Serendipity and Procrustes -- Chapter 6: Our Sins Remembered

          "Look how much he's grown, Aeryn." Zhaan said excitedly. "He's nearly doubled in size."

          "He's beautiful," Aeryn smiled as she prepared to dock their transport pod inside Talyn.
          As they hovered to the deck of the docking bay and came to a stop, Aeryn could see Crais through the forward windows. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but a gray sweater and black pants. His hair was loose around his shoulders and the expression on his face was one she had never imagined she would see. In any other place and time, she wouldn't have recognized him.
          He was standing right outside the pod waiting for them as its door opened. He pursed his lips and his features softened slightly.
          "Thank you," he said with difficulty. "Thank you for coming to help us."
          Us. Aeryn wasn't sure if Crais meant he and Talyn, or he and the human female. She did a double take at the emotions on his face. This was not what she had expected to find on seeing him again.
          "Please, take me to her." Zhaan said.
          Crais turned silently and lead them out of the docking bay. As she followed a few paces behind Crais and Zhaan, Aeryn admired the beauty that was Moya's son. Seeing him and being aboard again stirred strong maternal feelings inside her. He had changed drastically since her last time aboard, growing more tiers, each with greater interior details. Pilot was right; Talyn would grow larger than Moya.
          They reached what was obviously the personnel quarters tier and Crais ushered them to a door. He opened it, indicating they should enter the tiny cubicle.
          "She is in here," he said as he followed them inside.
          The woman on the bed was dangerously pale, feverish and only semi-conscious. Zhaan held her hands over the gaunt, sweat-drenched face taking in the woman's condition with her many senses. She ran her hands above and along her body checking for injuries. Removing the thin blanket, she noted blood around the woman's groin and thighs. She turned to Crais with a harsh look.
          "The bleeding began two solar days after the Halosian attack," he explained.
          The look Aeryn had seen on his face in the docking bay returned. He stared at the woman as he spoke, not at either of them.
          "Despite the fact that we had our defense screens up, Talyn was jolted around quite a bit." He explained, now watching Zhaan's hands on the woman. "Senna told me she had fallen, striking her abdomen on a support stanchion. She complained of pain and nausea, but dismissed it. Within a few arns she began to vomit and the fever increased. When I tried to bring it down with cold water, I realized she was bleeding heavily from some sort of internal injury she sustained during the attack. That's when we began searching for Moya."
          Zhaan gingerly removed the black briefs and blood began to spread beneath the woman with every beat of her heart.
         "I attempted. . .packing the. . .down there," he admitted, embarrassed. "I'm versed only in the most rudimentary of emergency aid. I knew immediately she would require more extensive treatment."
          Zhaan carefully examined the packing, then the vivid bruises on the woman's lower right abdomen.
          "Captain, you saved her life with your efforts," Zhaan said, trying to comfort him.
          Aeryn noticed Crais' forehead relax and the loud exhale he made at Zhaan's pronouncement.
          He cared for this woman. The thought of it shocked her to the core.
          She could have never in a hundred lifetimes imagined Crais possessing feelings for anyone other than himself or his brother. She knew his second officer aboard the Mhultaan, Lt. Teeg, cared fiercely for him. In return for this, she'd been rewarded with betrayal and death at Crais' hands. And the entire crew knew of his mercurial and cruel affair with Lt. Larell. Aeryn continued to watch him staring at the woman and wondered again about people being able to change.
          "I must take her aboard Moya," Zhaan said finally. "The simples I brought with me are insufficient to the task."
          "Certainly, whatever you require," Crais agreed. "May I accompany you?"
          "No!" Aeryn responded without thinking then added more softly. "It wouldn't be a good idea."
          He looked at her with the hard cold eyes she remembered so well, but the emotion behind them was far different. Zhaan came to stand between them, placing a gentle hand on Crais' shoulder. His eyes were filled with something bordering on panic.
          "I will render her every assistance in my power, Captain." She assured him and he seemed to become calmer. "I will keep you apprised of any changes, no matter how slight."
          Aeryn knew Zhaan must have sensed Crais' feelings for the woman he called Senna. One did not need the powers of a Delvian Pa'u to see them. He was dripping with emotion. Aeryn knew he had never been able to keep a tight reign on his feelings, blustering and yelling without thought to how it made him appear. Eventually, he even allowed them to destroy him, deserting his post to avoid court martial and execution. Perhaps it wasn't so unreasonable to think he might love as passionately as he did everything else. That his emotions drove him was a certainty, first, last and always.
          "We must hurry," Zhaan said.
          Crais went to the bedside, covering the woman with the metallic blanket again. Dropping to one knee, he lifted her in his arms.
          "Officer Sun," he said nodding his head toward two parcels of luggage. One was an oblong storage case similar to one that carried pulse rifles. The other was a common jump bag many Peacekeepers used when traveling. "Those are the only belongings she possesses. She will want them with her."
          Without another word, he carried the woman out of the room. Zhaan spared Aeryn a concerned look, shaking her head negatively. Aeryn knew in that moment that the Delvian held little hope for saving the woman's life. This would devastate John. She couldn't even begin to think of how Crais would take it. Zhaan followed Crais as Aeryn picked up the luggage.
          When she entered the transport pod, Aeryn saw Crais on his knees, carefully placing Senna on the pallet Zhaan laid out for him. He tucked the blanket more snugly around her body then looked at her sallow face, his own hard and drawn. He reached out tentative fingers to stroke sweat-soaked hair from her forehead, but pulled away. He stood and wordlessly left the transport pod.
          Zhaan and Aeryn exchanged meaningful glances, but kept silent as well. Aeryn climbed into the control chair with a deep sense of foreboding. She turned to see Zhaan position herself on the floor beside the woman to keep her body steady during the lift off and short flight.



          D'Argo and Crichton were already waiting in the maintenance bay with a gurney when they arrived back on Moya.
          "She has lost a lot of blood," Zhaan said hurriedly motioning them into the transport pod. She directed D'Argo to pick up the woman very carefully, Crichton at her elbow the entire time looking on. Aeryn saw the expression on his face. It was awash with excitement, fear, anticipation and wonder. She knew the pang of jealousy that struck her was childish and unnecessary, but it was beyond her control.
           "I don't know if I can save her," Zhaan told Crichton quietly. "She has massive internal injuries in her lower abdomen. When I initially examined her, the bleeding increased."
           "Do whatever you can, Blue." Crichton said following as D'Argo pushed the gurney rapidly down Moya's curving corridors to Zhaan's lab. "Do everything you can."
           "Trust me, John I shall." She assured him.
           "She'd better," Aeryn said to Crichton as an aside. "There is no telling how Crais will react should she die."
           "What are you saying, Aeryn?" Crichton asked coming to a dead stop. "Did you have a chance to find out how he got his mitts on her? Is it Scorpius? Has he found a way to Earth?"
           "I didn't have time to question him. The woman's condition was too serious and. . ." Her voice trailed off and she looked away from him, biting her lower lip.
           "And?"
           "John, this woman means something to him," she said.
           "What? As a bargaining chip with Scorpy and the big boys back at the Admiralty?" Crichton laughed derisively. "Hell, he probably kidnapped her from Scorpy when he wasn't looking just so he could get in good again with the Gestapo back home."
          "John," Aeryn tried to explain but dropped it. Crichton would not believe what she was going to say anyway.



          Zhaan's face was tight with worry. Her thorough examination of the woman left only one conclusion: surgery would be required to save her life. Even that held slim hope. Her system was so weak with blood loss she might not survive the night. Zhaan knew she lacked the facilities and knowledge for such a procedure. She also realized she was the only one aboard Moya capable of even attempting it. There would be no time to reach a medical hub were there one in this sector in the first place.
          "John," she said. He was standing over the woman, the look on his face terrible to see. "She needs to have her blood supply replenished first."
          "First?" he said cocking an eyebrow at her.
          "Yes," she said. "Then, I must attempt to perform surgery to isolate the vessels causing the bleeding and try to stop it."
          "Wait, darlin'," he said with concern. "You've said before you aren't trained for that. Is this wise? Can't we try to take her somewhere?"
          "John, there is no time." She replied sharply. "At the rate of blood loss and the severity of her fever, she will not survive more than a few more arns at best."
          Crichton's eyes widened with alarm. He looked from Zhaan back to the woman and then fixed his gaze on the Delvian again.
          "You have to do what you have to do, Zhaan." He whispered. "I don't know what if anything I can do to help. My blood type is 'O' negative. I'm a universal donor. You can give her some of my blood. You can give her a transfusion of my blood."
          "Thank you, John." She said, her lips curving into a sweet smile that did not reach her worried eyes. "It would be a gift from the Goddess."
          "But what?" Crichton asked. "There's a but in there somewhere. I can almost hear it."
          "But, it may prove insufficient." Zhaan answered. "And there is the matter of the promise I made to Crais."
          "What promise, Zhaan?"
          "To keep him informed of all changes no matter how minute." She said. "And I have every reason to believe he would want to be here should he know the poor chance she has for survival."
          "Whoa, not on your big blue-assed life, hon." Crichton said coming to face her. "That Himmler-wannabe is not setting foot back on Moya. Not while I have breath left in my body."
          "We may not have a choice," Aeryn said from the open doorway.
          "Are you nuts?" Crichton spun to face her, demanding, "Have you both suddenly flipped? Or, is it something you're not telling me? Did you sell your souls to that devil and forget to let me know about it?"
          "John," Zhaan began quietly. "There is something you will find difficult to believe. This woman has an emotional significance for Captain Crais."
          "What?" Crichton rejoined sarcastically. "She really is his super model? That is such crap!"
          "You may think it dren, John, but I saw it with my own eyes," Aeryn assured him flatly.
          "As did I," Zhaan agreed.
          "Whatever you two've been smoking, maybe I need some of it!" Crichton countered with an almost hysterical laugh. "My boy Crais is incapable. I wouldn't be one bit surprised to find out he'd never had a woman in his entire life. He loves himself too much to share."
          "Bialar," a weak voice called out. "Bialar, I'm so cold. I'm so cold. Give me your coat. . .please."
          "Holy Romeo and Juliet, Batman!" Crichton hissed turning to look at the woman.
          She was trying to move, to huddle into a fetal position on the gurney. Her head moving slowly from side to side, her dry, cracked lips parting to repeat one word again and again. Bialar.
          "Frell me dead," Crichton swore.
          "As we said," Aeryn told him.
          Zhaan was at the woman's side in an instant, pressing a cloth dampened with water to her lips.
          "Bialar," the thin voice came again. Here eyes opened at the touch of the cloth, but were clouded and unseeing from the intense fever.
          "I am Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan," she told the woman. "I am a Delvian Priest and healer. I am going to help you."
         "Where's Bialar," the woman asked straining to put breath behind the words. "Where am I?"
         "You're aboard Talyn's mother, Moya," Zhaan told her in a low voice, running a soft hand along the wet forehead.
          "No!" the woman said struggling weakly to pull away. "No! Bialar!"
          Crichton was suddenly standing opposite Zhaan and leaning over the woman. He reached beneath the covers and took her right hand in both of his.
          "I know you don't know me, darlin'," he said softly, bending nearer the ashen face. "My name is John. I'm human like you and we're going to help you in any way we can. Can you understand that?"
         "John. . .Crichton. . ." the woman whispered then made a choking noise deep in her throat. "Oh, my God."
          Her eyes fluttered rapidly then rolled upward. Her body began to convulse, slowly at first then more rapidly. Zhaan pushed Crichton away and placed a bite block between the woman's gnashing teeth. Going through cases and cabinets deftly retrieving instruments and ingredients, she placed them upon a tray. She selected a vial of golden elixir and a jar of grayish-green powder. She put two droppers of the first into a mortar, followed quickly by three pinches of the powder. It crackled audibly as if in protest.
          Donning a pair of gloves, Zhaan hastily took a daub of the mixture on her fingertips. She reached behind the woman's neck, massaging the ointment into the skin of her nape in a hard circular motion. The convulsion stopped almost immediately. She sighed in relief as she watched her patient's face go slack. She carefully removed the bite block and set it aside.
          "John, if we are to transfuse blood to her, we must do so now." She told him, her eyes never leaving the woman's face.
         "Aeryn," he said not turning around.
         "I'm still here," she said.



         "Captain Crais," Pilot called again. "Please respond."
         "Any luck, Pilot?" Aeryn asked as she came into his den.
         "No, Officer Sun." he replied cocking his huge shell head to one side. "There has been complete communications silence since your return from Talyn with Senna."
         "How did you know her name, Pilot?" Aeryn asked.
         "Talyn told Moya," he replied with a slight smile. "They have been. . .getting to know one another again during the silence."
         "Has Talyn told her why Crais is not responding to our signals?"
         "He seems to feel Captain Crais is in a state of deep grief," Pilot explained slowly. "Though they share consciousness through the neural interface, Talyn is too young to interpret everything he senses from his captain."
          Aeryn nodded her understanding. "Keep trying Pilot."
          "Yes, Officer Sun."



           "Amma myakosa, neea myakosa, neea myakosa, Gaiyaline. Gaiyaline." Chanted Zhaan melodically as she stood before the woman with hands raised. "Amma myakosa, neea myakosa, neea myakosa, Gaiyaline. Gaiyaline."
           The crew stood a discreet distance away, silently waiting as she readied herself. Crichton was in one of Zhaan's sheer smocks, gloves on his upheld hands, fright plain in his blue eyes. She asked him to be there because he had a rudimentary understanding of the human female anatomy. Reluctantly he agreed. Now he was certain he'd made a huge mistake. His breakfast was on the rise and he needed to urinate.
           "Pilot, is Moya ready to support Senna's filtering systems?" Zhaan asked as she selected a cutting instrument from her tray. She motioned for Crichton to spread the thin layer of gelled antibacterial liquid over the woman's exposed abdomen and pubis. She noticed that his hands trembled visibly. She touched them ever so lightly, sending him strength through the contact.
          "Yes she is," Pilot reported. Even his voice seemed to resonate with the dread they all felt.
          "John, please hand me that conduit." She said.
          He did as he was asked, watching as Zhaan turned the woman's head toward the left. She inserted the long probe at the conduit's tip carefully into the jugular vein.
          "Tell Moya she may begin now," Zhaan said.
          "Filtering beginning now," Pilot replied.
          D'Argo and Chiana watched the two of their shipmates over the woman. The Nebari slipped her hand gently into the brawny Luxan's. He looked down at her, smiled and gave it a tender squeeze. Aeryn stood with arms folded, face unreadable and eyes locked on Crichton. With the first drawing of blood from Zhaan's scalpel, Rygel moaned.
          "This is no place for a Dominar," he announced weakly, maneuvering his throne sled out of Zhaan's lab. He floated down the tiers to Pilot's den only to be met with a harsh look from the large creature.
         "What are you doing here," Pilot asked, eying the Hynerian skeptically.
         "Oh, just seeing how you were progressing in your attempts to contact Crais." Rygel lied.
         "Humph," growled Pilot with a pronounced sneer.
         "Has he responded to any of our signals?" the Hynerian questioned as he rose to eye level with Pilot.
         "While his comms seem to be open, he is maintaining channel silence."
         "Um," Rygel grunted, tilting his head to one side and nervously stroking the bristling hair on his earbrow. "Perhaps for the best."



         "By the Goddess!" Zhaan swore suddenly.
         Crichton jumped involuntarily, eyes wide. "What? What is it?"
         "I have discovered the problem," she said with a tearful expression. "Her reproductive organs were obviously damaged during the Halosian attack as Crais suspected, but. . ."
        "Spit it out Zhaan," Crichton said in a low quivering tone.
        "This ruptured area here near her egg sac," Zhaan explained, not knowing the proper terms and pointing with her instrument at large growth near the ragged edges of the bleeding ovary. "It holds a fetus."
          Crichton's eyes got wider. Crais' child. It was the first thought that shot through his mind. If Crais had gone fugazi with the death of his brother, what would he do over this?
          He watched in horror as Zhaan sliced into the growth and a tiny, twisted pair of legs emerged from the opening. Eyes stinging he turned his gaze quickly upward, to the side, upward again. Anything not to see what he'd seen.
          "It is terribly malformed and not at all where it should have developed." She explained to him. "If I am correct, a human fetus would be nurtured within this."
          She held the woman's bulbous uterus in her hands and motioned with her eyes for Crichton to look down. So much blood, even with the blocking agent Zhaan used. He saw the organ, no larger than his fist, slippery and red in Zhaan's blue, gloved hands. He nodded, biting both his lips between his teeth.
           "Is the baby. . ." Crichton stopped, searching his mind for the right phrase. "Viable?"
           "It is dead, John." She whispered.
           Crichton was shaken at this thought, but he'd known the answer before asking the question. Nothing with legs like he'd seen could be alive. Tears formed unbidden in his eyes as his brain screamed: Crais' child.
           "In its dying, it has spread infection throughout her body," she went on. "Attacking her entire reproductive system first, and then spreading systemically."
          "What are you going to do?" he asked.
          "The infection can be cured simply enough," she explained. "But the damaged from both the failed pregnancy and the injury leave little choice."
          "Which choice?"
          "Can a human female live without her reproductive organs, John?"
          The tears welling in his eyes spilled over then. Sniffing noisily he looked into Zhaan's face. He knew what he had to say, but the words didn't want to come.
          "Is it the only way to save her?" he asked already knowing the answer.
          "Can she survive it, John?"
          Crichton stepped away from the gurney, looking around the lab. His eyes fell on Aeryn, then D'Argo and Chiana. He didn't know if he was looking for an answer from them or some sign from the crazy gods who ran the universe at large.
           "John," Zhaan pressed.
           "Yes," he relented. "Yes, a human female can survive without those organs."
          His breathing was fast and he felt as though he would vomit at any second. He remembered when his mother was forced to endure a hysterectomy when he was a kid. Endometriosis and a series of miscarriages left no other out. After coming home from the hospital, she began to drink. Then the drinking became a means of drowning out a world and a reality she could no longer face without its anesthetic properties. Say hello to Betty Ford.
         "John," Zhaan repeated again. "You must tell me exactly which ones to take."
          A sob escaped his lips then despite the fact his teeth were nearly biting through them. Don't make me do this. His mind kept repeating, 'Crais' child. Don't make me do this.' It was like some psychotic mantra he couldn't silence.
          "Zhaan, I can't," he said choking on the words.
          "John you must or she will die," Zhaan snapped, her voice as sharp as the blade in her hand.
          John silently pointed out the mangled ovary, its fallopian tube and lastly the uterus. Zhaan waited expectantly.
         "Anything else," she demanded. "I must know."
         "She'll need the other. . .egg sac if you can leave it." John said between gritted teeth. "The hormones it makes are necessary to keep her from going. . .well, out of her mind."
          Zhaan, her face hard, began cutting away the connecting tissues. John felt the nausea rising again. His head was spinning and he wanted to run a mile from what was happening right in front of him. Suddenly he turned from the gurney, dropped to his knees and vomited.
          "Aeryn," Zhaan called to her without looking up from the woman's open abdomen. "Get John out of here."
          She was already walking toward him when Zhaan spoke. She lifted him up from the floor, wiping his face with a towel from a nearby table. She silently guided him out of the lab and down the passageway.
          Normally she would have been disgusted by his show of weakness, but somehow she knew there was some underlying reason. She led him to his quarters and sat beside him on the bed. Tucking one foot beneath herself, she gently touched his cheek.
          "I'm sorry," he breathed.
          He turned around to lie down putting his head in her lap. She had not really expected this, but did not push him away. Instead, she hesitantly began to stroke his hair. She listened silently as he told her about his mother, her own heart breaking with the knowledge. The words hurt him deeply, just saying them aloud.
          "She slid into the bottle and never looked back," he said finally. "It was like living with a ghost. I had to rely on my Dad or myself for everything. I know life with my father wasn't easy, but she coped until the hysterectomy. It was like they took a huge chunk of her soul out with the rest of it. The booze was just some crass way of trying to refill the hole it left."
          After a long silence, Aeryn noticed his breathing had deepened. He had fallen asleep. She leaned farther back onto the stack of pillows at the head of his bed, still stroking his hair. A single tear slid down her face as she closed her eyes.



          "Aeryn, John," Zhaan's voice over their comms woke them both.
          It must have been arns since they went to John's quarters. They had rearranged themselves more comfortably in sleep and were now side by side, arms around each other. John looked silently into her eyes, and then softly kissed both lids and the tip of her nose.
          "Thank you," He whispered simply.
          He rose slowly from the bed, sitting on the edge for a moment before standing to walk to the basin.
          "I'm here, Zhaan," he answered before running water to rinse his mouth and splash on his face.
          "How are you feeling?" she asked.
          "Better. How's your patient?" he replied before slipping a dentic into his mouth.
          Aeryn rose, straightening her vest, and sat watching him.
          "She survived the surgery," Zhaan informed them. "The infection is dissipating rapidly and she is no longer losing blood."
          "Thank you, Zhaan," he said with a painful smile.
          "Thank you, John," Zhaan replied, her voice proving she understood what the surgery had cost him as well. "She is no longer relying on Moya to filter her system. Now it is just a matter of waiting for her to regain consciousness."
          "You're a miracle worker, Blue!" he exclaimed tiredly.
          "Just a Priest and a Healer, John." She said and John could almost see the selfless smile on her beautiful face.
          "Pilot," he said into his comms. "Have you been able to contact Crais, yet?"
          "No success yet, Commander," he replied as his image coalesced in the clamshell. "Moya and I are continuing to try."
          "Any thoughts on why our boy is so quiet?" Crichton asked.
          "None," Pilot replied. "Talyn is as confused by it as Moya and I are."
          "Wait, you've been in contact with Talyn?" Crichton questioned. "How is that possible if Crais isn't responding to our messages?"
         "Talyn has been conversing with Moya, Commander." Pilot replied. "He tells her he is vastly contented with Crais as his captain, having quite a strong covenant with him. As Moya explains it to me, he feels for Crais as a brother or father. He assured her that the Captain has been very good to him in their time together and that his choice was the correct one."
         "Well," Crichton said, reluctant to acknowledge anything about Crais' kindness. "It's good to know mother and son have had some long overdue quality time together."
         "I will keep trying to contact Captain Crais," Pilot said and his image faded from the clamshell.
         "I need to go back to Zhaan's lab. See Senna." John said as the door slid aside. "Senna? Is that really her name?"
         "That is what Crais called her," Aeryn replied following him.
         "Senna," he said thoughtfully walking away from her with a quickening stride.



          It was a glorious day at Mission Bay Park. Bikers, runners and rollerbladers were out in force. Senna grabbed the blanket and picnic basket out of the rear of the SUV. It was a perfect day for a picnic. A cool breeze was coming in off the water, nothing like those scorching Santa Ana winds that normally plagued southern California in early fall. She yanked the rear door closed with her free hand then remembered she left the bottled water up front.
          "Bialar," she smiled calling back to him as she walked toward the grassy area beyond the sidewalk. "Can you get the water? I left it between the front seats."
          "Sure, sweetheart," he said with a broad smile.
          She saw the reflection of the few white clouds in the azure sky drift across his sunglasses. The breeze was whipping his long curly hair around his face. She watched his stocky frame as he leaned into the driver's side. He held up the cold, sweating bottle of spring water like a trophy and laughed. She smiled and her heart nearly burst.
          They walked together up a knoll, Crais taking the picnic basket from her hands. Their shoulders touched lightly together as they walked. She flipped her long braid over one shoulder and pointed to a quiet spot beneath a group of palms and pine trees.
          "That looks like the perfect spot," she said.
          He smiled his agreement and put the basket down so that he could help her spread out the blanket. They anchored it with the picnic basket and their bodies. He lay on his side, sunglasses off in the shade, gazing up at her. He raised himself to one elbow as she offered him a small chunk of cantaloupe, allowing his lips to caress the sweet juice from her fingers. He winked at her playfully and she began to set out their lunch.
          It was the most perfect day she could ever remember. No problems at work to call her away. No errands to run. Just the water, the breeze, the bright fall sky and the two of them on this blanket. He rose after a moment, taking a small notepad from his back pocket.
         "What?" she asked lying on her back and looking up at him. The trees and bits of blue sky peeking through their leaves framed him.
          "I just had a brilliant idea." He scribbled furiously in the notepad for a moment, and then tore the sheet loose.
          The breeze became more brisk and shifted. It was beginning to get very warm and the sky darkened. The breeze became a storm and the susurrations of palm fronds moving roughly against one another became a roar in her ears.
          "Here," his voice came out slowly like a recording beginning to drag. "I want you to read this."
          Senna reached for the note. It was larger now. A letter-sized sheet of white paper. There were words on it, but before she could read them the wind snatched the paper from between her fingers. It floated in the air as though in molasses for several agonizing moments. It then zipped away like a rocket, disappearing into the darkening sky.
          She heard Crais laugh then; a harsh laughter that quickly changed into something more sinister. As he leaned toward her face as though to kiss her, she saw his sunglasses were in place again. She saw herself in them and despite the hot wind, she grew suddenly cold. His face was growing larger above her, turning pale, then gray. The sunglasses were getting larger, flatter. She felt herself completely immobilized as his face became that of her Tirysp captors. Her throat tightened around a piercing scream as the Tirysp produced a sharp probe and aimed it for her gaping mouth.
          "Bialar!" she shrieked fighting the restraints Zhaan had placed on her for safety.
          "Senna," John said, putting a hand on her damp forehead. "Senna, it's John. Remember me?"
          Her eyes were wild and she thrashed her head in an effort to dislodge his hand.
          "Zhaan," he called, but the Delvian was already beside them.
          "You must try to remain still, my dear," Zhaan said softly. "You were very ill, but we have mended your injuries and rid you of the infection."
          "Where is Bialar? Why have you brought me here?" she demanded hoarsely, still fighting them.
          "You have had surgery," Zhaan explained trying to calm her with her touch. "You must allow your body to recover. Please remain still."
         "Bialar!" the cry was shrill and cracking.
         "Senna, honey," he tried again. "It's John. John Crichton. Remember? You seemed to recognize me earlier. You're gonna be all right. Do you hear me? Understand me?"
          "Where is he?" she asked pitifully. "Why did he let you take me away from Talyn?"
          Zhaan held the long stopper from a vial under Senna's nose and her struggling ceased. Her face relaxed and she closed her eyes.
          "I couldn't risk her tearing apart the repairs I made," Zhaan said as Crichton looked up at her. "Sleep is best for her now."

          "In the meantime," Crichton exhaled sharply then continued. "We wait for Bialar to respond."