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Farscape Fanfic: Five Happy Endings
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Continuing my project of clearing stuff off my hard drive, here's something I posted in bits way back in 2005 and never got around to cleaning up. If you've already read it, there's no new material here, just fewer typos *g*.
Summary: Five things that never happened to Bialar Crais.
Five Happy Endings
By Andraste
I.
It isn't the terrain that reminds him of the farm - swamps are common across the universe - but the insects. The incessant buzzing of the flies that are drawn to sweat and body heat, the distant chirping of something that sounds like a janeth beetle. The sounds are almost comforting. After loading supplies into the transport all afternoon, he feels a not unpleasant lassitude, and it makes a change to do nothing for once. Crais is reminded of times in his childhood when he would sit on the veranda of his parents' house and listen to noises much like these. Yet the walkway that leads up to the small hangar is not that veranda, and it isn't his brother who's resting silently beside him.
He can always tell when she is thinking about John Crichton; there's a certain look in her eyes. It's somehow quite distinct from the expression she wears when she's distracted by her connection with Talyn.
Crais thought, at first, that her strange attachment to the alien would be forgotten in time. Now he knows better. He still thinks of Darinta Larell every time one of the young Leviathan's systems malfunctions, and while he knows it isn't the same feeling, it helps him understand that those memories will always be between them. He has simply learned not to mind.
He puts a hand on her arm. "The Ixarians will be waiting," he says. "We should return to Talyn soon." They've been hired on as escort to a trio of cargo ships on their way to a remote colony. Crais is hoping that it will prove to be a less eventful assignment than their last - the laser wound in his side still smarts when he twists the wrong way.
Aeryn rubs the neural transponder absently. "I was just ..." She turns to look at him. "Do you remember how I once told you that Moya landed in a swamp, not long after I came on board? It was very much like this planet. Crichton said that it reminded him of home."
"How strange. I was just thinking that it reminded me of the place where I was born." Perhaps it isn't strange at all. It makes sense that they would have more than one thing in common.
Aeryn looks out over the water, frowning. "Do you ever want to go back? To live on a planet?"
The question seems innocuous, but her tone gives it weight. It is important to her, for some reason.
"I have lived most of my life in space. Although it was not my choice, I would not wish to settle now. There is nothing for me on the ground any more." The sky is where Aeryn and Talyn live, and he has no need of anything else.
She smiles at him, just a small twist at the corner of her mouth. "You're right, we should go. The Ixarians don't like to be kept waiting."
He has to share her - with Talyn, with the memory of John Crichton, with the ghost of Velorek - but when she looks at him like that, he knows that he has more than enough.
II.
He should have known that it would be over too soon. The human was just as weak and pathetic as Crais had imagined, and in spite of his efforts to draw it out the end had come quickly. Still he is satisfied. For the first time since he heard of his brother's death he feels at rest. A strange calm has fallen over him, and he is still contemplating the corpse when the door slides open behind him.
"I said that I was not to be disturbed!" he says, leaping up.
"This cannot wait." It is Lieutenant Braca, flanked by two other officers.
Crais has always loathed Braca, but he promoted him regardless. He's competent, and too eager for advancement to risk betraying a commanding officer. Unless he was certain that he could gain by it.
"I hope you have a good reason for disobeying orders," Crais says, sheathing his filthy knife as Braca examines the alien remains with distaste.
"I managed to make contact with High Command."
Braca's expression is grim, but Crais is struck by the impulse to laugh. He underestimated the worm's desire for promotion. "Oh? That must have proved interesting."
"They informed me that they sent orders monens ago, telling you to take the carrier back into Peace Keeper territories. I believe that you were given those orders, and ignored them. In the last few days, you have prioritized recovering the unclassified alien prisoner above recapturing the Leviathan, the escaped prisoners, and the traitor Aeryn Sun. As a result of that decision, we have nothing significant to show for almost a cycle of pursuit. I am here to take you into custody."
"You have more of a backbone than I thought, Braca." He smiles, and the man looks at him as if he's taken leave of his senses. Perhaps he has, at that.
"Do you deny the charges?"
Crais could pretend he never received the orders, attempt to justify his actions in terms they would understand. But why bother? It was over now. He wasn't even sorry. "There seems to be little point. There will be no justice for a recruit who has fallen foul of High Command, as you well know."
"You killed Lieutenant Teeg, because she knew what you were planning."
It's a statement, not a question, and Crais nods. "I did. I respected her, and she was a good officer. I was sorry that she had to die." He reaches for his pulse pistol. "Believe me when I say that I will not feel the same way about killing you."
"Captain, be reasonable!" Braca says, eyes going wide.
He's already covered with blood. It's the same colour as that of a Sebacean but it has a strange smell. More will make little difference at this point.
"I will not surrender myself. You will have to take me by force." Since he is a captain, they will try to capture rather than kill him, so there can be a trial. Crais will just have to make things difficult for them.
"Consider what you are saying," Braca says, looking nervous. "You're trapped, alone. The ship is under my command. You cannot win."
Crais smiles and raises his weapon. "I have already won the only prize I wanted."
Braca jumps sideways as he pulls the trigger of his pulse pistol, and Crais hopes that he'll have time to fire again before the guards bring him down.
III.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're wasting my time."
Bialar Crais is a busy man. Research projects don't run themselves, and he has data from the latest potential breeding specimen to tabulate for his next presentation to the captain. Besides which, being this close to a hybrid - especially a half-Scarran - made his skin crawl.
Scorpius smiles, as if Crais had not just insulted him and his proposal both. "I do understand that you have work here, and that many Peace Keepers find the idea of collaborating with once such as myself distasteful."
"In that case, why did you bother asking?" Crais glances past Scorpius at the monitor showing the Leviathan's vital signs, and steps past him to check them in detail. It's rude, but perhaps that will get rid of this annoyance faster.
"As you are no doubt aware, I have certain privileges granted to me by High Command. Such as a high degree of control over who is assigned to my Gammack Bases."
"So you plan to have me reassigned against my will?" Scorpius could probably do it. He outranks Crais, although the gradations of command are not as rigorously observed among techs as they are in the military classes. For reasons that escape him, this alien is somehow more accepted by the command structure than a recruit like himself. "At the risk of repeating myself, why are you bothering to ask?"
He notices that the Leviathan's fluid levels have fallen, although not to a serious extent. Still, something he'll have to investigate. Assuming he's not dragged away to the Uncharted Territories against his will.
"I would hardly have come all this way to force you into my service," Scorpius says. "I find that people work best if they come to my project willingly. I only meant that I would be able to acquire any staff you need. Including military personnel."
His brother. Crais tries to keep the hope from showing all over his face. He's a high ranking tech, which gives him certain freedoms, but on his own he will never have enough political capital to have his brother brought to him. It disturbs him that Scorpius' is aware that this is his most important goal.
"Lieutenant Tauvo Crais would make a fine addition to our security detachment, don't you think?" Scorpius says. "I'm not asking you to abandon your research into hybridizing Leviathans, merely to exchange information with me and the others under my command. I believe that our areas of study are more closely related than they may first appear."
Crais is almost tempted to refuse Scorpius just because it infuriates him that the hybrid assumes he can be bought. The trouble is, he's right. He has even found the correct price.
"I will require the aid of my assistant Lieutenant Larell. I will expect the rest of my staff to be both competent and obedient. I am not good at taking orders, and I dislike working with aliens."
Perhaps it will be a relief to be assigned to a base where most of the staff are techs. Crais will at least enjoy the freedom to speak his mind instead of constantly toadying to military commanders.
"I assure you, everything can be arranged. How soon can you be ready to leave?"
"As soon as you get out of my way and allow me to begin making the necessary arrangements."
Scorpius smiles at him once more, but there's something different about it this time. Crais realises that he's genuinely amused. "I find your honesty quite refreshing, Crais. I'm sure that we will have a productive future together."
The hybrid leaves, and Crais looks over the Leviathan data again, mind spinning. He'll have to find Darinta and tell her to start packing. He wonders what she'll say when he tells her that they're going to the Uncharted Territories to work for a Scarran hybrid with a bizarre fascination with wormholes, and what he'll say to Tauvo when they meet again at last.
IV.
His brother found him down by the river, leaning against a tree for support and staring out over the water. Earlier, Bialar had beaten his fists against one of its fellows, until they were bleeding and bruised. It had not helped.
"Bialar, it's getting dark. You should come back to town," Tauvo said. He did not reply. "Rilena is worried," he added.
"She should be more than worried."
He had seen the look in his wife's eyes when he turned away from her, but what comfort could he offer at a time like this?
"I meant about you. She isn't the only one."
He clenched his fists by his sides, ignoring the pain it caused him. "I should have -"
"Should have what? Argued with them? Gotten yourself shot? We're farmers, not soldiers. We have no way to fight them. I don't remember you arguing in favour of treason when the recruiters came before."
There was bitterness in his brother's voice, but that was unsurprising. It was true. He had watched children taken from their settlement, season after season, and he had said nothing. He had always thought it prudent to keep on the good side of their Peace Keeper masters, had always advised others to do as they wanted. It usually made life simpler. Now he was overwhelmed with disgust at his own weakness. How had he ever thought that this was an acceptable price for peace?
"You saw the genetic scans they did," Tauvo went on, with surprising calm. "It was only a matter of time. It's only luck that we weren't chosen ourselves."
"Luck? You think us lucky?" He wondered if it was good or bad luck. All his life, he had been plagued by a nagging sensation of claustrophobia. He had sometimes wondered what it would be like to have journeyed to other worlds as the Peace Keepers did as a matter of course - and as much as he despised them, if he had their skills he would have been able to protect his family.
"Bialar, we can have more children."
It's more than he can stand to hear, and without thinking he launched himself at his brother. Tauvo was too surprised to stop him, and was knocked to the ground, holding up his hands to try and protect his face as his brother struck at him again and again. It took Bialar minutes to realise that he wasn't fighting back, and then all at once his anger slackened.
He rolled away from Tauvo, eyes suddenly wet with tears. Cautiously, Tauvo sat up and put an arm around him. "I'm sorry," Bialar managed to say.
"So am I," Tauvo replied. "Come. We have to go back. We still need you."
Bialar had a wife and a brother left still. If his daughters, his niece and nephew, were gone beyond his reach, it was all the more reason to protect what he had left.
He had to think of what to do the next time the recruiters came.
V.
After the first weeken in one of the Leviathan's cells, Bialar Crais had begun to learn how the prisoners he had supervised here over the cycles must have felt. Each day he stared at the walls and ate stale food cubes, and waited for a chance to escape. He could not help but wonder how many aliens had sat here in this cell an entertained similar fantasies.
"Hello, Crais." He turned his head, to see the blue alien priest standing by the door. "How are you today?"
"Much as I was yesterday," he replied. The Delvian liked to engage in pointless conversation. Just like the human, although at least her words usually made sense. He had ceased to be surprised by their inexplicable visits.
"I think I've made some progress in persuading the others to let you out."
He tried not to show any enthusiasm for the idea. Better to let them think he was defeated in spirit, content to rot here. It would make them more likely to underestimate him when he had a chance to get out.
"You believe that my loyalties no longer lie with the Peace Keepers. You shipmates do not. I must say, I find their reactions to my presence easier to comprehend than you own."
It was the first time he had expressed curiosity about her motivations - who could understand aliens? - but he had found that he wanted to know why she was so eager help him.
"It seems that we are safe from Scorpius and the Command Carrier for now, which would limit any harm you could do to us."
That was not true, but Crais saw no reason to tell her that. "That does not explain why you should trust me."
"It is true that we have all suffered much at your hands, but I believe that everyone deserves another chance. When I was first brought into custody, nobody imagined that I would become what I am today, me least of all. Perhaps you shall find something new within yourself, as well."
"I was not planning to begin the Delvian Seek, Pa'u Zhaan, although if I'm here much longer boredom alone may provide enough inspiration."
She smiled at his joke, then grew serious again. "Everyone is seeking something. It's only the form of the journey that varies."
A weeken ago, he would have dismissed it as drivel, an alien concept to be rejected out of hand. Now, he found himself considering her words. "I am on a journey," he said, as neutrally as possible. "I have no desire to return to my old life, even if it were possible. All I want is to be allowed to travel a new path." That, at least, was the truth.
"As much as the Seek teaches us to reject violence, while we travel in the Uncharted Territories a warrior's skills are often needed. You could help us."
Crais was startled, although he attempted to hide it. "I was not planning to join your crew. I thought that you might let me take one of your transport pods, and leave peacefully." If he did not get a chance to take the infant Leviathan, then he could at least hope to gain his freedom.
"You'll find that the Uncharted Territories are a difficult place to be alone," she said. "I suggest that you consider your options carefully."
The idea was ridiculous. Even if he wanted to remain in the company of a collection of escaped prisoners and an unclassified alien, the others would not be as foolishly forgiving as the Delvian. He had kept the Hynerian and the Luxan prisoner, attempted to kill the human, declared Officer Sun irreversibly contaminated. He had even enslaved the ship and the Pilot.
"Why would you wish me to remain, after all that I have done?" he asked.
"As I said, I believe that everyone deserves another chances. As many chances as they need." She looked at him enigmatically. "Please think about what I've said."
Crais watched her walk away, his thoughts turning in new directions. If Moya and her occupants were truly naive enough to let him out of his cell, even accept him into their crew, it would provide him with opportunities. There was no reason to harm them if he could get what he wanted without doing so. Officer Sun was a Sebacean, like himself. Perhaps he could even convince her to leave with him when he went.
At the time, he did not even consider staying.
The End
Author's Notes: Continuing my project of clearing stuff off my hard drive, here's something I posted in bits way back in 2005 and never got around to cleaning up. If you've already read it, there's no new material here, just fewer typos *g*.
Summary: Five things that never happened to Bialar Crais.
Five Happy Endings
By Andraste
I.
It isn't the terrain that reminds him of the farm - swamps are common across the universe - but the insects. The incessant buzzing of the flies that are drawn to sweat and body heat, the distant chirping of something that sounds like a janeth beetle. The sounds are almost comforting. After loading supplies into the transport all afternoon, he feels a not unpleasant lassitude, and it makes a change to do nothing for once. Crais is reminded of times in his childhood when he would sit on the veranda of his parents' house and listen to noises much like these. Yet the walkway that leads up to the small hangar is not that veranda, and it isn't his brother who's resting silently beside him.
He can always tell when she is thinking about John Crichton; there's a certain look in her eyes. It's somehow quite distinct from the expression she wears when she's distracted by her connection with Talyn.
Crais thought, at first, that her strange attachment to the alien would be forgotten in time. Now he knows better. He still thinks of Darinta Larell every time one of the young Leviathan's systems malfunctions, and while he knows it isn't the same feeling, it helps him understand that those memories will always be between them. He has simply learned not to mind.
He puts a hand on her arm. "The Ixarians will be waiting," he says. "We should return to Talyn soon." They've been hired on as escort to a trio of cargo ships on their way to a remote colony. Crais is hoping that it will prove to be a less eventful assignment than their last - the laser wound in his side still smarts when he twists the wrong way.
Aeryn rubs the neural transponder absently. "I was just ..." She turns to look at him. "Do you remember how I once told you that Moya landed in a swamp, not long after I came on board? It was very much like this planet. Crichton said that it reminded him of home."
"How strange. I was just thinking that it reminded me of the place where I was born." Perhaps it isn't strange at all. It makes sense that they would have more than one thing in common.
Aeryn looks out over the water, frowning. "Do you ever want to go back? To live on a planet?"
The question seems innocuous, but her tone gives it weight. It is important to her, for some reason.
"I have lived most of my life in space. Although it was not my choice, I would not wish to settle now. There is nothing for me on the ground any more." The sky is where Aeryn and Talyn live, and he has no need of anything else.
She smiles at him, just a small twist at the corner of her mouth. "You're right, we should go. The Ixarians don't like to be kept waiting."
He has to share her - with Talyn, with the memory of John Crichton, with the ghost of Velorek - but when she looks at him like that, he knows that he has more than enough.
II.
He should have known that it would be over too soon. The human was just as weak and pathetic as Crais had imagined, and in spite of his efforts to draw it out the end had come quickly. Still he is satisfied. For the first time since he heard of his brother's death he feels at rest. A strange calm has fallen over him, and he is still contemplating the corpse when the door slides open behind him.
"I said that I was not to be disturbed!" he says, leaping up.
"This cannot wait." It is Lieutenant Braca, flanked by two other officers.
Crais has always loathed Braca, but he promoted him regardless. He's competent, and too eager for advancement to risk betraying a commanding officer. Unless he was certain that he could gain by it.
"I hope you have a good reason for disobeying orders," Crais says, sheathing his filthy knife as Braca examines the alien remains with distaste.
"I managed to make contact with High Command."
Braca's expression is grim, but Crais is struck by the impulse to laugh. He underestimated the worm's desire for promotion. "Oh? That must have proved interesting."
"They informed me that they sent orders monens ago, telling you to take the carrier back into Peace Keeper territories. I believe that you were given those orders, and ignored them. In the last few days, you have prioritized recovering the unclassified alien prisoner above recapturing the Leviathan, the escaped prisoners, and the traitor Aeryn Sun. As a result of that decision, we have nothing significant to show for almost a cycle of pursuit. I am here to take you into custody."
"You have more of a backbone than I thought, Braca." He smiles, and the man looks at him as if he's taken leave of his senses. Perhaps he has, at that.
"Do you deny the charges?"
Crais could pretend he never received the orders, attempt to justify his actions in terms they would understand. But why bother? It was over now. He wasn't even sorry. "There seems to be little point. There will be no justice for a recruit who has fallen foul of High Command, as you well know."
"You killed Lieutenant Teeg, because she knew what you were planning."
It's a statement, not a question, and Crais nods. "I did. I respected her, and she was a good officer. I was sorry that she had to die." He reaches for his pulse pistol. "Believe me when I say that I will not feel the same way about killing you."
"Captain, be reasonable!" Braca says, eyes going wide.
He's already covered with blood. It's the same colour as that of a Sebacean but it has a strange smell. More will make little difference at this point.
"I will not surrender myself. You will have to take me by force." Since he is a captain, they will try to capture rather than kill him, so there can be a trial. Crais will just have to make things difficult for them.
"Consider what you are saying," Braca says, looking nervous. "You're trapped, alone. The ship is under my command. You cannot win."
Crais smiles and raises his weapon. "I have already won the only prize I wanted."
Braca jumps sideways as he pulls the trigger of his pulse pistol, and Crais hopes that he'll have time to fire again before the guards bring him down.
III.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're wasting my time."
Bialar Crais is a busy man. Research projects don't run themselves, and he has data from the latest potential breeding specimen to tabulate for his next presentation to the captain. Besides which, being this close to a hybrid - especially a half-Scarran - made his skin crawl.
Scorpius smiles, as if Crais had not just insulted him and his proposal both. "I do understand that you have work here, and that many Peace Keepers find the idea of collaborating with once such as myself distasteful."
"In that case, why did you bother asking?" Crais glances past Scorpius at the monitor showing the Leviathan's vital signs, and steps past him to check them in detail. It's rude, but perhaps that will get rid of this annoyance faster.
"As you are no doubt aware, I have certain privileges granted to me by High Command. Such as a high degree of control over who is assigned to my Gammack Bases."
"So you plan to have me reassigned against my will?" Scorpius could probably do it. He outranks Crais, although the gradations of command are not as rigorously observed among techs as they are in the military classes. For reasons that escape him, this alien is somehow more accepted by the command structure than a recruit like himself. "At the risk of repeating myself, why are you bothering to ask?"
He notices that the Leviathan's fluid levels have fallen, although not to a serious extent. Still, something he'll have to investigate. Assuming he's not dragged away to the Uncharted Territories against his will.
"I would hardly have come all this way to force you into my service," Scorpius says. "I find that people work best if they come to my project willingly. I only meant that I would be able to acquire any staff you need. Including military personnel."
His brother. Crais tries to keep the hope from showing all over his face. He's a high ranking tech, which gives him certain freedoms, but on his own he will never have enough political capital to have his brother brought to him. It disturbs him that Scorpius' is aware that this is his most important goal.
"Lieutenant Tauvo Crais would make a fine addition to our security detachment, don't you think?" Scorpius says. "I'm not asking you to abandon your research into hybridizing Leviathans, merely to exchange information with me and the others under my command. I believe that our areas of study are more closely related than they may first appear."
Crais is almost tempted to refuse Scorpius just because it infuriates him that the hybrid assumes he can be bought. The trouble is, he's right. He has even found the correct price.
"I will require the aid of my assistant Lieutenant Larell. I will expect the rest of my staff to be both competent and obedient. I am not good at taking orders, and I dislike working with aliens."
Perhaps it will be a relief to be assigned to a base where most of the staff are techs. Crais will at least enjoy the freedom to speak his mind instead of constantly toadying to military commanders.
"I assure you, everything can be arranged. How soon can you be ready to leave?"
"As soon as you get out of my way and allow me to begin making the necessary arrangements."
Scorpius smiles at him once more, but there's something different about it this time. Crais realises that he's genuinely amused. "I find your honesty quite refreshing, Crais. I'm sure that we will have a productive future together."
The hybrid leaves, and Crais looks over the Leviathan data again, mind spinning. He'll have to find Darinta and tell her to start packing. He wonders what she'll say when he tells her that they're going to the Uncharted Territories to work for a Scarran hybrid with a bizarre fascination with wormholes, and what he'll say to Tauvo when they meet again at last.
IV.
His brother found him down by the river, leaning against a tree for support and staring out over the water. Earlier, Bialar had beaten his fists against one of its fellows, until they were bleeding and bruised. It had not helped.
"Bialar, it's getting dark. You should come back to town," Tauvo said. He did not reply. "Rilena is worried," he added.
"She should be more than worried."
He had seen the look in his wife's eyes when he turned away from her, but what comfort could he offer at a time like this?
"I meant about you. She isn't the only one."
He clenched his fists by his sides, ignoring the pain it caused him. "I should have -"
"Should have what? Argued with them? Gotten yourself shot? We're farmers, not soldiers. We have no way to fight them. I don't remember you arguing in favour of treason when the recruiters came before."
There was bitterness in his brother's voice, but that was unsurprising. It was true. He had watched children taken from their settlement, season after season, and he had said nothing. He had always thought it prudent to keep on the good side of their Peace Keeper masters, had always advised others to do as they wanted. It usually made life simpler. Now he was overwhelmed with disgust at his own weakness. How had he ever thought that this was an acceptable price for peace?
"You saw the genetic scans they did," Tauvo went on, with surprising calm. "It was only a matter of time. It's only luck that we weren't chosen ourselves."
"Luck? You think us lucky?" He wondered if it was good or bad luck. All his life, he had been plagued by a nagging sensation of claustrophobia. He had sometimes wondered what it would be like to have journeyed to other worlds as the Peace Keepers did as a matter of course - and as much as he despised them, if he had their skills he would have been able to protect his family.
"Bialar, we can have more children."
It's more than he can stand to hear, and without thinking he launched himself at his brother. Tauvo was too surprised to stop him, and was knocked to the ground, holding up his hands to try and protect his face as his brother struck at him again and again. It took Bialar minutes to realise that he wasn't fighting back, and then all at once his anger slackened.
He rolled away from Tauvo, eyes suddenly wet with tears. Cautiously, Tauvo sat up and put an arm around him. "I'm sorry," Bialar managed to say.
"So am I," Tauvo replied. "Come. We have to go back. We still need you."
Bialar had a wife and a brother left still. If his daughters, his niece and nephew, were gone beyond his reach, it was all the more reason to protect what he had left.
He had to think of what to do the next time the recruiters came.
V.
After the first weeken in one of the Leviathan's cells, Bialar Crais had begun to learn how the prisoners he had supervised here over the cycles must have felt. Each day he stared at the walls and ate stale food cubes, and waited for a chance to escape. He could not help but wonder how many aliens had sat here in this cell an entertained similar fantasies.
"Hello, Crais." He turned his head, to see the blue alien priest standing by the door. "How are you today?"
"Much as I was yesterday," he replied. The Delvian liked to engage in pointless conversation. Just like the human, although at least her words usually made sense. He had ceased to be surprised by their inexplicable visits.
"I think I've made some progress in persuading the others to let you out."
He tried not to show any enthusiasm for the idea. Better to let them think he was defeated in spirit, content to rot here. It would make them more likely to underestimate him when he had a chance to get out.
"You believe that my loyalties no longer lie with the Peace Keepers. You shipmates do not. I must say, I find their reactions to my presence easier to comprehend than you own."
It was the first time he had expressed curiosity about her motivations - who could understand aliens? - but he had found that he wanted to know why she was so eager help him.
"It seems that we are safe from Scorpius and the Command Carrier for now, which would limit any harm you could do to us."
That was not true, but Crais saw no reason to tell her that. "That does not explain why you should trust me."
"It is true that we have all suffered much at your hands, but I believe that everyone deserves another chance. When I was first brought into custody, nobody imagined that I would become what I am today, me least of all. Perhaps you shall find something new within yourself, as well."
"I was not planning to begin the Delvian Seek, Pa'u Zhaan, although if I'm here much longer boredom alone may provide enough inspiration."
She smiled at his joke, then grew serious again. "Everyone is seeking something. It's only the form of the journey that varies."
A weeken ago, he would have dismissed it as drivel, an alien concept to be rejected out of hand. Now, he found himself considering her words. "I am on a journey," he said, as neutrally as possible. "I have no desire to return to my old life, even if it were possible. All I want is to be allowed to travel a new path." That, at least, was the truth.
"As much as the Seek teaches us to reject violence, while we travel in the Uncharted Territories a warrior's skills are often needed. You could help us."
Crais was startled, although he attempted to hide it. "I was not planning to join your crew. I thought that you might let me take one of your transport pods, and leave peacefully." If he did not get a chance to take the infant Leviathan, then he could at least hope to gain his freedom.
"You'll find that the Uncharted Territories are a difficult place to be alone," she said. "I suggest that you consider your options carefully."
The idea was ridiculous. Even if he wanted to remain in the company of a collection of escaped prisoners and an unclassified alien, the others would not be as foolishly forgiving as the Delvian. He had kept the Hynerian and the Luxan prisoner, attempted to kill the human, declared Officer Sun irreversibly contaminated. He had even enslaved the ship and the Pilot.
"Why would you wish me to remain, after all that I have done?" he asked.
"As I said, I believe that everyone deserves another chances. As many chances as they need." She looked at him enigmatically. "Please think about what I've said."
Crais watched her walk away, his thoughts turning in new directions. If Moya and her occupants were truly naive enough to let him out of his cell, even accept him into their crew, it would provide him with opportunities. There was no reason to harm them if he could get what he wanted without doing so. Officer Sun was a Sebacean, like himself. Perhaps he could even convince her to leave with him when he went.
At the time, he did not even consider staying.
The End