of his weapons.

But even as I reached D'Argo's side, I knew backup was on its way. And even if they were substandard, back-planet troops, they had two advantages. There were too many of them, and they knew the ground too well.

D'Argo and I provided covering fire while Crichton brought Chiana back to the relative safety of the alley. As they ducked back between the buildings, the peacekeepers in the square turned their attention to Sun and Crais.

Beside me, Crichton was swearing steadily, incoherently. "Goddamn Cassandra complex, magic fucking eight ball, vision quest load of crap..."

Two choices. Make my allegiance to the Peacekeepers clear, and undo all the progress I'd made with Crichton and his friends. Or, stick by the fugitives, consolidate my position with them even further - and risk getting shot by my own people. A risk that increased the longer we stayed where we were.

Sun and Crais couldn't last much longer. Once they were taken care of, the soldiers would target us. And we'd be done for.

"We have to fall back!" Crichton didn't answer me, just kept firing. Stubborn man. "John, our position can't hold. They'll already be circling around to take us from behind."

Luckily, D'Argo agreed with me. "John, we have to retreat!"

"No!" Crichton protested. D'Argo grasped his arm, but Crichton wrenched himself free. "Not without Aeryn!"

"We're out of time!" I snapped. And it was true. In the square, Crais was down. Unconscious or dead, I couldn't tell. Sun was surrounded by soldiers, weaponless.

Not entirely weaponless, it turned out.

"Jenavian Chatto!" Her voice carried clearly across the compound. "Get Crichton to safety! I know I can trust you-" The Peacekeeper behind her swung his pulse pistol down, catching her in the side of the head - a moment later, she was sprawled out next to Crais.

Frell. I pushed down the sudden, fierce anger. I couldn't afford the distraction. "John!" I urged again, "D'Argo's right, we have to get out of here!"

"But..." he shook his head sharply, as if trying to clear it, and muttered, "Don't you start..."

"Don't argue!" I snapped between pulse blasts. "We can help them. But if we're captured, we're all dead!"

That got through to him, and he nodded once. His expression was again tight, contained, showing no sign of his momentary lapse. "Where?"

I held up a smoke grenade I'd snagged from the fallen soldier. "When this goes off. Back up the alley. Let me take the lead. Don't get separated."

"Jena-"

"Trust me, John. Please."

He hesitated a moment longer, his expression strangely distracted, then nodded.

The retreat worked well; under the cover of the smoke grenade, I led them down the narrow, twisting passageways, taking one turn after another.

Our sanctuary was a shuttered shop, far from the marketplace; I chose it for the relatively small size of the windows and the merchandise on offer. Carnathian prencilk wraps and drannit pelts were pricey enough that the owner probably sold to criminals, rather than acted as a front for them, so the place would be deserted after hours. The lock was an easy pick, and we were inside and barricaded in within 40 microts.

"Smooth work," Chiana commented. I threw her an amused glance.

"Coming from you, that's quite a compliment," I answered, and she laughed, only to have the laugh hitch over pain.

"Easy, Pip." Crichton had already pulled down a stack of the merchandise for a makeshift bed. D'Argo laid Chiana down on the soft pile, and Crichton knelt, examining the wound in her side. "How you doing?"

"Just fine. It's not bad."

"Okay," he said, turning to me and D'Argo. "We need to get Chiana back to Moya, and get Aeryn and Crais out of there. Any ideas?"

"John," D'Argo began, "You heard what Aeryn said-"

"Yeah, I heard her," Crichton spat. "And she's out of her frelling mind! I don't care if she isn't talking to me - she cannot seriously think I'm going to-"

D'Argo merely smiled patiently, shook his head. "No, she knows better. But what she has done is ensure that you will not go alone."

I was surprised at his perception. Crichton frowned, confused. I nearly laughed. Chiana was right. Men are stupid. But Aeryn Sun? Aeryn was smart.

She'd trapped me neatly. No getting around it. She knew Crichton would go in after her and Crais, and knew she couldn't prevent it. But now - now I had to go in with him. By naming Crichton, she hadn't given them anything that they didn't know already. She hadn't given them anything. Except me.

Oh, I could tell Command that I was just playing along and pretending to be an ally to the fugitives. Dance the line between what Command had ordered and what my division had instructed and try to satisfy them both. But she'd made it clear that she could and would tell her interrogators anything regarding me, anything at all. She could dig me a hole so deep that Command would never believe my protestations of duty, of loyalty. They'd add my name to the list after Aeryn Sun and Gilina Renaez, and my life as a Peacekeeper would be over.

But the beauty of Aeryn's maneuver was that it didn't matter. Even if I thought that Command would believe me, I had to act as if I didn't; otherwise, Crichton would know that I wasn't crossing lines to help him. I was hemmed in completely by the role I was playing. If I wanted to keep Crichton and the others believing that I was an ally, I had to maintain the illusion that the alliance put me at risk.

Crichton and D'Argo were looking at me, and I pulled myself together. D'Argo's smug expression was annoying; Crichton's uncertainty was more troubling. I couldn't have him uncertain about me. "Of course I'll help you, John," I said reassuringly. "We'll get them out." I closed my eyes briefly, thinking fast. "We should wait until dark. It's only a few arns-"

"A few arns and they could be dead," D'Argo protested.

"No," I countered. "They won't kill them. Not while there are still others out here to capture. They'll interrogate them, but nothing more."

"That's enough," Crichton snapped. "I'm not going to let them be tortured-"

"There's nothing you can do about it, John," I interrupted sharply, then laid a comforting hand on his arm. "If you go in now, unprepared, you'll be captured. And then they'll be killed, and you'll be sent to Scorpius. But do this right, and you can still save their lives."

Crichton turned away, and I saw D'Argo's face change. "It wasn't your fault, John."

"The hell it wasn't," Crichton answered back. "They recognized me, D'Argo. Me. Which means I got the inside scoop about trouble just in time to go and cause it. What kind of fucked-up Yuri Geller crap is that?"

"John-" Chiana began, but Crichton cut her off.

"Details, Chiana," he snapped. "Next time, I need details, or don't bother."

Chiana sucked in her breath, and Crichton's shoulders slumped. "Sorry, Pip. It's just... Okay. Just nothing. I'm a jerk."

"John..." D'Argo darted a nervous glance at me, then sighed. "We were supposed to meet them there in another quarter arn anyway. And those Peacekeepers weren't going anywhere. It would have changed nothing."

"You don't know that."

"I don't have to."

I was frowning, looking for some foothold of meaning, when Crichton took a deep breath and turned back to me. "Okay. I'm listening."

"Good. Our only chance to get them out is to go in under cover of darkness. They'll be all right." I sighed. "They won't interrogate them yet. They'll be put in a holding cell, held securely while the majority of the personnel search the town for us. Right now, we're in more danger than they are."

He didn't like it, but he was listening. I kept talking, voice quiet, firm. "D'Argo, you should take Chiana back to the transport pod, back to Moya."

"I will not leave Crichton," the Luxan protested.

What he meant was that he wouldn't leave Crichton with me, but Crichton sighed, shook his head. "Jena's right, D. We're going to be sneaking into a PK base, and as far as sore thumbs go, you're a doozy. Chiana can't walk back, and she can't stay here."

D'Argo growled, but had to accept it. "I will come back to retrieve you-"

"No," I disagreed. "They'll have locked down the transport areas - you'll never get clearance to land. We can find a ship ourselves. That will be the easy part."

"Okay," Crichton said. "We'll get you back to the pod-"

"No, John," D'Argo said reluctantly. I knew what he was going to say, could tell how much he hated it. "You should remain in concealment. If we travel together, it increases our chances of being discovered."

"Expecting trouble, Big Guy?" Crichton asked, his mouth twisting into a smile.

"Not on my behalf," D'Argo responded, looking at me. "If you betray him, Peacekeeper-"

"Relax, D'Argo. She's not going to-"

"Are you certain, John? This whole situation might have been avoided if she had told us about the base here."

"I didn't know!" I protested.

"I find that difficult to believe."

"It's not exactly a base, Luxan. More like a... backwater outpost. I can't be expected to keep track of every Peacekeeper in the Uncharted Territories." He didn't look convinced. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do. I was counting on staying on this planet. I can't, now. I'm stuck with you until the next commerce planet, and you're stuck with me, so you'd better get used to the idea."

D'Argo snarled, but turned away. Chiana was staring at me, her expression calm. I stared back, and she smiled suddenly. "Here." She detached her comm badge from the front of her coat, tossed it to me. "In case you get separated. I have a feeling you will."

Crichton opened the door, peered out. "All right, looks clear. I'll see you guys back on Moya."

"You make sure you do, Old Man," Chiana said with a wan smile as D'Argo scooped her up easily into his arms. Crichton grinned, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, and closed the door behind them. Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and moved back over to his position against the wall.

I eyed him calmly. "They'll be all right, John."

He smiled tightly. "I know. It's a cakewalk. No problem."

"It's us we need to worry about." I didn't move to approach him. No need to startle him. "We need to think of a plan."

"Any bright ideas?"

"I'm a Disruptor," I reminded him with a smile. "I'm full of bright ideas."

He grinned suddenly. "I'll bet you are."

I slipped back into our safehouse to find a pulse pistol leveled at my head.

"Relax, John. It's me."

He holstered his pistol and handed me the flask of water. "So, what'd you find out?"

I'd managed to convince him to stay put while I scouted out the area. He hadn't liked it, but he hadn't really had a choice. After all, it was his face that was known from the wanted beacons spread throughout the Uncharted Territories - and after what had happened in the market square, he had to accept that he'd be recognized. And although I was genuinely impressed that these fugitives were still alive after three cycles, I was an expert at this, and didn't want an amateur along on a recon mission. I'd move faster and more quietly alone, and he knew it.

I was also an expert at getting information out of people - in a variety of ways. One of which was the use of pain and the threat of more pain. I had what we needed, and Crichton was probably just as happy not to know how I'd gotten it. Amazing he'd survived this long.

"The compound is beyond the market square," I told him. "There's a common transport area on the other side of the compound - we can pick a ship up there, once we get them out. I had a look at the site - two buildings, standard PK design. That means they're a lot like the Gammack Base."

"Well, that's pretty convenient." He sounded skeptical.

"Peacekeepers ship out prepared components for our personnel to assemble and inhabit. It leads to a certain uniformity of design."

"Not big on supporting local craftsmen, huh?"

I looked at him in surprise. "Allow locals to construct our bases? The odds of sabotage would be overwhelming."

"Right. So we're looking at Gammack Mark Two here?"

"Hardly. This is a very limited presence. The upper shell will be two levels, most likely over a series of sublevels dug in underground, no telling how many until we're inside. One of the buildings is a storage facility, the other's the base. They'll be in the base."

"How do we get in?"

"I can break through the security codes. It shouldn't take me more than 60 microts, even if they're top level - and I don't think there's a chance of that."

"And once we're in?"

Under the circumstances, it was the best we could come up with. A simple classic loud diversion to draw off most of the base personnel, then a fast infiltration. Not much of a plan, but as much of a plan as we could invent, given the limited time and information we had. One recon mission, little inside information, no enemy count, no support. No preparation. Not my favorite kind of situation. But if we went in quiet, and fast, we'd be able to handle it.

Crichton responded well to my guidance, and was listening to me, despite D'Argo's open distrust. Time, perhaps, to consolidate our relationship a little more? I can't say I was displeased at the prospect. After Clavor, and J'atris, and the others like them - who could begrudge me an assignment that I actually enjoyed?

"Nothing to do now but wait," he said, sighing and running a hand through his hair.

"Nothing?" I asked, moving to kneel in front of where he was crouched against the door.

He smiled uncomfortably. "Jena..."

"We have at least an arn before we can move from this place. We might as well use it constructively."

"I would think a nap would be constructive."

"So would taking off the edge. Working off some nervous energy that might make us frell up. Clearing our heads."

"It isn't a good idea."

"Oh?" I leaned forward, placing my hands squarely on his knees. "It's been known to work before."

He shook his head slightly. "Look, Jena, it's not that I'm not tempted-"

"Tempted?" I laughed, low in my throat, the husky sound that I knew worked on men of many species. I saw the sudden warmth in his eyes, knew it worked on him, too. "I'd say more than tempted." I moved my hands higher, curving them downward, running them across his inner thighs. I didn't miss the heavy flicker of his eyelids, the slightest gasp of indrawn breath. I smiled lazily. "How long has it been, John? Since someone touched you like this?" I ducked my head in, close. "Don't tell me that I was your last?"

"Jena, stop this-"

I didn't. "Is this about Aeryn?"

"You could... could say that. She's in a cell right now, Jena, and even if she wasn't-"

"It didn't stop you before." My hands were still moving, kneading, teasing. I was fully aware of how good I was at this. I'd been trained to be good, after all.

"We were... unsettled before. Things weren't... um... decided." He was having a hard time concentrating, I could tell, and I felt a twinge of triumph. Just a little bit more...

I breathed a laugh against his neck. "And things are decided now?" One hand continued its progression on his thigh, the other went to the side of his face, fingers at his neck, at that spot right below his ear...

His eyes closed, head tilted into my hand as if I'd pressed a mechanical control. But he was still arguing. "Things are... complicated."

"More complicated than they were on the Royal Planet?" Small fingers under the ear, thumb stretching down to caress the hollow at the base of his throat. Stroke lightly, feel the throbbing of blood under the skin, judge his reaction by how quick the pulses were. Fluttering, fast. That's it, Crichton...

He swallowed with difficulty and laughed, a lovely, rueful laugh. "As hard as it might be to believe? Yeah. Makes the Royal Planet look like Connect-the-Dots."

"Well, this isn't complicated. This is very uncomplicated. Just what we both need. Don't you want something simple? Something that's exactly what it seems to be? Something you don't have to figure out?" I moved forward, closed the last whisper of distance. His mouth was sweet, strong, supple... this was familiar. Simple. Comfortable. I was right. This was exactly what we needed. And he responded, in that way he had of going from soft to passionate, yielding to aggressive in the space between breaths. One hand went to my hip to pull me hard against him, the other to the back of my neck, fingers twisting in my hair. I remembered this...

He leaned back slightly, gasping for air. "Oh, god, what am I-?"

I didn't give him a chance to pull away, following, lips finding his neck, just below the jawline. Just where I knew he liked it, working my way across his throat to that sensitive spot under his ear. It wasn't fair of me, I knew it. I knew that he was a skilled and enthusiastic lover, that he enjoyed sex. Well, so did I. It didn't have to be any more complicated than that. And he'd been denied too long. Easy prey for someone who knew what they were doing, who was also skilled and enthusiastic. I felt a shiver of excitement, a warmth spreading through me as his tongue traced the curve of my upper lip. Oh, yes, I definitely remembered this.

My hands pulled at his shirt, slid underneath to touch bare skin, warm and soft. He jolted, as if hit by an electric shock, then groaned and moved quickly to grasp my wrists, hold them immobile. He rested his forehead against mine for a long moment, taking gulping breaths, collecting himself.

"Man," he said, his voice husky, unsteady, "I can just hear every guy I've ever met in my entire life calling me an idiot." He took another deep breath, pulled back and looked at me. "Jena, this is not gonna happen."

I stared at him for a long moment, evaluating. He meant it. I was having a hard time breathing myself, for some reason. "John-"

"I'm sorry," he said, looking genuinely contrite. "I should have stopped this sooner. I didn't mean to-"

"To what? Lead me on?" I grinned. "I'm a big girl. I'll get over it."

But I couldn't help the curl of disappointment in my belly. The scent of his skin, the taste of him, had brought back delightful memories. That he would pull away - I hadn't expected it. It stung my pride - although I did take a certain satisfaction at the fact that his face was flushed, his breath uneven, his grip on my wrists somewhat desperate. To restrain me, or himself, or a bit of each - either way, it was obvious that pulling away had cost him.

Good. I'd hate for it to be easy for him.

For a moment, I was tempted to push it, to pursue him. I had no doubt that his memory was as sharp as mine. Given time and space and the luxury to draw him in, I could have done it. But with the situation as it was, with a deadline looming, he'd be just as likely to hold out. And I don't beg for any man.

"So," I said, leaning back. "What was the second choice? A nap?"

He grinned self-consciously. "Yeah. I'll take watch, if you-"

I shook my head. "You sleep, I'll watch. After all, you need it more than I do." I said it with a deliberate twist of my lips, knowing that he'd understand the double meaning to my words.

He chuckled ruefully, shook his head. "I certainly won't argue with you on that one, Jena." He leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes. But only for a microt. He grinned. "I've got a better idea. What say you give me a crash course on penetrating PK security codes? It might come in handy for what's ahead of us."

The explosion was a nice one, if I do say so myself. I circumvented the security codes to the storage unit in a mere 45 microts; once inside, we relieved a pair of soldiers of their weapons to use as triggers. Crichton probably would have protested if he'd realized that while he was scouting the lower level for a suitable ignition point, I'd made sure that the soldiers wouldn't wake up to raise the alarm. But he didn't realize, and I wasn't going to mention it. I couldn't afford to leave witnesses behind, and we didn't have time for an argument.

We distributed the oil cartridges evenly between us. The pulse rifles and additional pistols, we set to overload and left wedged between two barrels of k'thenic oil.

Under cover of the resulting fire, we made our way to the main building. Once there, we split up. To cover more ground, I said, and he believed me. But there was too much that I needed to accomplish. Our priorities here were decidedly different - had been, from the moment Aeryn Sun shouted my name across the central square.

I had to be sure, after all. I was good at talking my way out of things, and Peacekeeper Command might take my word over that of a defector - they probably would. But given John Crichton's history of corrupting Peacekeepers - hezmana, even Crais seemed to be working with him now - I couldn't afford to take the chance that they wouldn't. And if High Command decided I was a traitor, my superiors in Special Directorate couldn't save me.

Of course, if we'd stuck together, what happened next wouldn't have happened at all.

While Crichton worked his way through the upper levels, I headed down. Stopped by the armory, took out the two guards there, grabbed the equipment I'd need. Had another few stops planned, too. I expected that Crichton would be the one to discover the prisoners, that he would be the one to comm me and tell me that they were ready to get the frell out of there.

Instead, I rounded the corner to a corridor that should have been deserted, and ran into two guards posted where they shouldn't have been. I recovered first, taking them both out quickly and silently. Then, I made a mistake and looked through the window of the door they'd been guarding.

Sun and Crais were nearly unconscious on the floor of the cell. Their faces were pale, except for patches of garish red high on their cheeks. Their hair was pasted to their brows by a sheen of sweat.

What was happening was obvious, and I didn't bother to smother my obscenity.

The situation had once again been taken out of my hands; I was starting to wonder if I'd ever actually been in control at all since leaving Tendaris. My freedom was at an end. I kicked one of the guards out of annoyance and frustration, not that he'd ever wake up to feel the bruise, then hit my comm, twice. The pre-arranged signal, to alert him but not call attention to him. If he could talk, he would.

"Yeah, Jena?"

"I've found them. Bottom level, third corridor. Hurry."

"On my way. Stay there."

Frell.

I looked through the door at them. The air in the room seemed to shimmer, and I calculated the time elapsed since they'd been taken. I couldn't wait for Crichton. Besides, with the guards dead, it was just a matter of time before someone stumbled across them. I was committed to this now.

As I keyed the door open, the heat hit me like a physical blow. I took a step back, braced myself. I could get them out before the heat took hold. But I'd have to do it quickly. I blew out my breath, and stepped into the room.

Hands grabbed me before I was halfway through the door, grabbed me, pulled me inward, threw me down. I rolled, came up on my feet, hand reaching for the holster at my thigh that I already knew would be empty - one of my attackers was holding my pulse pistol, a mocking grin on his face. Only two of them. I could take two, easily. I pushed down my rising alarm. Only two of them, yes. But they were wearing environmental suits. And they were between me and the door.

That just meant that I had to do this fast.

I went on the attack, swinging hard, catching the first in the throat, knocking the pistol down and away. He staggered back, barely keeping his feet. The other was already moving, and I spun, bringing my elbow up under what should have been his ribcage. My spin was off, though, sluggish, and instead I only caught him in the side. A painful blow, but not the one that would rob him of breath and keep him out of the fight for a precious few microts.

My arms were too heavy. The heat was getting to me. Already. I had to get out... I shouldered one of the guards out of the way, lunged for the door, gasping for breath. He caught me around the waist with insulting ease, hurled me back into the room. Back into the heat.

"So," he said, his grin visible behind his faceplate. "You'd be the one she called, what was it? Jenavian?"

I glared up at him. "Never heard of her."

The man sneered. "Right. You're a pretty bit, you are."

I felt the beginnings of pain clutch at my stomach muscles, but didn't let it show, only crouched where I was and grinned fiercely at him. "Take off that helmet, and I'll see if I can't make this interesting for you."

He actually laughed. "Can't say I'm not tempted, but I think I'll keep this right where it is."

I felt it, prickling along my spine, creeping through my skin. Heat. Too much heat. I had to do something. Quickly. I straightened. I was better than this. I could take down two second-rate Peacekeeper grunts on some substandard duty station.

But as I rose, the room seemed to tilt, and I staggered, catching myself against the wall. I could hear them laughing, shut it out. There were ways to fight off heat delirium, tricks they teach those who have only themselves to rely on. I just had to concentrate. They wouldn't prevent it, only delay it, delay the loss of control, slow the inevitable advance and give me a chance to get clear of it.

The guards had resumed their stations on either side of the door, were watching me, their expressions amused. How could they be enjoying this? That any Sebacean could enjoy watching another succumb to the Living Death...

I fell to all fours, panting against the heat.

I groaned, concentrated on my breathing, on my focus, on finding a center point. Find your center, I reminded myself fiercely. Concentrate on that.

If I died like this, they'd think I was a traitor. My duty, everything I'd fought for, would have been for nothing. I had so much more to do. How many people would die in the coming war if I didn't act to prevent it, delay it? I had to get through this, and I had to preserve my position.

Crais was muttering, curled in upon himself. I could hear Talyn's name, couldn't distinguish anything else.

Sun was shuddering, eyes closed tightly.

Strangely, she was smiling.

Time passed, I'm not sure how much, while I concentrated on one breath after another - and then I heard shots fired, hurried footsteps. Cool air on my skin told me that the door was open. I cracked my eyes open painfully, looked up into a blessedly familiar face, eyes blue and beautiful and concerned. I smiled. A genuine, grateful smile.

"John."

"Hey, Jena," he said, smiling back at me. "Just hold tight a little longer, okay? I'm gonna get you out of here. I promise."

I nodded, took a deep breath, feeling the hot air sear my lungs, reached for him to pull me up. But he was gone. I watched as he crossed the room, gathered Aeryn Sun into his arms. Her head rolled back, her arms dangled loose, uncontrolled. His soft whisper barely penetrated my heat-dazed mind. "Come on, Aeryn, honey, I'll get you out of this. It'll be all right. Give me something here. Just hold onto me, baby, I won't let go." After a moment, she leaned her head into his chest, curled one hand up to grasp the back of his neck, the other gripping his forearm tightly. Something sharp, hollow, tugged at me as I watched him carry her through the door, to safety, still murmuring comforting nonsense against her hair.

I knew I was safe now, I knew I could last until he came back for me.

That was the point, wasn't it? But still, memories of his voice as he spoke to her, tender, gentle, sweet like drenath syrup, followed me into sleep, leaving me strangely bitter.

Consciousness returned in a rush, and I opened my eyes against the light, groaned at the pain I felt. No permanent damage, I knew, but the convulsions had left me stiff and sore.

"Hey, Jena. How you feeling?"

I pulled myself to a sitting position. Crichton was sitting across the room, near where Sun was slumped against the wall, her eyes closed. Near, but not touching. The color was still high in her face, her damp hair pasted to her cheeks.

"Where are we?"

"Still in the compound. Some sort of glorified broom closet. I think."

Crais was stretched out on the floor between us, an arm thrown over his face. I cast him a glance, looked back at Crichton. "Is he-?"

"He'll be all right. They were exposed to it longer than you were."

I grunted, stretched up to rub the stiff muscles of my neck. Crichton moved to my side, handed me a flask of water, which I sipped carefully. It tasted good - too good. The temptation to gulp it all down at once was almost overwhelming. But I knew the aftereffects of that - severe stomach cramping that would make my sore muscles seem like nothing. So I sipped carefully.

I didn't ask if he'd left me there while he'd fetched Crais, or whether I'd taken precedence over his former enemy. Instead I took a deep breath, handed the flask back to him, and pushed back against the wall, gaining my feet, wobbling there for a few moments. His hand was under my arm, supporting me.

"Easy. Just sit for a while-"

"No time," I said. "I've got to get back there."

"What?" He was surprised. "Why?"

"They had surveillance cameras," I said. "I've got to destroy the recordings."

"You can't be..." He blew out his breath. "Let it go, Jena. Walking back in-"

"Let it go?" What was he thinking? I straightened, too tired to hide my disbelief. "I've taken enough risks here. If they identify me as collaborating with deserters and fugitives, I'm finished as a Disruptor."

He merely looked at me, his gaze earnest and level. "Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing."

I couldn't help it. I gaped at him. Mouth open, eyes wide. I must have looked like a kentris lizard.

"You're not serious."

"Why not?" he asked. "Jena, haven't you ever wanted..."

"What? Wanted what?"

"More." That was from Sun, who had opened her eyes and was watching us. For the first time, her voice wasn't flat, wasn't angry. It was soft, searching. "Haven't you ever wanted something more?"

I looked at them both, struggling to understand. They were both fahrbot, surely. "More?" I finally managed, not bothering to hide my disdain. "People rely on me to do what I do. I love what I do. I'm not some mindless grunt, following orders. What I do is important, it makes a difference. I make a difference. What more is there?"

Crichton's eyes were steady, calm, as he looked at me with an expression that I found strangely unnerving. Finally he nodded in acceptance and stepped back, releasing my arm.

I moved quickly, efficiently. I went to the cell where we'd been held, but only long enough to retrieve the supplies I'd pilfered from the armory, then moved on to finish the job I'd started before I'd been so shamefully distracted by Aeryn and Crais. No time to do this with subtlety, to make distinctions. I was done and at our rendezvous spot in the transport area in just outside a half an arn. No matter how completely I covered my tracks, I wasn't going to stay on this rock, not now. It would be safer to get away, meet up with another Peacekeeper base. I'd taken too many risks on this planet already.

Finding transport had been easy. Even in my still weakened state, the merchants were no match for me, and I had finished cleaning the blood from my wrist blade by the time they arrived. Sun was on her feet, walking without aid; Crais was leaning heavily on Crichton, limping from the leg wound he'd received in the square. "Get them in the transport," I ordered briskly. "You can pilot it?"

"Um..." Crichton cast an uncertain glance at the unfamiliar flight controls. "Do I have to?"

"You have to," I responded. "None of us are steady enough. Take us off the ground, but wait until I tell you to take us out of atmosphere. And hold us steady."

He deposited Crais in one of the seats, then moved to the flight controls as Sun buckled her former captain in safely. As the craft lifted off from the ground, I waited in the still-open doorway. When I was sure of our distance, I triggered the control.

The sequence of explosions rocked us; I could hear Crichton's exclamation of surprise before he steadied the craft. As we tilted back to level, I keyed the door shut.

"Now, take us up."

For a long moment, he didn't move. Didn't respond to my order, merely stared out of the viewscreen at the roiling fire and smoke below us. The explosion had consumed the Peacekeeper outpost; the resulting fire would spread into the town.

I pushed past Sun and Crais. What was wrong with him? Was he injured? "Crichton! Take us up!"

He turned to look at me, and I was startled by the expression in his eyes. Anger, tight, controlled. "Was that you, Jena?"

"I had to cover our tracks," I shrugged. "If anyone identified me..."

"There was no reason for it," he said, his voice low. "You destroyed the records, right?"

"I just did." His jaw set. I closed my eyes briefly, took a deep breath. I was trying very hard to be patient, but he wasn't making it easy. "There were guards. There were other soldiers. I didn't have time to stop every Peacekeeper in that building and ask each of them what they had or hadn't seen. I just couldn't take the chance." Why couldn't he understand this? The risks I had taken, the exposure - my remaining a Disruptor was to the benefit of all Sebaceans. In light of the coming war against the Scarrans, I had to measure the lives of a few backwater, second-rate ground troops against the good I could do.

"And the people in the town? The civilians?"

They wouldn't be missed, but I couldn't say that. I couldn't tell him that they were drug dealers, criminals. Not without admitting that I knew this planet, had known the base was here all along.

"To save your life, I can see," he continued. "God knows, I'm the last to judge on body counts-"

"John." Aeryn Sun's voice. He subsided, surprised. As was I. She was looking at him, and her eyes weren't cold, weren't distant. It was clear that she understood, even while I was completely confused by his attitude. Her eyes held understanding and sympathy. "Don't," she said, and her voice was gentle. "Not everyone wants to be saved."

The words hung in the cabin of the transport, inexplicable. Saved? Saved from what? Who the frell were they to think that I needed to be saved from anything? And that they were the ones to do it?

Whatever she meant, Crichton seemed to understand, and he grimaced, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "All right. Whatever." He didn't look at me. But he wasn't quite done. "I thought you were the one who didn't like to leave bodies lying around, Jena."

"I don't. People will start looking for a culprit. But such a coincidence - the famed renegade John Crichton was spotted in the market square today..." I trailed off, a teasing smile in my voice.

He shot me a glance that was anything but a smile. "Perfect. One more massacre they'll be laying at my doorstep."

"One more reason for you to do what I tell you to do and get us back to Moya and out of this system."

It was late in the ship's sleep cycle; a light sleeper by training, I'd been unable to rest. We were due at the next commerce planet in the early arns of the next solar day - this time, they'd send me down alone in the merchant's transport, not risking a landing themselves. My time on Moya was drawing to a close. Much to the relief of practically everyone on board.

Including myself, to be honest. Something had changed, down on Chilbrea, something that I couldn't quite identify. Crichton was still reserved; although I'd coaxed a smile out of him by complimenting him on how quickly he'd picked up what I'd taught him about security codes, and granting his request to teach him more. Technically, an act of disloyalty, but I judged the risk posed by arming one human with basic infiltration techniques to be minor compared to the goal I'd been set - gaining his confidence and trust. So I'd gained back some ground, but I've made a career out of reading the smallest signs to determine a situation, and I was sure of only one thing - that it was time to leave.

I had come to the hangar bay as part of a general exploration of the ship; of course, I would remember where things were, the location of the Pilot's den, the command center, the crew's quarters. My nighttime ramblings were done with my ever-present escort of DRDs; I accepted their presence without complaint, even summoning them playfully when I was ready to leave my quarters. I knew that the Pilot would be monitoring my movements through their eyes, reporting everything I did to D'Argo, presently on command.

For a brief moment, I had toyed with the idea of making my way to Crichton's quarters, slipping into bed with him - just for the fun of seeing what sort of shipwide emergency would call the entire crew to alert if I did so. It had finally fallen into place, and I was caught between annoyance and laughter. The situation was ludicrous. From the beginning, I now realized, they had acted in a coordinated effort to keep at least one body between myself and the human at all times. I wondered what they imagined might happen if they didn't? That I would stab him? Poison him? Frell him? I didn't know whether to be amused or flattered that they considered my mere proximity that dangerous.

I'd meant to pass by the hangar bay, but had stopped when Crichton's module caught my eye from the corridor. It looked so small, so insignificant. And yet, looks were deceiving - certainly I knew that better than anyone. For all of its unassuming appearance, this module and its pilot might yet tip the balance of power. No, the module wasn't insignificant - far, far from it.

As I stepped into the cavernous chamber, I sensed movement, and drew back into the doorway.

Aeryn Sun was there before me. The hangar bay was half shrouded in darkness, making it simple for me to stand, unobserved, and watch her.

She was dressed informally, in a pair of loose trousers and a sleeveless shirt; her hair was down, and her feet were bare. She was simply standing at the nose of the strange craft, her hands running slowly, almost unconsciously, across the surface of the module. I felt the strangest impulse to turn around and leave as silently as I had arrived, as if this was an intrusion that would benefit me nothing. There was something about the sight of her, alone in the dark with his ship, that made me feel hollow.

I took a step backward, and like a first-year trainee, tripped over one of the DRDs, who issued a squeal of protest. Aeryn Sun turned, all deadly grace and unshakable calm. I gave her an apologetic half-smile.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just-"

"Just what?" she interrupted. Her eyes were bored, her tone was disinterested. As if I didn't matter. I felt a surge of annoyance. Fine. I had been going to leave. But if she wanted to be difficult... I was up for a bit of entertainment.

"Looking for someone."

"Oh." She glanced at the module, back at me. "You could quite easily find him in his bed."

I hadn't expected that response. "A good suggestion. But... I was rather expecting to find him awake. I noticed he doesn't sleep very well. I don't know whether that's his normal pattern or not."

Something flickered in her eyes, and I decided to pursue it. "He doesn't eat very well, either."

She turned away. "Do you have a point to make?"

"Only that he doesn't seem very happy."

She didn't move. "No, I imagine he doesn't."

"Aeryn..." I made my voice hesitant, my words awkward. "I know what... what you must think of me. But the truth is... flirtation is one thing, but I don't want to step out of line. If you and John-"

She turned to face me. "That's none of your concern."

"I'll be honest with you. I find John," I paused before finding the right word, "interesting." More than a flicker, now. A wince. "If he is spoken for, I'll respect that. But if he isn't, I-"

"Crichton does enough speaking for himself," she answered shortly. "You should talk to him if you find him interesting."

I nodded, as if I understood, and smiled. "I had thought... I'm pleased to know that I was wrong." I turned as if to go, then hesitated, and turned back. "Actually, Aeryn, I have to admire your forbearance. To be in such close quarters for so long and not-"

She smiled, with a remarkable lack of amusement. "I'm stronger than I look."

"So it would seem," I smiled. "Still, the effect is a strong one, and difficult to resist."

She frowned. "I've been on ships with mixed crews before."

"No, no..." I interrupted, then tilted my head in an expression of surprise. "You mean - you don't know?"

"Know what?" She was impatient. I had to get this out quickly.

I sighed. "Haven't you ever wondered about the line of women who are ready to throw away everything they have for the sake of one lost human? You, Gilina..." I smiled at her expression. "Even Katralla - as set as she was on having Tyno, by the time of the wedding she was whispering in John's ear like a lover. And me. A parade of Sebacean women who find John Crichton so appealing that we discard our lives, everything we've known, for him. Haven't you ever wondered why?"

Her expression was unreadable. "I suppose you're going to tell me."

I nodded, allowed a blush. "It's chemical. A unique pheromone that acts in a most... potent way on Sebacean women. I don't know whether it's John individually, or humans as a species - but I would very much enjoy running those particular tests."

"You're inventing this." Her voice was tense. She still hadn't moved.

"Haven't you noticed? When you're close to him, the scent of his skin, like... like chil'net berries?" I registered the slightest inhalation, as if she were catching a phantom scent. "He was tested a hundred times over on the Royal Planet. Biological, psychological, chemical - after he left, I accessed those files, trying to understand what had happened to me. Why I had lost control, and offered him... everything. It's all hormonal reactions, Aeryn. It's not real."

She simply looked at me for a long moment. Frell, she was impossible to read. I imagined she was considering whether or not to believe me - wondering whether I was telling the truth, or simply inventing a story to instill doubts, to further separate her and Crichton.

Let her wonder.

"If this is true," she said, finally, "why would you still want him? Knowing that everything that you experienced would be a lie, a trick?"

I smiled, and shrugged. "I know all about intoxicants, and their uses. This is simply one of the more... pleasurable drugs. The key to enjoying a drug is not to let it control you, not to let it ruin your life. And I won't. But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it recreationally."

"Recreationally," she repeated. There was something in her eyes, something dark, heavy. "You said you offered Crichton everything?" She considered. "The compatibility test?"

I didn't answer, letting my silence speak for me. Her eyes were bright, caught between anger and sorrow and something that looked like shame. "You and he - you took the test?"

The first thing you learn in my business is to keep lies simple. Deter, deflect, misdirect. Lie when necessary, or when there's no chance of being caught, because when caught in a lie, you have no claim to misinterpretation. I'd indulged myself too much already. As much as my pride wanted me to lie, and as much as my mind told me that the odds were in my favor, that she would never ask him, my training won out. All it would take would be for this one lie to be known, and all my careful groundwork would be for nothing.

"I... offered."

"And he refused." It wasn't a question, and I could see the expression in her eyes before she closed them. Too full, too fleeting to identify. Relief was easy. Other than that, it was beyond my understanding. I had no idea what it meant to her, only that it meant something.

After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at me. "Make Crichton any offers you want." Her voice was firm, clear. "And choose whatever intoxicants you wish for your recreation. It doesn't matter. Because whatever is or isn't between him and me - it isn't about the way he smells."

I frowned, not understanding her meaning. "You don't believe me."

She smiled, then, an expression that was desperate, and joyful, and despairing, on the edge of tears. "I'm saying it doesn't matter. It should, but it doesn't. And that you offered, and he refused - that shouldn't matter, but it does. And I understand. So it doesn't matter whether you do or not."

I couldn't even begin to think of a response to that. Perhaps she and Crichton were perfectly suited to each other, after all. She seemed to be every bit as insane as he was.

As I faced them in command, I shifted the bag on my shoulder. Not much to carry, of course. I'd left Tendaris with only a pulse pistol and the clothes on my back. From the old Peacekeeper stores on Moya's deserted tiers, I'd selected two sets of leathers - ones that fit, this time - one to wear and a spare to carry with me. Other than that, nothing else. That's the way I preferred it.

I grinned. "Like old times, hmm Crichton?"

He couldn't help it - he laughed, and smiled. Finally. I'd been worried - his smiles had been rare since we'd returned from Chilbrea, his laughter even rarer. "You're too much, Jena."

I considered him for a moment, then let my expression fade from a teasing grin to a warm smile. "You could come with me, you know," I said. I was safe in making the offer - I knew he wouldn't accept. Not yet. But the offer itself would lay groundwork, for a situation that not even I might be able to predict.

He was already shaking his head. "Jena-"

"Listen," I interrupted, determined to at least present the argument, so that he could think about it. "You were thrown onto this ship by accident - that doesn't mean you have to stay here. We work well together. And two people traveling independently are less conspicuous than you've managed to make yourself so far. I can keep you safe."

"We can keep him safe as well," D'Argo snapped. "You're not needed-"

"Aren't I?" I faced them squarely, no sign of submission in my stance. "On the Royal Planet, I saved his life twice. Once he saved himself, and once he was saved by Scorpius' agent. And the rest of you - what were you doing? Consolidating your power, sulking, or indulging your own desires. You still don't even know who was really behind the first attempt on his life, do you?" I put anger into my voice, impatience. "You imagine that you're helping him, and yet resent me for actually doing so. You've been lucky so far. But how long before your inattention costs him his life? Until he dies while you're off doing something that you think is more important?"

There was a long moment when no one moved or spoke or reacted. Then Aeryn Sun turned without speaking and left the room.

"Jenavian, that's enough," Crichton said quietly, and I knew - both by the tone of his voice and his use of my name, my full name, that the conversation was over. "Thank you for everything you've done for me - here, and on the Royal Planet. But I'm staying where I am. C'mon. I'll take you to the hangar bay."

In the hangar, I turned to him, my hands on his chest, and gave him my most winning smile. "You are one of the more intriguing creatures I've run across in my travels. I would have liked the opportunity to know you better."

"You're pretty intriguing yourself. But... honestly?" He grinned. "You scare the hell outta me."

I laughed, genuinely delighted at the idea. "You might regret not accepting my offer. You don't know what you're missing."

"I have an idea," he said with an appreciative smile, then cocked his head, looked at me quizzically. "Why the invitation? I mean-"

I stepped closer, invitingly. "Isn't the answer obvious?"

"So I'm stupid. Explain it to me."

"I've made enough of a fool of myself. You're very charming, John."

He chuckled. "I'm not that charming." As quickly as it had appeared, his grin faded, replaced by an intense, hard expression. "Seriously, Jena. What's the deal?"

I considered. Usually it was enough for a man - especially a lonely man - to be told that a beautiful woman wants him. Surely it had been enough for this man a cycle ago. He'd changed since then; now, the simple explanation of physical attraction, romantic interest, wasn't enough. He was suspicious, wary. Less like the strange, vulnerable man I'd known before and more like a Peacekeeper. More like a Disruptor. I liked it.

"John," I began. "There is a war coming, and whether you like it or not, you're going to be in the middle of it. Different factions, tracking you down, seeking your cooperation."

"And you want me to choose the Peacekeepers? Choose Scorpius?"

I tilted my head momentarily, giving him an expression of hesitation, then decision. "Scorpius may very well outlive his usefulness - quite soon. If he can't deliver what we need to save our people, High Command will do what is necessary to win your cooperation. If that involves the dispensation of Scorpius, it will come as no surprise to anyone. If you want to come to the Peacekeepers, I can make it happen for you, when the time is right. Just... think about it. Remember that there are options. And," I gave him a shy smile that I didn't often use, "not merely professionally. Not all women find you as resistible as Aeryn Sun seems to." No harm in throwing that in. After all, the male ego, especially the wounded one, is still a vulnerability, even in the suspicious and wary.

He smiled, tilted his head, and looked at me. "You know, where I come from, they say that if someone closes a door, you should open a window."

I grinned, pleased he understood. "Exactly. Options."

He laughed ruefully. "Yeah, but uh... I always interpreted that as finding another way into the same damn house. And if the window's jammed shut, I'll try the storm cellar. Then the garage door... even try to scrunch up small enough to fit in through the mail slot. I don't give up easily. Just pig-headed, I guess."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I don't give up easily, either. I pulled him to me, and he didn't resist - not exactly. After a moment, when it became clear that the kiss either had to end or become something more, I sighed against his lips and let him go. As the doors closed behind him, I sighed again. "You can come out now, Aeryn."

She stepped from the shadows, her face unreadable. "You knew I was there." It wasn't a question. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because then I wouldn't have gotten my goodbye kiss." I regarded her. "There's something you want to ask me, isn't there? About John and me?"

She shook her head. "No. Crichton told us all about your little... fling, I think he called it, the day you came on board. The two of you recreated together. And despite everything, it's not something he regrets."

I hadn't expected that, for Crichton to tell them - her - the truth. So she'd known all along. They all had. And I'd been dropping hints to a secret that they already knew. Damn the man... I frowned slightly. "So why are you here?"

Aeryn Sun actually smiled. "To make sure that you leave."

I laughed, turned away, then paused for just the right amount of time to convey hesitation, decision, confidence, and turned back. "I wasn't lying before, Aeryn. He is... he needs to be preserved. There is no other being like him, and the universe would be the poorer for it without him in it."

Her chin lifted; I could tell she was caught off guard by my tone - no longer challenging, confrontational. That's it, Aeryn, I urged silently. I'm not trying to beat you; I'm just sharing with you. And after all, I wasn't lying. It was absolutely vital that Crichton come to no harm. He had to be protected - if he was killed by a Sheyang, or ate a bronith root, or stumbled across a kelnik mine... all my work would be for nothing. For a long moment, I thought she didn't understand what I was telling her, and I felt my impatience rise. Then I saw the look in her eyes. She knew how valuable he was.

She nodded once, sharply. "You have your job, and I have mine. Now get the frell off this ship."

It could just as easily have been me that he met first upon coming through the wormhole. It could as easily have been me that he'd formed an alliance with, had come to depend on. If it had been, we would have been good for each other. He most likely would have solved the wormhole puzzle by now, and I'd have reaped the rewards in terms of rank and position. We fought well side by side, and when the fighting ended, and it was just the two of us - we were good together then, too. It would have been a good partnership, comfortable and mutually beneficial. Instead, he'd come to rely on these people. It was all timing, and luck.

But I'm not a believer in destiny bringing people together. Fate and destiny, they're simply excuses, crutches for the incompetent. Those who do their work well don't have to console themselves with platitudes about things being meant to happen a certain way when they fail - because they simply don't fail. My association with John Crichton and the crew of Moya was far from over; what I had accomplished here was simply preparation for what was to come. And in my line of work, preparation is everything.