Daisee Chain CELERITER VADENDUM, ACRITER SAGITTANDUM

Rating

PG

Spoilers

Farscape: Up to Season 3. Blake's 7: Up to Season 2 finale.

---

"Be calm, Talyn!"

Crais searched his mind for access to the controls, but Talyn had shut him out. They were careening out of control, and Talyn's panic was palpable, even to the crew not linked with him.

Crais refused to look at the screen. Refused to see the swirling, massing, misplaced particles outside the ship. Refused to give in to Talyn's terror.

This was all John Crichton's fault.

John had assured them both that no harm could come. What had he been thinking, trusting that... that... primitive hingemot? John had probably caused this deliberately, to be rid of his competitor.

The wild turbulence eased, and Crais sensed Talyn slowing.

"What is it?"

Crais reached out for answers. Talyn gave them grudgingly. He was still, understandably, upset.

"Talyn claims to have found a stable exit from this wormhole."

"Then take it! Take it!"

There was a familiar tension in his neck, as he ground his teeth in an effort not to shout at Stark. "We intend to. Believe us, we have no wish to dwell here."

Talyn found the exit, and they popped out, skimming to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Even for the Uncharted Territories, this seemed empty. Talyn could see no galaxy clusters, no masses of stars, not even a nebula. This couldn't be right. Crais opened his eyes, to see the nothing for himself.

They were adrift, in the middle of nowhere, with no familiar marks, and most certainly in the wrong universe.

This was all John Crichton's fault.

He held that thought close, nursing the hatred. This was where trust brought you - the middle of nowhere.

"Are we safe?"

With Stark.

"What the yotz is going on?"

And Rygel.

He was going to need a medtech when - if - he got back. He could feel the rear, left crown cracking under the strain.

"We have left the wormhole. Talyn has come to a halt."

"I can tell that, you breen! What are you going to do about it?"

"Now? Now?" Actually it was a good question. He had no idea what to do now. Peacekeeper training instilled resourcefulness, brutality, and unquestioning loyalty. It did not teach the finer points of being stranded in the wrong universe, on an illegal Leviathan, in the presence of others you would rather strangle than be forced to spend another day with, much less possibly a lifetime. He shied away from the concept of spending a lifetime stuck on Talyn with only Stark and Rygel for company. He would rather die.

"Now we track down the nearest habitable planet, and extract information from them on the situation in local space."

"What will we do then?" Stark flailed in agitation.

Crais' patience gave out. "I have no idea! If you have any suggestions I will listen to them." Stark flinched. "If, however, you cannot come up with any useful ideas, I recommend you leave me alone with Talyn, so that we might have a chance to think!"

Stark fled the bridge.

"Well. That took care of him."

Crais glowered at Rygel. "Get. Out."

Rygel gave the impression of imminent speech, then obviously thought better of it, and floated out of the room after Stark.

Crais sighed.

This was all John Crichton's fault.





This was all Blake's fault. The man had no sense of duty, no sense of civic pride. And he'd stolen the ship Travis wanted to steal.

For months he'd been chasing Blake's after-image around the known galaxy, and it hadn't escaped his attention that Space Command was sending him further and further out from Earth. They had obviously decided he was an embarrassment. He recalled stories in the archive, of soldiers from an ancient empire being sent to the furthest outposts known, as punishment for underachievement. They had complained of the cold. He knew how they felt. It was certainly cold out here. Men of action did not warm themselves by sitting in front of a fire. The heat of battle was where he belonged, not drifting on the edge of known space, patrolling borders.

He punched buttons in an effort to find something interesting, but they showed nothing new. Well, he was patient. He could out-wait anyone. Just ask Blake.

Blake was the reason for his artificial hand. Blake was the reason he was on sentry duty far from central command. Blake had ruined his chances with Servalan.

This was all Blake's fault.

"Commander."

"What is it?"

"An unidentified ship has been reported in the no fly zone."

"Well?"

"Your instructions, Commander?"

"My instructions are to go after it and destroy it, of course."

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir," He mimicked. "What's the matter? Don't you have any initiative? No. Of course you don't."

"Yes, Commander."

"Just get on with it."

"Plotting course now."




The first sign of their attackers was a slight rise in Talyn's tension levels. Well, he supposed he could call them attackers, although they didn't seem very well equipped for a fight. They were firing some form of antiquated photon cannons. They may as well have been throwing small biting insects at Talyn, for all the ship felt the damage. They buzzed round, firing what little they had, eventually coming to a standstill - probably out of ammunition.

"Talyn, open communications."

It seemed the other party was determined to have the first word. ".... Doing in a quarantined military zone?"

Well at least he was on familiar territory there. "Our apologies. We were not aware that this was a restricted area. We will leave."

"You will stay where you are. You will make no attempt to leave. You will allow your escort access to all areas of the confiscated vessel."

"I cannot allow that."

"If you do not grant access to your ship, we will be forced to blast you out of the skies!"

"Oh? And just what do plan on blasting us with? Your weapons have so far proved ineffective, have they not?"

"We have other ships within range. They will be here shortly."

Crais shook his head. "Our sensors have much greater range than yours. I can clearly see there is no one within arns of our location. I suggest you cease this attempt at subterfuge."

His confidence seemed to give his opponent pause. "In return for what?"

"As I say, we have lost our bearings. We require access to some form of star charts."

"We will not..."

"Or we could just cripple your ship and take the information by force. The choice is yours." He waited patiently for an answer. Talyn waited with much less patience.

"We will transmit your co-ordinates."

Crais blinked. What kind of idiot was he dealing with? "Unfortunately, without appropriate star charts, our current co-ordinates will be of no use to us."

"We cannot transmit star charts."

"Your technology is not that primitive..."

"Of course it's not! Regulations do not permit the broadcast of military star charts to unknown vessels."

Naturally. "Then I suggest you print them out and bring them to my ship."

"What guarantee do I have that this is not a trap?"

"You have none. However, it is the only way you will ever get close enough to see our ship with your own eyes." Talyn became unsettled at this. [It's all right Talyn. They're too primitive to understand how to damage you.]

The reply came sooner than he was expecting. "We will bring the star charts to you. "

"Very good. You may enter the docking bay. I will meet you there."





Being banished from court might have its advantages after all. This looked to be an even more impressive ship than the Liberator. Its capture would be certain to reignite his career.

There was the small matter that this was clearly a trap, but he couldn't just let them roam free. His duty was clear. Apprehend the intruders, commandeer their vessel, and return to Space Command. He tugged at his glove and adjusted the ring on his right hand.

"When you have finished the docking procedures, you will both join me at the hatch. Make sure you are armed."

"Yes, Commander."

"Yes, Commander," he mimicked. Drones. Live crew would have been much more use. He went to the weapons locker.






Crais gripped Stark firmly by the man's upper arms, and pivoted him back into position. "I will not tell you again. Stand still!"

"But what if they're armed? We're out in the open! Unprotected!" Stark's arms flailed.

"They most certainly will be armed. Only a complete frellwit would board an unknown ship of superior weapons capability without any ordinance. We are not, however, unprotected. Talyn has created a small force wall between the exit to their ship, and our current position."

"Very cunning," said a voice from waist height.

"Merely a sensible precaution."

"You almost have a touch of the Hynerian about you."

He resisted the urge to backhand Rygel into the nearest bulkhead, settling instead for grinding his teeth.





Whatever it was, it was clearly experimental. A ship this size couldn't operate on any fuel source he knew of. His sensors hadn't picked up any conventional weapons, either, which was ridiculous. Unless, of course, the entire ship was some form of super weapon. A fire ship, possibly? Designed to be detonated once within range of the enemy? In which case, the crew would either be indoctrinated or suicidal; either of which meant trouble.

One of the mutoids was examining some ducting on the wall.

"Well? What's wrong with it?" They didn't have time to delight in the décor.

"I believe the ship may be a form of life, Commander."

He blinked. "What?"

"There is plasma running through these conduits. Plasma denotes life."

"How the hell? Of course, you can smell it, can you?"

"Modifications alert us to the presence of plasma."

"Well don't touch it. I don't know how it affects the shipboard operations. Might be a vital component."

"Plasma is vital to all living creatures," it said.

He growled at it and resumed walking. When they got to the meeting point, he directed that mutoid to walk in first. He was slightly disappointed when nothing happened to it.





It was strangely familiar, in a discomfiting way. The two parties stood in neat rows, facing each other, Commanders at the centre, their crew flanking them. If it weren't for the absurdity of the situation, Crais would almost have felt at home. Commander Travis, as he had introduced himself, was clearly more comfortable in charge of situations. Crais eyed the strange insignia on an almost familiar military uniform opposite, before glancing at the man's companions. The Commander looked Sebacean, his companions almost so. They had an odd, waxen sheen to their complexions, and were pale - even by the standards of veteran spacefarers. They brought to mind Scorpius. His chin twitched.

"Commander Travis, Federation Space Command." Travis waved vaguely in Crais' direction. "These are the maps you require."

One of Commander Travis' colleagues stepped forward, holding out what looked to be a data-crystal.

"Commander Crais, Peacekeeper Forces." He waved vaguely in Travis' direction. Rygel's sled moved upwards at speed. A clear indication he considered himself above the proceedings. Stark looked momentarily startled, then stepped forward and took the crystal. As their hands brushed briefly both Stark and the alien flinched. Stark seemed to practically flee back into line.

Commander Travis hadn't noticed, absorbed as he was in the structure of Talyn. "This is an impressive ship."

Crais said nothing, content to get a measure of the man before him.

As ever, however, Rygel could be counted on to ruin any strategy. "It should be. Given that fourth-rate lifeboat you've just stepped off. This is a state of the..." He broke off abruptly as Crais reached up and tilted his sled, forcing Rygel's attention to the controls to avoid falling off.

Travis raised an eyebrow. "I demand to see the rest of the ship."

Crais raised one right back at him. "You demand?"

"We gave you the maps you requested. A tour should not be out of the question."

Should he? It broke every protocol, but then what else was new? It defied common sense, as did Talyn himself. The danger to Talyn and himself couldn't be underestimated. It was strategically unsound, but it had been far too long since his last meeting with another male soldier. The chance to compare experiences...

Rygel had regained control by now and zoomed toward their 'guests'. "Now look here. If you think you can declare war on my personage and then expect us to..."

It would frighten Rygel and terrify Stark. "Absolutely, Commander Travis." He cut in over Rygel's outraged spluttering. "It is the very least we can do in return for your gracious gesture." He gestured toward the door. "If you would care to follow me?"




*******

He clenched his fists. It could still be a trap. Most likely was a trap, but this ship... he'd never seen anything like it. Not even the Liberator matched it for firepower. He had to see what else it was capable of. It was worth the risk.

He didn't even bother turning to the mutoids. Just barked at them. "Maintain your positions. If I don't report back in an hour you have permission to interrogate potential suspects." The rodent thing on a float paled at this announcement. Good. Let them be unnerved. It would give him the advantage. He glanced briefly at the man with the partial facemask. How had he sustained his injury? Did the ghost of the eye still pain him, as his own did? He quashed an impulse to ask. The man was a potential enemy. He would remain so until Travis had this ship. He turned to Commander Crais. "At your convenience." Empty words, but convenient.

Commander Crais marched out of the hangar bay, and Travis fell into step, mirroring his posture. A military parade of two, marching a tattoo through the corridors.





"Drink?" Crais proffered a large glass. He'd made certain his quarters were well stocked before Moya and Talyn had parted. One never knew when one might need a stiff drink.

"No."

"Oh come now, Commander Travis. You said, yourself, you are far away from Command Central. It is unlikely they will know if you indulge just a little."

"I will know."

"Your sense of duty is that strong?"

"A man without duty is barely a man."

"I used to believe that."

"And now?"

"I believe it is possible there is a life beyond duty."

Travis's eyes narrowed. His arm twitched toward where Crais believed the man would usually keep a gun. "Outlaw."

Crais paused; his drink part way to his lips, green liquor sloping gently in the glass. He shrugged. "Occasionally."

"And the rest of the time?"

"A servant to a greater cause."

Travis leaned forward minutely, taking up a fighting stance. "The invasion of Federation territories?"

"We have no interest in such a primitive race."

"We are clearly the same species."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"You are clearly human: your companions are clearly genetic experiments, most likely stolen from the Clone Masters."

Crais blinked. "Human?"

"Human. Obviously."

"From Earth?"

"Or possibly one of the outer worlds."

Crichton had never mentioned outer worlds. Crais could feel his hair trying to stand on end.

"Which planet in the Federation do you originate from?" Travis asked.

Clone Masters? Escaped genetic experiments? From a planet as backward as the Earth John Crichton described? He closed his eyes and reached out to Talyn. [Guide Rygel onto their ship. We need him to gain information from their shipboard computer.] Talyn shot him back an image of Rygel entering the other vessel, with a timestamp for just after Crais began his tour of Talyn. Crais snorted. Rygel was consistent, if nothing else.

"I repeat, from which planet do you originate?"

Crais opened his eyes. Travis had mustered his command authority, and for an instant Crais felt at home. "Tupo," he said, finding no reason to lie. Travis was unlikely to have heard of it, or be able to find it.

"Why are you here?"

"As I have already stated, we were swept off course. We are looking for our way home."

"And you just happened to stop near my ship?"

"Yes. Fortunate really, or we might have been lost out here forever."

Travis was examining the room. "This is a powerful ship. You should have more than enough power to take you to a habitable planet."

"Yes, but I may have had to suffer my companions for weeks." He watched carefully, making certain Travis touched nothing.

Travis snorted. "Why choose them as crew then?"

"Oh believe me, they were not my preference!"

"Nor were mine. It would seem some command mistakes repeat across the galaxy."

Crais blinked. The Federation couldn't be very large if Travis thought only in terms of a single galaxy. "I think..." Talyn's scream of rage juddered his thoughts, and he fell to his knees as the ship lurched. He cut communications, but not before Talyn fed him a disturbing image.

Across the room Travis grabbed for the nearest furniture. "Tell your pilot to get this ship under control."

"I am the pilot. And I will not command Talyn until you order your crew to stop their attempts at sabotage."

Travis didn't look convinced. "My crew do nothing without my orders. I gave no such instructions. Get this damn ship under control."

Crais tugged his jacket into position and stood. To hell with civility. "This ship controls itself. It is under attack and reacting accordingly."

"You talk as though it's a living creature!" Travis shifted balance to keep on his feet.

"It is. Call off your crew immediately."

"Impossible. Nothing in the Federation has the technology to create bio-ships."

"You are correct. Nothing in your Federation has that technology. Now, call off your crew!" He pulled a gun from his jacket, aiming it at Travis.

"I tell you, no sabotage was ordered!"

Crais strode across the room till he had the gun directly in Travis' face. "They are feeding from Talyn!"

Travis paused. "My crew are mutoids. They require plasma to survive. One of them must be low on supplies." He eyed the gun. "To speak with my crew I must remove a communicator from my jacket." He held his hands out to his sides, gesturing submission.

Crais jammed the gun in Travis' neck. "Move slowly."

Travis carefully put his hand inside his jacket and pulled it out slowly. He wasn't holding anything. Travis still wasn't holding anything when the energy ball blasted from the glove. For a split second every muscle in Crais' body was taut, then he had a good view of the floor as it came up to meet him. His head felt woozy. The floor had marks on it. DRDs. He'd get the DRDs on to it - just as soon as he woke up.






The ship pitched again. Oddly it seemed to worsen just as Commander Crais passed out. Travis reached for the edge of the desk to steady himself. He allowed himself a small smile as Crais's body slid gently across the floor, coming to rest at the wall opposite.

Stabbing at the comms button on his hand, he fled the room. "Report!"

"Commander. A creature has accessed classified information from within our vessel."

Travis swore, but didn't stop running. Several wrong turns later, he finally located the docking bay and ran into it, skidding to a halt as he turned a corner and was confronted with the sight of his mutoid crew wrestling with the amphibian and the madman. The creature on the sled was careening wildly round the head of one of his crew, occasionally retreating to increase momentum before slamming the transport back into the mutoid. The mutoid was waving ineffectually at it. His other mutoid was disarmed and backed into a corner while the lunatic ranted about helping it to cross to the other side. He briefly wondered why they wanted to recruit his mutoids, but dismissed the thought. He needed to regain control.

"That's enough!" He tipped open his gun hand and pointed it at the lunatic.

The mutant on the sled laughed at him. "Go on then, shoot him. Do us all a favour, if you ask me."

From another doorway, Crais entered the fray. "Stop!"

Travis could usually respect a man with a large gun, at least long enough to find a way to disarm and kill him, but he'd had enough for one day. "If you so much as warm that weapon up, I will destroy your crew."

"Kill them if you feel you must, but do not fire in the direction of the cargo containers."

"And just why should I listen to you?"

"Because the containers are filled with high-density explosive. If you fire in their direction you will destroy not only both our crews, but also this ship. Neither of us will make it out alive. I trust your survival instinct to inform your decision."

Travis hesitated. He doubted the containers were full of anything more dangerous than food supplies, but he couldn't take the risk. He wanted this ship more than anything he'd ever known, and he couldn't take it if he, and it, were dead.

It took a split second to register the bolt of yellow light heading in his direction.





Crais knew from the way Travis folded before he fell, that the shot had been true. He turned to fire on the mutoids, but they were already down. That wasn't stopping Rygel from hitting one of them. Stark was attempting to calm Rygel, who seemed intent on removing whatever life remained in the body slumped against the wall.

"What," Stark's voice was strained from struggling with Rygel, "shall we... do with them?"

An image of three bodies being blown out an airlock invaded his mind. He shook his head to clear it. "Unnecessary, Talyn," He muttered. "Put them back in their craft," he told the others. More to himself he wondered out loud, "Why didn't his crew defend themselves?"

"The hour wasn't up."

Crais tilted his head quizzically in Stark's direction. "What?"

"He ordered them to stay where they were until the hour was over. So they did."

Crais contemplated the stupidity of manning a ship with a crew so cretinous they could not even move to save themselves. What kind of armed forces would do that to their Command staff? He shook his head, unable to fully comprehend the enormity of Travis' predicament.

Rygel broke free of Stark, and sped over to him. "I say we flush the bodies out into space," he said, getting as close to Crais' face as he could.

"We return them to their ship, and leave before they wake."

The fetid odour of whatever Rygel had eaten for lunch washed over him. "What the hezmana for?"

He abruptly pushed the sled out of his range, where Rygel was caught and held by Stark. Travis was an idiot, but he was a command idiot, thrown out by the institution to which he had dedicated his life, out of his depth, isolated from his command structure, at large in a universe that didn't care if he lived or died, without company or solace to speak of. They were two of a kind, but there was no way to explain to Rygel that he couldn't just space Travis. Crais averted his eyes from Rygel, only to find himself looking directly at Stark. And it was clear that Stark knew exactly what was going through Crais' mind.

He was saved from making excuses by a noise coming from Travis. They would have to move quickly.




His entire left side was cold and sore. Items around him resolved into recognisable equipment. He grunted as he pushed himself stiffly off the floor of his runabout. The bulkhead proved handy for propping himself up when the floor threatened to rise up and claim him again.

Once he was certain he had regained his composure, he strode, as forcefully as he could in the small space, to his seat on the command deck. Both mutoids were there, slumped over their stations. He grabbed one of them by the back of the neck and shook it about till it stirred.

"Wake up! Pay attention to your duties."

It slurred something that might have been "Yes, Commander," so he let it go and returned to his seat, throwing himself into it. He would feel much better once he had something to shoot at.

He punched up the visual display. The ship was long gone, of course. He gnawed on his thumbnail, glaring at the space on his view screen where it should have been. He thumped his other hand down on the console arm of his chair. That ship should have been his! It should have been his by right of conquest. Would have been, if not for the idiot and that damn... damn... frog! Who the hell did they think they were? Creatures like that had no right to exist, let alone crew a starship. It was beyond belief they could have successfully plotted against him. It had to have been Crais' doing. That was it. Crais had planned it all along, scheming Travis' downfall, making him think he could reach his goal, snatching his victory away from him at the last.

So now here he was. Stuck on the edge of known space, no battleship, and only Mutoids for company. Well, at least he knew he could count on them not to disobey orders. Mindless drones they may be, but he'd take them any day to the cretins Crais travelled with.

"Orders, Sir?"

"What?"

"Do you have any orders, Sir?"

"Oh. Yes. Plot speed and course to intercept the last known location of the Liberator."

"Yes, Sir."

If he couldn't have the best ship in the galaxy, then he would have to settle for the second best, by whatever means necessary. It was clear to him now that there were other civilisations out beyond the borders of the Federation, and they had greater firepower. Why not a partnership? He could pass them the information they needed to defeat the Federation, in return for which, they could hand him the Liberator. The Federation would never see it coming. And it would all be Crais' fault.





Whooping and yelling from Stark and Rygel quickly gave way to agonised groans and demands to be let off the ship, as they came out of starburst into the joyride of the wormhole.

Crais ignored them and concentrated on soothing Talyn's shattered nerves. He would take care of his own nerves once they were safely back in uncharted territories. Although 'safely', he reflected grimly, was a relative term.

The strain on Talyn increased as the wormhole forces threatened to tear the ship apart. Rygel's complaints increased in volume, but Crais decided to ignore him just this once. After all, the Hynerian had just saved all their lives. Without his data theft from Travis' ship, they would still have been stranded. Travis's maps had been worthless. As irritating as his travelling companions could be, he had to give them credit for ingenuity. Never in all his life could he have envisioned the day when travelling with Stark and Rygel would seem like the better option, but compared with Travis' brain-dead Mutoids, they seemed like an elite Peacekeeper tracking-team.

"I thing I bid my tong!"

At least that was, until they opened their mouths.

Talyn lurched, sending the three of them bouncing off control panels and each other. Rygel, still annoyed that his plans for murder had been thwarted, took the opportunity to hit Crais soundly over the head with his sceptre. "That's for making me work with Stark!"

Crais growled and hurled Rygel into the nearest wall. It was going to be a long, aggravating journey home.

And it was all Travis' fault.