Reparation -- Chapter 2: Hate and Remembrance

          "You have my solemn vow, Sillu," Admiral Neleu EL-Vashti told the shimmering holographic image projected above the conference table before him. "This experiment will prove beneficial to Peacekeeper military research."
          "But a hybrid! You must be out of your mind." The likeness of Admiral Menkena replied, aghast. The red glow of the holoviewer made her seem bathed in blood. "High Command will never sanction this. Much less First Council."
          "That's where you come in, old friend." EL-Vashti smiled charmingly at her. He was a man accustomed to relying as much on his charm as his brutal instincts. "Your influence with your father and First Council is invaluable. This will work and in the end we'll have insights into the Scarrans we could never have hoped for."
          "This reeks of disaster," Menkena warned, her tone metallic, unyielding. Her lips formed a painfully pinched line.
          "Sillu, think!" EL-Vashti emphasized his words with angry gesticulations of his gloved hands. "This is not the end of the conflict. You fought them. You know their resilience as well as I. The Scarrans simply miscalculated, thanks to our misinformation campaign. They were not expecting the full onslaught of our armada to their rear flank. They are a race unaccustomed to subterfuge, but they have now learned a valuable lesson. You know as well as I that in the end, only our superior numbers took the day."
          He watched his friend's face; pale, battle hardened and giving away nothing of her emotions.
          "The Scarrans will not take this defeat quietly." He continued after an uncomfortably long pause. "They will be back. Perhaps not in our lifetime, but they will return. And the next time it will be utter conflagration."
          "I know," Menkena sighed after several microts, flinty gray eyes begrudging him his victory. "You're right, of course."
          "Will you speak to First Council on my behalf?" EL-Vashti asked, a hint of desperation in his silky voice.
          "I will," Menkena replied flatly. Her image abruptly swirled and vanished leaving the conference room cold and empty.
          EL-Vashti sat down in a chair beside the table with a slow, audible sigh. It sounded like an air leak in a prowler. Bending forward with elbows on knees, he rested his face in his hands. He was taking an enormous risk with his career and life. His plan could be easily construed as treasonous. Peacekeeper regulations were specific: any unauthorized contact between Sebaceans and unclassified or enemy alien life forms was not to be tolerated. The punishment was incarceration and death. No exceptions.
          High Command and First Council were heralding him as a hero. Admiral Neleu EL-Vashti, savior of the Scarran Wars. Would it be enough to save him if Sillu failed to obtain their favor? Her father was Primary on First Council and their relationship was an old and close one. Would it be enough?
          He rubbed his hands up his cleanly shaven face and over his long, dark hair. It was unbound, a rarity for a man so meticulous, and flowing over his shoulders like an obsidian cascade. Taking his gloves off with purposeful slowness, he tossed them onto the table. They skittered over the slick metal surface landing on the floor across the room. He mumbled a tense prayer under his breath as he watched them lying in the shadows. He had seen how traitors died. Food animals received more compassion in the slaughter factories. He did not want to meet a death like that. No soldier would.
          He stabbed viciously at the comm with a single finger. "Welkin, get in here."
          His aide was through the chamber door and by his side in barely more than a microt.
          "Sir," she said, snapping to attention and clicking her heels smartly.
          "Further word from Captain Molayne?" He asked not looking up at her.
          "Yes, sir. Techs from Support Battalion Silka have shuttled over with the captain and his hybrid." Welkin informed him. "A squadron of our own commandos from the Scarran prison camp on Vilgas Minor is escorting them."
          "Molayne's history?" He asked, gaze locked once more upon his discarded gloves.
          "According to High Command records, he has had two commendations for his service in the Battle of Torvan IV, as well as the Scarran Wars." The aide replied crisply. "Intelligence says that he is reasonably trustworthy and without doubt loyal to you, sir."
          EL-Vashti shook his head contemplatively, his hair rustling like dried leaves against the worsted fabric of his uniform. He said nothing. Welkin waited patiently, spine ramrod straight and face expressionless.
          "Implement," he said finally.
          "Yes, sir." The aide replied with another click of her heels and bow before leaving EL-Vashti alone with his thoughts.
          To the bold went victory. The cowardly could hope for nothing. EL-Vashti had not lived a single day of his life as a coward.



         
          Peacekeepers were experts at taking, torturing and disposing of prisoners. In centuries of rule, Peacekeeper racial pogroms and police actions yielded thousands of political prisoners and slaves. Work camps, prisons and Leviathan transports across their territories were filled with the evidence of their prowess.
          The telepathic Scarrans were a breed apart. Their sheer size and physical strength made them ten times more dangerous than a mature Luxan male in hyper-rage. Their psionic abilities marked them as far more deadly than an entire herd of insane Delvian anarchists.
          High Command made contingencies for all these things. The concentration camp down on sleepy Vilgas Minor, deep in Peacekeeper territory, was a veritable hive of commandos and Special Operations Directorate agents. Special Research Directorate had established an outpost to study the enemy. They used their skills to install a complex series of damping fields to block out the Scarrans' nasty habit of using telepathic mind control.
          These seemed only far off theories to the young Scorpius. He trudged through ankle deep mud as the downpour increased. It sucked greedily at his feet and made his weary thighs ache with the effort. The air smelled like soggy, spoiling food and his overcoat was soaked through. He was not eager to be out in the elements yet again.
          He hurried as best he could through the checkpoint outside the main gate, head bowed and file packet tucked beneath his arm. He stopped abruptly as the four commandos outside the building containing the cell bays cocked their pulse rifles in his direction.
          "State your business, freak," the leading officer barked, blocking his path like a malevolent black monolith.
          "I've been assigned to interview the Scarran prisoner 48 in cell bay 10, sir." He told the commando respectfully, gaze still focused on his muddy boots.
          He could feel their eyes, even through their insect-like black helmets, but he didn't fidget. They were enjoying his discomfort as their rude asides made obvious. Rain was dripping into his eyes from his forehead and cowl, stinging them. He fought the urge to wipe his face. He would make no unexpected moves whatsoever. He would allow them no excuse to create an incident.
          Despite Molayne and EL-Vashti's protection, he was seen as nothing more than a scientific Technician at best. As a monstrous abomination at worst. He knew to give commandos a wide berth, as did all Peacekeeper Techs. The animosity between the two castes was both tradition and a cruel fact. No commando ever wanted to be responsible for the protection of mere technicians. Soldiers saw ancillary personnel as a necessary but unwanted burden.
          At last, the commando stepped aside and motioned Scorpius into the building with one enormous hand. He deliberately jostled Scorpius with the bulky shoulder extensions of his armor as he passed.
          Scorpius kept any opinion or reaction to himself. Why add fire to chakan oil? It was the best survival tactic he knew--for the time being.
          Once inside and out of their view, Scorpius quickly wiped his face and eyes with the waterlogged sleeve of his overcoat before moving on to the end of the corridor.
          At the next checkpoint he was required to submit to genetic verification. He removed his ident-chip and handed it to the chief of security for level one. His hands were wet despite his environmental gloves. He carefully put his file packet beside his feet, wiping his hands down the front of his coat before placing them into the scanning ports. He kept his eyes prudently cast downward throughout the process. The device whined briefly as his DNA profile spun in hologram format above the console, and then beeped its approval. The security officer held out his ident-chip as though it might soil him. Scorpius bowed respectfully as he took it from the outstretched hand.
          "Get on with your business, hybrid." He spat waving Scorpius impatiently toward the level riser with the business end of his pulse rifle.
          Arriving on the tenth floor he exited the level riser into an empty corridor. This unsettled him. At least one pair of commandos should have been patrolling the length of the cell bay. No matter. There was a job to be done and he couldn't very well go back down and ask for an escort. Shifting his file packet into his left hand, he walked quickly down the bay. His muddy boots made squelching noises that echoed disconcertingly in the abandoned corridor with every step. Near the end he found cell 48.
          Not since living on the Scarran dreadnought had he experienced this kind of fear. He saw Tauza's horrid face, burned forever into the backs of his eyelids. His bony hands began to tremble. He quickly slipped them into his sodden gloves. He flinched despite himself. Just the idea of a Scarran on the other side of the door made his stomach clench. The best thing to do would be hurry up and get the job done and return to his quarters, he counseled himself. Warm rasklak and a few arns of sleep would be just the thing after today's duties and time spent outside in the miserable weather.
          He punched numbly at the door controls to open the observation window. The panel popped outward, making a shocking clatter as it hit the floor. Sparks shot outward from the broken panel and he muttered a curse as he stepped away from it. Skin stinging all over from the nearness of so many Scarran prisoners, he turned to leave the cell bay. Unexpectedly, the door to cell 48 began to slide aside. Startled more than fearful, he hurriedly poked and pressed at the shattered control panel.
          "No need for that," a low voice called from inside the cell. "I am harmless."
          The door slid completely open in spite of his efforts. Recoiling from the portal, he was about to run for the level riser. The voice stopped him and he turned around hesitantly.
          "Don't be afraid," The deep voice told him.
          "I'm not afraid," he replied edging toward the level risers. The aura around the towering Scarran told Scorpius all he needed to know.
          "You're wet," the Scarran said, reaching out a clawed hand to touch his face.
          "There's been a terrible storm since this morning," Scorpius said, drawing away as if burned.
          His mind raced and he looked for any possible means of escape. Obviously, this was an assassination attempt. Any Scarran prisoner would know who he was and be more than glad to assist in his demise. He had to get out of this cell bay, out of the building entirely. There would be no hope of help from the commandos. They had been pulled from their duty on this level for a reason. That reason was blatantly clear.
          Before he could make another move, the Scarran shot toward him with lightening speed. Its enormous hands were around his throat and his wet, muddy boots were making ineffectual circles beneath him. He could not get away.
          Laughter scalded his ears as the Scarran lifted him off the floor by his throat. His feet dangled, kicking impotently at the walls. Its scaly head was only denches from his face, the mouth giving forth a fetid stench and beastly growls. Fighting violently to be free of its grip he turned his head and saw the squad of commandos. They stood in the corridor, laughing as the Scarran throttled him.
          Scorpius thought of his mother then, so frail and terrified in the hands of her Scarran attacker. His fingers dug into the armored eyelids of the Scarran. Scorpius' throat nearly split with the force of his growling, strangled screams. If he was to die, he would do his utmost to take this monster with him.
          A flurry of pulse rifle fire hit the Scarran, cleaving its bulk from Scorpius' body. They fell apart, Scorpius hitting a wall with enormous force. He slid downward like a broken toy. His vision doubled, wavered and he thought he would lose consciousness. He couldn't allow that to happen. The commandos would finish what the Scarran soldier had started.
          A sharp voice broke the tense silence. Scorpius fought to right himself, to see the source of the voice. It was issuing orders and scathing insults in one of the core Sebacean dialects with an authority that could mean only one thing. EL-Vashti. The clang of weapons, armor and boots was nearly deafening as the squad made way for the admiral.
          Scorpius clung to the door frame as he forced himself to his feet. He watched the squad of commandos, stiffly at attention, their helmets doing little to mask the fear in the air. It was a palpable thing, a stinging scent in the nostrils. Molayne stood silently behind the admiral, his face a careful blank. His eyes met Scorpius' briefly, and then returned to staring at nothing.
          The Admiral was spitting with fury. The decimation was ordered and Scorpius watched two commandos fall beneath the blows of the pulse rifle butts of their comrades. When they were clearly dead, EL-Vashti turned on the leader. Scorpius recognized him as the one who had given him such a hard time outside the building. The man tried not to flinch as EL-Vashti ripped the helmet from his head.
          Without a word, the admiral pulled his knife from the sheath on his belt. It flashed in the harsh cell bay lights, summoning a river of blood. The commando leader fell like so much refuse to the floor, his head nearly separated from his neck from the force of EL-Vashti's slashing blow.
          Blood flowed beneath Scorpius' feet. He lost his balance and slid into the widening pool hands first. His head was spinning and he wondering not for the first time what he had been thinking coming to the Peacekeepers. How could he survive this?
          A bare hand reached out to him. Scorpius forced himself to focus upon it before looking up into the face. EL-Vashti wasn't smiling, but the look in his eyes told Scorpius it was safe. He took the proffered hand and eased himself upright once more.
          "You are under my personal protection." It was a statement of fact. "Do you understand what that means?"
          "Yes, Admiral." Scorpius said softly, looking into the now placid face. He was uncertain whether he felt admiration or fear for this man. As EL-Vashti's personal adjutant led him out of the cell bay, he knew it was equal portions of both.
          Scorpius gasped into wakefulness in the darkness of his bed. No wonder he hated to sleep. His dreams could always be counted on to dredge up the past. He was never sure which made him more uncomfortable; those about his mother, Tauza or Neleu EL-Vashti.
          "Braca," he barked into his comm.
          "Sir?"
          "Any word from Lt. Atsutane yet?"
          "No sir," Braca said haltingly. "But, we will reach the Bevann system in less than an arn."
          "Very good." Scorpius said as he pulled himself up from the bed. "Inform me immediately of any communication from Lt. Atsutane."



         
          The Mhultaan arrived at the rendezvous point with little fanfare. Atsutane's message had been brief but to the point. He had the information. They were in upper orbit around the forth planet of the Bevann system, awaiting the arrival of Magistrate Liliina EL-Vashti.
          Scorpius sat quietly in Crais' former quarters--now his quarters--the memory of the dream still jangling his nerves. Things had been decidedly worse in his life since that wretched human, John Crichton, destroyed the Gammak base. He could only hope the neural clone was doing the work it was designed to do, and making Crichton's life as miserable as his own in the process.
          He sighed sullenly. Taking time away from his wormhole project left him entirely too many empty arns and harsh memories to fill them. But, his debt to his old patron weighed heavily and he knew he must fulfill it.
          What would the Admiral make of his daughter, he pondered rubbing his aching eyes. What would he think of what she has become? She had every ounce of his drive, but none of his benevolence or sense of honor. She was a brutal, unbridled killer, using her alliance with Scorpius to mete out her revenge as she saw fit.
          Protecting her was becoming more difficult every day, but he would continue to do so despite many misgivings. No EL-Vashti could be allowed to come to harm while he had breath left in his body. Particularly not the beloved daughter of his patron.
          He shifted in his seat. Braca tensed and hovered at his side upon seeing his movement, but he waved the lieutenant away. The young man was shaping up nicely. Scorpius had chosen his underlings well despite being on Crais' old turf. Braca was no Niem, but he had molded himself from boot licking lackey to genuine acolyte. He'd risked his life more than once in Scorpius' defense. In return, he gave the young lieutenant more trust than he would any Peacekeeper. He also afforded him far more respect than Crais ever had.
          A light blinked incessantly on the panel before him. Braca shifted from one foot to the other nervously.
          "Sir?" Braca said tentatively.
          "Yes, I see it, Lieutenant."
          Scorpius depressed the button and an image from the command core flashed before him.
          "What is it, Lt. Trost?" he asked tersely.
          "Sir, long range scans," the young man stammered.
          "Spit it out," Braca admonished from his place at Scorpius' side.
          "Long range scans indicate a Scarran warship."
          "Dreadnought class?" Scorpius asked sitting forward suddenly.
          "Sensors indicate something smaller," the young officer said in a rush.
          "Give me the readings here, Trost." Braca ordered, bending to the task of reading the screen. "Lightweight cruiser, possibly three escort mid-class fighters, Scorpius."
          "We don't have time for this," Scorpius hissed closing the connection to the command core. "The rendezvous with Atsutane and Magistrate EL-Vashti cannot wait."
          "I can assemble two squads aboard a marauder along with a fighter escort wing in 20 microts." Braca offered. "Let the Mhultaan move off to engage the Scarrans while we go down to the planet for the rendezvous."
          "And EL-Vashti's ship?" Scorpius looked unblinking at him. "They need to be warned of the danger in this system before they blunder right into the Scarran's sights."
          "I can put a tight, scrambled communication through to the ship's specific signature." Braca replied confidently. "There is little or no chance the Scarrans would intercept it, or even be able to decipher it before the Magistrate and her ship could get to safety on the planet."
          "Do it, Lieutenant."
          "Sir." Braca clicked his heels and left Scorpius alone in less than the span of a heartbeat.



         
          Braca and his squads were taking no chances. They spread out through the abandoned outpost, weapons at the ready. They checked every square dench before signaling the all-clear to Scorpius.
          Reports came in from Officer Cobrin on prowler detail. The orbit of the planet was clear of enemy ships. The Magistrate's cruiser was in sensor range and acknowledged their hail. Despite the unexpected appearance of the Scarrans, it seemed all was going according to plans.
          Shortly after Scorpius met up with Braca, Cobrin relayed a signal from Atsutane's ship. He would meet them inside the outpost complex in an arn.
          Scorpius settled lightly on a stool against the far wall of an abandoned dining area. He took in the scattered remnants of what had been a covert Peacekeeper forward outpost only cycles before. Evacuation had been sudden. He had never seen such disarray except following a pitched battle.
          Atsutane entered the room silently, catching Scorpius' eye. Braca stiffened beside him. The lieutenant hadn't forgotten being taken unawares by the tracker's stealth at their previous meeting. He had little trust for the dangerous Special Operations agent.
          Scorpius unfolded his lanky frame, standing to greet Atsutane with an expectant smile.
          "We merely await Magistrate EL-Vashti," he said offering a respectful nod of his head.
          "She is on her way in," Atsutane said in a matter of fact tone. "I scanned her ship upon its arrival."
          "You miss nothing, eh?" Scorpius replied.
          Further polite conversation halted with the entry of a squad of Internal Affairs Directorate elite guards. Scorpius' own commandos made way for them, more out of dread than respect. No Peacekeeper would intentionally invite the wrath of IAD. The room was soon filled to overcrowding.
          EL-Vashti strode in, removing her garrison cap and uniform cloak. Her adjutant took them quickly and stepped out of her way. The Magistrate's dark eyes were riveted on Atsutane. Her anticipation was palpable.
          There was a microt of painful silence before she made a rapid hand gesture to her aide. The young officer signaled to the elite guard to withdraw. Once that was accomplished, Braca ordered Scorpius' squad out of the room. He followed them, stopping at the door with a questioning look on his face. Scorpius shook his head imperceptibly and Braca retreated from the room. Once the three of them stood alone in the dusty, ravaged dining hall, EL-Vashti turned an angry snarl on Atsutane.
          "Perhaps you can explain to me, Lieutenant," she said the word so scornfully Scorpius looked at her in astonishment. "Why have you taken almost half a cycle to get the information you have supposedly brought to us today?"
          "Perhaps you could do me the courtesy of hearing my information," Atsutane replied unruffled.           "Then you may decide if the time taken to acquire it was unwarranted."
          Scorpius saw a great deal of impatience and anger in her eyes. No wonder she hated Crais. It had nothing to do with the former captain's little coup d'etat, or more precisely coup d'theatre, and the child that resulted from it. They were two of a kind. Cut from the same emotionally unstable cloth. Unfortunate that she still had any influence over the child. Scorpius never wanted to see that innocent turned into a monster like his parents.
          "Make your report, Lieutenant." Scorpius said courteously as he eased himself back onto the stool.
          Atsutane clasped his hands behind his back and began in a level, emotionless tone.
          "I found my information via a member of the escaped Leviathan's crew." He said.
          "Moya?" Scorpius said sharply, and then caught himself. Didn't want to sound like his protégé.           "You've been in contact with Moya's crew? With John Crichton?"
          "The human was on the planet, as were the escaped prisoners and the deserter, Aeryn Sun." Atsutane replied levelly. "However, I had no direct contact with any but the Nebari and Luxan. Since the others were not the object of my mission, I made no attempt to apprehend them."
          Scorpius nearly swallowed his tongue with rage. He felt the cooling rod in his head sizzle as his core temperature shot dangerously high. The sanctimonious sneer on EL-Vashti's face was more than he could bear, making him wish momentarily he could strangle her himself.
          Atsutane was correct, however. There had been no provision to bring in Moya's crew. It was a fatal mistake on his part. He should have known that the renegade's path and that of John Crichton would've crossed. In trying to fulfill his bargain with EL-Vashti and honor the memory of his patron, he had shot himself in the foot.
          "Just get on with the report!" EL-Vashti ordered hatefully.
          "As you wish," Atsutane said with a slight nod. "My sources. . ."
          "What sources?" EL-Vashti interrupted.
          "A quarter of a cycle ago, the Expeditionary Directorate ship, Freydahl, received a coded signal from one of its light cruisers shortly before its destruction." Atsutane explained. "It was short, garbled, but indicated that one of the cruiser's prowlers was destroyed by another prowler. It's signature indicated that it was the one stolen by Officer Aeryn Sun when she escaped."
          "What does this have to do with Crais?" Scorpius asked before EL-Vashti could make her own hateful comment.
          "Just prior to the end of the message, the cruiser's pilot said that the Gunship hybrid was attacking them." Atsutane answered. "To have the Leviathan and her offspring in such close proximity suggested to me information of the renegade's whereabouts might be obtained from a member of the escaped Leviathan's crew."
          Scorpius flashed a look of triumph at EL-Vashti. She ignored him.
          "They were not difficult to locate, despite the traitor Gillina Mayes' actions on the Gammak base, scrambling our shipping signature records. It seemed as if they were in complete ignorance of even being tracked." Atsutane went on. "I was able to find my likely target via an herbalist in a market complex on Zyn'dral VII.
          "I found the Nebari and her Luxan companion in a weak position and subdued them. I questioned her regarding any contact she or her fellow escapees may have had with Crais within the past cycle." He spared Scorpius a knowing look then said, "She took a bit of convincing but was quite candid with the proper impetus."
          "The information," EL-Vashti prompted vehemently. "Do not try to impress me with your methods, Lieutenant. You forget I am the expert in that quarter."
          Scorpius shook his head, despairing of her utterly.
          "The Nebari informed me that approximately a quarter of a cycle earlier, the Gunship approached them without warning. Crais hailed them, requesting help for a female he had aboard with him." Atsutane looked again at Scorpius before continuing. "A human female, according to the Nebari."
          "What?" Scorpius shot upright and was only denches from the tracker in a microt. "What human female? From where? Where would Crais get his hands on a human female?"
          EL-Vashti watched this exchange silently. Scorpius could feel her eyes hotly on him, but ignored her.
          "According to the Nebari, he purchased her from a Tirysp slave trader." Atsutane replied.
          Scorpius hissed his disgust involuntarily. Nasty, horrid creatures. Thoroughly repugnant.
          "The Nebari stated that she had actually met this human female. She had been brought aboard Moya for medical aid, rendered by the Delvian priest. This human told them she had been part of an information exchange. The human government entered into an agreement with the Tirysps. Technology for humans." Atsutane said, his own loathing evident even through his cool demeanor.
          "Slaves," Scorpius whispered, troubled. "They tricked the humans into giving up their own for slaves. Or, knowing the Tirysps, far worse."
          "I thought we had exterminated their kind," EL-Vashti said, repulsed.
          "Slimy disgusting creatures," Scorpius said with a shudder. "There will always be pockets of them we've missed in our pogroms."
          "The Nebari informed me that the human claimed Crais had saved her. Though it seems obvious he only purchased her after he discovered her species." Atsutane continued.
          "Then Crais knows what she is!" Scorpius rasped spinning away from the others to pace the dining hall.
          "Of course he does," EL-Vashti snapped. "Bialar Crais may be many things but he is no idiot. He has her for a reason and I'm sure it has little to do with his animal appetites."
          Scorpius laughed before he could stop himself. She was right, of course. Crais was phobic about irreversible contamination. What horrors he must be enduring with a human aboard his precious Gunship! How soiled his sensibilities must be.
          "How long has she been with him aboard the Gunship?" EL-Vashti spoke the words that were on the tip of his tongue.
          "Half a cycle, perhaps longer." Atsutane answered coolly.
          "She can't possibly have the information I'm seeking," Scorpius said, almost as an aside. "What does he want her for? A bargaining chip to gain back his reputation with the Peacekeepers? Surely he isn't that naïve."
           "There seems to be a great deal more to it than that," Atsutane interject, dragging Scorpius from his musings.
           "Such as?" He asked, turning his cold blue-eyed stare on the tracker.
           "The Nebari claims that there was a question of a child." Atsutane said slowly. "The human female was suffering a miscarriage. That was Crais' reason for bringing her to the Leviathan. He hoped that the Delvian's experience with John Crichton would serve to save her."
          "Yes, he would want to save her." Scorpius said stoking his lips in thought. "She'd be no use to him dead."
          "It was something," Atsutane hesitated for the first time. Scorpius and EL-Vashti both gaped at him. "Something entirely different."
          "Different?" EL-Vashti asked irritably. "How?"
          Atsutane answered with conspicuous discomfort, "If the Nebari's recollection of the incident can be trusted, Crais has an emotional tie to this woman."
          "Dren!" EL-Vashti shrilled. "Pure and total dren. He is incapable. The zannet lacks the wherewithal for it."
          "Please, Liliina," Scorpius said softly, coming to put his hands on her shoulders, giving them a tender squeeze. Then to Atsutane, "Continue your report."
          "The Nebari speculated that the child belonged to Crais, hence his desperation to save the woman. She also said that while it took some time to convince Crais to take her back once the child was lost, he did return for the human female, no questions asked." Atsutane said carefully.
          "Oh, sweet delicious irony." EL-Vashti said with a vicious laugh. She pulled away from Scorpius, hugging herself. "Don't you see it, Scorpius? This is it. The lever I need. Killing him was never good enough. Killing his son would be of no help now that he is disgraced and no longer a Peacekeeper. This is the thing I need to shatter him."
          "What do you propose?" Scorpius watched her, afraid for her sanity.
          "Lieutenant," she said suddenly all cold professionalism. "You will track that Gunship. When you have found it, you will notify me immediately. We will subdue the Gunship and take that human female into custody."
          She spun to look at Scorpius and he knew what her next words would be before she spoke them.
          "You can use her, Scorpius." She smiled icily. "Study her; find whatever information and weaknesses you need. She could be a perfect tool to use against John Crichton and eventually the humans. . .should the need arise."
          "And if he should object to your taking this woman," Scorpius smiled dangerously at her. "Dedicate himself to a crusade of getting her back?"
          "I'll make certain he understands the repercussions of such a foolhardy undertaking," EL-Vashti replied, her tone convincing Scorpius she was capable of doing just that.
          Scorpius nodded his agreement as he turned his attention to the tracker.
          "Lieutenant, this time keep in mind that any information leading to the recapture of the Leviathan and her crew is of vital importance to Peacekeeper security." Scorpius purred.
          The threat implied was obviously not lost on Atsutane.
          "Oh, and by the way," Scorpius asked. "Did you do a mind wipe on the Nebari and Luxan?"
          "It is my standard procedure in such cases," he replied almost insulted.
          "Leave at once," EL-Vashti ordered, the smile still on her face. "Report to me directly the microt you have something."
          Atsutane spun wordlessly on his heel and was gone.
          "My dear, we may yet accomplish both our goals in this endeavor." Scorpius said softly putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her out of the dining hall.