Reparation -- Chapter 8: End Game

          "Burn it," EL-Vashti ordered the squad of commandos as they stood before the locked inner door of Talyn's docking bay.
          They obeyed her command without delay, firing on the door at point blank range. It was a melting scrap in microts, falling in lumps of liquefied metal to the deck. EL-Vashti would have to thank Scorpius for his suggestion of the dampening net. Without it, the young Leviathan Gunship would have made short work of them all with his internal weaponry.
          "Scanners to maximum," she ordered as the commandos turned back toward her. "Fan out. Search every tier. They will be in hiding, naturally. I want only the human female. Alive understood? Furthermore, Crais is not to be killed under any circumstances."
          "Yes, sir," the ten commandos replied in unison. She walked slowly after them as they quick marched into the bowels of Crais' ship.



          Crais stiffened, arched his back and cried out. Talyn was burning. He was in pain. Commandos were on board, moving toward them quickly. The damping net may have rendered Talyn's weaponry useless, but the Gunship was still very much aware of what was going on. Crais grasped at the neural transponder, trying to calm him and ease his pain. With his own thoughts jumbled and disconnected, it was no easy task.
          Senna seemed to sense Talyn's distress through him and quickly sat up and moved away from him. He picked her clothes up from the deck and tossed them onto the bed beside her. She began to dress quickly without begin told. He pulled on his uniform trousers, boots and undershirt. His hair was wild, loosened from the queue and falling about his face and shoulders, but he ignored it.
          He looked at her, eyes like a terrified child set in the face of an incensed executioner. She shook her head slightly and forced her lips into a slight smile.
          "Time's up," she said as she rose to stand beside him. She touched his face softly with her fingertips before turning to unlock the door. "Time to cash in my chips."
          "Senna," he said tucking his hair back behind his ears.
          "No," she cut him short.
          She left his quarters for several moments, returning with her jump bag and guitar. She laid them carefully on his bed, sitting down beside them.
          "I cannot believe you will now sit serenely waiting," he shouted, slashing an arm across his console. Glass bottles, trinkets and keepsakes were sent flying, smashing upon the deck by his action. He spun to face her, the glare on his face terrifying. "You have no concept of what is going to happen to you!"
          "Sometimes you have to know when to give in," she sighed looking up into his face with such affection that his heart felt squeezed in a vice. "Sometimes it's the only way to survive. Trust me. I'm the expert at survival."
          "You haven't changed one dench, Crais," EL-Vashti's cold voice interrupted. "It is amazing to me that you ever accomplished anything outside the bedchamber. . .or in it for that matter. . .if memory serves."
         "Just give it a rest," Senna said tiredly as she rose, gathering her things.
         "Leave that dren," EL-Vashti snapped.
         "I'm taking my stuff," Senna retorted, and now seemed completely unafraid.
         "We have no time for this," the other woman said frostily, staring at Senna with unadulterated hatred.
         "What harm can there be in allowing her to take her belongings?" Crais asked delicately, not wishing to inflame EL-Vashti's wrath further.
         "She will not be needing them where she is going," the Magistrate replied.
         "You gave me your vow as a Peacekeeper she was not to be killed." Crais rejoined more sharply.
          "Killed?" EL-Vashti replied with a slight laugh. "No."
          "Look," Senna said, her tone softer but still insistent. "The guitar. . .the musical instrument in that gun case has been in my family for nearly a hundred cycles. Let me take it. I'll leave the rest."
          "What?" EL-Vashti said, brow furrowed in mock curiosity as she motioned one of the commandos to open the case.
          He removed the guitar, kicking the case to the deck and dropped the instrument on Crais' bed. It twanged its disapproval loudly, unaccustomed to such handling.
          "That device?" EL-Vashti asked pointing at it.
          "Yes," Senna replied.
          "Very well," EL-Vashti said, making a subtle hand gesture to the soldier.
          The towering commando picked up the guitar roughly with one enormous, gloved hand. Before another word could be said he swung it with all his might into a support stanchion. The strings sung discordantly to the sound of wood splintering.
          "No!" screamed Senna as she lunged toward the commando.
          EL-Vashti stepped forward dealing the woman a hard fist to the jaw. Senna yelped in pain, crumbling to one knee on the deck, hand over her mouth. Crais was leaping toward EL-Vashti in the same instant. He was stopped abruptly by a hail of blows from the butts of the commandos' pulse rifles.
          "No!" Senna shrieked. "Don't hurt him! Stop damn it!"
          "Don't hurt him," mocked EL-Vashti as she motioned her commandos to leave off their attack on Crais and retrieve the human.
          "You will not get away with this, Magistrate," hissed Crais, blood and spittle spraying from his mouth.
         "Ah, I seem to recall saying something similar to you all those cycles ago," she replied with a cold smile. "In my case however, I was correct. You have not gotten away with what you did to me or House EL-Vashti."
         "I will hunt you down and squeeze the life out of you with my bare hands," Crais swore as he rose to face her, casually wiping his bloodied face on the sleeve of his undershirt.
         "You should have done that four cycles ago on the Mhultaan, Crais." She scoffed as she motioned the commandos to remove the human from Crais' quarters. "I assure you on my honor as an IAD Agent, you will never be afforded another chance."
          EL-Vashti was about to issue an order to the commandos when Senna turned and spewed a stream of blood from her shattered mouth fully into the other woman's face.
          "Prohasar man opre pirend. Sa muro djiben semas opre chengende." She muttered the old Rom saying around broken teeth as the commandos lifted her off her feet and struck at her with fists and rifles.
          The translator microbes allowed them all to understand, but Crais repeated her words.
          "Bury me standing. I've been on my knees all my life."
          "Take that revolting creature out of here," EL-Vashti snarled, wiping at her face with the corner of the coverlet on his bed.
           "I will find you," Crais vowed to Senna.
          Senna mouthed his name silently and their eyes met a final time before she was dragged out of his quarters.
          "You will have to sleep some time," Crais said quietly, his face a mask of pure evil as he turned his deathly gaze back to EL-Vashti.
          "So will you," she replied sweetly. "And remember the bargain. The human woman for the life of your son. You even think of making a move in the direction of Peacekeeper territory and I will know about it. You allow this Gunship to mature with its weaponry intact, I will know about it. Your hopes of House Crais will be buried in an unmarked grave and the human tralk will suffer my methods for many cycles to come."
          "I believe we understand each other," Crais said, his voice filled with ghastly promises.
          "Not if you lived to be a thousand cycles, first-genner," she said before spinning on her heel and leaving him alone in his room.




          Crais stalked into Talyn's command core glaring at the shape of the IAD cruiser on the main viewer. Stepping into the center circle, he tried to keep his feelings under control and his voice soft. Talyn had been frantic but powerless during the altercation in his quarters. Now the Gunship was on the verge of madness.
          "Talyn, prepare to starburst." He said, his voice far more calm that he felt.
          Talyn screeched in protest. Lighting panels and controls flashed wildly and the entire Gunship rocked in place.
          "You must starburst," he said, gritting his teeth. "There is nothing further we can do for her now. We must make good our escape."
          There was a long sing song of discordant noises and Crais reached a hand up to stroke the rounded structure above his head.
          "I understand that, Talyn," he reasoned softly, trying to calm the ship. "But there is no other way open to us."
          The Gunship's engines throbbed to life beneath his feet.
          "Starburst," he breathed, relieved as he felt Talyn comply.
          He looked at the IAD ship a final time before closing his eyes.



          Senna stumbled, fell and was roughly set back onto her feet by the commandos as they left the transport pod. She stepped onto the deck in the landing bay feeling far less brave now that the reality of being in Peacekeeper hands was upon her. The entire area was filled with commandos and other personnel milling like wasps around their nest.
          A pulse rifle was jammed into her back, forcing her to stop gaping and continue walking. EL-Vashti appeared microts later, no sign of blood on her face. She walked ahead of them to greet a monstrous creature that reminded Senna of something out of Hellraiser. The commandos urged her forward again and she deliberately dragged her feet.
          EL-Vashti made a quick hand motion. The leading commando grabbed Senna by the magcuffs around her wrists, pulling her face to face with the creature and EL-Vashti.
          "Liliina," he said, voice effeminate, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "You've damaged her."
          "She was less than willing to leave her lover," EL-Vashti said then laughed hollowly.
          He reached a gloved hand to take her chin in a light grip. Senna turned her head and backed away. He grabbed her face in a hard grip nearly pulling her off her feet. She winced and cried out as the boney fingers dug into her swollen jaw.
          "Who are you supposed to be?" she hissed against the pain. "Dungeon Master at Madame FiFi's House of Pain?"
          He seemed genuinely amused at her comment, smiling to reveal a mouthful of sharp, stained teeth. He released her, turning back to speak with EL-Vashti.
          "The Gunship starburst out of the system 5 microts ago," he told her.
          Senna's bowels turned to liquid and she thought she would foul herself.
          Bialar's gone.
          Their voices droned on, nearly drowned out by the buzzing sound growing inside her head. She blinked, tried to wipe her eyes only to have a commando slap her arms down hard.
          "Having his female hostage should force a degree of obedience out of Crais," EL-Vashti remarked bitterly.
          "Just the leash he needs," Scorpius chuckled in reply.
          A chill swept over Senna as she listened and she shuddered visibly. She was practically numb as Scorpius ordered all but one of the commandos guarding her back to their original posts. The remaining commando shifted his grip on his rifle, jabbing the muzzle into her back to force her to walk forward.
          "I'm certain Crichton would be most interested in seeing you again," Scorpius said dangerously, only denches from her face, before turning away from her.
          Well, that's not going to happen, a voice in her head snapped, like someone suddenly switching off a light.
          Please human being if you bleed they will say that it's destined.
          The words of the Seal song shook her like a sudden clap of thunder. She remembered having the CD on in her car the last time she drove it--to the embarkation center in Maryland where the group was turned over to the Tirysp.
          A million years ago in my real life. . .
          They'll be punching tickets by the minute if you fall out of line.
          She saw the inscription on the portal nearest to them and with icy clarity knew exactly what she was about to do. Her body was on automatic, her mind calm and filled with acceptance.
          When you lose your self-esteem, that's when love dies. So desperate. Desperate.
          Sucking in a deep breath, she lurched sideways toward the door, her shoulder connecting with the locking mechanism. Alarms began to sound throughout the landing bay as the door slid aside. Red and white alert lights flashed inside the airlock as the outer door prepared to open.
          We're mere human beings. We die. It's destined.
          She stumbled inside the small alcove, landing face down with enough force to knock the air out of herself. The commando was lunging after her, his hand grabbing at her heels as she floundered away from him. Fingernails popped, split and sheared off as she pulled herself along the metal decking and up a nearby wall. She could hear voices shouting, screaming as the door opened slowly and air rushed outward.
          "Prepare to snag them if they get sucked out of the ship," Scorpius yelled to the personnel around him.
          The commando had her by one arm and was dragging her up onto her feet. Unsecured objects near the airlock began to slide rapidly toward them. She and the commando were being pelted by bits and pieces of equipment and debris caught in the growing suction. He was about to shove her back into the landing bay.
          Now or never.
          She knew she could never overpower the commando with force. Remembering the lessons in self-defense Crais pounded into her, she relaxed, slumping forward into him. It was a move he was completely unprepared for. In his moment of hesitation, Senna's finger was sliding onto the trigger of his pulse rifle.
          It's destined.
          It's not true, what they say about your life flashing before your eyes, she thought bitterly as she pressed his finger down onto the trigger.
          The resulting pulse charge shattered any further thoughts Senna may have had along with most of her skull. The force of the shot sent them both tumbling weightless through the opened outer airlock doors, the commando still gripping her limp body in one hand.
          "Retrieve the body for dissection and study," Scorpius growled before stalking out of the landing bay.




          The commerce planet Gillal IV was bustling with transport ships, cargo vessels and a wide variety of mercenary traffic. The cities were filled to overflowing with every species known to the Peacekeepers and many more as yet unknown. It was a perfect location to conduct a variety of business, including those deemed illegal by most systems. Crais piloted the transport pod through the atmosphere, locked onto the coordinates of the meeting place.
          Nearly a month had passed since the altercation with EL-Vashti. He tried not to think of the things Scorpius might be doing to Senna. Having been at the half-breed's mercy on more than one occasion, Crais could well image the level of suffering she was being forced to endure. He gritted his teeth and grimaced. He hoped for her sake she didn't survive for very long. In reality, however, he knew Scorpius was quite accomplished at his methods and could keep her alive indefinitely if he wanted it.
          Crais landed the transport pod carefully on the soft mud more than five kilometras from the nearest city. Even in a dren hole like this one, he felt unsafe and therefore unwilling to risk a meeting in town.
          He stood, straightening his uniform before climbing out of the pod into the fetid, oppressive night. Talyn's sensors picked up the other vessel and the Gunship chattered to him excitedly. Crais touched the transponder, trying to comfort him as he walked to the center of the clearing to wait.
          "Monitor message traffic," he instructed. "Remain calm and take no action unless I expressly order it."
          Even in the darkness, Crais could see the ungainly movements of the Plokavian scout shambling toward him.
          "That's far enough," he warned when the creature was ten metras away.
          "You have a proposition for us?" the creature wheezed, face hidden beneath its enormous hood.
          "Hard currency and a specialized frag cannon in exchange for a damping net made to my custom specifications," Crais replied tightly.
          "Not a fair trade on your end," the Plokavian said with a breathless laugh.
          "Not your concern," he countered sharply.
          "True enough," it said in return. "Give us your specifications."
          Crais tossed the data pad across the distance between them. He watched as the Plokavian stooped disjointedly to retrieve it, then erect itself with great difficulty. It shook the mud off the device before putting it very close to its face to study the information.
          "Easily done," it said. "Five solar days."
          "Five solar days," Crais agreed. "Meet my ship at the coordinates given on the data pad."
          "A good faith deposit is required," the creature told him, shifting uncomfortably.
          Crais produced a small case from his gun belt, tossing it across the clearing at the creature's feet. He watched as it nearly tipped over in an attempt to retrieve it. It made humming noises and spoke to itself as it counted out the currency chits.
          "Agreed," it said with finality.
          Crais watched as it turned and awkwardly made its way back to its ship.



          "Talyn let's get out of here," Crais ordered as he stepped into the center circle of the Gunship's command. "Starburst."
          Instead of the enormous rush of energy and indescribably images he normally felt as they starburst, his brain rang with discordant sounds. Before he could speak or even think, every nerve in his body was on fire. He shrieked in pain as he fell to his knees. His hands grabbed at the neural transponder, trying desperately to remove it. With another bolt of pain, his hands fell ineffectually at his sides.
          "Talyn!" he moaned, fighting to put his feet beneath him and stand. "What's happening? Why are you doing this?"
          The pain boiled over him again as he sprawled onto his stomach, cheek pressed against the icy coldness of the deck.
          Images, concepts, emotions. Talyn communicated with him now in a way he'd never done before. The fury and feelings of betrayal had the young Gunship at the point of madness. Through the pain, Crais tried to make sense of what he was being shown.
          Message traffic. Message. Peacekeeper message traffic.
          Crais felt hot whelps rising on his skin and cried out again.
          "Talyn, no!" he begged, spittle flying from his lips as he writhed on the deck.
          See. Images. Message images. Sounds. Peacekeeper message traffic.
          ". . .human female captive killed in escape attempt." A voice echoed in his head through the transponder link along with random and nonsensical images. "Body sent to Special Research Directorate for further study. . ."
          Crais screamed, but it was Talyn's emotions behind it. As Crais' body flailed to its feet, it was Talyn awkwardly guiding it. Only the tears streaming down Crais' face were his own.



          Aeryn stood beside a table watching Crichton and D'Argo argue over the game.
          "No, no, no, D," Crichton laughed, shaking a small piece of carved metal at the Luxan. "This is the horse. Got it? It moves in an 'L' shape like this."
          Crichton moved the piece around on the board in several different directions before the Luxan exhaled noisily with disgust. He crossed his arms over his bulky chest, eying Crichton critically.
          "First of all, I do not know what a hoorze is," he groused, voice rumbling low, mouth turned down in a sneer. "Second, I am not entirely sure I want to know."
          "Come on, D'Argo," Crichton argued amiably. "This is a man's game. Game of kings. It's a battle between two sides. I'd have thought as a soldier, you'd take to it right off!"
          Aeryn shook her head as she watched the two men argue like small children over the pieces of junk metal between them. The bizarre and often ludicrous concoctions of Crichton's mind never failed to amaze her. At least with this he was talking to D'Argo and not himself as he'd been doing entirely too much of lately.
          "Officer Sun," Pilot's voice interrupted over her comm.
          "Yes, Pilot?"
          "May I have a word with you in my den?" he asked haltingly.
          Sensitive to his moods and subtle intonations she said, "I'll be there in a microt."
          Still bickering over the game, neither Crichton nor D'Argo saw her slip out of the human's quarters.
          She hurriedly made her way down the tiers. The door to Pilot's den swung aside to admit her as she emerged on his tier. The look on his face as she entered shocked her. She walked swiftly across to his console, climbing over it and sat facing him.
          "What's going on?" she asked softly.
          "I've received a message from Talyn," he admitted hesitantly. "I was instructed that it was meant for you alone."
          Aeryn's face creased in apprehension.
         "Captain Crais wishes to speak with you," Pilot said, obviously uncomfortable with the words.
         "Why?"
         "He did not give a reason," he replied. "Only that I was to call you here alone for the transmission."
          Aeryn held her breath for a microt before nodding her agreement.
          Pilot depressed a single toggle and a small holo-image of Crais spun to life over one side of his console.
          "Officer Sun," he greeted her stiffly.
          "Crais," she replied, surprised that it was a live transmission. "What's this about?"
          One hand went to the transponder on the back of his neck and he seemed to struggle with something for a moment before answering her.
          "I have been experiencing problems with Talyn," he admitted awkwardly. "I require your assistance in the matter."
          "What kind of problems?" Aeryn asked, thoroughly unsettled not only by the request, but the way he was acting.
          "His aggressive tendencies have become too much to handle alone," he explained, his face rigid.
          "What exactly do you think I can do to help you with this?" Aeryn questioned, eying him suspiciously.
          "I can better explain the situation face to face," Crais said flatly. "I propose a rendezvous."
          "The others are not going to like that idea," Aeryn interrupted him. "Particularly since the last time nearly cost all of us our lives."
          Crais averted his eyes briefly before responding.
           "Nonetheless, I require your help, Officer Sun." he said, his voice a razor's edge away from begging.
          "I will have to consult with the others about this," she said, shifting uncomfortably, her eyes never leaving the holo-image.
         "Make them understand my intentions are only for Talyn's best welfare," Crais replied grasping at the transponder again.
          "I will try." She nodded her agreement, and then asked, "How is Senna Romero? Crichton will want to know."
          Crais seemed to shudder, his mouth working furiously before he spoke.
          "She is dead," he replied solemnly, head bowed. "On Yrunndas III. We went there for supplies and were ambushed by Peacekeepers. Talyn acted rashly, causing . . . her death."
          Aeryn was too shocked to speak for several long microts, then: "I'm sorry, Crais."
          "Hence my request for aid from you, Officer Sun." he replied quickly. "We cannot go on in the manner we have been. It has become clear to me that Talyn is far too immature to handle the weaponry with which he is equipped."
          Aeryn nodded her head in understanding. "I will speak to the others immediately."
          "Aeryn," he said, and then seemed to catch himself. "Officer Sun, I will require that you come aboard unarmed."
          "Crichton and D'Argo will not agree to that," she replied bluntly.
          "Nevertheless," he countered stridently. "Talyn's state of mind is very unstable and any show of force might lead to. . .a repeat of the tragedy that befell Senna on Yrunndas III."
          Aeryn considered this, staring wordlessly at him for several microts.
          "You have my vow that, should you come unarmed, it will be a peaceful encounter." He told her with a slight smile.
          Still feeling ill at ease with the situation, she acquiesced. "I'll talk with the others."
          "Thank you, Officer Sun." he replied, the forced smile widening.
          The image shuddered, swirled and disappeared. She felt Pilot's huge eyes on her and slowly met his gaze.
          "I don't like this," he murmured nervously.

          She put a hand tenderly to his cheek and nodded her head. "Neither do I."